The Blessing Ceremony and an Unexpected Encounter

“Are you going to see the ceremony too?” Roland paused his brushing, glancing towards the bedroom. Someone on the bed had already begun to dress.

“It’s too stifling always staying in the room; I occasionally wish to go out.” Freya gathered her hair with a hair tie, letting it rest over her left shoulder, and replied with her back to the washroom, “Is that not allowed?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t allowed…” Roland’s gaze returned to the mirror, his hands continuing their task with the toiletries. “It just feels strange.”

“What feels strange?”

“Everything feels strange.”

Roland took a cup of water, rinsing away the foam from the alchemical cleansing paste in his mouth, then proceeded to wash his face.

Freya bit her lip, her eyes flickering for a moment as her hands lay intertwined on her lap. ‘He’s noticed something amiss.’

Finally finished with his ablutions, Roland returned to the bedroom. He cast an odd glance at Freya before beginning to put on his daily clothes.

She held her breath, avoiding his gaze, and quickly entered the washroom.

‘Why has she been so strange ever since we returned yesterday?’

‘She barely makes eye contact, her voice is much softer, and her smile when opening the door was so strained it was as if I’d kidnapped her.’

‘Could it be that she’s been cooped up in the room for too long? Well… it’s possible. Since moving in here, I haven’t really taken her out.’

‘The plague is almost over now, and most of the villagers outside the city have returned home. A few, having heard news of the Hero’s blessing, have also come into the city to watch.’

‘Speaking of which, when I told Mother the news last night…’

****

[It’s for the best that another Hero has appeared.] Old Jenny let out a breath as if relieved. [I have no interest in the blessing ceremony. I plan to pack my bags in the next few days and hire a carriage to go home. Also, I heard you intend to take the Grey Academy of Magic entrance exam, about that…]

[It’s all to help a friend of mine.]

[Hm… is that so…] Old Jenny pondered. [You can go, but just remember, don’t cause any major trouble.]

[Understood.]

[And here, take this.] Old Jenny pulled something from her bosom and pressed it into Roland’s hand. [The world outside is far more dangerous than our hometown. What that person left behind might be able to help you.]

****

Gazing at the wrist blade in his hand—a close-quarters weapon primarily used for assassination or combat, its hidden blade allowing for surprise attacks—Roland pulled down his sleeve. Only when it was completely concealed did he finally feel at ease.

‘Something left by that person, huh…’

‘Honestly, of all things to leave, why a controlled blade like this? It would be quite alarming if someone accidentally saw it. Better keep it hidden.’

As if sensing that someone was taking a rather long time to prepare, Roland straightened his collar and looked towards the washroom.

“It’s almost time. Are you…”

“I’m ready.”

Freya emerged from the room, having just finished washing. Her soft hair tips still clung with warm water droplets. She reached up to smooth them, her flushed cheeks misty with moisture, making her look like a ripe fruit, waiting to be picked.

Roland felt a slight stir in his heart as he watched. He also noticed that her bangs and the white strands at her temples, damp with water, were no longer fluffy but slightly matted together.

“How can you not even wipe your face…” Nevertheless, he approached with a clean towel. The moment the towel touched Freya’s face, he distinctly felt her body tremble. He paused, then asked, “Are you feeling disgusted again?”

“No…” Freya’s gaze dropped, and she shook her head slightly, her voice faint. “Not disgusted.”

‘It’s becoming increasingly difficult to understand what’s going on in her mind.’

Roland’s hand, wrapped in the towel, gently dabbed the water droplets from her hair tips and behind her ears. After spending so much time together, he could no longer view her as he had initially, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Freya waited quietly for him to finish, then stood without a word. Roland, finding the atmosphere rather strange, cleared his throat and suggested, “Let’s go.”

Watching his retreating back, Freya silently followed.

‘The warmth of his hand felt familiar, as did the illusion from last night.’

‘Which one, then, was real?’

****

It was almost time for the ceremony to officially begin when the two finally arrived at the nearest church.

“It’s so lively today; there are surprisingly many onlookers because of this ceremony,” Roland chuckled. “If I were to receive the blessing, I imagine it would be just as grand, wouldn’t it?”

“Mm…”

“Also… you’ve been a bit too eye-catching along the way,” Roland said, poking her cheek. “Even many passing women turned to look.”

“Mm…”

“Which means you’re still… very pretty, aren’t you?”

“Mm…”

Roland scratched his head, looking somewhat speechless. Despite his continuous attempts to make conversation, the Little Demon Lord kept ending it with a single exclamation. ‘Was this truly a conversation killer?’

“Mr. Roland.”

Fortunately, someone arrived at that moment to break the awkward silence.

Turning around, they saw a girl with long blue hair, dressed in the Grey Academy of Magic uniform, with the alchemy department’s insignia on her chest.

“Why did you suddenly leave yesterday?” Roxy approached them slowly, holding a magic staff. As she clearly saw Freya’s face, she couldn’t help but exclaim, “It’s you!”

