Thursday, watched the nuns.

Friday, watched the nuns.

Saturday, watched the nuns.

Moen, oh Moen, you can't keep going low like this. Even if you've resolved not to participate in this ceremony, you should at least keep striving forward instead of indulging in this peculiar allure of uniforms!

Sunday, at the Holy Communion in the church, watching the choir of nuns—their beauty was unparalleled, and every one of them was wearing black stockings. Absolutely divine—hehe...

"Pity."

Amidst the hymn to the goddess, a soft sigh came from beside him:

"The church's nun outfits are far too conservative. The skirts are too long; you can only see their calves."

"You don't understand anything!"

While appreciating the... choir through the crowd, Moen firmly rebuked, "It's precisely this sanctity steeped in divine light, this conservative allure that teases yet conceals—that evokes an even stronger desire to admire!"

"True, if everyone flaunted bare white thighs, how would they differ from common cheap harlots?"

The voice concurred,

"But it's still a pity that they're all in uniform. Personally, I have a thing for white stockings."

"White stockings are heresy! Those are only suitable for kids or lolicons—what's so great about them?!" Moen slapped his thigh and angrily lashed out.

"Black stockings are heresy! Stuff that hides a girl's pure beauty should've long since been thrown into the rubbish heap of history!" retorted the voice defiantly.

"Heresy!"

"You're the heretic!"

"Burn at the stake! Fire purification is necessary!"

"The Church of White Stockings will hang you in the square!"

"Heh... speaking of which, shouldn't you be doing something proper right now instead of slacking here? Former acting dean, now Santa Maria College representative, Lord Pink Bear?"

Moen turned to look at the Pink Bear standing stealthily beside him, evidently unnoticed before. In his gaze, flames of zealotry burned, as if seeking to incinerate heresy itself.

"Hmph, I'm here for legitimate reasons, unlike you idling away. After so long without seeing you, to think you're spending your days ogling nuns' legs in church!"

Pink Bear crossed his arms, his condescending smirk suggesting he'd never stoop to share air with a heretic.

Their intense standoff seemed on the verge of sparking a holy war to settle differing faiths, yet it was interrupted by a resigned voice.

"You two, is it really appropriate to discuss this in public?"

Fannie, standing at the edge of the crowd while pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, glanced around at the stares they were attracting, wishing she could pretend she didn't know the pair.

"Good day, Senior Fannie," Moen greeted warmly, instantly putting on a refined smile fit for an aristocrat, dazzling enough to nearly blind Pink Bear. It even prompted murmurs from some nearby girls like, "So handsome," and, "I wanna wear black stockings for him to see..."

As for Moen's earlier provocative remarks? In light of his god-tier looks, they were conveniently swept under the rug.

"Tch," Pink Bear clicked his tongue, lamenting the tragic shallowness of a world where appearances reign supreme.

"Long time no see, everyone."

Moen waved amiably at Fannie's companions—Vicky, Aaron, Marshall, among others.

"It *has* been a while. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten us, especially since you've safely arrived in the Holy City but didn't come find us right away," Senior Fannie said with a faint tone of grievance.

"Uh..."

Moen’s expression stiffened, and he sheepishly scratched his head.

"Sorry about that. I meant to meet up with you all first thing, but something came up at the church, and it’s taken me until now to deal with everything."

"Alright, alright. We understand. We weren’t seriously upset, just teasing you," Fannie said playfully before adding:

"I’ve heard you’ve had some extraordinary encounters lately. Is it true?"

"Extraordinary?"

"Yes—Disaster," Fannie said in a hushed tone after glancing around cautiously.

"The awakening of Disaster has been all over the headlines, overshadowing even this Ceremony. Though your name wasn’t mentioned, we *did* see you transported into that forest. According to Pink Bear, it seems you and Lea ran into it, didn’t you?"

"Disaster just happened to pass by," Moen smiled wryly.

"If I’d truly faced it head-on, I wouldn’t be here with no matter how many lives I might have."

The despair he had felt during the confrontation still sent shivers down his spine.

In that moment, his helpless outrage wasn't a "confrontation" but at best the final struggle of a powerless ant.

Nothing worth boasting about.

"But you *saw* it, didn’t you?"

Vicky, the daughter of a powerful merchant guild, leaned in excitedly.

"What did Disaster look like? Is it really like the dragons seen during teleportation? I’ve heard it’s covered in gold and jewels—is that true? Did you manage to get an autograph? Disaster’s autograph would be worth a fortune!"

"Vicky!"

Fannie scolded her money-obsessed best friend, nudging her away as she apologized to Moen.

"Don’t mind her. But regardless, encountering a legendary Disaster and returning unharmed is no small feat. You’re always full of surprises, Moen."

"Like I said, it was just luck," Moen deflected lightly before changing the subject.

"Let’s talk about something else. By the way, Senior Fannie, why are you all here?"

He looked curiously at the group.

While he didn’t know much about Vicky, Marshall, and the others, Senior Fannie certainly didn’t seem like the devout type to attend Communion Ceremonies for the goddess. As for the Pink Bear beside him? Even less likely. The only thing that could tempt him would be giant-breasted lolis in white stockings.

"You don’t know?"

Fannie seemed surprised by his question.

"Know what?" Moen blinked.

"This is no ordinary Communion Ceremony."

Fannie gestured around them, saying:

"Everyone invited here is eligible to participate in the main ceremony!"

"What—"

Moen froze, scanning the surroundings.

This time, as he deliberately filtered out the strikingly-dressed choir nuns, the atmosphere of the apparently solemn and sacred service shifted entirely.

The young attendees didn’t resemble devout goddess worshippers in the slightest. Their attention wasn’t on the hymns at all.

Each one exuded confidence, standing tall and proud. Yet, like beasts in a jungle, they remained watchful of their peers, silently assessing one another.

Holding chalices filled with sacred blood (grape wine), they exchanged polite smiles and engaged in conversation that, beneath its surface, felt as sharp as drawn swords, probing for weaknesses.

This was already a battlefield. Everyone here was armed metaphorically, engaging in bloodless combat.

Everyone except a certain someone who had opted out of the ceremony entirely and was content merely admiring nuns’ legs.

"Doesn’t seem all that bad to me."

Moen rubbed his chin cheerfully.

"As a bystander, the more thrilling the show, the more entertained I should be, don’t you think?"