Charles, thinking like this, reflexively rubbed Lisa's head, ruffling her soft golden hair. The little girl showed no resistance—she smiled, leaned into his waist, and took a deep breath, her face slightly intoxicated: "Priest, my lord, you smell so good..."
Behind her, Malena's face was slightly awkward, then she put on a stern look: "Lisa!"
She was, after all, born noble. To her, such behavior seemed very inappropriate.
But Charles just shook his head, undisturbed by the little girl's affection: "It's fine, let her be."
After a pause, he asked, "After last night, Lisa hasn't had any other problems, has she?"
"No, except her hair has turned gold," Malena replied, "but it seems she can't use that golden radiance anymore. Priest, do you know why that is?"
"That's normal. She's still too young—after she grows up a bit, she'll be able to use magic ," Charles explained. "For now, just make sure she eats well and has a balanced diet."
Malena let out a sigh of relief. She'd feared her daughter's awakening would fail, leaving her a cripple, but she herself didn't know magic, so she had worried constantly. Only hearing Charles's explanation did she finally relax.
After a moment, she asked, "So, Priest, when would you have time to give us baptism?"
Hearing this, Charles tensed up, thinking what a headache this was.
Baptism...
Indeed, new believers taking Refuge needed such a ceremony. The problem was...
He didn't know how to do it.
He really had no idea how a baptism should be conducted!
Or in other words, no one in the whole monastery actually knew how.
Oh, Sophia probably did—she seemed to know too much about everything. At worst, he could fudge it with other knowledge.
"No need to rush about the baptism," Charles deflected, "Just a few days later is fine. For now... let Lisa learn a bit about the church first."
He could only procrastinate, intending to only perform the ritual after learning it himself—just to avoid any mistakes.
Malena nodded softly, not minding at all: "Alright, as you say, Priest."
"Mhm." Charles nodded, gently kneading Lisa's soft golden hair. "So for these days, let her learn from the nuns about religion and magic."
Malena's eyes lit up: "Thank you, Priest!"
She'd always wished for the best education for her daughter. This arrangement, naturally, was most pleasing to her.
Thus, Malena and her daughter were now thoroughly settled in. Charles entrusted Lisa's teaching to the witches, returning himself to routine: distance running twice daily, studying the rest of the time, sneaking in sessions training Nidalee, and sleeping each night in the arms of the witches.
His pace of study was still a bit slow. Without systematic materials and with Sophia not exactly a professional teacher, he always achieved twice the effort for half the result.
However, for a warlock—especially for one as low-level as him already possessing the Illusionist's Bracers—this Eldritch Invocation was essential. No matter the hardship, he had to grit his teeth and push forward!
Thus, time soon slipped by. While he indulged in ascetic monk-like study each day at the monastery, the world outside was full of storm and upheaval.
Not far off in the slums, a group of vicious but scrawny gangsters in coarse cotton shirts crowded at the doorway to Malena's former home, expressions complex as they looked inside.
On the floor inside lay the corpses of three burly men. One stared wide-eyed, his chest burst forward as if rammed from behind by a battering ram, dying in utter terror; the other two had their eyes closed and throats slashed, as if killed in their sleep.
The gruesome scene left all the gangsters silent. At the front, a muscle-bound leader with eagle-claw tattoos on both arms, face brimming with rage, fists clenched, snorted like a bull: "This is a provocation!"
"Who the fuck did this! Daring to provoke our Eagle Claw Gang at a time like this?!"
He roared, bulging veins showing the enormous rage of their Master.
They were Eagle Claw, a newly ascendant gang in the slums with fewer than a hundred members. Under this leader, they'd defeated a boss of Xanathar's Guild and seized a large territory.
Flush with his victory over Xanathar, the leader thought himself destined for greatness. He had not expected to be dealt such a blow in his moment of triumph: his three best warriors slaughtered!
His momentum thus suffered a heavy blow.
"We have to find the murderer!"
His eyes red, voice full of murder: "It must be the Tiger Head Gang—they've always been at odds with us. It's their doing!"
"Brothers, grab your weapons! Tonight, we teach them a lesson!"
All the gangsters echoed fiercely, murder gleaming in their voices.
Charles was unaware that the three human traffickers he'd slain would soon set off another bloody gang war in the slums...
But in the world aboveground, life remained serene and peaceful to its unsuspecting denizens. All continued living gentle, ordinary lives, believing the world remained ever safe as always.
Stepping off the South Harbor District's only tram, gazing at the clean streets and bustling crowds, Anno couldn't help but sigh. Ever since the cultists entrenched here had been purged—and their associates in Xanathar's Guild suppressed—the South Harbor District was growing better by the day!
Wonderful. She ought to reward herself for figuring all this out.
And certainly, Priest Charles who had rescued her.
With that thought in mind, she hoisted her crocodile-skin handbag, steps light, and headed briskly toward the monastery.
She wore a lovely milky outfit adorned with pearls, her pale face blooming with delight, her golden eyelashes reflecting the sunlight. She wore no makeup, yet simply walking the streets drew many admiring, even adoring, glances.
