As Zack arrived on his floor, he gave Fannie a rundown of all the cool stuff they had there - practice rooms, meditation spaces, research labs, you name it. Then, he pointed out her bedroom, which happened to be close to his. After the tour, Zack headed straight to his room to kick back and relax.
Sinking into his bed, Zack sat cross-legged, mulling over the weird vibes from when he offed the saintess. It felt like he was tethered by some invisible force. He had a hunch, so he quizzed Fannie about how she was feeling post-rescue.
Fannie mentioned she felt way lighter and more at ease than before. No surprise there - it seemed linked to the odd occurrences where Fannie kept bumping into level 2 powerhouses from the Holy Church. It was like he'd shouldered some of the "fate" or burden she was carrying.
But hey, Zack wasn't bothered one bit. Actually, he was kinda glad he could divert some of the heat aimed at Fannie onto himself. Picturing this, he chuckled. If this were him twelve years ago, he'd have done anything to steer clear of trouble, especially if it involved Fannie.
Back then, he hadn't even lifted a finger to help her free her sisters from the orphanage she bolted from. "Guess love really does make you blind," he mused. Sure, he knew he was diving headfirst into his own mess by getting involved, but strangely, he was cool with it. Just to be clear though, he was only willing to get tangled up in Fannie's mess - anyone else's, they could go kick rocks!
Anyway, Zack's next big challenge was taking down the grand paladin, Reginald Suncrest. He let out a sigh, realizing he wasn't quite ready to take him on just yet. Seeing how Sir Reginald outclassed the saintess, and Zack had to go all in just to barely scrape by with her, it was clear he wasn't up to snuff for the grand paladin.
He had to admit, he'd totally underestimated the power of a level 3 powerhouse. He hadn't realized that simply grasping and harnessing a concept could skyrocket your strength to insane levels. The saintess had wielded her law sigil in to fight him toe to toe, despite having about half the mana Zack did.
Mulling over the law sigil, Zack remembered how intricate it was - hundreds of thousands of symbols arranged in bizarre patterns to form the sigil's shape. Judging by its effects, he figured the law the saintess had tapped into might have been something like "destruction" or "amplification." You might wonder how in the world you could pick up those concepts from the light element.
To that, Zack would say, "Hell, you could probably even learn 'healing' from the lightning element." Seriously, it seemed like you could grasp any concept from any element. It was like the elements themselves were just vessels holding these concepts. So, theoretically, you could pick up any concept from any element out there.
Yeah, it's just that some concepts are easier to grasp with certain elements. Like, it's a breeze to pick up "explosion" from fire or lightning, or "flow" from water. Anyway, Zack hadn't anticipated the saintess busting out her fully realized understanding of her concept and using it to supercharge her spells.
He'd thought the extent of a level 3 being's power maxed out at when the saintess wrecked Mossley city. But man, was he off the mark. Luckily, he managed to take her down by practically drowning her in mana. Still, it showed he had a lot to learn about level 3 powerhouses.
Who knew what kind of concept the grand paladin had up his sleeve? Zack would be screwed if it countered his fighting style. Or if the grand paladin pulled out some crazy level 3-exclusive ability and handed Zack's butt to him. Who could say? What was clear, though, was that Zack needed to hit the books on level 3 powerhouses and buff up his spells.
But that was a job for tomorrow-Zack. Right now, today's Zack just wanted to crash. Shutting his eyes, he couldn't shake the saintess's face from his mind. Her calm expression before he offed her, or the confusion that flashed across her face when she realized she'd taken innocent lives. He let out a sigh - same old routine. Whenever he snuffed someone out, he'd be haunted by nightmares for days.
Like when he took down his first wizard - that guy's wide, shocked eyes lingered in his dreams for a whole month, messing with his meditation sometimes. But this time, he wasn't alone. He felt a soft touch and caught a whiff of a sweet scent from the person in his arms.
Maybe sensing his troubled thoughts, Fannie snuggled in closer and started gently stroking his back. Zack couldn't help but chuckle - here was this kid trying to play grown-up! But strangely enough, her touch worked its magic, soothing away all the tangled thoughts in his head until he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
*** Saintess POV ***
She was certain she had a name once, bestowed upon her by a nun at her former orphanage. But now, that name felt like a distant echo, a hazy recollection slipping through her grasp.
It all began on that fateful day. Before then, she had known contentment in her original orphanage. Though not the most affluent, it had been a place of simple joys and occasional hunger. Yet, she had been happy.
Under the guidance of a nun who cared for the children as her own, she had frolicked with the others, embraced the chores, all with a radiant smile.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
But everything changed during the ritual that assessed the orphanage children's aptitudes upon reaching ten years of age. It revealed her extraordinary affinity for the light element and an unusually potent mana core, marking her as exceptionally gifted. The nun, overwhelmed with joy, wept, foreseeing a brighter future for her.
Oh, the bitter irony of those words, for her life was about to take a dramatic turn, but not for the better. The following day, an envoy dispatched from the church headquarters arrived to collect her, destined to be placed under the care of the orphanage at the headquarters. Instinctively, she sensed that her future held anything but prosperity within those walls, prompting her to fiercely resist the notion of leaving.
