Charles suddenly understood—so that's what you're after: power.
But with your daughter keeping an eagle eye on me, I'm pretty sure I can't do that kind of "special" baptism for you...
No, wait. As a devout Priest, I shouldn't let my attitude slip so carelessly…
He mulled it over for a moment, then furrowed his brow, putting on a look of mild displeasure. "So, Matriarch Willo, you sought refuge with our goddess just for this?"
Willo's heart skipped a beat. She hurried to explain, "No, Priest, it's not like that. I didn't decide to worship the Goddess of Life just because I wanted more power."
"Truthfully, I learned a lot first, thought it through… before I finally made up my mind to become a follower of the goddess."
She was clearly nervous as she spoke. "It's just, while chatting, Miss Nidalee once mentioned her Goodberry spell had some special effects…"
Charles gave a gentle nod, letting her off the hook. "Is that all? I understand."
Then, with a touch of hesitation, he explained, "That really is a blessing from the goddess. If you can class-change into a Life Domain Cleric, you'll be able to channel divine power—and your Goodberry will become far stronger."
"But it's not something you can master overnight. If you truly want this power, you'll need to study and train here for some time."
Of course, that was just an excuse—half the nuns could barely read a word or understand divine magic, and yet they'd all still class-changed into Life Domain nuns just fine.
He was really just trying to find a reason to keep this matriarch at the monastery a little longer.
Willo didn't realize any of this. She nodded lightly, thinking, No wonder that kind of power isn't so easy to acquire.
She hesitated, concern plain on her face. "How long will it take? The new camp in the mountains still needs me. I probably can't stay away for too long."
Charles's expression turned even more regretful. "Well… it won't be short. You've never studied this kind of thing before, so it's hard to say how quickly you'd pick it up."
"But isn't there anyone in the Green Vines tribe who can take over for you? Some promising young spellcasters, maybe...?"
He was basically hinting non-stop that she should send Adele back and stay for training alone, instead of having her daughter by her side the whole time.
But, unfortunately, Willo didn't pick up on any of it.
She shook her head gently and sighed. "The kids are still far from grown. Handing over everything now would just be too irresponsible of me, as their chieftain."
She paused a beat, but she'd come all this way and was reluctant to let the chance slip by. "How about this, Priest—I'll study here for now, and if it's not working, I'll take some materials home and study on my own in the mountains."
"No matter what, I have to be back before the New Year, to welcome it together with my kin. What do you think of that?"
Charles nodded. "Excellent. Let's do it that way!"
After settling things with her, he brought Willo to the scriptorium, pulled out a few entry-level Church of the Goddess of Life texts, and let her start reading on her own.
Finding an empty desk on the second floor, she began her studies in earnest—never mind if her daughter might end up bored by the side.
Once that was done, it was midday. Charles squeezed in a bit of training, and the squads of nuns who'd gone out on missions finally returned to the monastery, one after another.
Theresa, the most powerful, was first back—efficient as ever. Ruth followed; with her assassin's specialization, she was an expert at making problems disappear quietly and cleanly.
Then came Carol and her squad of battle nuns. As soon as they entered, it was clear from their expressions that something was seriously wrong.
None of them bothered to rest. The whole squad went straight to the training hall, lined up in a row, every girl tense as if confessing to some terrible crime.
That got Charles's attention. He stopped his own drills and asked, "What's going on? Carol, speak."
"Priest..." Carol stepped forward, head down, voice loaded with guilt and remorse. "I… killed someone."
Charles's face didn't change. "Is that all? The whole point of this mission was to kill, wasn't it?"
"The group you targeted should have had thirty-one people. So how many did you get? If anyone slipped through the net, then I'd have reason to doubt you, Carol."
Carol hurriedly shook her head. "No. The person we killed this time… wasn't on the list."
Behind her, several nuns nodded repeatedly, each looking shamefaced.
Charles's smile faded immediately. "What happened?"
But then he softened, "Don't be afraid, Carol. I trust you're a good soul. Whatever you did—at the very least—I'll have your back."
"Speak up, my nun. I will never blame you."
He said it gently, and Carol wiped her nose before explaining everything.
Early that morning, after getting Charles's orders, Carol had gathered her girls, powered up their ion beam emitters, and gone straight to the drug peddlers' hideout.
It all went smoothly. The targets didn't even see it coming—most had been drunk the night before and were still passed out.
Carol and her squad swept them up easily, not even needing to fire their plasma weapons.
But heading back, they ran into something… different.
Basically, a young boy charged at a burly man—who had his arm around a beautiful woman—screaming and swinging a kitchen knife. But he was quickly overpowered, his weapon knocked away, and thrown hard to the ground.
The big man then pinned the kid under his boot, hurling insults at him. The woman dropped to her knees in front of the brute, hugging his thighs and begging him to be merciful and spare the boy's life.
Honestly, this isn't the kind of thing the nuns usually meddled in. Hotheaded kids picking fights with gangsters and ending up dead happened in the slums all the time—people barely batted an eye anymore.
But listening to the woman's gut-wrenching sobs, Carol's heart couldn't take it. She and her sisters beat the brute down, tied him up, and asked what was going on.
And that's when things got serious.
Turns out, the woman was the boy's sister. Their family, which fished crabs for a living, wasn't poor by local standards. The woman studied history at Liberl University—not a star, maybe, but doing pretty well.
A few days earlier, on her way home for winter break, she'd caught the eye of this brute—a smuggler who'd recently made it big selling healing potions on the black market.
Oh, his name was even on Chauvin's list—Charles had just overlooked him because his crimes seemed minor.