“Me?” Freya pointed to herself, feeling a touch of confusion. “You know me?”

“Uh…” Roland scratched his cheek. “Roxy, I suddenly remembered some important matters yesterday, so I left early.”

“It’s alright,” Roxy shook her head, then looked at Freya again, her brows slightly furrowed. “So you’re Freya. Don’t you recognize me?”

Hearing the question, Freya’s eyebrows knitted together. After a moment of thought, she replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember…”

“I understand; the Mandrake’s memory-wiping effect probably hasn’t fully worn off yet. My teacher mentioned this to me.” Roxy walked to Freya’s left, standing beside her. “Rudios, an Alchemy Master, is the one who helped you recover your memories.”

“Roland told me,” Freya said, placing her hands over her lower abdomen and bowing slightly to Roxy. “I’m grateful to you all for helping me recover. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, after all, you saved me too.” Before Freya could inquire further, Roxy added, “It’s fine if you don’t remember me; it’s not a very important matter. We can talk about it once you truly recall.”

Roland also took the opportunity to pat Freya’s head, reminding her, “That’s right, it’s all in the past. We can discuss it when you remember.”

“Mm, I understand.” Freya, being compliant, didn’t press the matter. She pointed towards the high platform. “The ceremony is officially starting.”

All three of their gazes simultaneously focused on the high platform in the square. In fact, everyone’s eyes converged on the platform in a single breath.

At that moment, the Priest from yesterday, his expression solemn, ascended the high platform, cradling the Magic Crystal Ball in his hands.

It was Priest Kilian. He had chugged three bottles of Priest’s Elixir, ensuring his stomach was brimming with magic before letting out a gassy burp, ready to step onto the stage.

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, and pressed his hands against the crystal’s surface, channeling his entire magical power into it. As the magic flowed, the crystal ball began to radiate a kaleidoscope of colors.

“Burp—”

To everyone’s surprise, he let out a thunderous burp in front of the assembled crowd.

‘Damn it! I’m done for!’

He was already bracing himself for a massive ecclesiastical death. Fortunately, in the very next moment, the magic crystal erupted with a tremendous roar.

With a booming sound, a large magical projection surged into the sky, forming an image mid-air.

It was a scene from the Temple of Light. Within the projection, the Temple’s interior was lavishly decorated. The Archbishop of the Theocracy, Wooley Ulysses, and Pope Julius II sat on elevated stone chairs, with a statue of the God of Light behind them. Two rows of imposing Templar Knights stood on either side.

Before them, Kayar, the Healing Hero, clad in a pristine white holy robe, knelt in the center of the Temple. His head was bowed, his left hand covered his chest, and his right hand rested on the ground for support.

“How humiliating. Does a Hero really need to kneel to others?” Roland muttered under his breath.

Roxy cast a glance at him, patiently explaining, “He isn’t kneeling to the Archbishop, nor the Pope, but to the God of Light. This is one of the rituals for swearing an oath to a deity: kneeling signifies relinquishing all resistance and submitting to the divine.”

“Is that so?”

‘Still, it felt incredibly stifling.’ Surrounded by fervent believers, Roland didn’t dare voice his thoughts, instead completing the sentence in his mind.

Once the Archbishop instructed the Hero to rise, Kayar stood. It was clear his hands bore no equipment. After being transported to the Theocracy via the teleportation array a few days prior, the Divine Gauntlet had returned to the Archbishop’s possession. Indeed, had it not been for the unique circumstances of the disaster, the Hero would not have received the divine artifact ahead of time.

The blessing ceremony traditionally required the Archbishop to bestow the Divine Gauntlet, followed by the Pope’s blessing upon the Hero.

The next step was the Hero’s crowning, where the Archbishop would place a laurel wreath, symbolizing peace, upon their head. This wreath was woven from the vines of a plant called the Peace Tree, found only in Jerusalem. This evergreen plant was said to have been bestowed by the gods in remembrance of the first fallen Hero.

The Hero stepped forward and knelt once more before the Archbishop.

“By wearing this laurel, you shall bear the responsibilities of a Hero, and remember that you are the messenger of God and a symbol of light. You shall lead countless mortals, you shall be our savior, and you shall forever enjoy power and glory for generations to come…” The Archbishop recited the complex and lengthy crowning incantation, then placed a green laurel wreath upon the Hero’s head.

Having completed this step, the Hero stood up as instructed by the Archbishop.

“What happens next?” This time, Freya was the one to ask.

“The bestowal of a divine artifact. In the past, it was always the Holy Sword, but the Holy Sword has been missing for a long time. This time, it might be…” Roxy’s eyes fell upon the item, confirming her suspicion. “Indeed, I was right. I once saw this divine artifact in an ancient church text; it’s the Divine Gauntlet Georgius, ranked second among all divine artifacts.”

