Chapter 15: Prayer

Tina’s eyes gleamed with mischief, her mind racing.

She was certain Noi was trying to dodge work, and the thought only fueled her desire to nudge her into the spotlight.  

What would it be like, she wondered, to see Noi—blessed by the gods themselves—stand before the altar and pray?  

A blue-robed novice nun was guiding the congregation in their devotions, but Tina waved her off to other tasks with a flick of her wrist.

Smirking, she leaned back, eager to watch Noi step into the role she’d so neatly arranged.  

Noi hesitated, her heart fluttering.

‘Do I really have to pray up there?’ 

Her system’s skill interface was a mere catalog of her abilities, not a shortcut to mastery.

Unlike some game where a point could unlock new powers, she had to learn through effort.

But the system offered one boon: it sharpened her practice, doubling her progress with half the toil.  

The night before, as she pored over sacred texts, flashes of insight had sparked in her mind, guiding her to grasp the rudiments of [Prayer], its first level now hers.  

The scriptures weren’t dry recitations but flowed like poetry.

A full chapter might daunt her, yet two or three stanzas?

Those she could commit to memory with ease.  

Tina’s gentle shove propelled Noi toward the front courtyard.

Clutching the hem of her skirt, Noi pressed her cherry-red lips together, her breaths shallow as she fought to steady herself.  

The central courtyard stretched before her, its benches filled with onlookers whose gazes settled on her with quiet admiration.  

Those who had glimpsed her radiant purity the day before now watched with bated breath, their eyes alight with approval, awaiting the snow-haired nun’s prayer.  

In a shadowed corner, Lyte sat on a bench carved with subtle patterns, his plain attire blending into the crowd.

His gaze, however, was fixed on Noi, cool and calculating.  

Moments earlier, he’d slipped an envelope into the church’s office, applying to serve as a guardian knight.  

A daring plan had taken root in his mind: to shadow Noi, to watch her every move.

The instant she bared her true nature as a witch, he would unveil her to the world, claiming the righteous cause to bring her to justice.  

Noi stood at the heart of the front courtyard, her hands clasped before her chest.

She swallowed hard, her nerves taut as she positioned herself on the circular platform etched with arcane runes.

Behind her loomed the serene statues of three angels and a deity, their presence both comfort and weight.  

‘So many eyes on me… my first time facing a crowd like this.’  

The platform’s array hummed to life, its cryptic symbols pulsing like a living breath.

Runes on the courtyard’s pillars flickered in response, awakened by the same power.  

Magic stones, charged by sunlight, poured mana into the array, awaiting the spark of light-aligned energy to complete their work.  

Churches often wove such arrays into their sacred spaces, amplifying prayers to uplift both nuns and faithful alike.  

A soft golden aura swirled through the courtyard, sinking into the runes beneath Noi’s feet, drifting toward the statue of Gabriel behind her, and weaving into the hearts of every soul present.  

The prayer was about to begin.  

Clad in a simple black robe, the snow-haired nun closed her eyes, her voice rising in a gentle chant of the Song of Light.  

Her ethereal melody soared, a sound so pure it seemed to pluck the strings of every heart in the room.

The crowd’s minds slipped into a radiant dreamscape, woven by the divine grace of a celestial maiden.  

In that vision, life flourished unbound.  

A tilt of the ear caught the bright trill of birds, their song entwining with the soft rush of a babbling stream.  

A downward glance revealed saplings bursting through soil, their vigor palpable, while tiny insects danced on blossoms, sipping nectar’s sweetness.  

Unseen, a gentle white light had enveloped the courtyard, bathing all in its tender embrace.  

Soldiers felt their lingering wounds tingle, as if playful clouds had nestled within, soothing and teasing.  

The destitute found their spirits lifted, their minds clear as a sky washed clean by rain.

The endless blue horizon seemed to widen their hearts, banishing shadows.  

As the song faded, Noi released a shaky breath.  

Her mana was spent, drained more deeply than she’d anticipated.

Yet, amidst the exhaustion, she sensed a faint crack in the barrier of her limits, a whisper of progress.  

The congregation remained lost in her conjured reverie.

Tina and the ordained nuns, tempered by divine rites, were even more enthralled than the common folk.  

Tina stared ahead, her eyes glassy.

It took several shakes from Noi to rouse her.  

“By the goddess Afiya…” Tina murmured, her voice thick with awe.

“Even a saintess couldn’t pray like that. Are you really just an official nun?”  

