Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

"Diligent and responsible, winning people over with virtue, governing the world with righteousness, let Holy Polante regain its former glory!" Siegler's voice was firm and heroic, piercing the clouds. Amidst the thunderous cheers, thousands of white doves fluttered towards the sky, turning into a swath of pristine clouds. The morning light pierced through the fog, draping the entire square in a golden halo. ... Hours passed. The coronation ceremony concluded, the bustling noise of Hershalraym gradually faded away, and the newly appointed Pope Siegler returned to her Throne Hall. Behind the thick oak doors lay a resplendence of gold and green, the towering dome painted with the freshly restored murals of the Holy Spirit Lante Church, and the walls were once again adorned with emeralds and amethysts as per the new Pope's request. At the end of the stairs sat the unchanging throne of Saint Polante Pope. Siegler sat listlessly on the throne, her gaze fixed blankly on the empty Papal Hall. Her thoughts seemed to drift back to over a decade ago. When she was a little ruffian on the streets of Helshalem. She had never imagined that she would one day become a Pope. Back then, she was concerned about being hunted by the Blood Clan every day, unable to sleep soundly. Everything changed after she took on a job to escort a client to the Land of Perpetual Night. That was when their story began. "Do you remember when I said that one day, I'd be strong enough to protect you, so turning me into the strongest warrior would not be a loss... but you always laughed and called me silly, to your eyes I would never grow up," Siegler murmured. She had actually grown into a mature woman. Gradually understanding the pain of yearning for something she could not pursue. She knew she couldn't keep that man, destiny had decided that they were never meant to have a happy ending in this life. From the first glance at him, she understood the martyr's fate written in his eyes. Still, many wistful illusions she couldn't forget. "Without you to crown me, this throne feels so very cold..." Tears welled up in her eyes, filled with memories, hollow and weary, no longer as strong as she appeared earlier that morning. If possible, how she wished to meet him once more. The silence in the Papal Hall couldn't hide her sorrow. The Statue of the Goddess bore a compassionate face, holding a bright lamp, gazing upon the multitudes. A long crimson carpet extended down to the foot of the throne, and on the candelabras along its side, the holy fire burned quietly, illuminating the mural of the tales of reincarnation on the marble walls. After a while. The doors of the Throne Hall were knocked. "Come in." Siegler wiped away her tears, resumed her solemn demeanor, and addressed the direction of the main entrance to the Throne Hall. The Throne Hall was a space that only the Pope had liberty to traverse. Others wishing to enter must have the Pope's permission. Actually, in a way, their intrusion into the Throne Hall a couple of days ago had also been approved by Lankros. It's just that the world didn't know. The thick oak door opened, and a group of people stood at the door, seeing only the solemn new Pope. Siegler's hand rested casually on the armrest of the throne, her posture unchanged, looking at the clergy gathering in the Throne Hall. In addition to important church officials in full regalia, to the left were several bishops in pure white robes, to the right the Papal Hall dignitaries in blue and black formal wear, as well as the Judgment Chief, the Paladin, and the Grand Justice of the Holy Tribunal who jointly led the battle. Grand Justice Elm, dressed in a black robe and adorned with the Holy Tribunal's Silver Scales Badge, took a step forward. "Your Holiness, news just came that the turmoil in the southern Huo Ning Empire has escalated; they report that a man in a white robe with a silver mask is indiscriminately slaughtering people in the provinces, with hundreds of thousands of civilians perishing every minute, and ominously informed the neighboring countries. After hearing the news, the attitude towards our Jiao Country from other nations is growing sharply severe." Grand Justice Elm knelt on one knee, reporting with understatement, all too aware of who this man in the silver mask was. Upon hearing this, Siegler remained surprisingly calm and composed. "Though the situation is grave, we cannot afford panic. The immediate priority is to strengthen the defenses in the south, to be ready to confront Lankros at any time, to declare national martial law, and to stay vigilant. At the same time, we must send envoys to communicate with the neighboring countries, clearly stating that Holy Polante will never condone its citizens to commit crimes abroad and will severely punish the perpetrators to reassure the public. However, should anyone dare to take advantage of our plight, to attack our people, to tarnish the name of Holy Polante Theocracy, we shall not sit idly by." She rose slowly, her voice steady and moderate, neither humble nor overbearing. Upon her words, the archbishops first fell silent, then a murmur of discussion erupted. All gazes converged on Siegler, eyes filled with complex emotions. Everyone understood clearly. This Siegler was truly a hardliner, a radical. To be named confronting the former Pope, but in reality, it might be confronting the Huo Ning Empire. A blatant military threat to the Huo Ning Empire! She had completely inherited the mantle of the old Pope. "Understood." Grand Justice Elm saluted and, along with the other Papal Hall officials, withdrew. Originally, they had been concerned that the new Pope Siegler would be significantly different from the old Pope in decision-making. Now it seemed that the new Pope was essentially the female, more physical version of the old Pope. With her in charge, Holy Polante Theocracy was sure to usher in a period of resplendent greatness. ... Two days later. In the sunset, the land of Destiny, Saint Trier. From high above, the winding Rhine River appeared as a golden ribbon dividing the city in two, its reflection on the surface glaringly brilliant.