Chương 13: The Church Assessment

Vira marched through Oakhaven's clean, cold upper district, her iron boots clicking on the wet cobblestones. Beside her, Stelle gripped one of her hand, keeping a perfect pace.

"We are here, Stelle. This is the Church of Saint Lilian," Vira said, her voice dropping into a tone of instinctive admiration. The structure is different compared to the normal grey stone of Oakhaven. She stopped at the base of a massive, sweeping staircase carved from pure white limestone, its steps worn smooth by centuries of pilgrims' feet..

"Saint Lilian is one of the eleven revered Saints," Vira added, looking up at the grand structure. Stelle halted, tilting her head back to look up at the towering spires. Her pupils dilated by fractions of a millimeter as her special vision immediately went to work, calculating the structural mechanics of the architecture.

"Saint Lilian?" Stelle asked. She pitched her vocal cords to a slightly higher, fragile frequency, injecting a tentative curiosity into her tone. She kept her hands clasped tightly behind her back, fidgeting with her fingers just as a frightened child would do when confronted with such immense scale.

"Yes," Vira replied softly.

"She was born sometime during the Fourth Era… the Great Darkness or the Dark Star corruption threatened to consume the frozen north, she didn't flee like the high lords. She stayed. She sacrificed her own life force to repel the darkness, freezing herself into eternal ice to form the very barrier that keeps the northern wastes from swallowing Oakhaven. In doing so, she ascended to sainthood. This branch is dedicated to her grace." Sacrificed her life force and froze herself into ice.

Stelle processed the data internally, cross-referencing it with her core knowledge archive. [DATA CORRELATION: FOUND] [Database Entry: The Twelve Saint Scriptures (Chapter 4)] The Twelve Saint Scriptures · Chapter IV The Frozen Saint"When the Fourth Era still drew breath, there came a season the world refused to remember." No kingdom recorded its arrival. No calendar marked its beginning. Later historians would simply call it the Great Darkness.

Those few surviving texts never described it as an army, nor a plague, nor a beast. Instead, they repeated a single unsettling line.

"When it passed, the light forgot how to shine. Mothers forgot the faces of their children. Even the dead were denied remembrance." Entire civilizations vanished without ruins. Cities remained standing, yet no names remained for those who built them. Only endless darkness and cold snow. Then, another passage.

"When kings fled south and prophets buried their own scriptures... one woman remained." Lilian. Every record before her ascension had been erased—as though history itself possessed no authority to remember the life of the woman it later worshipped. Some texts called her a healer while other a witch. A few dared to write that she was merely an ordinary girl who refused to abandon the dying. Only one detail appeared in every surviving manuscript.

She is not as a mage seeking power, but as someone searching for something even the gods had forgotten. Years passed. Her name disappeared from mortal records. When it surfaced again, she was no longer a normal mortal. An Awakened whose miracles no longer resembled magic at all. The final fragment was incomplete, its parchment scorched along the edges, as if someone had deliberately tried to destroy it. Only scattered sentences remained.

"... the last refuge..."

"... the Heart of Winter..."

"... the Rite of Absolute Sacrifice..." She surrendered her blood. She surrendered her mana. She surrendered every memory that made her human. At the end, even her soul was no longer hers to offer. The ritual transformed her body into a Powerful Cryo Barrier, an endless wall of sacred ice that still seals the northern frontier centuries later. It is said that her consciousness continues to watch over the frozen wastes, answering only the prayers of those willing to sacrifice something precious in return.

The Dawn Covenant later canonized her as the Fourth Saint, naming her the Saint of Last Winter. Every branch of her Church preserves relics touched by her final miracle, believing that each carries a fragment of her lingering divine will.

"Come along," Vira said gently, placing a hand on Stelle's shoulder.

"The High Priest is expecting us. The sooner we complete your divine assessment, the sooner the Union can officially register your core and secure your status." Stelle allowed herself to be guided up the pristine white steps. As they crossed the threshold through the massive, arched oak doors, the ambient temperature dropped instantly. The interior of the church was illuminated by high, narrow stained-glass windows that fractured the morning sunlight into different colours across the floor.