But Anno reflexively ignored all this. Right now, her heart was full with the silhouette of her beloved.
At the monastery, in the scriptorium:
Charles sat upright in his chair, eyes closed, seriously sensing the flow of magical power.
Behind him, Sophia stood prettily, her two middle fingers pressed to his temples, also eyes closed as she conveyed knowledge from her mind straight into his, letting him comprehend.
After a long while, as the wall clock's second hand ticked to twelve, Sophia ended the magic transmission. They opened their eyes and both let out long breaths of relief.
It was now break time.
Charles had arranged his study schedule just so: after forty-five minutes of study, a ten minute break. It was almost identical to his classroom routine from his previous life—helpful in regaining a student's mindset.
"Drink some water and take a break, Master," Sophia said softly, walking to the side. She took the porcelain teapot from the desk and poured a cup of restorative tea. Back at her peak, with her strength even greater than before, Sophia's stamina and magical power far surpassed Ruth's. Even long transmissions to Charles ate barely anything from her.
Charles stood and stretched, exhaling, nodding: "Alright."
Studying was tiring, but the progress was obvious. He felt that, given luck, another half a month training would be enough to master the Agonizing Blast Eldritch Invocation.
Right then, a mosquito landed by his ear—and Andny's crisp voice reported: "Master, Lady Anno is here."
His eyes lit up; study plans instantly forgotten. He turned to Sophia, hugged her delicate body, and kissed her forehead softly, saying, "Cancel the rest of today's study, darling. Go check on Lisa's lessons—I'll greet our guest."
"Thank you, love."
He kissed her again on the cheek, then hurried outside, cutting through the garden straight to the entryway.
Behind him in the scriptorium, Sophia watched his figure, eyes tinged with helplessness. "Master..."
"Sigh, if Sephera and the others keep interfering, it'll only make Master unhappy..."
As the most knowledgeable witch, Sophia understood not only magic, but all kinds of human emotions and states.
She could clearly sense Charles's state of mind—but for now, her inner voice had not reached Sephera.
At that moment, at the monastery's main gate, Sephera was about to leave as Anno arrived, standing together in standoff.
Or more accurately, only Sephera was showing any edge. Anno wore a gentle smile, radiating nothing but goodwill: "Good morning, Sister Sephera. Off so early?"
Sephera's goldenr eyes bored into her, dark vertical pupils flashing dangerously, like a viper eyeing prey.
Her thin lips curled in a taunting smile, voice dripping sarcasm: "Yes, since our little poverty-stricken monastery has so little to its name, every one of us must work daily, just to scrape by."
"Not like those posh little ladies who do nothing all day, who can wander far from home at dawn to chase other people's men for fun."
Her mocking words belied ignorance of Anno's real duties. As a member of Force Grey, Anno was always busy—training, investigating, recruiting, maintaining the city's safety. In fact, today she had forced herself to finish early, squeezed in a day off, bought gifts, and come to the monastery for Charles.
Thus, Sephera's taunts went clear over Anno's head. Instead, her simple heart thought of other things.
Considering how hard the nuns worked despite losing their deities, persisting in aiding the poor, sympathy crept over Anno's face: "It's rough, but following your suggestion from last time, I brought some gifts for Priest Charles… and all the nuns. Please, accept them."
Sephera blinked in surprise: "My... suggestion?"
"Yes, yours!" Anno smiled sweetly. "You said Priest Charles was working hard, so I brought some nutritional food for him—and everyone."
She reached into her crocodile-skin handbag and produced a huge glass jar, brimming with fresh cow's milk.
Extending it to Sephera, she explained, "For example, this milk is a specialty from the Field District—very rare, extremely delicious. I thought it might suit you, Miss Sephera!"
Her smile was pure, her attitude sincere. But Sephera eyed Anno's full bust, looked down at her own, and recalled Hattie telling her "drinking milk makes you busty." Her brows shot up.
That damned woman—using her figure to humiliate me!
Behind her innocent face, there's a nasty heart!
So infuriating!
Sephera seethed, feeling her lungs fill with rage. Though Anno's smile was radiant, she was sure it was a direct mockery—she herself would do the same if the roles were reversed.
She bit her lip, mind racing for a reply.
But she had no time to answer. At that very moment, the monastery gates opened again, and the rushing Charles poked his head out, delight written on his face, as he greeted the paladin girl: "Long time no see, Lady Anno."
He noticed Sephera too, looking a little angry: "Sephera, you're here too?"
He'd thought she'd gone off early to the slums for land negotiations—the monastery needed 100,000m² to upgrade, a project not finished in a day.
But no, she hadn't left, and had run into Anno instead.
Sephera shot him a wronged look, glanced at Anno, and knew she'd lost her chance for retort. She turned away: "Just about to go, was only chatting with the guest."
"Priest, Lady Anno is yours."
With that, she huffed away toward the far-off slums.
Anno hadn't caught on, and didn't care. Her big eyes flashed, all her attention focused on Charles, and her lips curved in a smile: "Long time no see, Priest Charles."
Suddenly startled, she asked: "Priest, your eyebrows and hair?"
