"U-um, S-Sebby...?"
"Yes, Acier?"
"I-is-e-everything alright?"
"Hmm? Of course it is. Why would you ask that?"
"I-it's just... y-you're acting kind of… strange?"
"Really? How so?"
"W-well, for one, you keep smiling at me and tracing my face with your fingers…"
"I really like your face." And how beautiful it is.
"... A-and you keep running your hands through my hair…"
"I really like your hair." And how silky it is.
"Y-y-you haven't let go of my hand since my a-appointment ended!"
"I really like your hand." And how warm and smooth it is.
"S-Sebby?!"
"Hmm? Why? Don't you like it?" I thought you wanted me to be more affectionate and bold.
"I-it's—n-not l-like that!"
"Then what is it?"
"I-it's just…"
"Just what?"
"It's just that we're not alone!"
Acier couldn't hold back her frustration any longer. Her scream of embarrassment echoed through the family's private garden, where they sat together at a round table beneath a Victorian-style gazebo.
Sebastian (reluctantly) broke his gaze, which had been fixated on his wife since her appointment. Even during lunch and their walk through the garden, his attention hadn't strayed from her. Slowly, he turned to look at their family seated across the table.
By family, he meant their children. Amara wasn't here. In-laws should know their place and not intrude on close family time.
(Of course, Dorothy was an exception.)
Nozel looked ready to explode, a bulging vein throbbing on his forehead. Dorothy's eternal, playful smile had grown strained as she struggled to endure her parents' "lovey-dovey" display. Nebra was a blushing, fidgeting mess, clearly unsure of where to look.
Solid, however, paid no attention to his parents. His focus was entirely on Noelle, who sat in the center of the table, happily caught up in her own little world.
Sebastian, unbothered by the stares, wrapped an arm around Acier's shoulders, making her blush even brighter.
Even someone as bold as Acier had limits when it came to outwardly expressing her love—especially in front of their children. It was odd, really. She had no problem being playful or even borderline risqué with Sebastian in public. But soft gestures and honeyed words? Those reduced her to a stuttering, blushing mess.
Sebastian smiled to himself. He'd just discovered something very interesting.
Sebastian shot his eldest, Nozel, an almost instigating, smug look before asking a seemingly casual question.
"Your mother's birthday is in a mere five days. Have you got her present picked out yet?"
Nozel froze mid-motion, his mouth opening slightly as he went speechless. His eyes darted to Acier, who was seated across from him, before returning to his father. The silent message was unmistakable: Father, should we really be discussing this in Mother's presence?
Fortunately, Sebastian caught on to his son's concerns and smiled knowingly.
"I didn't ask what you got her—just if you've already bought her gift."
Acier, who had been fidgeting moments before, composed herself somewhat and turned to her son, her eyes sparkling faintly with a hint of expectation.
Ever since Nozel's birth, her birthdays had always been bittersweet. They weren't something she looked forward to; the day often ended on a low note, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. But this year… she had hope. She felt confident that this time would be different.
Nozel averted his gaze, guilt creeping into his expression. His voice, uncharacteristically soft, carried his quiet confession.
"Not… yet…"
The weak tone was so unlike him, and it only deepened his guilt. He hated the idea of letting his mother down. Normally, he would have long since prepared her gift, but the past two weeks had been an overwhelming storm of responsibilities and changes.
Getting his curse treated, accompanying his mother to her appointments, preparing for his engagement ceremony, handling his Magic Knight duties, looking after Noelle, attending to royal court matters, magic training, studies, and practice for his eventual role as the head of House Silva—it was all piling up.
Nozel's life, already overfilled with responsibilities, had become increasingly hectic. He barely had time to breathe, let alone make a trip to retrieve her gift. His only free time came after hours, when curfews rendered stores across the Kingdom closed.
He could have used his influence as House Silva's heir to arrange private appointments after hours, but Nozel hated doing things like that. He despised those who abused their positions of power. Cold and distant he might be, but he wouldn't stoop to corruption, leverage, or blackmail unless it was an absolute necessity. And he especially disliked owing favors to noble-run businesses.
Still, he was in a bind.
Unfortunately, Sebastian wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily. His father clicked his tongue repeatedly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk… I expected more from you, Nozel. Don't tell me your mother's present on her special day is going to be some last-second, half-hearted buy. For shame, Nozel. For shame."
Nozel stiffened at the pointed words, and to make matters worse, Noelle decided to join in. She scrunched her little brows, mimicking her father's disapproval with an exaggerated frown on her round baby face before pointing at her brother.
"Bad Bwubba!"
Nozel felt like a statue that had been shattered into tiny fragments and scattered to the wind.
"Ha ha!" Acier's amused laugh broke the tension as she gave Sebastian a playful slap on the arm. There was no real heat to it, just a teasing reprimand. Then, she turned to Nozel with a warm, reassuring smile and reached across the table to clasp his hand.
