"In fact, in the early days, the Church never truly intended to provoke a war just to select a saintess. After all, destroying peace in the name of preserving it is a foolish act that even a person kicked in the head by a donkey wouldn't commit.

Yet, their actions inevitably steered the grand ship of history in this direction."

"Back then, there weren't just a handful of saintess candidates like there are now; the number exceeded a hundred. Those children, specially groomed for the position of saintess since young, existed solely to engage in a cruel 'culling,' where only the strongest and most exceptional saintess would ultimately emerge.

At that time, these girls didn't conceal their identities like they do now. Instead, they openly carried the title of saintess candidates as they traveled across the continent, relentlessly training for a seemingly hopeless goal and accepting challenges from both companions and strangers alike.

And this led to a major problem."

Pink Bear instinctively reached for a cigarette, but under the stern glare of the nun beside him, he withdrew his hand sheepishly.

"What problem?" Moen asked.

"The position of saintess was too tempting."

Pink Bear continued, "For the various factions across the continent, the role of saintess, capable of guiding countless devotees of the goddess, was an irresistible forbidden fruit. Everyone wanted to pluck it and taste its sweetness.

And for the saintess candidates, the assistance they received from all sides likewise became tailor-made weapons to eliminate their competitors among their peers.

Thus, interests aligned.

And so, many saintess candidates, supported not only by their own inherent capabilities but by the power and authority granted by external factions, made their dazzling entrance.

Then...

That leads back to what I mentioned earlier."

Pink Bear glanced at Moen.

"The war began."

"......"

Moen's breath caught involuntarily.

He hadn't expected that this seemingly unimposing ritual was once synonymous with chaos and horror.

Even without witnessing it firsthand, he could imagine the brutality and intensity of the struggles in the past—hundreds of saintess candidates, countless factions and nations, all vying for the single saintess position.

"Naturally, as the Church gradually sought stability, it soon halted the disorderly strife and established a new method for selecting saintesses.

This came to be the current Divine Baptism Ceremony."

Pink Bear paused, then continued,

"It is still the Church, using its extensive intelligence network and its followers scattered across the continent, that selects suitable candidates. From there, the current saintess chooses the most fitting individuals.

These chosen individuals become the new saintess candidates. They are personally mentored for a period by the reigning saintess before returning to secular life, either with their original identities or ones fabricated by the Church, to undergo earthly trials.

The key difference now is that these trials must be conducted without revealing their identities.

And to compensate for the often non-combative nature of a saintess, the Church allowed the existence of assistants known as Divine Knights.

Recruiting sufficiently powerful Divine Knights becomes a test for the saintess candidates itself, because...

Charisma is an essential trait for a true saintess, don’t you agree?"

Pink Bear's voice suddenly turned dark and profound.

"I see."

Moen nodded in understanding. He stroked his chin and looked back at the saintess on stage with curiosity.

"As for the role of Divine Knight Attendants, I understand that—even after the saintess successfully ascends, those knights usually choose to stay on and assist her... But how come I've never heard about this saintess' Divine Knight?"

Pink Bear's body stiffened slightly. He exhaled softly, almost imperceptibly, then dodged the question, changing the subject:

"To answer your previous doubt, while it may seem like things have become rather playful, whether it's the Divine Baptism Ceremony or the old Saintess Wars, the inherent brutality remains unchanged.

In fact, to ensure the results align closely with the Church's expectations, they even invite the most renowned geniuses and elites from the continent to participate in this ritual.

Yes—what you're witnessing now is precisely this.

Although referred to as a ceremony, at its core it is a trial—a final trial for the saintess candidates. The victor earns the radiant throne, while the defeated... Well, countless candidates have been buried beneath this tradition over its history. And let’s not forget that, this time, the ceremony is still..."

"Still like a culling?" Moen murmured thoughtfully.

"Yes, it's still a cruel selection process. Yet, one must admit that the saintesses chosen through this method are indeed quite exceptional."

Pink Bear remarked with a sense of awe:

"Take, for instance, the previous saintess who abandoned her duties in pursuit of true love—her tragic ending something you already know—or the last saintess who sacrificed after a brief tenure in her position.

The former's statue still stands tall in the city she once saved, while the latter... she saved countless lives during that invasion of monsters.

Both lived up to the title of saintess."

As Pink Bear's words settled into the air, Moen too fell into a heavy silence.

Looking at the radiant figure bathed in light, his perspective subtly shifted.