At the far end of the long nave, standing before a towering statue of a woman carved from translucent white ice that strangely never melted, stood an old man clothed in flowing, silver-hemmed vestments. His hair was shaved completely bald, and his face was etched with deep, ancient wrinkles. This was High Priest Malakai. As Vira and Stelle approached, the old man turned. His eyes, completely devoid of pupils. Blind.

"Is that you…Vira," the High Priest spoke, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant, echoing off the high stone vaults.

"The other one… is that child?."

"Yes, High Priest," Vira said, stepping forward and bowing from the waist with military precision.

"Captain Alden asked me to head first for the Church for assessment." Malakai's devoid eyes lingered on Stelle as if he could see her. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"If this child is to be sponsored, registered, and bound to your Union's name, I will know what she truly is… we first need to understand what her soul reflect" Vira's brow furrowed slightly, but she inclined her head.

"Of course, High Priest. Whatever the rite requires." Malakai turned and gestured toward a low archway to the side of the main altar, its threshold carved with concentric rings that seemed to recede infinitely the longer Stelle looked at them.

"Then come. Not here, but in the Sanctum of Reflection, where the sacred pool is resting." Although he couldn't see a thing, the old man seemed to have already memorized the passages of the old structure. The Sanctum of Reflection was unlike the grand hall outside. It was a small, circular chamber, its walls curving inward overhead until they nearly met at a point far above the candlelight, and it was silent enough that even breathing felt intrusive.

Twelve pale-blue candles burned along the stone walls without producing smoke, their flames standing unnaturally still, as though the air itself had agreed not to disturb them. Stelle's gaze lingered on the candles a beat too long. Twelve, she noted. Vira said eleven Saints. While there are Twelve candles, and twelve Saint Scriptures. Either the count is wrong, or someone is being counted who isn't supposed to be. She filed the discrepancy away, another variable that offered her another question than answer.

At the center of the chamber rested a shallow basin filled with perfectly still water. Above it hovered a single crystal shard, suspended by chains engraved with ancient runes. Frost slowly formed around it radiating the same energy in the air but much denser.

"This is the Sanctum of Reflection," Malakai said as he stepped toward the altar.

"A relic left behind by Saint Lilian herself." Vira instinctively lowered her head.

"The church does not measure mana here," the High Priest continued.

"Mana can deceive. Souls cannot." He reached into the folds of his robe and retrieved a small silver dagger. Without hesitation, he drew its edge across his palm. A drop of blood fell into the basin. The water froze instantly—not from ice mana, but from something different, something the candlelight seemed to dim itself in front of rather than illuminate. Malakai closed his blind eyes and placed both hands over the frozen basin that almost looked like a mirror. His voice, when it came, had gone slow and solemn.

"By the grace of the Fourth Saint... I offer my blood. Grant me sight beyond mortal eyes." The crystal suspended above the basin emitted a faint blue glow. The runes carved into the chains lit up one after another. The room fell silent, and even the twelve candles, which had never once flickered, seemed to hold themselves still. Stelle remained perfectly composed, though countless warnings flashed across her vision. [NOTICE] [Unknown presence with frost mana signature.] [Unable to classify.] [Ghost Core camouflage unavailable.] Malakai's consciousness slowly sank into the relic. Normally, he would see a soul reflected within the frozen water. Some burned brightly. Others carried scars, curses, corruption—every soul possessed a shape, some legible shorthand for the life that had worn it. But… Stelle's did not. The frozen surface became an endless white wasteland, no beginning, no end, and only silence stretching in every direction at once. His vision continued to descend.

Far beneath the frozen expanse, something moved. It wasn't a creature. It wasn't a soul, either, not in any sense his forty years of service had ever taught him to recognize one. It was simply there. Watching. For the first time in decades, Malakai instinctively broke the ritual. His eyes snapped open. The crystal above the basin faded its glow, and one of the twelve candles guttered out entirely. A thin line of blood trickled from beneath his blind eyes, tracing a slow path down his weathered cheek.

"High Priest!" Vira immediately stepped forward. Malakai raised a hand, stopping her.

