“Um… could I give it a try?”
The captain, his head bowed in defeat, lifted his gaze at the soft, melodious voice.
The cloaked girl stood against the glow of the stained-glass window, her silhouette framed by cascading light.
Her earnest eyes sought his permission with quiet determination.
The red-haired priestess, still steeped in self-reproach, snapped to attention.
Someone daring to attempt healing the vice-captain?
Her eyes narrowed at the girl’s simple attire, mistaking her for some impoverished dreamer chasing fleeting glory.
Fury surged, and she seized Noi’s collar with a scowl.
“Hey! What do you take a life for? Even we, trained nuns, can’t purge chaotic energy. Stop fooling around, will you?”
“No, let her try,” the captain said, rising to his feet.
“Her? Who is she?” The priestess’s gaze swept over Noi, catching the delicate pouch hanging from her prisoner’s trousers, its waistband revealing a glimpse of her navel.
Embroidered on it was a vermilion bird, its wings spread in graceful elegance.
“Well…” The priestess softened, though her resolve to refuse this noble’s whimsy wavered.
“Do you wield light magic?” she pressed.
“As far as I know, only light magic can dispel chaotic energy.”
“Does this count?”
Noi extended her slender hand, and a radiant orb of holy golden light bloomed in her palm, its faint divine aura shimmering in the air.
What?
This level of light magic… could she be…?
The red-haired priestess, well-versed in the ways of light, stood stunned.
The captain, too, was struck with awe.
A figure of imperial significance, guarded by the Vermilion Bird, and a believer in the goddess Aevia, wielding light magic of such purity—what was this girl’s true origin?
Nearby, Lyte watched in disbelief.
How could a witch possess light magic?
Weren’t the gods masters of fate?
Why would they grant light magic to a witch?
He recalled seeing Noi heal a bandit’s severed arm in the forest, assuming she’d used a scroll, channeling mana to perform the spell.
Healing scrolls blessed by the Church were common enough, and he hadn’t seen her wield the light magic exclusive to divine believers.
His preconceptions had convinced him a world-ending witch could never wield light.
The gods, he’d been told in his past life, could see a person’s fate and chose whether to bestow light magic upon their followers.
But what was this?
Had the gods deceived him?
Lyte’s thoughts spiraled into chaos, his mind a tangled storm.
“Yo! What’s going on? Why’s everyone gathered here?”
A sprightly elf lad bounded into the church, followed by a slow, shuffling elf grandmother.
Glancing at the crowd, Simon spotted Noi, whom he’d parted from not long ago.
He raised a hand to call out, but the grandmother tugged him back.
Noticing the solemn air, Simon fell silent, watching to see what Noi would do.
“Fine. If you’re a believer in the goddess, go ahead and try,” the red-haired priestess relented, a flicker of hope in her tone.
She was certain of it—the white-haired girl’s light magic was purer than her own.
Outside the church, a Bishop in red robes and a flame-haired youth dashed down the street, their speed outpacing even the swiftest carriages.
“Mr. Xing Chen… what are you looking at?”
“This?” Xing Chen plucked the monocle from his eye.
“A telescope from an elf friend. Works like a charm. Want to try it?”
The Bishop took it, fumbling to fit it over his eye.
“Ugh, I’m from the Southern Domain. We don’t have those deep-set eye sockets like you Northerners.”
“Just hold it up,” Xing Chen said with a wry smile, shaking his head.
The Bishop, despite his dignified appearance, was a bit of a bumbling old fool.
As they hurried along, they used the specially crafted telescope—capable of peering through walls—to observe the scene inside the church.
Dark clouds loomed over Wagner Town, a prelude to rain, dimming the light that spilled through the church’s windows.
Yet at the entrance, a single beam of brilliance pierced the gloom, like a torch in the darkness, drawing every eye.
Even the poorest onlookers, awestruck, felt the warmth of that light touching the very essence of their souls.
Noi cradled the glowing orb in her hands, and under the weight of countless gazes, she traced a simple magical array in the air.