"Relax, Nozel. You don't have to beat yourself up over this. I'll love anything you give me."
For a moment, Nozel seemed frozen, but then he snapped back to reality. His expression grew somber as he looked at his mother.
"Mother, I've known for a long time what I want to give you. I even reserved it—I just need to go down to Kikka and pick it up!"
Acier's eyes widened briefly before she broke into a radiant, blinding smile.
"I'll look forward to it."
Nozel blushed at her reaction, lowering his head to hide his flushed cheeks. He gave a small, respectful nod.
Unfortunately for Nozel, Sebastian wasn't done raining on his parade. He glanced down at his son, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"If you already have the gift picked out… then why didn't you just have it delivered here?"
Sebastian's question carried weight. While the current era lacked a centralized delivery or postage system, Nozel was undoubtedly buying from high-end merchants who catered exclusively to elite clientele. These merchants often offered personal delivery services, ensuring that the goods arrived securely at their clients' estates.
After all, it was beneath nobility—especially royalty—to carry their purchases around in bags like commoners or peasants.
Nozel raised his head, opening his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, everyone's attention shifted to his right.
"Oh, that kind of has to do with me."
All eyes turned to Dorothy, who was scratching her cheek, looking both nervous and embarrassed. She cast an awkward glance toward Acier.
"Mom… I don't really know you too well yet—your likes and dislikes—so I asked Nozel to show me around Kikka and give me some advice."
She fidgeted slightly before continuing, her voice quiet.
"He's actually taking me down there today. Since he was already going, he decided to pick up your gift himself to make sure it's handled securely."
While merchants were known for treating their clients' belongings with the utmost care, Nozel couldn't shake his protective nature when it came to his family. Even the best service didn't entirely ease his insecurities when his loved ones were involved.
Acier froze, her lips parting wordlessly as she took in Dorothy's nervous expression. Then, she smiled softly.
"Dorothy… like I just told Nozel, you don't have to—"
"I know!" Dorothy blurted, startling everyone. Her face turned a deep red as she lowered her head, fists clenching at her sides.
"It's just… it's just… all of you have been so nice and accepting of me… especially you." She directed her gaze to Acier, her voice trembling. "So I just want to show some appreciation and gratitude."
Nozel, Nebra, and Solid stared at Dorothy, wide-eyed. Slowly, their surprise melted into fond expressions. Even Noelle seemed caught up in the mood, clapping her little hands with glee.
"Aga… aga… aga!"
Dorothy, who had been staring fixedly at the ground, froze as she felt her witch hat lift from her head. A moment later, a warm, smooth touch planted itself gently on her forehead.
She blinked in shock and raised her eyes, only to see Acier leaning across the table. Her pupils dilated as she realized what had just happened—Acier had kissed her forehead.
Stiff as a board, Dorothy remained motionless as Acier clasped her face in both hands. The older woman's gaze radiated gentle, palpable love as she spoke.
"Thank you, honey. I'll look forward to it."
Dorothy gaped, watching as Acier settled back into her seat. Slowly, she raised a trembling hand to touch the spot where the kiss had landed.
An indescribable warmth bloomed in her chest, flooding her with a feeling she couldn't quite put into words. Without thinking, she grabbed her hat and jammed it back onto her head, pulling it low until it nearly obscured her face. She then leaned forward, resting her head on the edge of the table in an attempt to hide her crimson cheeks and shaky smile.
So this is what a mother's love feels like.
Sebastian smiled at Dorothy, but his grin quickly faded into a near-frown as he cast a sidelong look at Nozel.
Is this thief trying to take her out on a date?
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. No, no, no. Who knows what could happen if a young man and a lady go shopping together?
His gaze shifted to the other end of the table, landing on Solid. After a moment of silent scrutiny, his expression brightened into a smile.
"Solid, why don't you join them and pick out a gift as well?"
Nozel gave Sebastian an almost imperceptible narrowed-eyed glare, clearly catching onto his father's intention.
Meanwhile, Solid's face lit up with excitement as he shot up in his seat.
"Can I?"
At only four years old, Solid had never received an allowance and had never bought anything—not for himself, and certainly not a gift for his mother.
Sebastian's smile grew warmer.
"Yes, don't worry about the cost. I'll hand Nozel a blank cheque to settle the bill."
Solid turned to Nozel, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Nozel, ever composed, gave his little brother a faint, indifferent nod. That was all Solid needed to start bouncing in his seat, his excitement barely contained. He turned to Acier with a determined look.
"Mom, I'll buy you the biggest thing I can find!"
Acier chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She wasn't about to repeat the same reassurances she'd given Nozel and Dorothy earlier—it would feel hypocritical.
"I'm looking forward to it!"
Solid's grin stretched even wider, prompting an amused exchange of glances between Sebastian and Acier. It seemed to escape them both that Solid was still a four-year-old, and when he said "biggest," he likely meant it very literally.
