What is this light?
A shade of black he’d never once seen before now blazed brightly in front of his eyes.
Uhh, what tier is this? Why is it such a deep black? Isn’t Tier S supposed to be purple—the highest possible? Is black below that, or above it?
Lucian was still lost in speculation, but he noticed everyone around him frozen mid-motion, expressions stunned, as though none of them could quite believe what they were seeing from the obelisk’s light.
Why does everyone look like that? Is a black Awakening somehow worse than a gray one?
Then the Bishop began clapping, his voice bursting with sheer joy, laughter spilling out of him.
"CONGRATULATIONS! CONGRATULATIONS! At last—House Sarnel carries the bloodline of Sacred Mana!"
Sacred Mana... from this black light?
"This white light—it shines brighter than any other color. There’s no doubt now. He has been chosen by the Goddess Lumielle herself, destined to stand as a Saintess’s consort."
In an instant, every priest standing behind the Bishop dropped to their knees before Lucian, reaching for his hands. Startled, Lucian stumbled back, pulling away from them.
Eh—why are they trying to kiss my hand?
He wasn’t the only one confused. Every guest throughout the cathedral wore the same bewildered expression, because nothing like this had ever happened before—a man, receiving a white Awakening.
Wait. Did he just say white? I got white, not black?
"Bishop Owen... forgive me, but did you say my Awakening was white? Not some other color?" Lucian ventured the question carefully.
"Ah, forgive me, Lord Lucian—I forgot you can’t see. Allow me to announce it again, then. Lucian Sarnel’s Awakening is white—a Special-Rank result, Tier S, second only to the exceedingly rare purple Awakening that almost no one has ever achieved."
Lucian focused on the white color of his own robes, comparing it against the black light still blazing from the obelisk.
"Bishop Owen, is that white the same color as the clothes I’m wearing right now?"
"No, Lord Lucian. What you’re wearing is black. White is the color of the robes we’re wearing—and of nearly everything in this cathedral."
Then I’m not the one seeing it wrong. Everyone else in this room is the one misreading that obelisk’s light.
As he looked around, a memory surfaced—the text that had once appeared before him, describing the God-Eye Talent: the ability to see what should not be seen.
He turned the thought over carefully.
Is this because of the God-Eye? Not just my sight returning to me, but seeing something no one else is meant to see?
Something about the obelisk itself felt wrong to him. And there was something else he remembered clearly—a well-known fact about the white, Tier S Awakening: it had only ever been granted to women chosen directly by a goddess. No goddess, in all of recorded history, had ever chosen a man to represent her.
"But Bishop Owen, I’m a man. Isn’t it strange that I’d receive a white Awakening, one meant exclusively for women? Could you check again—perhaps the obelisk itself is damaged?"
The Bishop tilted his head, considering this.
"Hmm. You’re right that this has never happened before. But that doesn’t mean it never could. Today, it seems, is a day that will be written into history."
What?! Why is he jumping to that conclusion so fast? Doesn’t he think this is strange—something that’s never happened before?
"Wait, Bishop Owen... I’ve never once, in my entire life, used a light-based ability. Isn’t that supposed to be a defining trait of a white Awakening?"
"Well—couldn’t you simply learn it, starting from the beginning?"
This Bishop... does he not realize the light element is a singular element, incapable of combining with any other? If I accept this, I’d be bound to the Order of Lumielle for the rest of my life.
Lucian’s brow furrowed. He had no desire to spend his entire life tied to the Order. Worse still, a rare white Awakening like this would draw constant scrutiny from everyone around him—his freedom would be gone for good.
A lifetime in the Order of Lumielle... just witnessing their conflict yesterday was terrifying enough. And with Lumina there too—
Lumina.
He searched the area near the Altar, listening carefully—but there was no sign of her presence anywhere. That alone struck him as deeply strange. A sacred Awakening ceremony like this should have had a Saintess present, without exception.
Where is she? Is this part of her plan too—to bind me somehow?
Before his suspicion could fully take shape, a priest standing behind Bishop Owen stepped forward, carrying a white grimoire.
"If you’re still uncertain, perhaps you should try this grimoire."
Lucian studied the strange white book before him. A grimoire like this typically held a Blessing calibrated to match one’s Awakening tier—a fundamental measure of the limits of one’s power in this world. Most people received only a single Blessing, aligned with their sole element. Exceptions existed only for those who commanded two elements simultaneously, though such individuals were exceedingly rare.
Bishop Owen looked visibly proud as he held the grimoire out.
"This grimoire contains a light-element Blessing known as the Unyielding Seed. True to its name, it grants boundless vitality and fertility—you’ll never need to worry about your performance at night."
"Vitality sounds useful enough, but... what exactly do you mean by boundless fertility?"
"Ahem."
The Bishop’s face flushed slightly, as though he wanted to explain further but was holding himself back.
Damn. Why is his face turning red? Is there something off about this grimoire?
Lucian’s certainty solidified—something about this ceremony was deeply wrong.
My instincts are screaming at me not to accept this. Like there’s something I really don’t want, waiting on the other side of taking it.
He stepped back, pulling his hand away from the grimoire entirely.
"Isn’t there another grimoire available? I can prove myself using something other than the light element."
I need to prove I can wield something else. If I don’t, I’ll be trapped inside this Order all over again.
Before he could take another step back, a sharp voice cut through the air behind him.
"Hey. Blind boy."
Who’s that?
Lucian turned—and froze in surprise. Standing there was a young man around his own age, though heavyset, dressed in the robes of high nobility, his expression dripping with condescension.