So, beneath all that brilliance lay responsibilities and burdens unimaginable to ordinary people?

If that was the case…

Moen scanned the crowd, searching for that delicate young woman.

But she was nowhere to be found.

Even though... she really didn’t need to separate herself from everyone at this time.

…

Under the gaze of all present, Margarita's Divine Knight walked out from the glow of stage lights.

It was a man with an impish expression, stubbled cheeks, and an unkempt appearance. Yet, as he appeared, not only did the tense atmosphere in the room grow even heavier, Moen also heard gasps from behind, where Fannie and others were standing.

"You know him?"

"Of course."

Senior Fannie nodded solemnly:

"He frequently appears in newspapers. He's Paul Marvin, the direct disciple of Northern Divine Will Swordsmanship School."

"Divine Will School?"

"The school founded by the Sword King of the North."

Pink Bear interjected with explanations:

"As for that Sword King... Let me put it this way: the seasoned Crowned Indra King we've talked about? He'd have to bow his head and pay respects as a junior before that Sword King."

"Tsk tsk, even that old guy sent someone over? All because of this—everyone’s really pulling out their secret aces for this event, aren’t they?"

"I see..."

Ignoring Pink Bear’s boasting, Moen pondered deeply.

"Something feels off..."

He did have some impression of Paul Marvin—a name not so casual as to slip one's mind, nor just some generic NPC for a protagonist’s convenience.

But, in Moen's memory, Marvin wasn’t supposed to appear at this time.

Could this mean his memory was wrong?

…

"Anne."

At the saintess' call, the second saintess candidate stepped forward.

Her arrival likewise caught everyone's attention, prompting Moen to instinctively nudge Pink Bear with his elbow:

"Look—there’s your ‘white stocking lolicon.’"

Pink Bear rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Meanwhile, the loli-sized girl confidently strode to the saintess, her steps resolute.

"You... haven't changed much, have you?"

The saintess smiled softly before posing the habitual question:

"And so, you…?"

"I will become the saintess!"

Before the saintess could finish, the loli in white stockings proudly raised her chin.

"Good. Then we'll look forward to your performance."

The saintess placed the crystal in her palm:

"Let your knight step forward."

"Reta, come here!"

At her command, a towering figure emerged from the crowd, casting a massive dark shadow across the room.

All present instinctively held their breath.

The figure, far from resembling a person, looked more akin to… a monster.

Standing over three meters tall, his robust physique was riddled with signs of stitching and patchwork. Metallic constructs replaced a considerable portion of his body, exuding a menacing yet awe-inspiring aesthetic.

And yet, for such a prominent "monster," his silent arrival in the middle of the crowd had gone unnoticed by all.

"A synthetic soldier built by the Stone Cauldron Association’s Ironflow faction?"

Pink Bear gasped in astonishment:

"They truly spared no expense..."

…

The third saintess candidate.

"Faye."

"Coming~"

At the call, a woman approached—not dressed in elaborate ceremonial attire but instead wearing the long robe of a mage. This intellectual beauty stifled yawns as she reached the saintess.

Following closely behind her was a short-haired woman with an expressionless face, lugging a towering spear almost larger than a person.

"That's the Thunder Lance, a well-known adventurer."

Senior Fannie informed Moen in hushed tones, revealing their meticulous attention to intelligence gathering.

The saintess cast a brief glance at Faye's mage attire before asking:

"So, instead of magic, you've ultimately chosen this path?"

"Yes~"

Faye replied, still looking fatigued:

"I came to realize that as a mage, my potential had limits. So, I shifted gears."

"Ha, it's not the time to make such assertions yet."

The saintess teased with a smile, handing over the crystal.

"Who knows?"

Faye accepted it and rolled her eyes sleepily:

"Maybe I’ll regret my choice the moment I become the saintess."

...

The fourth saintess candidate.

"Freya, it's your turn."

As a graceful figure in a simple gown stepped forth, the room fell into an unusual stillness. All present stared at the young woman, rendered speechless.

“Like, too alike.”

Moen's gaze swept back and forth between the saintess and the girl named Freya, and he couldn't help but marvel:

"They're practically cast from the same mold."

But this resemblance wasn't in their appearances.

It was in their aura.

The girl named Freya had her long hair cascading down, her hands clasped gracefully at her abdomen, her posture elegant and serene, as though enveloped in a faint layer of holy light.