Nozel, still feeling a bit petty over his father's interference, decided he wouldn't stop Solid. In fact, he would subtly encourage his younger brother to be as bold as possible with his spending.
Yes, he thought, Mother and Father are in for a very "big" surprise courtesy of their son.
"Big Brother… may I join you?"
Nebra's nervous voice broke through the moment, drawing everyone's attention. Her wide eyes and hesitant expression were filled with a mixture of hope and desperation.
This time, no one dared to make comments about forgetting to buy something—her demeanor made it clear she didn't need the added pressure.
Nozel regarded Nebra for a moment before giving her a nod. Despite his reserved nature, he'd always had a soft spot for his siblings. With Solid already tagging along, there was no reason to refuse her.
Nebra let out a small sigh of relief, but then froze when she felt a warm hand over her own. She looked across the table to see Acier smiling at her gently, rubbing the back of her hand in a soothing motion. Acier's words, spoken with quiet encouragement, mirrored those she had offered the others.
"Nebra, I'm looking forward to it."
Nebra nodded, but her heart ached with guilt. She hadn't picked out a gift for her mother—not because she was too busy, or unsure of what to buy, or even because she lacked the funds.
No, Nebra had never bought Acier a gift because the thought had been too painful. Ever since her mother's illness, Nebra had convinced herself that August 31st would mark a somber concession, not a celebration. She hadn't dared to imagine a future where Acier would recover and live to see another birthday.
Now, with her mother smiling warmly at her, the guilt clawed at her chest. Compared to Nozel, who had faced the same fears and still pushed through to pick something out, Nebra felt like she had failed.
Acier seemed to sense her daughter's inner turmoil. She continued to rub the back of Nebra's hand, offering silent comfort without speaking a word. Sometimes, gestures spoke louder than anything else could.
Nozel's gaze shifted briefly before he turned his eyes back to Sebastian, speaking with a sly edge to his tone.
"Well, Father, I suppose that means you've long since picked out Mother's gift?"
It was less a question and more a deliberate jab, the kind of statement meant to provoke. Sebastian, however, merely smiled at his son, unfazed by the challenge.
Acier turned to him with a curious and expectant look, prompting Sebastian to scratch the back of his head sheepishly.
"No, I still have to pick them up."
Nozel froze in place, his eyes widening in disbelief before his face flushed red with fury. You damn hypocrite! The words burned in his throat, but instead of yelling, he clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down.
Rising from his chair, Nozel gave Dorothy a light tap on the shoulder before casting a pointed look at Nebra and Solid.
"If we want to have enough time to actually buy something, we should get going."
The three stood up with a nod, ready to follow his lead. Meanwhile, Sebastian reached into the satchel he always carried, pulling out his ever-present cheque book. He tore off a cheque, signed it swiftly, and handed it to Nozel without a word.
Nozel accepted it with a curt nod, slipping it into his bag before turning back to the table. Each of them—Nozel, Dorothy, Nebra, and Solid—leaned down to ruffle Noelle's soft hair in turn.
Then, they spoke their farewells.
Nozel started. "Mother, Father…"
The others chimed in. "Mom, Dad…"
Finally, in unison, they added, "See you at dinner."
Acier and Sebastian watched the quartet depart, their faces glowing with affection. Once the group faded from view, obscured by the shrubbery , Sebastian leaned over the table, scooping Noelle into his arms before settling her in his lap.
He smiled down at his youngest child, then turned his gaze to Acier, his voice soft and inviting.
"Would you care to join me in going somewhere?"
Acier's lips curved into a gentle smile as she nodded. "I'd love to."
Sebastian's smile widened as he looked back down at Noelle, adopting a playful tone.
"And what about you? Want to come along with Mama and Papa?"
Noelle tilted her head to the side in confusion, her bright eyes searching his face.
"Baboo?"
—
The Clover Kingdom is divided into three distinct realms. The outer edges, where most peasants reside, are called the Forsaken Realm.
The middle ring, known as the Common Realm, serves as the hub where nobility and peasants occasionally cross paths.
And at the heart of it all is the Noble Realm—a place reserved for the elites and those of the highest birth. Commoners and peasants may visit, but owning property here is a privilege granted only through noble rank.
These three realms are the embodiment of the kingdom's rigid class structure. Few services or functions span all three realms, each tier offering less as you move outward.
If there are levels to everything, the Noble Realm holds grand stores and boutiques, the Common Realm is dotted with smaller shops, and even the sight of a simple stall feels rare in the Forsaken Realm.
This disparity is reflected even in the Church's presence across the kingdom.
In the Forsaken Realm, a humble chapel is a blessing. Churches are few and scattered, barely a lifeline of faith.
In the Common Realm, churches are more frequent, and the castle towns boast a few Cathedrals.
