Within the dreamlike depths of consciousness, Roman found himself wrapped in something soft.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying in a field of flowers, surrounded by blossoms in full bloom, vivid purples, fiery reds, and every color in between.
With a puzzled gaze, he slowly sat up and looked around.
There was no sign of anyone anywhere.
The scene was like something from a celestial mirror, so ethereal it felt unreal.
If he remembered correctly, he was currently undergoing the Sacred Seal awakening ritual. Had he fallen asleep?
So this… was a dream?
“Ah…”
A sudden stabbing pain in his left eye made Roman clutch it instinctively, overwhelmed with fear.
His right eye was a flower. He couldn’t see anything through it, it embodied the very idea of “incompleteness.”
Under such conditions, he naturally cherished his left eye even more and feared any harm coming to it.
Luo Xiya’s words echoed in his mind: “The Sacred Seal awakening ritual is a process of rebirth. Endure it, and it will pass.”
Just as that thought crossed his mind, the surroundings began to change.
The once serene and beautiful sanctuary transformed into something out of a dark fairytale.
In the blink of an eye, the charming exterior was torn away to reveal a gloomy, haunting reality.
The flower field around him began to grow wildly.
Two thick vines sprouted near Roman’s feet, coiling around his ankles and climbing steadily upward.
At the same time, a vine lashed out from behind and wrapped around his waist, yanking him to the ground.
Others quickly followed.
Roman’s limbs were completely restrained, yet strangely, he didn’t feel afraid.
Perhaps it was his imagination, but he felt no malice from anything here.
Even the binding motion seemed unusually gentle, the vine beneath his back even supported him carefully to avoid hurting him when he was pulled down.
A sweet and cloying floral fragrance filled the air.
Roman couldn’t understand what Luo Xiya had meant by “rebirth”, he could only wait quietly.
“So you’ve finally arrived?” came a soft, melodious voice beside his ear.
Then, a figure appeared before him.
She was completely nude, with snow-white hair cascading down to her ankles.
Her chest was full and voluptuous, standing proudly, while the curve of her waist and hips was nothing short of seductive.
Her slender waist looked as though it could be encircled with just one hand, firm and flawless.
Yet, in Roman’s nearly blind state, he couldn’t make out her face at all.
He could only vaguely perceive the divine contours of her goddess-like figure.
She slowly bent forward, kneeling beside him, and reached out to touch his cheek.
“Then, let me bestow upon you the highest form of ‘Life.’”
Cupping his face in her hands, she slowly leaned closer.
“Who… are you?”
“Hasn’t anyone taught you?” she said, displeased.
“That boys only need to lie down and behave?”
Pressing down on Roman’s shoulders, she gently straddled him.
The cool, silky touch of her body left him entirely without strength to resist.
After a long sigh, the scent of the flowers around them grew even stronger.
Holy City, Osiris.
A woman dressed in a white-gold robe stood silently at the top of a tall tower, her calm gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
She had been standing there for a long time, day after day. No one knew what she was looking at, or what she was thinking.
“Your Holiness, the night is deep,” a nearby maid said softly.
At the same time, the maid kept her head bowed, not daring to meet the woman’s eyes.
“A Holy Son has descended upon the continent…” the woman known as the Holy Throne murmured softly.
Silence.
More time passed, and still silence.
The handmaidens stationed atop the tower slowly prostrated themselves behind her, chanting devout prayers.
“Send the people from the Inquisition. Have them investigate, quickly.”
The one receiving the command shivered uncontrollably.
A Holy Son’s arrival, and yet the terrifying Inquisition was being dispatched?
What was the Holy Throne thinking?
“Any other questions?” the woman asked again.
“No, Your Holiness! I’ll arrange it immediately.”
Across the continent, the highest-ranking archbishop of the Church groveled like a dog before this woman, not daring to show a shred of defiance or hesitation.
“You may all leave.”
Once the archbishop departed, the woman waved her hand.
Only then did the handmaidens rise from their kneeling positions, bow, and exit.
Under the still night sky, she remained on the balcony of the tower, as though clinging to something deeply cherished.
“Laini…”
After a faint sigh, a chill suddenly swept over her body.
The softness she had just shown vanished without a trace.
Then, after a brief moment of vigilance, she realized who was standing behind her and relaxed her posture, letting out a helpless chuckle.
“Milis, as a Saintess of the Church, I seem to recall teaching you that sneaking up behind someone without a word is very rude.”
From behind her, a girl named Milis slowly stepped forward.
She, too, had long silver-white hair and wore the most distinguished white-and-gold gown of the Church.
What drew the most attention was her hair, clearly combed with care, yet deliberately styled so that her bangs covered her left eye, as if hiding something on purpose.
“Your Holiness, I want to leave for a while,” Milis said calmly.
The woman was stunned, but quickly understood what Milis intended and refused without hesitation.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There’s no ‘why.’ What you asked me about is something I absolutely cannot approve.”
“Oh…”
Hearing the girl’s innocent-sounding “Oh,” the woman felt, for once, utterly defeated.
This seemingly obedient girl, regarded by the world as the flawless Saintess, was, in truth, like a stone.
And that wasn’t praise.
The woman described Milis this way because her personality was as stubborn and unyielding as a rock, rigid, blunt, and completely impossible to persuade.
Once she decided on something, nothing could stop her from seeing it through to the end.
“Milis, master your ‘Judgment’ before we talk about anything else. Otherwise, everything is off the table.”
The woman shifted to a more indirect tactic.
With someone like Milis, all she had to do was give her a goal, then the girl would obey.
The thought stirred some old frustration in her heart.
She had never borne children of her own, but Milis was, to her, no different from a daughter.
Despite being the exalted Holy Throne of the Church, she lived every day like some kind of single mother.
After all, Milis would only listen to her…
But then, as soon as she laid down the condition, Milis hesitated briefly, then calmly lifted the strands of hair that had been covering her left eye.
A divine golden iris, with a cruciform pupil, glinted under the moonlight, strange, yet holy.
Seeing the steadiness in that eye, the woman couldn’t suppress the joy that bubbled up inside her.
“Milis, you…”
“Mother, I’m begging you,” Milis said, expressionless.
That single word, Mother, pierced straight through the woman’s hardened heart, touching the softest part within.
She let out a helpless sigh, stepped forward, and gently ruffled Milis’s hair, without offering a clear answer.
Only then did Milis reveal a faint smile, the corners of her lips curling up in triumph.