And though her face was entirely different from that of the saintess, it carried the same exact sanctified smile. Everyone who looked at that smile felt as if a gentle breeze was brushing across their face, and the warmth of the morning sun was shining upon them.

It seemed neither contrived nor an imitation. That naturally endowed quality made her strikingly similar to the saintess currently standing on stage in this moment.

"It's been quite a while, Saintess teacher."

Freya knelt gracefully and said, "You're just as dazzling as ever."

"And you remain ever so charming, Freya," the saintess replied with a smile.

"Oh, but it seems the Saintess teacher doesn’t particularly like me," Freya said, smiling just as warmly.

"That must be some sort of misunderstanding," the saintess said.

She gently handed a crystal into Freya’s palm.

"Where's your knight?"

"He's always been here," Freya replied.

From within Freya’s shadow, a figure had somehow quietly emerged. Standing motionless, clad in black, his expression was stoic, as though he were one with the surrounding darkness.

"Say hello, Bryan," Freya instructed.

...

"It's really her!"

Moen heard Senior Fannie exclaim again,

"Freya Robert, the one from the southern Blair Kingdom who once solved a plague crisis, saving countless lives, and is regarded by some as the future saintess—she’s actually a saintess candidate!

"And behind her, isn't that him? That’s Bryan, the infamous prodigy of the Blair Kingdom, a shadow ghost notorious for surpassing tiers to kill by the age of thirteen!"

"Sounds like they're both pretty impressive, aren't they?"

"Mm-hmm!" Fannie nodded emphatically, visibly thrilled.

Before coming here, she had expected to encounter extraordinary individuals, but she hadn't imagined she’d meet this many!

Even Pink Bear, standing nearby, sighed in amazement, "This year's ceremony quality is almost frighteningly high."

"Really?"

Moen turned his gaze away and continued observing the four figures respectfully kneeling before the saintess, along with the knights serving as their guardians. He said nothing.

Having spent so much of his time obsessing over cultivation and surviving in anonymity, Moen had largely ignored the prominent geniuses and powerhouses of the continent. They didn’t concern him, nor did he have the energy to pay them any mind.

Fortunately, he possessed some knowledge of the original story’s plot.

But that was precisely the problem.

In his memory, these knights serving the saintess candidates, while definitely capable, were generally meant to be cannon fodder—used in the story to build up the protagonist Ariel’s grandeur, their sole purpose being to serve as the cliched minor characters who get outclassed in satisfying face-slapping moments.

You know, that type of overly familiar but endlessly entertaining plotline that dominates many stories.

Yet.

These individuals who were now stepping onto the stage...

Which one of them looks like mere background filler?!

Each of them seemed to wear their exceptional skill and overwhelming prowess on their face—any one of them easily capable of carrying an entire story as a dominant protagonist wreaking havoc throughout!

"Could it be that something else has gone wrong? But this is my first time in the Holy City, and I'm seeing these people for the first time. It shouldn't be my fault, right?"

Moen frowned, sinking into thought.

"Or maybe my memories are just too blurry, and these people are only intimidating in terms of reputation and appearance?"

Moen didn’t have much time to mull over the question.

Because what followed was the arrival of the last saintess candidate.

"Lea, it’s your turn,"

Called upon by the saintess, the girl who had been waiting nervously at the edge clenched her pink fists with determination, summoned her courage, and stepped into the light, where all eyes were fixed on her.

The girl had a cute face and a curvaceous figure.

Based purely on appearances, she even surpassed the previous candidates by a significant margin.

However, she appeared excessively timid and shy, keeping her head lowered with hurried steps.

Once she knelt before the saintess, she adorably patted her prominent chest, causing Margarita's face turn pale slightly. The action allowed Lea to let out a small sigh of relief.

"How have you been these past days? Have you been resting well?" the saintess asked.

"Very well. Thank you for your concern, Saintess teacher."

"And about the question I raised before..."

"I haven’t," the girl answered firmly.

"I see…"

The saintess gazed into the girl’s eyes deeply, then softened her demeanor into an even gentler smile.

"It seems you’ve truly made up your mind."

She raised her hand, and a crystal materialized within her grasp.

But.

The crystal, intended for Lea’s palm, remained hovering above the girl’s outstretched hands, refusing to fall for an extended duration.

Lea tilted her head, puzzled, cutely displaying confusion.

At that very moment—

"One last question."

The saintess’s expression turned serious, her smile disappearing entirely. Staring intently at Lea, she asked,

"Lea... where’s your knight?"