The Noble Realm, however, has fewer churches due to its smaller population and area, but what it lacks in quantity, it makes up for in grandeur.
The Cathedrals here tower over their counterparts, each one a marvel of wealth and divine artistry.
And above them all stands the heart of the Church's power: The Basilica of Saint Luminous.
Located directly across from the royal palace, it is the seat of the Diocese and a testament to faith and authority.
Saint Luminous, the pioneer of the Church's hierarchy and the first pope during the reign of the Clover Kingdom's founder, is honored in its name.
It's hard to imagine that this towering structure once began as a modest village church. After his passing, it was reconstructed into its current neo-gothic splendor, a symbol of faith that dominates the skyline.
The Basilica, built from pale gray stone, seems impervious to the passage of time. Its surface remains untouched by dirt, as though blessed by some divine force.
Four bell towers rise at its corners, each adorned with spires crowned by crosses that stretch toward the heavens.
Its walls are lined with tall, arched windows of stained glass, accented with smooth, intricate carvings resembling crown moulding.
At the entryway, cobblestone steps lead to massive twin bronze doors trimmed with golden embroidery. The doors themselves are a mural—a tribute to Saint Luminous.
They depict an elderly yet heroic figure, bald with a long, bloodied beard, kneeling in battle. He wore rough, battered knight's armor, his head bowed and his hands gripping a sword embedded in the skull of a monstrous beast.
What kind of beast was it?
Only fragments remain visible—a shaggy lamb's fur, a horned head. Yet the legend is clear: Saint Luminous gave his life defending the kingdom, felling the creature with the last of his strength.
Above the doors is a magnificent circular rose window, its stained glass divided into five equal sections like the slices of a pie.
Each segment bears a distinct symbol, arranged clockwise: a white cloud, a brown trumpet, a blue book, a yellow sun, and a black river.
What do they mean?
After a moment, an ornate white carriage, drawn by a pair of regal horses, came to a stop in front of the Basilica. Its design was nothing short of luxurious—vivid silver floral patterns adorned its frame, while intricate eagle-wing motifs embellished the trimmings.
The coachman, Jeeves, quickly dismounted from the driver's seat. With practiced efficiency, he made his way to the enclosed passenger compartment, opened the door, and stepped aside with a deferential bow.
Sebastian emerged first, his presence commanding even in the quiet. He wore a long, flowing white gown, layered with a silver fur mantle draped over his shoulders. A gleaming silver cross hung from his neck, and a black girdle cinched his waist. His boots, crafted from fine brown leather, bore gold trim that caught the sunlight with every step.
For a moment, he paused, his sharp gaze fixed on the towering Basilica before him. His lips twitched as though suppressing a smirk. If you want to learn about heaven, why not ask the experts?
He quickly masked his amusement, turning back to the carriage. With a graceful motion, he extended his hand, and a slender, delicate hand met his.
Acier stepped out next, a vision of elegance and poise. Her gown mirrored Sebastian's in design—flowing white fabric with an air of reverence—though hers was accented by a silver surcoat. At its center, a silver eagle was emblazoned, styled like a breastplate. A white wimple covered her throat and neck, while a long veil draped over her head, cascading down to obscure much of her face from her eyes to the bridge of her nose.
Despite her simplicity, she exuded an undeniable grace, wearing no jewelry save for her wedding ring.
In her left arm, she cradled Noelle, snug in a soft pink blanket. The baby's curious eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. She wore a white chemise styled as a dress, layered with a simple cotton gown designed for comfort and ease. A silk cap, trimmed with silver lace, rested securely atop her head, while her tiny feet were protected by black booties gentle enough for her delicate skin.
Acier's right arm linked with Sebastian's as they stood together, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Sebastian cast an indifferent glance at Jeeves.
"No need to accompany us," he said flatly. "Park the carriage somewhere and wait for our return."
"Of course, my lord." Jeeves bowed deeply, watching as his masters ascended the cobblestone steps before taking his leave.
Sebastian led Acier up the Basilica steps, their movements calm and deliberate. When they reached the grand bronze doors, they did not push through but paused, standing in quiet anticipation.
Sebastian leaned slightly toward Acier, his voice low and smooth. "Ready to put on a show?"
Acier's lips curved into a soft smile. "Yes." Finally, I get to join in on one of his little schemes."
As if on cue, the massive doors seemed to awaken with a will of their own. They swung inward slowly, revealing the expansive nave of the Basilica. Without hesitation, the trio crossed the threshold, their every step echoing through the hallowed space.
Behind them, the doors closed just as gently as they had opened, sealing them within the grandeur of the sacred hall.
As they entered the nave, the trio was greeted by the grandeur of the Basilica's interior. The elongated space stretched out before them, its high vaulted ceilings supported by slender, light blue ribbed columns that seemed almost ethereal in their elegance.
Above, a circular stained-glass dome adorned the ceiling, depicting a strange, abstract mural. The design was blurry, indecipherable to the naked eye, as though its meaning was hidden in plain sight.