The bishop had named Noi an apprentice nun, but to Tina and Chenxi, she’d been presented as ordained.  

Noi offered a quiet smile, knowing words could betray her if she spoke too freely.  

Seizing the moment while the crowd lingered in their trance, Noi tugged Tina away from the courtyard.  

Only when the church’s closing bell tolled did the spell break, the congregation stirring as if waking from a dream.  

“Great Afiya!” an elderly man croaked, tears clouding his eyes.

“In all my years, I’ve never heard a prayer so sublime.” His toothless mouth garbled the words, yet their fervor rang true.  

Others were struck mute, their emotions too vast for words, reduced to soft gasps and syllables.  

Lyte brushed a tear from his cheek, his mind drifting to his past life—hot-blooded adventures, the clash of blades against demons felled alongside comrades.

The memory dissolved, leaving only the sting of its fleetingness.  

Some wept openly, their tears falling in rivers.

They yearned to cry out but held back, mindful of the church’s hallowed silence.  

The nuns, their own hearts full, radiated contentment as they guided the departing throng.  

Lyte joined the orderly procession, stepping out as the church prepared to seal its doors.  

He stole a final glance at the deity’s statue in the courtyard.

Her smile, said to hold infinite truths, seemed to him a silent charge, an expectation laid upon his path.  

Not long after, a figure in black robes adorned with three golden stripes moved against the tide of the crowd.  

Her composure masked a flicker of insolence.

Green hair, coiled like serpents, cascaded behind her, and her slit pupils glowed with a chilling menace.  

To those who glimpsed her, her nun’s garb seemed an ill-suited disguise.  

The third-rank priestess glided forward, her sharp ears catching snatches of talk from pilgrims and paupers alike.  

All lauded the new white-haired nun—her prayer’s brilliance, her beauty an angel’s, her form a devil’s.  

Yet their words bore no trace of reverence, as if born of awe so deep it silenced any baser impulse.

Even those with fleeting impure thoughts dared not act.  

‘Curious,’ the priestess thought.

‘What manner of girl has stirred such devotion?’  

Her smile widened, but it sent a shiver through those nearby.  

***

The door creaked open, and Lyte crossed into an empty house.  

To keep Noi in his sights, he’d rented a modest dwelling near the church.

Its living room window framed a clear view of Noi’s small chamber, nestled beside a garden.  

Dust clung to walls, floors, and furnishings.

Lyte’s lineage was humble, and, newly reborn, his coin was scarce.  

The house was cheap.

He’d scoured it once with a water-element stone, but the effort was half-hearted.

Old grime still lurked in corners.  

He planned no long stay and felt no tie to the place, so he spared it no further care.  

Shedding his plain clothes, Lyte donned a trench coat readied for the afternoon’s knighting ceremony.  

His hero’s garb, fouled by alien blood, had been filthied.

It took ages to scrub clean.  

Even the Nest’s pristine sapphire couldn’t mask the vile taint of chaotic energy.  

In this new life, he’d bartered a future secret with a sage for a single divination, pinpointing Noi’s whereabouts.  

As in his past, a noble’s son, smitten with the princess, challenged him to a duel.

This time, Lyte prevailed.  

A low-rank holy sword’s bearer, deemed a failure, had bested a mid-rank hero wielding a high-rank blade.

The upset stunned all.  

To quell the uproar, the Nest dispatched Lyte on a training journey—an exile in disguise.  

It suited him perfectly, granting him leave to pursue the witch’s trail.  

At the divined site, he crossed paths with the Sin Domain’s second captain.  

In his past life, he’d slain the foe, but now, weakened and with his low-rank sword unawakened as the supreme Calamity, a direct clash was folly.  

Yet he knew the captain’s flaw.

Feinting and falling back, he lured a misstep.  

Exploiting the assumption that a low-rank hero couldn’t breach his limits, Lyte struck a grievous blow, earning time to slip away.  

The cost was losing Noi’s trail.

After winding paths, he found her in Wagner Town’s forest, drenched in blood.  

‘Was that alien captain tied to Noi?’  

Lyte lingered by the window, gazing at Noi’s room and the garden below.  

The flowers there tugged at his memory, though he couldn’t place why.  

He shook off the thought.

The knighting ceremony loomed; it demanded his focus.  

Lyte retreated himself to his bedroom for a brief rest, steeling himself for the afternoon’s encounter with Noi.