The process of bestowing the divine artifact was somewhat simpler. The Archbishop spoke few words, merely presenting a wooden tray upon which rested the Hero’s divine artifact.

Kayar had used this divine artifact for a long time, knowing it intimately. Although its appearance was eerie and terrifying, within the Temple, its surface emanated a sacred radiance.

‘This cursed thing, it seems quite well-behaved in this place…’

Kayar accepted the divine artifact and equipped it onto his hand.

As the Hero made his move, the believers watching the magical projection began to cheer.

Though he wasn’t the Sword Hero, humanity had finally welcomed a new messenger of God once more!

Kilian glanced at the projection above, wiping his sweat-beaded head against the collar of his shoulder.

‘Damn it, my magic is draining so fast. This ritual still has a long way to go… Oh well, I’ll last as long as I can.’

Healing Hero, Kayar, Divine Artifact [Georgius], Level LV25, Extremely Dangerous.

A string of text suddenly appeared in Freya’s vision, only to vanish once she rubbed her eyes.

‘A hallucination?’

Meanwhile, within the Moonlight Hotel, the Holy Sword trembled once more, even emitting a faint trace of rampant magical power.

Returning to the magical projection, the Pope stood up. His towering figure, suddenly erect, appeared exceptionally valiant among the crowd.

Julius II was already over seventy years old, yet despite his face being etched with the carvings of time, his majestic physique and exaggerated musculature showed no signs of change. Fully extending his body, he resembled a powerful grizzly bear, making the Hero before him seem like a pitiful kitten.

“The final step: the Pope’s blessing.”

Roxy explained first, without waiting for them to speak.

The Pope’s face was a mask of arrogance and indifference. He extended a colossal hand, large enough to completely cover Kayar’s face, and pressed it onto the Hero’s crown. Magic surged, and his deep-set eyes emitted a golden divine light.

“I bestow upon you blessings of power, life, magic, and perception—”

“I wish for you chastity, diligence, generosity, humility, gentleness, temperance, and tolerance—”

The Pope’s voice echoed in Kayar’s ears like the low growl of a dragon. He felt a majestic, ocean-like surge of magic flood his body, as a pale yellow light broke through all resistance and rushed into him. Though his magical level didn’t increase, the Hero’s strength, recovery power, total magic, and perception were all enhanced severalfold.

‘Too strong, truly too strong. Is this… the Pope’s power?’

‘Moreover, my magic was like air; it couldn’t resist the Pope for even a moment!’

Every pore, every cell was brimming with this magic, even overflowing, yet the Pope’s magical infusion remained ceaseless, as steady as a rock.

At this point, the amount of magic being channeled had reached a terrifying degree.

‘What’s happening? The magical infusion is already immense; if this continues, my body will explode.’

‘No, I don’t want to die!’

‘If only, if only I could utter those words…’

At that moment, he faintly heard the Pope’s words to him.

“Be obedient. As a Hero, you shall harbor no second thoughts. Otherwise, I will wield the mighty power of Light to obliterate you, turning you to dust.”

That nightmarish admonition was carved like a knife deep into Kayar’s soul.

Unable to muster any courage to resist, he trembled as he raised his eyes, glancing at the towering figure.

“Kneel!”

Terrifying magical pressure forced his knees down. He felt his bones on the verge of shattering as his knees slammed heavily onto the Temple floor, producing a cracking sound.

The Temple floor was enchanted; it shouldn’t shatter unless attacked by high-level magic. Therefore, it was his bones that were breaking.

“Strange…” Roxy’s expression turned puzzled. “By all accounts, the Hero shouldn’t have to kneel at this step…”

“Who knows?” Roland shrugged.

‘Monster!’

‘Is the Pope truly human?!’

‘He’s a monster!’

‘Even with a divine artifact, I’m completely un—’

‘Ah! Wait, the magic in my body…’

Kayar’s eyes were filled with terror. His entire skeletal structure was being compressed by the magic, and his body was on the verge of bursting from the magical overload.

‘What does this monster want to do?’

“You shall never betray the Church.”

The excess magic suddenly converged towards his heart. In an instant, a magic array brimming with immense power formed within his heart.

[Magic Array: Divine Shatter]

Having completed all this, the Pope no longer spared a glance for the Hero, silently returning to his seat. The Healing Hero remained kneeling on the ground, trembling uncontrollably.

*Snap—*

The magical projection vanished. Kilian had finally exhausted his last shred of magic, but he had managed to hold on until the very end.

“The ceremony is over!”

He bellowed, then quickly headed back. There should be a few bottles of Priest’s Elixir left in the church; he needed to replenish his magic quickly.

Mary shook her head helplessly from behind, stepping forward to assist him.

At this point, the believers below the platform began to murmur amongst themselves. No one understood why this Hero had behaved so abnormally.

However, this incident only caused a minor ripple, for soon, an even more important event would capture everyone’s attention.

The Grey Academy of Magic’s entrance examination was about to begin!