Beneath their feet, the smooth stone flooring gleamed, its intricate geometric patterns running seamlessly down the expansive halls. The walls were alive with vibrant frescoes. Unlike the dome's indistinct images, these frescoes were vivid and detailed, offering a clear depiction of Saint Luminous's life.
The scenes told his story: a boy taking his first steps into the world, an energetic youth helping to build the village that would grow into the Clover Kingdom, a seasoned warrior standing against adversity, a devoted man of the cloth rising through the Church's hierarchy—from priest to bishop, cardinal to pope—and finally, returning to his roots as a warrior, giving his life for the kingdom.
Lavishly polished wooden pews lined both sides of the nave, inviting the faithful to sit, pray, confess, and reflect. The air carried a solemn stillness, broken only by the soft sounds of footsteps on stone as the trio moved forward.
They stopped at the far end of the hall, their eyes drawn to the focal point of the nave: the altar. It stood framed by an ornate backdrop of gold and marble, adorned with a mosaic motif. At its center, the silhouette of a holy cross rose upright against a depiction of a starry night sky.
Candles in glass holders encircled the altar, their flickering flames casting a warm, serene light. From these, the soothing scents of vanilla, lavender, and rosemary wafted through the air, filling the nave with a sense of peace.
To the right of the altar stood a richly carved wooden pulpit, angled slightly toward the congregation. Its decorative canopy drew Sebastian's gaze for a moment before his eyes wandered back over the nave. He spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for Acier to hear.
"It's been a while since we came here," he said, his tone laced with quiet emotion.
Acier stifled a soft laugh and shook her head. "Speak for yourself. I've been here a few times over the years."
She looked down at Noelle, who tilted her head in confusion before reaching out her small, pudgy hands and squeezing Acier's nose. Acier smiled fondly at the gesture, and Sebastian, watching them, felt his emotions stir.
"You sure have, haven't you…" His words sounded more like a statement than a question. He knew Acier had been here—for her father's funeral procession and the baptisms of each of their children.
Sebastian clenched his right fist slightly, a faint shadow of self-reproach crossing his face. All those times I should have been here with you.
A quiet ache twisted in his chest. Knowing he was always "Sebastian" filled him with a sense of belonging, but it also came with burdens. Atoning for the original Sebastian's sins—or, rather, his own sins—was no longer just a matter of obligation or self-gratification. Now it was personal, and it churned his stomach.
Acier glanced at him, her expression soft and understanding. She tightened her hold on his arm before turning her gaze to the altar. "Well, you're not wrong. It's been a long time since we came here together."
Sebastian nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Seventeen years now, in fact."
Acier's expression turned complex as she closed her eyes, the faintest tremble overtaking her. In her mind's eye, she saw their younger selves standing before the altar, facing each other across the divide.
Sebastian in a sleek silver-gray suit. Herself in a long white gown.
The memory resurfaced feelings she had buried deep: the helplessness that had hollowed her out, the weight of her weakness, and the sharp sting of guilt. She had been so miserable then—miserable with herself, miserable for Sebastian, and for the burden she knew she had placed on her family. The intensity of those feelings made her chest tighten, her heart race, and her body tremble.
But then the trembling stilled, replaced by a soft warmth spreading across her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open to find Sebastian pressing a gentle kiss there. His hand cupped her chin, lifting her face so their gazes met.
"Do you want a redo?"
"Hmm?" Acier's eyebrow arched in surprise.
Sebastian didn't break eye contact as his fingers brushed against her chin, tracing it lightly, sending a curious warmth rippling through her.
"Our wedding," he clarified.
Acier's eyes widened.
"It doesn't have to be a grand affair," Sebastian continued. "No one even has to know. We could just hire a private priest, renew our vows, and—"
His words were cut short as Acier raised a finger to his lips, silencing him. She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"What did I tell you about moving on to the future and not reopening old wounds?" Her voice was soft, but it carried a hoarse edge.
Sebastian reached into his satchel, pulling out a napkin to dab at the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
Acier gave a faint shake of her head, her lips curving into a slow, tender smile. She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear.
"The wedding itself… yes, it was a terrible time for me. I admit that," she whispered. "But what came after… what you did for me… it changed everything."
Her voice faltered, her words imbued with an unmistakable warmth. "I'd never trade that memory for anything in the world… because… because…"
Acier rose slightly onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to Sebastian's lips. When she pulled back, her smile shone brighter than he had seen in years.
"That was the second time you saved me," she said gently. And the first time you saved Nozel.
Sebastian's pupils widened slightly, a telltale sign that her words had struck a chord. Acier hesitated as she caught the subtle shift in his demeanor. Her smile dimmed, replaced by an expression tinged with somber realization, frustration, and quiet disappointment.