Long story short: the guy took a shine to her, kidnapped her to his den, and assaulted her for three days straight before letting her go home.
The girl and her family were devastated, but what was done was done—they could only try to move forward.
But that was just the beginning of the nightmare. Today, the smuggler broke into their house, beat her parents, and kidnapped her again.
Her brother, returning after a night out with friends, came home to find his parents covered in blood. Furious, he grabbed a knife and chased after the smuggler.
That's what the nuns stumbled on. If Carol hadn't stepped in, the boy would already be dead.
After hearing the whole story, Carol was consumed by rage. So were all the nuns—they'd all started out in the same place, just as young and just as pretty. If not for the monastery and their strength, any of them could easily have suffered that girl's fate.
Boiling with fury, the girls decided unanimously: the smuggler would die.
Up against their overwhelming might, the "invincible" thug went down like a bug. He died wetting himself from fear, all his gangster bravado gone.
Afterward… well, here they were. Even though they believed they'd served justice, they'd killed someone who wasn't on the mission list, without Charles's permission.
They knew this was wrong—a breach of the Priest's strict orders. So the whole squad came forward, hoping for his understanding, forgiveness, and salvation.
And Charles—he just sighed inwardly.
Alright, he thought—these nuns aren't machines. They all have backstories, private values, emotions. Anger—or fear—can still get the better of them, throwing best-laid plans off track.
That was inevitable, but…
As he looked at the girls and their guilty faces, Charles frowned, weighing his thoughts.
The battle nuns would be crucial to him; they needed to become a flawless army—disciplined, fearless, able to follow orders.
But real life wasn't a game. Discipline, morale, faith—these weren't things you could fix by clicking the "Re-educate" or "Correct Morale" button and spending some gold.
He'd have to figure out by trial and error, taking a hands-on approach.
A little awkward, maybe—Charles, in all his years and both his lifetimes, hadn't seen many real armies, let alone a high-morale religious force.
So, all he could do was copy what he remembered from his home country in his previous life—a military that had turned weakness into strength, created miracles, and flourished thanks to its own traditions.
He might not know the theory, but if he imitated their practices, it probably wouldn't go too wrong.
Military democracy, holding the corrupt accountable...
Making a quick decision, he took on a stern tone with Carol. "First off, your original mission was the purge—you should have returned and reported once it was done."
"But, Carol, you let your emotions distract the squad, wasted time, and ended up embroiled in a new murder case. That cannot go unpunished!"
Carol braced herself, no resentment on her face. She knew her actions could jeopardize the grand plan of the monastery.
That was the price of yielding to the passion of a fleeting sense of justice.
Charles let out a long breath. "But—I have to reflect, too. I didn't account for the girls' emotions in my planning."
"Andny, call all the nuns together in the chapel hall. For our next move, I want everyone involved in a thorough discussion!"
...
In the chapel lobby of the Goddess of Life, all twenty-one nuns present at the monastery gathered on the benches, exchanging nervous glances.
They weren't sure what "penalize" meant, or why everyone had been summoned.
Was this a trial? Punishment? They didn't know, and anxiety gnawed at them—they longed for pardon, but feared losing the power they'd struggled to obtain.
Charles set up a massive whiteboard on the dais while Theresa used magic to project Chauvin's entire target list onto it.
Once all the names, nicknames, businesses, and outposts had been neatly cast onto the whiteboard, Charles cleared his throat and began: "Sisters, I've called everyone here because something happened this morning."
"You might've heard bits and pieces, but let me sum it up to avoid any confusion…"
He recounted the whole story of Carol's incident, then continued, "Here's the thing: today made me realize that these so-called 'small-time' smugglers can be just as dangerous—even worse—forcing themselves onto the law-abiding residents of South Harbor District."
"That got me wondering: Is our overall strategy wrong? Should we, in this purge against suspected cults, expand our targets to include the likes of the smuggler Carol encountered this morning?"
He swept the room with his gaze. "But I'm not a local; I don't know these names on the list. Most of them, you probably recognize."
He pointed to the whiteboard behind him. "So I need your judgment. Speak your minds—just raise your hand first."
He wanted the nuns to debate, explain, and discuss—it was only through reasoning it out themselves, he believed, that they'd build real conviction.
But the room just looked puzzled. They couldn't understand why Charles wanted everyone's input.
Why not just make the decision himself, then give them the order?
Letting us speak up? That just doesn't happen…
The nuns couldn't grasp Charles's reasoning; it was simply too forward-thinking for this era.
Seeing the confusion, Charles sighed inwardly, then tried again: "Don't be nervous. Seriously, I need your experiences to help us do justice here."
Thinking that still wasn't enough, he pressed on: "The Goddess of Life cares equally for every intelligent being and respects their thoughts and desires. Please, everyone, share your ideas."
"With kindness as our guide, and all our wisdom combined, we can truly walk the path the goddess wants."
Frankly, he was stretching the doctrine, as he hadn't ever fully read the scriptures of the Goddess of Life—he barely even knew her dogma.
But nobody in the room had read those scriptures, either—most nuns were still effectively illiterate. There was no one here who'd dare challenge Charles's authority.
So, what he said, went.
Finally, after enough coaxing, one life domain nun who hadn't participated in the morning purge gathered her courage and spoke up: "I say we need to crack down even harder."
Charles encouraged her: "Tell me more."
The girl took a deep breath: "I know the smuggler Sister Carol encountered this morning. That guy has been terrorizing South Harbor District for years—a menace who's long had this coming!"
"I've heard about his sickening crimes for ages. But with his deep ties to Chauvin and his growing power, he's always had a way of slipping through the cracks."
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