It was noon in the Holy Kingdom. The melodious sound of bells came from afar, echoing across the entire sky above the Royal City.
In the Temple Square, thousands of devout believers clasped their hands together and chanted prayers imbued with holy power.
The Temple Master, Victor Baylans, stood atop the towering altar, draped in the pure white mage robe that symbolized the Holy Kingdom’s supreme honor. His gentle and magnetic voice, amplified by magic, clearly reached everyone’s ears.
“May the holy light illuminate the entire land, dispelling all the gloom of this world…!”
As he raised his staff high, a brilliant golden pillar of light descended from the sky, completely enveloping the entire plaza. The believers, moved to tears by his blessing, fell to their knees and shouted his name over and over.
Victor’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he accepted the worship of the crowd.
After the ceremony ended, he did not immediately go to rest. Instead, he changed into a light set of silver-white armor and, accompanied by his attendants, walked to the city’s Knights Order garrison.
The moment he stepped into the training ground, the knights who had been drilling instantly erupted into excitement. Their faces lit up with surprise and joy as they shouted.
“It’s the Temple Master!”
Then they cried out.
“Lord Victor has come to see us in person!”
No one knew who started it, but a thunderous roar followed, loud enough to lift the roof off the training ground. Hundreds of knights moved as one, dropping to a single knee on the hard floor.
The long swords in their hands struck the ground heavily, their points angled straight toward the sky—the highest honor they could offer their spiritual leader.
They bellowed at the top of their lungs.
“For the God of holy light!”
“For the Temple Master!”
The young men’s eyes blazed with fanatical fervor. Victor kept his trademark gentle smile on his lips as he slowly walked down the entire line of ranks.
Every few steps he paused, patting a young knight on the shoulder or reaching out to straighten a veteran’s slightly messy cape.
“Knights, grip your swords tightly. The God of holy light watches over us, and we carry His power. Protect the Holy Kingdom well, slay those evil fiends—that is your glory, and the hope I hold for every one of you.”
The young knights immediately shouted back at the top of their lungs.
Watching this group of passionate warriors, Victor showed a satisfied smile. Then he changed into a very ordinary old set of clothes and walked alone into the slums.
In a small, dilapidated thatched hut, Victor personally handed a bag of grain to a wrinkled old woman.
He said to her.
“Elder, these things are a gift from the gods.”
As he spoke, he held the old woman’s dry hand.
“The holy light will never abandon any of its believers.”
The old woman was too moved to speak a single coherent sentence. Tears streamed down her face, and she even tried to kneel and kiss the hem of Victor’s robe. But Victor simply helped her up gently and said politely.
“This is only what I should do.”
Time slowly passed into evening.
Victor returned to the deepest room of the Temple. As he stepped into his sleeping quarters, the warm expression on his face immediately vanished.
He dismissed all the attendants, then walked to the bookshelf and reached out to turn a particularly inconspicuous old book.
With a click, the wall slowly slid aside, revealing a hidden chamber behind it.
The chamber was pitch black, with no light visible. On the shelves around the room were rows upon rows of extremely thick magical tomes.
If the Inquisitors from the Church saw them, they would be scared out of their wits, because every single book here was a forbidden black magic book strictly controlled by the Church.
At the center of the secret chamber sat an enormous magic array. Hovering in the middle of the array was a pitch-black magic crystal, pulsating like a human heart.
Thump, thump—it moved, emitting a chilling wave of magical power.
Victor walked to his desk and slowly opened a book bound in black beast skin. The moment he opened it, a stream of cold black smoke rose from the corner of the wall and gradually condensed into a skinny, sharp-faced little monster.
The familiar immediately fell to its knees, trembling all over. It called out in a tiny voice.
“Master…!”
Without even lifting his head, Victor tapped his fingers lightly on the desk and asked.
“Speak.”
“That mission at the border… I have already accomplished it for you, Master.”
It paused, then shivered as it continued.
“That Silver Dragon Princess… has been captured. The Love God curse inside her was triggered by her contact with the Holy Maiden. Now the curse is only one step away from completely devouring the Dragon God’s bloodline.”
Only then did the corner of Victor’s mouth curl upward. He said with satisfaction.
“Very good. As long as I obtain the source of the Silver Dragon’s Dragon God bloodline, my strength will break through that bottleneck, and I can truly possess godhood.”
But then the familiar knocked its head against the floor again, its voice even more fearful.
“But Master! The Holy Maiden… has run into some trouble.”
Victor’s fingers stopped flipping the pages. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes as he said incredulously.
“Is it Seraphina? That girl managed to break through the encirclement?”
The familiar stammered in reply.
“Yes…! Yes…! Master. The Undead Knight had already defeated the Holy Maiden, only a little short of converting her into one of us!”
“But! But a red-haired woman wielding a sword suddenly appeared out of nowhere! That Undead Knight… he couldn’t even withstand a single move from that woman, and…! Was instantly killed!”
“How is that possible?!”
Victor’s palm slammed the forbidden book shut with a loud bang. He glared at the familiar.
“That Undead Knight was a diamond-rank combatant! How could he be killed in one move by some unknown woman?”
The familiar was so terrified it buried its head on the ground, crying out.
“It’s true, Master! The aura of that red-haired female swordswoman was terrifying. I felt she was a monster among monsters!”
Victor fell silent. His originally gentle and cultured face slowly twisted. He raised his head, and in that instant, his originally compassionate brown eyes were completely filled with pitch-black bloody red.
With a swish sound, his eyes became pure black like blood, with not a trace of white left—only a deep, hellish red remained. A pressure that felt like it could shatter bones burst forth from him.
Victor’s voice turned hoarse and vicious, sounding like a demon crawling out of hell. He roared.
“Useless! You can’t even deal with a Holy Maiden and some unknown swordswoman? What use do I have for keeping trash like you?!”
The familiar was scared out of its wits. It knocked its head frantically, screaming.
“Master, spare me! Master, spare me!”
Victor stared coldly at the familiar on the ground, his blood-red eyes filled with murderous brutality. He said coldly.
“Spare you? People who fail don’t deserve to live. Letting you live would only waste my magic power.”
The familiar let out a particularly miserable scream.
“No—!!!”
Victor merely lifted his finger lightly and pointed it at the familiar from a distance.
Poof.
The familiar’s body began to burn from within, like a candle that had been lit. Black flames instantly consumed its soul. In less than a second, the familiar that had served Victor for many years left not even a speck of ash behind.
The secret chamber fell back into silence.
Victor’s black aura slowly withdrew, and his blood-red eyes gradually returned to their gentle brown. He reached out and straightened his robe, as if the violent madman from a moment ago had never been him.
He muttered to himself.
“Even the Sword Saint of the Flame Family has come here. That’s really unexpected.”
Victor walked to a large floor-to-ceiling mirror and looked at the sanctimonious version of himself in the reflection. A knowing smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
He turned around and stared at the still-pulsing black magic crystal in the center of the secret chamber, his eyes shining with a maniacal light.
“Seraphina, my good disciple…”
Victor reached out and gently touched the portrait of the Holy Maiden on his desk. His fingers slowly traced her cold, beautiful features. His tone carried a hint of affection and nostalgia.
“Since that useless Undead Knight couldn’t convert you completely, it’s fine. This time, let Teacher meet you in person.”
He slowly raised his head, his gaze on the portrait becoming profound and complex, as if through the painting he was looking at the little girl who had once followed him everywhere.
“After all, I really want to see with my own eyes just how far the disciple I personally taught can go after being transformed.”
Victor finally let out a soft laugh, low and elegant.
“In that case, it wasn’t a waste of the many years I spent raising you, was it?”
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