"…You don't remember, do you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I do remember," Sebastian replied, but the strain in his voice betrayed him. Acier tilted her head, watching as he bit his lip. "It's just… I thought that was the only time. I can't remember the first."
Acier's lips parted in a soft exhale before she smiled again, this time with a trace of bittersweet understanding. "Don't worry. You'll remember soon," she assured him, her tone lighter. "You were really cool back then."
She reached up and pinched his cheeks lightly, prompting him to smile helplessly.
"Am I not cool now?" he teased.
Her smile grew playful as she held up her hand in front of him, her thumb and forefinger barely an inch apart.
"Just a bit," she said with mock seriousness.
Sebastian chuckled, his amusement genuine, but their moment was interrupted by the sound of hooves clopping against stone. Both turned toward the approaching figure, their shared moment fading into anticipation of what was to come.
An elderly man approached, appearing to be in his late seventies, his weathered features framed by the marks of time—wrinkled skin and heavy bags under his eyes. Yet, there was a striking vibrancy about him. His soft smile radiated warmth, a reflection of a kind and wise spirit.
Beneath his red cap, strands of hair, entirely white with age, peeked out in a neat arrangement. His eyes, a lighter shade of blue than Sebastian's, gleamed with a quiet intensity, while his small, slightly squared nose added a distinct touch to his features.
Like Sebastian and Acier, he wore an overflowing white gown, but over it rested a purplish robe adorned with golden lace embroidery. A silver cross hung around his neck, its upper three ends rounded like the leaves of a clover. A broad brown belt sat snugly around his waist, housing a reddish-gold grimoire, and nearly invisible leather shoes peeked from beneath his robe as he walked.
As he neared the trio, his smile deepened, and both Sebastian and Acier immediately dipped into a bow, their movements practiced and synchronized. Even with Noelle cradled in her arms, Acier lowered her head with grace.
"Your eminence," they said in unison, their voices reverent.
The elderly man's eyes widened slightly, and he waved his hands quickly, almost flustered.
"Lord Sebastian, Lady Acier, what is the meaning of this? There's no need for such formality. We are all equal in the eyes of the Lord."
Still bowed, eyes shut in respect, Sebastian replied calmly, "Cardinal, this is the Basilica, and hierarchy must be observed. Please allow us to express our reverence."
Though his face remained composed, Sebastian suppressed a sneer. Equal in the eyes of the Lord, huh? Perhaps… but not everyone is fortunate enough to even appear beneath His gaze.
This Basilica was unlike the churches, cathedrals, and chapels scattered across the Clover Kingdom. Entry here was reserved for those of the highest status. Its grand entrance, controlled by a powerful and intricate magical barrier, would not open for the unrecognized or unworthy.
As for forcing your way in—well, even if one succeeded, what would be the point? Such an act would invite not the Lord's grace but His ire. No devout servant would dare commit such blasphemy, and any villain bold enough to try would face not only divine retribution but the wrath of the entire kingdom.
If you have that kind of courage, Sebastian thought, you may as well try robbing the royal treasury instead.
He buried the thought, his expression giving away nothing.
The Cardinal paused, his smile softening as he straightened. Clasping his hands together, he began a sacred gesture, his movements fluid and deliberate.
"In the name of the Creator," he intoned, bringing his right hand to his forehead.
"And of the creations," he continued, moving his hand to the center of his chest.
Sliding his hand diagonally to rest over his heart, he added, "And of heavenly will."
Finally, he tapped his right shoulder and concluded, "I bless and pardon you under the Lord's gaze." He clasped his hands once more and finished, "Amen. You may rise."
Sebastian and Acier straightened, mirroring his gestures, though their movements were faster, each finger tap executed in flawless unison.
"Praise the Lord!" they said in chorus.
The Cardinal's smile deepened with pleasure as he nodded. "Praise the Lord."
The Cardinal's smile softened as he glanced at Noelle, then shifted his gaze back to Sebastian and Acier. A bemused, wry chuckle escaped him.
"I must admit, seeing the two of you here together is quite the surprise. It's been… a very long time."
Sebastian inclined his head. "Indeed, it has, Cardinal."
Anslem Veritas scratched his neck, his expression turning playfully reproachful. "Please, my child, you're being too formal. Call me by my name. After all, it was I who officiated your wedding and…" His gaze returned to Noelle, nestled securely in Acier's arms, and his smile deepened. "…baptized your children."
Sebastian gave a small nod. "Then, Cardinal Veritas."
The Cardinal opened his mouth as if to protest, but then shook his head with a resigned chuckle. He realized he wouldn't coax any more familiarity out of Sebastian.
This boy is always so stiff, Anslem mused to himself, stifling another chuckle. Though… he did cause quite the scene that time.
Anslem Veritas, once a nobleman, had relinquished his title when his House fell. Choosing a life of devotion, he had risen through the ranks to become the highest-ranking Cardinal of the Clover Kingdom and the second-in-command of the Holy See.