That voice... ah. It’s Boien. Son of Marquis Kayden.
Unbelievable. This guy used to bully me constantly. Of course I’d run into one of my brother’s friends here. Is there not a single normal person I can meet at this ceremony?
"You’ve been up there long enough. Hurry up and get off the altar."
Bishop Owen stepped forward at once, positioning himself between Lucian and the boy.
"How dare you show such disrespect. You stand inside a cathedral, in the presence of someone chosen by the Goddess Lumielle herself."
Boien flinched at the sharpness in the Bishop’s voice, clearly not expecting such open hostility over someone like Lucian. But before he could respond, a man stepped forward from behind him—a servant, perhaps thirty years old, dressed in formal attendant’s clothing.
"Bishop Owen, forgive our young master. We meant no disrespect."
The servant bowed low toward the Bishop, posture perfectly composed.
"We only wished to ask how much longer you intend to indulge that boy. It seems fairly clear the obelisk has made some kind of error—there’s no possibility a man could receive a white Awakening."
Eh—this servant’s quite the talker. Actually, if he manages to get my white Awakening dismissed, maybe I actually get to walk away from this Order.
But Lucian’s optimism was premature. The Bishop’s demeanor shifted entirely.
"Does a servant of House Kayden believe himself closer to the Goddess Lumielle than we are—closer than an Order that has safeguarded her will for a thousand years?"
The Bishop’s tone sharpened further, though the servant kept his composure.
"Of course not, Bishop Owen. We all know full well the power the Order of Lumielle carries. How could any of us think poorly of it? What concerns us is simply this—a blind young man receiving such an Awakening is difficult to believe."
This servant has some nerve, talking about me so openly.
The servant turned toward Lucian, his expression carrying the same condescension as before. "If even a blind man can receive a white Awakening, then surely anyone else could too."
"Then explain yourself clearly," Bishop Owen said, restraining the edge in his voice, aware of how many high-ranking nobles were watching this unfold with visible discomfort.
"There’s no need to worry about their stares, Bishop Owen. What we’re proposing is simple—why not allow our young master to attempt the Awakening as well?"
"You could try a thousand times over, and it would change nothing. An Awakening can only be performed once. If he attempts it again, the obelisk simply won’t respond."
The servant pushed Boien forward regardless, urging him toward the platform.
"In that case, perhaps Young Master Boien should go first. He hasn’t undergone his Awakening yet."
The servant leaned in, whispering to Boien. "Young Master, this is your chance—to be the man who receives a white Awakening. Think of the fame it would bring you. With this, getting into Orvis Academy would be effortless."
Boien turned to him with a grin. "Good work, Arlo. I’ll have Father raise your pay for this... and get you that slave from the northern continent you’ve been wanting."
✦ [HARMONY]
✦ [A clue regarding House Lysandra has been found]
The text flickered briefly before Lucian’s eyes, then vanished just as quickly.
Wait—that was about House Lysandra? Why did it disappear so fast?
Before he could chase the thread of the clue he’d been searching for, his focus was shattered by Bishop Owen’s voice, raised sharply.
"No! Lucian Sarnel’s Awakening isn’t finished yet—he hasn’t chosen his Blessing from this grimoire."
Damn it. I need to secure my freedom first before I can dig any deeper into this.
Lucian raised a hand, cutting off the Bishop before he could continue. He wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.
"Bishop Owen, there’s no need to worry," Lucian said, his expression the picture of conviction. "If the Goddess Lumielle truly has chosen me, then my fate will never stray from the path she’s laid out for me."
To Bishop Owen and the priests gathered around him, the words landed like proof of the purest devotion imaginable. They stared at Lucian with something close to awe, convinced they were witnessing a soul capable of extraordinary sacrifice.
None of them realized the sweetness of those words was nothing more than a calculated lie. Lucian couldn’t care less about the Awakening or any sacred destiny—he was simply buying himself time, angling for a way out of the Order’s grip.
But without meaning to, he’d reignited something in the Bishop, who turned and addressed the room with rising fervor.
"How laughable," Bishop Owen scoffed, casting a scornful glance toward the assembled nobles.
"You, who drown in wealth and status, strut through life as though the world exists only to orbit around you. And yet look at this young man—blind, and still willing to place his fate in the Goddess Lumielle’s hands without hesitation. And you would try to steal even that from him? Have you no shame, standing before someone who has already lost so much?"
The rebuke cracked across the hall like a whip. Several nobles lowered their heads, stiff and silent, none daring to argue.
The room settled into an uneasy quiet.
Ugh. This Bishop’s ruining the momentum—I was so close to getting that fat kid stuck with the weird grimoire instead.
In the midst of the confusion, a woman’s voice cut through the room—intimidating, yet strangely gentle.
"Greetings, Bishop Owen."
Finally. A new hope for getting out of this.
The atmosphere in the room dropped several degrees without warning. Lucian caught sight of three more figures approaching Bishop Owen, clearly unwilling to let this moment pass them by—and from their attire, these were no ordinary nobles.
So that’s why I felt that chill the moment I walked in. I thought it was just everyone staring at me... turns out House Winter’s here too.
Lucian could make out the Duchess of House Winter clearly now—Amelia, a renowned Ice-element Magic Caster within the Bravenheart Empire, her family’s reputation rivaling that of House Sarnel itself.
Duchess Amelia really is beautiful... If it weren’t for the rumors—something about five hundred and twenty past lovers, and no man lasting more than two minutes near her—I might actually call her an ice goddess.
Should I ask her about that rumor?