The joys and sorrows of people are not the same.
Laughter and cheerful voices echoed from within the courtyard. But outside the wall, someone was clenching her teeth, staring at a liveliness that didn’t belong to her at all.
Fula hid behind a tree, biting her handkerchief, her gaze piercing as she watched the scene inside the yard.
Her fingers dug tightly into the tree trunk, and beside her, several faint flames flickered, born from her emotional turmoil.
Why is this happening?
It should be me… I should be the one standing next to Anlis!
For the past two days, she had been desperately studying her abilities, and her level had steadily risen through meditation.
Feeling her power had doubled, she had wanted to share her joy. But the sight before her now left her without even the courage to approach.
She was a complete outsider.
Had she forgotten? Could it be?
More than ten years of friendship—had Anlis really forgotten it all?
That feeling was supposed to slowly turn into love.
Why haven’t you come to see me even once these days?
Why do you smile so happily at that suddenly appearing stranger…
Anlis…
“Hello, what are you looking at?”
A light tap on her shoulder from out of nowhere made Fula jump and nearly faint on the spot.
She quickly leaped back, her fingertips pulling at faint flames, and locked onto the person who had tapped her from behind.
“Miss Fula, it’s me. No need to panic. I’m sorry for startling you just now; I didn’t expect that either.”
The person before her was a familiar young woman, dressed in the standard nun’s habit of the Sacred Church, which made her appear dignified and gentle.
“Sister Mary… why are you here?”
The alertness on Fula’s face slowly faded.
Everyone in the Empire was a believer of the Sacred Church. The one responsible for the prayers and confessions in their village was this very woman, so naturally they knew each other.
“I saw you looking lost not far away, so I came over to check on you.”
“I’m… I’m not lost at all.”
“That smells like a lie.”
Fula shrank her head and dared not meet her eyes again.
Sister Mary could always see through what others were thinking.
“Your gaze kept falling on the Hero. Could it be… you like the Hero?”
Sister Mary still pierced through the secret she least wanted to mention.
A trace of impatience rose in Fula’s heart, and her tone hardened: “So what if I do?”
After all, the next thing would surely be to persuade her to face reality and give up this feeling.
Everyone was partial to that Saintess who had descended from nowhere.
Why should the Hero naturally be with the Saintess?
If I… were the Saintess too…
“If you like someone, you should of course say it out loud,” Sister Mary said with a smile. “If you keep it bottled up inside and don’t convey it, how would the other person ever know?”
“Huh?”
Fula looked up in shock, only to see the gentle nun in front of her giving her a cheer gesture.
“Go for it. I’m rooting for you. I’ll always cheer you on.”
Fula was momentarily moved.
“Sister Mary… can I… really do it?”
“Of course. What do you think you lack? Feelings that have built up over so many years—that’s a heavy weight in itself.”
Comforted like this, Fula’s chaotic heart gradually calmed down.
Who would have thought that the first one to support her would be Sister Mary standing before her now?
“Thank you. I know what to do.”
“Keep it up.”
Sister Mary gave a faint smile, but her tone shifted slightly: “By the way, thank you for last night.”
What happened last night?
Fula recalled that she had merely happened to come across the injured Sister Mary and had taken her in for a short while. She hadn’t done anything worth thanking.
“I didn’t do much. You don’t need to thank me.”
“The thanks are still necessary.” Sister Mary’s gaze turned a little heavy. “But last night, while you were asleep, I seemed to pick up a scent… of something different.”
“Huh?”
“All life breathes with spirit; all things speak through my words. Spring grows, summer thrives, autumn harvests, winter stores.”
Hearing that proverb, Fula’s eyes suddenly widened.
“It seems you have indeed heard those words. Last night, I felt a presence that I particularly detest. Judging by your reaction, my suspicion was correct.”
In an instant, Fula felt that the gentle Sister Mary before her had become strangely frightening.
That repulsive aura, though not outwardly displayed, was exceptionally clear.
It was as if two absolutely opposing concepts had discovered each other, giving rise to a natural repulsion.
“Fula, I hope that as a believer of the Sacred Church, you will not try to respond to those words. Otherwise, something very bad will happen. You wouldn’t want to be purged as a heretic, would you?”
Fula remained silent, her gaze evasive, no longer daring to look at her.
“Fula, I need you to understand: Since Anlis has become the Hero, she is naturally the Saint of the concepts of [Sacred] and [Radiance]. At such a time, you, as the one closest to Anlis, hearing the temptations of another deity—the conspiracy should be obvious.”
“I hope you don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Having said that, Sister Mary said no more and turned to leave.
Fula’s body trembled, her face turning pale.
She hesitated for a moment, but in the end, gritted her teeth, stepped forward, and gently pulled at the other’s sleeve.
Sister Mary paused in her steps, a barely noticeable triumphant smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
“But… I think I’ve already responded.”
“Oh dear, that is bad news.”
Sister Mary feigned regret and asked softly, “Then, what did He say to you?”
“Possess her, win her, bear the children blessed by the God… spread God’s gospel that way, and let the hope of life blanket the land.”
“Your Holiness the Saintess, we have arrived.”
After lunch, Anlis had originally planned to temporarily set aside sword practice and go to the fields with her father as a form of physical training.
Just as she was about to head out, she encountered the two bishops, Glen and Meili, who had come to see her.
“Greetings to you both. What brings you here today?”
“We have relayed information about the two of you to His Holiness the Pope via magic communication. His Holiness was overjoyed and immediately sent over your identification tokens and vestments.”
As Glen spoke, he handed over two delicate silk pouches.
Vylian took the one meant for her and gently lifted a corner. Inside was an extremely ornate pure white holy gown.
Anlis also took a look and was immediately stunned by the clothing inside.
It was also a dress—even without putting it on, one could feel its clean, sharp elegance. It was surely the work of a master craftsman.
She didn’t refuse. In a sense, this garment could be considered an identification token, a work uniform. Even if it looked expensive, there was no reason to turn it down.
“There are also a staff and a spare sword. The staff is the exclusive weapon of the Saintesses of past generations. It can enhance your Holy Light power and affinity. As for the spare sword, it is a replica of the Holy Sword. The real Holy Sword must be obtained by you, Hero, through a trial.”
Having said that,
Meili handed over the two weapons.
This time, Anlis accepted them without hesitation. In this situation, even Vylian wouldn’t say anything.
But just by feel, Anlis still thought Uncle Fike’s Village Good Sword might be stronger.
Vylian took the staff. The pure Holy Light aura emanating from it made her feel a deep disgust, and the staff itself seemed to subtly reject her.
Still, Vylian firmly suppressed it with her overwhelming level, revealing no flaw.
“As expected of a weapon passed down through generations of Saintesses. I feel my power has been increased tenfold, or even ninefold.”
“Haha, of course!”
Hearing Vylian’s words, Archbishop Glen laughed heartily. “This staff is a perfect match for you.”
Anlis couldn’t help but roll her eyes.
Perfect match?
Where’s the match?
And you, handing over the Saintess’s exclusive weapon to the Demon King—how do you still have the face to laugh?
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