Turning to Acier, Anslem rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, his expression warm. "You don't know how overjoyed we were when we received the good news. Just look at you now. If I hadn't personally accompanied those clerics and chaplains to treat you back then, I'd never believe you were unwell in the first place."
Acier smiled softly, holding Noelle a little closer. "Thank you, Cardinal."
Anslem nodded, though his expression dimmed slightly, his eyes reflecting regret. "It's a shame His Holiness is absent. He would've been overjoyed to see you as well."
Acier shook her head gently. "Don't trouble yourself, Cardinal. The Pope has many important duties. We wouldn't dream of taking up his time."
Sebastian added with a small nod, "It's already an honor for you to personally greet and attend to us."
Anslem coughed into his fist, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. He wasn't sure why, but their words carried a refreshing sincerity that warmed him. Perhaps it was the absence of exaggerated, hollow praise or the fact that such courtesy came from the Patriarch and Matriarch of a royal house.
Folding his hands behind his back, Anslem tilted his head curiously. "Is there something specific I can help you with? A confession, a blessing, spiritual cleansing, or something else?"
Acier glanced at Sebastian, prompting the Cardinal to do the same. Sebastian clasped his hands together and offered a short bow.
"We are here to show our gratitude."
Anslem's brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "Gratitude?"
Sebastian straightened and wrapped an arm around Acier, his expression resolute as he began, "As you've seen for yourself, my wife was terminally ill. If fate had its way, she would be resting beneath the earth in a casket by now."
Anslem nodded stiffly, his brows furrowed as Sebastian continued, his voice taking on a fervent edge. "But about two weeks ago, everything changed. The way to save her… it came to me in a dream."
Acier's lips parted slightly as her thoughts swirled. Is that how Sebby knows all these things? Through a dream?
Anslem tilted his head, a glimmer of realization crossing his face. "You're saying this was…"
Sebastian nodded firmly. "Yes. What could it be but a divine revelation? While Acier hasn't fully recovered yet, we believe it's only a matter of time. And because she's now healthy enough to move about, we felt it was necessary to come here and show our gratitude."
Anslem blinked, stunned. So that's how she recovered…?
But his expression darkened slightly as he furrowed his brow. "If that's the case, why did House Silva wait so long? You're well aware of protocol—the Holy See must be notified immediately at the first sign or even suspicion of a divine gift."
Sebastian lowered his head in shame, and Acier mirrored the movement. Noelle, still cradled in Acier's arms, let out a delighted giggle, oblivious to the tension.
"Forgive us, Cardinal," Sebastian said solemnly.
Anslem scratched his cheek, his tone exasperated but soft. "Forgive you? My children, speak plainly—what for?"
Sebastian, head still bowed, began, his voice steady but tinged with guilt. "I won't make excuses. House Silva, and I especially, have always been… less than devout. Instead of following the Church's wishes, I let selfishness blind me. I didn't want to risk anyone interfering with Acier's recovery. My distrust and disobedience are shameful, and I beg your forgiveness."
Anslem regarded him thoughtfully before shaking his head, his voice gentle. "Please, raise your head. There's no need for this."
Sebastian and Acier obeyed, meeting the Cardinal's gaze as he continued, "Your decision was rooted in love—one of the holiest emotions. Love for your wife. There is no sin in that."
Sebastian bowed his head again, this time in sincere gratitude. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Anslem nodded, his expression softening further. After a brief pause, he spoke again. "Well, now that you've come, will you share the details of this revelation with us?"
Sebastian shook his head, cutting off Anslem's response with a raised hand. "Forgive me, Cardinal. All I can say is that Acier's illness is not of natural origin. Until it is fully resolved, speaking further would put others in danger."
Anslem's expression grew serious as he narrowed his eyes at Acier. A curse? Forbidden magic? Some form of dark art? But shouldn't we have been able to purify such a thing?
He didn't immediately reply, instead asking carefully, "My child, I don't believe you would mention this to me without the intent to elaborate eventually. What is it that holds you back?"
Sebastian offered a soft, almost sheepish smile. "Don't worry, Your Grace. Acier's illness is nearly resolved. When the time comes, I'll explain everything. It's just…"
"Just what?" Anslem prompted gently.
Sebastian hesitated, his demeanor nervous and uncertain. "I don't believe I'm a prophet. I was simply blessed with one small mercy—a vision. So when the time comes, I only ask one thing: that you keep it a secret and don't announce it to the masses."
Anslem froze, processing the request. It wasn't unusual—many divinely gifted individuals in the Church's long history had wished for privacy. That much he understood.
But what he couldn't grasp was why Sebastian had come to the Holy See in the first place if secrecy was so important to him.
Anslem phrased his question gently, his tone inviting but measured. "Is there something you desire, my child?"
Sebastian nodded, his gaze steady. "Thanks to this dream, I was able to save my wife."