Her resistance was so fervent that even the sister overseeing the orphanage couldn't bring themselves to part with her, adamantly informing the envoy that she would not be sent to the headquarters. However, the envoy remained resolute, unwilling to accept refusal. Such was the magnitude of her talent that the headquarters deemed her indispensable, making her return non-negotiable.
On that fateful day, her life took a sharp turn from bliss to anguish. As she stepped into the orphanage, her former identity dissolved, replaced by a mere number—a cold, impersonal label that would define her existence from that moment forward.
Initially, life proceeded with a semblance of normalcy. She fell into the routine: eating, sleeping, absorbing the teachings of the church, and dutifully carrying out chores. Yet, amidst these daily rituals, a new layer was added—lessons on divine patterns and the elusive connection to "God," promising power and authority as a future priest, tasked with purging heretics.
However, as days stretched into weeks, a subtle shift occurred. Minor infractions drew unwarranted reprimands, escalating in both severity and frequency. Soon, she and her fellow arrivals found themselves subject to relentless criticism for the slightest misstep. It became apparent that the orphanage was conditioning them to endure abuse, akin to the gradual heating of water for a frog unaware of its impending fate.
Her keen intellect didn't escape this grim reality. She recognized the pattern, the insidious manipulation orchestrated by those in charge. Yet, her intelligence bore its own burden—a gnawing fear gnawed at her, questioning the sinister purpose behind their ordeal.
As expected, her suspicions were confirmed when, after a year, she and the other children were summoned to the basement of the orphanage for what was termed "extra education." As they entered, they were met with the unsettling sight of dozens of priests wearing unsettling smiles, lurking in the shadows.
At that moment, chaos ensued. The priests began to approach the children with seemingly gentle voices, yet the ominous glint in their eyes betrayed their true intentions. Even the youngest and least knowledgeable among the children could sense that the priests harbored ill will toward them.
In the dim, oppressive room, she and the other children clung to a desperate hope—their collective breaths held as they strained against the locked door. The orphanage sisters, their supposed protectors, had abandoned them, leaving them alone with the sinister priests. The air thickened with fear, and their screams echoed off the cold walls.
Their screams and resistance were met with only heightened excitement from the priests. That night marked the onset of her personal hell, the first of many to come. It was the night she began to question the very existence of God. If indeed a divine presence governed the world, why would it permit its followers to suffer? Why allow the existence of such repulsive evil? And why grant power to those who wield it for malevolent purposes?
The following day, the orphanage sisters ushered them outside, presenting the children with a feast of delicious food for the first time. Yet, as they savored the meal, the sisters began to preach, subtly insinuating that escape was futile. They painted a grim picture, suggesting that even if the children managed to flee, they would either perish from starvation outside or be forcibly returned by church authorities to face even harsher punishment within the orphanage's walls.
Despair settled over them like a shroud. Routine training masked the horror, but every two days, they descended into the basement, where the priests turned them into playthings. Their innocence shattered, the children endured unspeakable acts, their tormentors weaving their vile fetishes into the fabric of their suffering.
Sometimes, outsiders were invited to partake in this twisted education. The mayor himself, a man of influence, played his role. The intensity escalated, pushing some children beyond endurance. Death claimed a few, while others chose to end their own misery. Those who dared escape were hunted down, dragged back, and subjected to even harsher punishments—until they, too, suffered like the first group, lost in the abyss of cruelty.
Every passing day inflicted fresh torment upon her weary soul. Each breath felt like inhaling water, drowning her in despair. Life itself became a painful ordeal, a relentless struggle against the urge to end it all. Yet every time she teetered on the brink of self-destruction, the vigilant orphanage sisters intervened, keenly aware of her exceptional abilities.
Gradually, the spark in her eyes faded, extinguished by the weight of despair. Lost in the abyss of suffering, she began to forget the faint memories of her former orphanage, as if they were nothing more than distant echoes. In a bid to shield her fragile psyche, her mind fragmented, relegating a smaller persona to govern her existence.
As she neared advancement to the rank of priestess, the church initiated a campaign of brainwashing, manipulating her thoughts and actions to quash any potential rebellion. Unwittingly, it was her secondary persona that fell victim to their insidious control.
She observed helplessly as she lost the ability to command or communicate with her second personality, feeling as though she were imprisoned within her own body. It dawned on her later that the necessity for brainwashing, rather than a simple soul contract, stemmed from the divine safeguarding of priestesses and priests' souls by God. Any attempt to bind the soul of a priestess would inevitably incur divine backlash.
Yet, the orphanage also recognized that subjecting the children to such torment would likely breed future rebellion. Thus, they resorted to brainwashing as a preventative measure. Ironically, the very mental fragility induced by the torture facilitated the brainwashing process.
Her secondary personality, initially a shield against the horrors inflicted upon her, ultimately succumbed to the torture and was easily manipulated. With the church's confirmation of her indoctrination, they unlocked all available resources for her. She witnessed, with a detached sense of horror, her brainwashed persona climbing the ranks within the church hierarchy.
Finally attaining the esteemed title of Grand Priestess and gaining an audience with the pope, she realized that this moment marked the commencement of her second hellish ordeal.