Shel had indeed heard of Lord Monroe’s formidable reputation.

In truth, any child over three years old across the Western Continent would know this Sword Saint of the HolySee.

When Lord Monroe earned his title, Hilna’s grandfather hadn’t even been born.

Officially, he held the modest rank of City Defense Commander of the City of Glory—equivalent to a bishop—overseeing Papal Guards and Holy Knights.

But in reality, he was a superhuman ancient monster who’d lived over three centuries. He’d fought in two Eastern Crusades, thirteen royal succession wars, and twenty-eight heretic purges for the Church, slaying hundreds upon hundreds of fiends. Oh, and during the Crusades, he’d single-handedly beheaded two full-grown dragons.

Such near-mythical feats cemented him as the HolySee’s ultimate weapon—the undisputed peak of individual combat power on the continent.

Even many fairy-tale picture books compiled by Shel drew inspiration from this very man’s exploits.

By all logic, this legendary elder had withdrawn from affairs decades ago.

His position was purely ceremonial. He only emerged one or two months each year to train new knights and guards, giving rookies a taste of what a Sword Saint’s presence truly meant.

Yet his seniority and unnaturally long life commanded absolute respect.

Since angels ceased walking among mortals, no Eternal Church clergy—be they archbishops, Cardinal Bishops, or others—could live past two hundred. None dared oppose this still-vibrant legend.

His sudden involvement, personally requesting to mentor Hilna and Shel, stunned everyone. No one expected this powerhouse to vie for influence.

But dissenting bishops could only force smiles, congratulating Lord Monroe on gaining a prodigy apprentice—and Hilna on earning his favor.

From that day, Hilna became Monroe’s official student.

Shel, by extension, became his nominal apprentice.

"Wow! Teacher Charles, we’re both Lord Monroe’s disciples now! He’s the *real* Sword Saint! Does that make us fellow apprentices?"

Shel didn’t care much for hierarchy. "I suppose so. Call me by my name if you like. I’ve little left to teach you anyway."

"Wonderful!" Hilna beamed, then added quickly, "Don’t worry, Teacher Charles—you’ll always be my teacher."

They settled in this radiant, holy capital.

The City of Glory had an inner and outer section.

The inner city held only the Lumina Cathedral and its preaching square—tiny and sacred. The outer city housed ancient relics: statues of saints, time-worn temples, the Divine Academy, grand museums, and residences for clergy and nobles.

As the continent’s religious heart, every inch of the City of Glory was priceless. Its layout hadn’t changed in a millennium. Moving a single brick risked desecrating divine heritage.

After all, this was where the Eternal Father first walked mortal soil in human form, escorted by angels. It was where the First Saint ascended to the divine realm under angelic guidance.

Yet Lord Monroe’s status granted him multiple secluded estates in the outer city.

He assigned one entirely to Shel and Hilna.

This house, rumor said, was once lived in by a Pope during his Divine Academy days—later gifted to Monroe for battlefield valor.

Now, this historical relic bore a new nameplate: "Shel." It shielded them from relentless harassment by power-hungry officials.

"Stay here for a month," Monroe instructed. "Once the Divine Academy opens, Hilna will begin formal studies. I’ll return then. Don’t rush. The house is fully stocked. I’ve transferred ownership to you, Shel—you’re the master here. Servants will attend to any need."

With that, he departed.

Bewildered, Shel and Hilna inherited a heritage property.

Though modest in size, the mansion was exquisitely decorated. Every room displayed weapons—swords, shields, spears—as art.

Walls and ceilings bristled with dense magical runes.

Eternal Church insignias adorned bedposts, hallways, kitchen windowsills, even washbasins.

The maids bore none of Ipoli’s rugged peasant fierceness. Trained in poise from childhood, they moved with serene grace.

Hilna’s wardrobe overflowed with silk gowns—luxuries even a pampered princess had never seen. Ipoli’s poverty couldn’t compare to the City of Glory’s accumulated wealth.

But as Shel lightly stroked the fabrics, he sensed they weren’t new. These were old garments, tailored long ago for someone slimmer. They fit Hilna loosely.

Still, they settled in—like rare exhibits in a zoo.

Days passed in comfort. Meals arrived punctually, prepared by maids. Requests were fulfilled with a word. They wandered the ancient, sacred streets freely.

Yet Lord Monroe never reappeared.

Shel couldn’t fathom why.

This Sword Saint differed from other bishops.

That day in the preaching hall, everyone clamored over Hilna, each claiming the right to mentor her.

Only Monroe paid her little mind.

His gaze never left Shel.

*Only Shel.*

The memory gnawed at him.

After moving in, Shel tried seeking Monroe for answers—but no one knew his whereabouts.

His prestige shielded him. Even absent from duty, none dared question him.

He surfaced only during the Pope’s weekly grand masses, standing sentinel beside the altar with a heavy ceremonial sword. Silent. Imposing. Guarding the Heavenly Father’s earthly voice.

When services ended, he vanished again.

Shel found no chance to speak with him.

"Teacher, don’t fret," Hilna said lightly. "Lord Monroe surely has secret duties. Let’s enjoy life here."

She seamlessly adapted to leisure: feeding doves in plazas, savoring dishes exclusive to the City of Glory, reading the mansion’s library, rotating through lavish gowns… as if on vacation.

But Shel couldn’t relax.

In Ipoli, he’d felt safe—no threats existed there, and everyone treated him with simple kindness.

Here, beneath glittering holiness and continent-wide authority, his instincts screamed caution. Especially with that enigmatic Sword Saint watching him.

*Did Monroe truly value Hilna’s talent? Or was this mentorship a ploy?*

*Why that unsettling focus on me?*

*Was his kindness a mask for deeper schemes?*

He and this apex warrior had no conceivable connection.

Unless… it traced back to that Holy Knight Shel had beaten—Perry. The man once claimed he’d served briefly under Monroe when joining the Holy Knights. That was all.

Shel kept these worries from Hilna and Lofna.

So when Hilna painted happily in the courtyard, debating fashion and history with maids, he forced an easy smile.

When writing letters to Lofna in distant Ipoli, he sketched cartoonish scenes of city life in cheerful tones—omitting his unease.

Amidst this tension, the Divine Academy’s enrollment day arrived.

Lord Monroe finally returned.