The red-haired priestess recognized it—a first-tier healing spell.
Was this woman toying with her?
But what followed banished her scorn.
The array shattered, its fragments lingering as mana residue.
The golden orb, catalyzed by the spell, plunged into the vice-captain’s chest.
Chaotic energy fled his body like prey before a predator, only to be ensnared and devoured by the hovering light magic remnants, which endured unscathed.
As Noi cast the spell, the statue of the angel Raphael opened its eyes, gazing calmly at the saintly white-haired girl.
When the healing was complete, its eyes closed once more.
No one noticed this subtle miracle, their attention wholly captivated by Noi.
“He’s… he’s alive! The vice-captain’s alive!”
The vice-captain’s chest rose and fell steadily, his breathing restored.
The red-haired priestess stood in a daze, Noi’s feat bordering on the divine.
Even her bishop and mentor could only neutralize chaotic energy by converting vast amounts of mana into light magic to counter it.
Noi?
Her energy’s purity had simply obliterated the chaos.
Even a saintess might not match such efficiency.
The priestess questioned her reality, while the nuns and soldiers erupted in celebration.
They swarmed Noi, their cheers infectious, spreading to the onlookers who chanted Afiya’s name in joyous reverence.
Amid the adulation, Noi remained focused, diligently healing the vice-captain’s remaining wounds.
With rest, he would fully recover.
The captain, unwilling to interrupt, waited silently until she finished.
Then, standing tall, he struck his chest with a fist and bowed deeply—a rare imperial gesture reserved for pledging lifelong gratitude.
“Thank you, Lady Noi. For this grace, I offer my all in your service.”
“Uh… what?”
The crowd recognized the captain’s solemn vow, but Noi, unfamiliar with the custom, met their envious gazes with awkward acceptance.
Outside, the bishop, having witnessed everything, shifted from curiosity to awe, then to worry.
Xing Chen, amused by the cardinal’s expressive face, grinned.
“What’s got you so rattled?”
“Have you… seen that white-haired girl before?”
“Which one?”
The bishop handed over the telescope.
Xing Chen peered through and saw Noi, flustered at the crowd’s center.
“Her? Yeah, I know her. Why?”
The bishop’s face grew grave, wrinkles deepening.
“Is she a believer in the goddess? This is important.”
“Probably not. I’ve never seen her use light magic, and my eyes can’t detect any divine or demonic faith in her.”
Xing Chen’s eyes, capable of seeing fate lines, could also discern light or dark energy within a person.
“Oh no, oh no,” the bishop muttered, sweat beading on his brow.
Despite their relentless sprint, this news shook him more than exhaustion ever could, piquing Xing Chen’s curiosity.
“What’s wrong? Spill it.”
“You know the conditions for a saintess’s emergence, right?”
“Either born with auspicious signs or awakening later. You think she’s the latter?”
“Didn’t you see her wield light magic? Such purity, yet she’s not part of the Church—not even a believer. If that’s not a saintess awakening, what is?”
Xing Chen hadn’t seen it, having lent the telescope to the bishop.
But recalling the Church’s current state, his expression grew as grave as the bishop’s.
If Noi was indeed a saintess, trouble loomed.
In past eras, two saintesses heralded prolonged peace—a world’s blessing.
But now, another saintess would mean another puppet for the Church’s leader to control, amplifying their unchecked power.
“Forget that for now. Can you get me into the church quickly?”
“I can, but brace yourself—it might hurt.”
“Just do it.”
Xing Chen raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Your call. Don’t come crying to me later.”
His face grew serious, his once-dormant, magma-like eyes flaring into molten gold, glowing with vertical pupils.
The Qilin had awakened.
“Hold on tight!”
Xing Chen’s left arm morphed into a massive Qilin limb, rivaling the Star Alliance’s exoskeletal armor.
Seizing the bishop, who activated a protective barrier just in time, Xing Chen hurled him toward the church with a mighty swing.
“Whoa, that’s gonna sting—” Xing Chen didn’t catch the last word as the bishop soared out of sight.