"... I'm fine. It's my fault, for suddenly breaking the ritual." His breathing was steady once more, but his expression had changed. The calm practiced serenity of a man performing a rite he'd done a thousand times replaced by something older and considerably more careful. Forty years of walking the Mystic Path had taught him one lesson that not every revelation was meant to be understood, and fewer still were meant to be spoken aloud. His blind gaze settled slowly on Stelle.

The little girl remained exactly where she was, her expression a picture of innocent, uncomprehending confusion. Whatever he had seen, it was neither holy nor unholy. It simply did not belong within the boundaries of his divination at all—a category his entire discipline had no name for, and he found, somewhat to his own surprise. He didn't want to see it again.

"The assessment is complete," Malakai finally said, his voice returning to its usual calm.

"Her soul… bears no corruption. Her soul is aligned with ice and snow. An affinity towards the frost." She is not merely what she appears, he thought, while the silver-haired girl kneels with her head bowed and her hands folded with unnatural composure in her lap. But whatever she is, it is not a danger I intend to name today. Stelle, for her part, had no data to explain what had just happened. Her camouflage had never activated. And yet the examination had ended, apparently, in her favor.

It was, she noted with something almost like discomfort, the first time since waking up in this world that she had survived an encounter through no action of her own at all.

"She requires a good mentor," Malakai continued.

"A person who can guide her towards her chosen paths."

"I understand," Vira replied, bowing deeply.

"The Northern Union Association will take full responsibility for her development. I will personally oversee her instruction as my primary disciple." Stelle kept her head bowed, her silver hair veiling her face as she simulated her facade. Beneath the performance, her mind was still turning over the one variable she couldn't solve: a man who had looked directly at whatever she truly was, and chosen, for reasons she could not yet model, to say nothing at all.

"Take this," Malakai said, reaching into the deep folds of his silver-hemmed robes. He pulled out a small, circular medallion made of polished blue crystal. Etched onto its surface was the stylized crest of a snowflake, the mark of Saint Lilian's blessing.

"It is a Winter Rite charm," the High Priest explained, handing it to Vira.

"It will act as a passive anchor for her ambient mana, drawing out the excess frost when her core becomes unstable. Keep it on her at all times." Vira took the charm, immediately stepping down to loop the cord around Stelle's neck. The moment the blue crystal rested against Stelle's chest, her system detected a subtle, magnetic pull. [SYSTEM] [External artifact attempting passive mana extraction.] [Rate: 0. 05 units per minute.] [System Note: Artifact functions as a localized magical sponge.] [No threat to primary core structures.]"Thank the High Priest, Stelle," Vira whispered encouragingly. Stelle looked up, her crystal-blue eyes wide, mirroring a delicate mixture of relief and childlike awe. She bowed her small head, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere.

"Thank... thank you, High Priest." Malakai merely gave a slow, solemn nod.

"Go in peace, child of the snow. May the frozen saint guide your steps through the darkness." His milky eyes held hers for one final moment.

"And may you walk the path towards your desired journey." The words lingered a half-second. Stelle filed them away without comment. With the assessment officially concluded, Vira guided Stelle back down the long, cavernous nave toward the massive oak doors. The bright, soot-heavy sunlight of the lower district spilled across the white limestone steps as they exited, the heavy door clicking shut behind them with a sound of profound finality.

As they walked down the stairs toward the waiting carriage, Vira looked down at her, a brilliant, calculating smile finally breaking across her stern features.

"You did wonderfully, Stelle," Vira said, her tone brimming with a new sense of pride.

"The High Priest himself has recognized your talent. From today onward, you will be my disciple. Tomorrow, we begin your formal training at the barracks." Stelle looked up at her new master, offering a small, submissive nod. But behind her unblinking, crystal eyes, the system was already shifting her parameters, mapping out a completely different trajectory. Training begins tomorrow, Stelle thought, her cold, analytical mind already running a future simulation.

Which means I will learn more about the mana structure of this planet. And I need to understand what that old man saw, she added, a rare thread of genuine uncertainty threading through the calculation. Because whatever it was, It's out of my understanding.