Charles became awkward at once—his hair and brows were still only beginning to grow back: "Er… there was a…tiny accident, fire, but it's already growing in."
He tipped his square cap to show her; a thin layer of white hair had sprouted, sure to be back to normal soon.
Inwardly, he wondered why everyone who knew him noticed that first.
Anno relaxed—she'd feared there was some hereditary family condition that caused this at a certain age...
All was well then.
"Coincidentally, I brought nourishing things to help with hair growth." She offered her bag. "I think the flavors are all good, Priest, is there anything you like?"
Charles set down his cap, glanced inside, and laughed: "Thank you, I like all of them."
As he took the bag, their fingertips brushed. It was a normal touch, but Anno's palm was already sweating.
"Come in." Skipping the usual pleasantries, Charles invited her in. Anno naturally accepted, stepping over the threshold, and when Charles closed the gate, he took her delicate hand.
This was his test, and it was evident—the maiden paladin trembled, but did not pull away; instead, she gripped his hand tightly in hers.
She still felt shy, but recalling how they'd already interlaced fingers before, this seemed minor.
Still, now, feeling the warmth of his touch, she dropped her head lower, cheeks blooming with blush, pink coloring even her slender neck.
Charles turned his gaze to her face. In the sunlight, her ears gleamed like trembling jelly—enticing and delicate. Even the fine hairs on her blushing cheeks were visible.
He couldn't help drawing closer, almost able to smell the faint fragrance of her hair. Though she wore no heavy makeup, clearly she had dressed with care for today.
Noticing him draw near, Anno grew more nervous. Charles gently smiled, starting conversation: "How have you been lately? Work going well?"
Anno nodded meekly: "Yes, pretty well..."
Hand in hand, they strolled through the leaf-strewn monastery, confiding the details of their lives. Mostly, Anno talked while Charles listened, sometimes replying, sometimes joking to fill the silences.
His life, after all, wasn't so full of stories he could share; he could only use some quips or complaints to keep things moving.
Walking and talking, secretly, a mosquito reported their progress to the other nuns, letting witches spying in shadow grumble with jealousy, grit their teeth, or quietly smile...
Finally, when tired, the two rested by a tree. Charles leaned on the trunk, while Anno rested on his shoulder, eyes closed, soaking in the sun and the scent of the one she liked, brain empty and peaceful.
Charles, holding her hand, hesitated, pondering whether holding her close now would be the right move...
"Good afternoon, Priest!"
Just as he was about to act, a clear child's voice called out from behind. Anno, startled, let go, and both turned around—the former with panic in her eyes, the latter full of regret.
From the direction of the scriptorium, Lisa, just finished with morning lessons, waved at him with her rough little bag.
Meanwhile, the mosquito by his ear quickly said, "Master, it wasn't me!"
Which was a bit suspicious in itself.
Charles put on a smile, replying: "Good afternoon, Lisa!"
Lisa's dark eyes darted, then she looked at Anno: "Priest, who's she?"
"Oh, she's Anno Amcastra, a paladin," Charles introduced. Lisa politely greeted Anno, then quickly said goodbye, running off to find her mother.
She came and went quickly, but the good atmosphere was spoiled—he wouldn't be hugging that girl today.
Watching Lisa dash away, Anno looked puzzled: "Who is she? Why's she living at the monastery?"
"Oh, that's a long story," Charles replied. "She and her mother were targeted by human traffickers, so I let them hide here for a few days."
He explained the whole thing, omitting Theresa's role. Anno listened, frowning, thinking that the slum criminals needed even stricter handling.
Watching the time, she said with some regret: "Oh, I should be going."
She paused and turned back, her face suddenly dim: "By the way, Priest... for the next while, I probably won't be able to visit you."
No more pretense—no more "official business." Now, she directly said she came to see him.
Charles was a bit surprised: "Oh? Why not?"
"Well, our organization… has a long-term mission." Anno bit her lower lip, looked down, sniffed her nose. "It's autumn now. The Mountain People of Rubble District might come down to plunder, attacking caravans and farmers, so we have to conduct special defenses."
"Until winter, I'll likely be stationed in Rubble District, unable to freely visit like this."
As she spoke, her voice faltered with awkwardness. Charles frowned, his eyes narrowing.
As a paladin, Anno was not good at lying. Her nervous gestures and weak excuses made it obvious—she was lying.
Mountain People plunder happened year-round, but Liberl Port was hardly an agricultural city, and Blackstaff Tower wouldn't ever station their secret Force Grey units solely to guard farm fields.
Blackstaff Tower's only mission, since the city's founding, had been to protect Liberl Port!
Unless they thought a major threat to the city itself was brewing in Rubble District, never would they send a member there!
So... what happened in Rubble District?
Connecting this to the Abyssal Lord who granted Theresa Chaos Energy, now also hiding in Rubble District, a bold suspicion flashed in Charles's mind.
Was Anno being sent to fight a demon there?
The more he thought, the more likely it seemed. For besides a powerful Abyssal Lord, what could threaten the whole Port?
He bit his lips, truly worried for the girl.
After all, paladins were the bane of fiends, but also their favorite targets for vengeance and destruction...
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