The world beneath the church was dark and deep, a bone-chilling cold seeping through the air.

If someone had told Noah this was a dungeon built by the local church to suppress demons, he wouldn’t have doubted it.

But the truth was the opposite.

The one imprisoned here wasn’t a demon crawled from hell—but a devout nun.

Three orbs of Sacred Flame lit the path ahead.

Cold darkness retreated before the firelight, revealing a narrow passage leading deeper.

Since this dungeon existed solely to house Pascal, the walls were bare—no side rooms, just a three-meter-wide corridor visible end to end.

Priest Muir led them inward. After half a minute, he stopped.

Noah lifted his gaze past the flames. A black iron door stood shut ahead. A pale gold sheet, inscribed with neat prayers, was tied to the handle.

Priest Muir stepped forward, gently gripped the knob, and with a slight tug, tore the paper free.

Strangely, the torn fragments swirled in the windless air—then burst into flame, vanishing into ash.

“This is a Sacred Prayer. A priest’s signature trick,” Anna explained, knowing Noah—a relic buried a millennium—wouldn’t grasp it. “A technique the Holy Order developed centuries ago. Pretty potent.”

Priest Muir smiled faintly. “The Death Sect writes prayers too. Nothing extraordinary.”

“Our prayers are just ceremony,” Anna waved a hand and stepped back. “Yours actually work. I won’t go in. Who knows how many prayer sheets are stuck behind that door? With my background, I’d probably turn to ash on the spot. I’ll wait outside.”

Priest Muir chuckled, stepping aside for Noah. “Mr. Noah, I’m sure you have much to discuss with Pascal. I’ll wait out here too.”

His courtesy felt almost excessive—Noah felt uneasy.

*Probably not just politeness,* Noah thought. *He’s staying to watch that red-haired Ritual Mage. Keep her from causing trouble in the town’s only church.*

Noah said nothing.

He’d come for one reason: meet Pascal, take this girl with an extraordinary constitution from the church, and turn her into a force for ascending The Spire.

Nothing to fear. Nothing to worry about.

He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and pushed the door open.

Creak—

A sharp, grating screech, like a crow’s cry.

Light stabbed into Noah’s eyes.

The moment he crossed the threshold, blinding radiance flooded his vision—as if he stood on the ocean’s edge, witnessing dawn break.

Light. Blinding light.

He’d heard staring at the sun damages eyes irreversibly. He’d experienced it once long ago… now he *got* it.

*Damn, this is blinding…*

Just as Noah squeezed his eyes shut, a surprised voice rang out from the room’s center.

“Ah… my apologies.”

A gentle, delicate voice.

Then—like night itself answered her call—the light vanished.

Only hundreds of golden Sacred Prayer sheets remained on the walls, glowing softly. Far gentler than the sun-like glare before.

Noah blinked slowly. A shapeless afterimage burned behind his lids. He shook his head. Seconds passed. Vision cleared.

Pascal hung bound to a sacred cross. Thick ropes of crumpled prayer paper secured her wrists and ankles. Golden hair cascaded to her waist. Her doll-like face held deep apology.

“I’m truly sorry…” She gazed at Noah. “I never expected anyone but Priest Muir.”

“Even priests don’t wear sunglasses,” Noah blinked hard, vision sharpening. “With that three-hundred-watt spotlight you just pulled? No one stands a chance.”

Pascal tilted her head, then gasped softly. “You’re not from our church. Ordinary people find that light blinding. For us… it’s prayer. We’re used to it.”

Noah raised an eyebrow—*Do Holy Order kids grow up squinting?*—and cut straight to it. “So. You’re Pascal?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Apology faded into confusion. “And you? Priest Muir wouldn’t let just anyone in.”

“Extraordinary for you, yes.”

Noah swiped his palm. Guild credentials materialized. He held them up.

Pascal blinked. Furrowed her brow. Hesitated. “Are you… the new leader of the Azure Round Table?”

“As you see.”

*Why’s she still unsure? I literally shoved credentials in her face.*

Her eyes widened with hope—then dimmed. She bit her lip. “May I ask… have you met the others?”

*She’s testing if I’ll stay after seeing them.*

“Anna, Shirley, Monica. Everyone but you. I even took them to The Spire.”

“You went to The Spire?” Her voice trembled. “And you… haven’t given up?”

“To be honest? Still deciding.” Noah sighed inwardly. “But that’s not why I’m here. I heard about your condition. Yet just now… you made the light vanish. Records say you can’t control it.”

Pascal gave a wry smile. “That wasn’t the Sacred Light itself—just a faint afterimage. I can’t command the light… only these tiny remnants.”

Noah didn’t press further. Faith stuff was always murky. He pointed to her golden ropes. “Want me to untie you? Hanging there looks rough.”

“I’ve been used to it since fourteen,” she smiled. “But now that you’re here… it’s not proper.”

She glanced at the ropes.

Sacred Flame ignited them. Ash drifted down.

She burned the rest, leaped from the cross—

Every muscle taut. Breath held. Brow furrowed. As if this single step could rewrite history.

Only when her feet touched stone did she exhale, straighten, and bow.

“Pascal Muir. Serving nun of the Holy Order. And… member of the Azure Round Table.”

“Noah Purwin.” He extended a hand.

“Purwin?” Her eyes widened. “But I heard—"

“Anna’s doing.” Noah kept it short. “I’ll explain later.”

Pascal nodded—but didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Leader. I’ll return with you… just not today.”

“Why?” Noah’s brow furrowed slightly.

“I know it’s sudden,” she apologized softly. “But my constitution is… unique.”

*No kidding. A walking Sacred Light bomb. Practically the only one on the Southern Continent. As Monica said: if she could control it, she’d be the Holy Maiden.*

Noah’s mind clicked. “Your Sacred Light hasn’t been fully… ‘released’?”

“Absorbed,” she corrected, stroking a prayer sheet on the floor. “Every month, Priest Muir’s handwritten prayers absorb my wild light. Today’s the tenth day. But… something went wrong.”

“Wrong?”

*Bad.*

A familiar chill. Like when Anna and Shirley’s incidents began.

“Last night, all prayer sheets failed briefly. Never happened before.” Pascal stared at her hands, bewildered. “Some light remains inside me… and it feels… restless.”

*Last night?* Noah recalled his own strange experience. *Celestial giants arguing… probably unrelated. For now.*

“I need Priest Muir to check me first. Until then, I can’t move freely. If I fall or bump into something—"

She rose slowly, expression grave. “I might…"

*Thud.*

Her right foot slipped. Balance lost. She crashed hard onto the stone floor.

Noah watched her fall.

Golden papers inscribed with prayers swirled through the air, rustling as they drifted.

The golden-haired, blue-eyed nun blinked dazedly, then turned an apologetic look toward Noah. "Um… maybe I’ve been hanging on the crucifix too long. My legs are a bit stiff…"

Noah: "..."

A terrifying white light, like a tempestuous ocean wave, burst forth from Pascal’s body in the blink of an eye.

Noah’s vision was instantly swallowed by a sea of pure white.