Acier blushed faintly, her cheeks tinged with genuine warmth, as Sebastian continued, "I've always felt distant—alienated, even—from religion and God. But now, with this newfound belief, I want to forge a stronger connection."
"Meaning?" Anslem's eyes narrowed slightly, the weight of his role evident in his sharp, assessing gaze.
"Meaning," Sebastian said, his voice steady but purposeful, "I want to learn. I want to understand the deeper truths, the knowledge reserved for the highest ranks of the diocese. As someone blessed, I believe I have a right to know."
Anslem raised a hand to his groomed, beardless chin, scratching thoughtfully before lifting a finger. "My child, you must realize you're asking for something… quite significant."
Sebastian nodded. "I do."
Anslem rolled his neck, clearly mulling over the request, before giving a slight nod. "As a Blessed of God, you do have certain rights—to be privy to truths most never glimpse…"
"But?" Acier interjected, speaking for Sebastian, her tone calm but curious.
Anslem inclined his head. "But. Merely going off your words, your personal testimony, would not suffice. Even as the highest-ranking Cardinal, I lack the authority to grant what you ask. That privilege lies solely with His Holiness."
Sebastian raised a brow. "So…?"
"So…" Anslem began carefully, "we can either wait for His Holiness to return, or…"
"Or what, Your Grace?" Sebastian asked, masking his budding smile behind an air of impatience.
"Or," Anslem continued, "I can preside over a ritual to confirm your identity as a Blessed. I won't lie to you, my child. I am skeptical—not merely because you've refused to disclose your dream in full but because, historically, His Holiness is often the first to receive divine revelation when a Blessed emerges. It allows us to approach them before those with… unsavory intentions can."
Or before you hoard them and their power for yourselves, Sebastian thought, an inward sneer forming. He'd read enough books to know how this game worked. Even if not every religious sect was rotten, more often than not, their deepest corners were far from pure.
Sebastian smiled outwardly, his tone calm and agreeable. "That will be perfectly fine with me, Your Grace."
Anslem let out a breath of relief at Sebastian's cooperation. For all the Church's influence, the royal houses were a powerful counterweight, both institutions tied to the kingdom's fragile balance of power.
Making an enemy of House Silva, especially in the current era, was a gamble Anslem couldn't afford. For the first time in centuries, the three royal houses seemed united. If they chose to act together, not even the Church could stop them—not without bleeding itself dry in the process.
This was why the Pope himself, who rarely left the Basilica, was absent. He'd gone to seek an audience with King Augustus and Damnatio Kira, ensuring that the delicate "status quo" between the Church and the aristocracy remained intact.
If the Pope returned to find that House Silva had been rudely dismissed, Anslem could well spend the last years of his life groveling for forgiveness—or worse. And if Sebastian truly was Blessed and the Cardinal had failed to recognize it?
The consequences would be catastrophic.
Anslem knew the truth: aside from the Pope and the Blessed, everyone in the Church—even someone of his rank—was expendable. This compromise, then, was his shield. If Sebastian's claim failed to be verified, Anslem would be praised for his prudence, commended for safeguarding the Church's secrets from a potential fraud.
And if Sebastian's claim was false, the Church could turn the tables entirely. They could use the scandal to blackmail House Silva, demanding concessions and obedience. The kingdom's hatred for false prophets was nearly universal; the disgrace would force the Silvas to bend, practically becoming vassals of the Church to avoid public ruin.
Fortunately for House Silva—and perhaps unfortunately for the Church—Anslem wasn't so far gone as to let greed guide his actions. He gave Sebastian a reassuring pat on the shoulder, his voice calm but laced with understanding.
"Don't worry, my child. If you fail, I'll simply pretend this meeting never happened."
Sebastian's expression softened, his smile growing more genuine. "Thank you for your mercy, Your Grace."
Anslem waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No need for thanks. Dreams are strange things. Many come here believing they've been touched by the divine, only to discover it was mere coincidence—or their imagination playing tricks on them."
His gaze flickered, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. Besides, the Lord is not the only one who bestows guidance through dreams.
Leaving his hand resting on Sebastian's shoulder, Anslem's focus snapped back, his tone steady once more. "As for your wish—should it prove true—I will honor your desire to keep your identity hidden. However, His Holiness must be informed. Do you understand? If you have any reservations, we can end this now."
Sebastian shook his head gently, his tone measured. "No need, Your Grace. I understand, and I appreciate how accommodating you've been."
Anslem beamed warmly, his demeanor shifting to one of encouragement. "Good. Then follow me to my office. Don't worry if anyone sees us. Those within these walls know well what words can—and cannot—leave without express permission."
Sebastian and Acier exchanged a quiet, knowing smile, their arms linking naturally. With a shared sense of purpose, they followed Anslem as he led them out of the nave, his steps measured but purposeful.
May the light guide us all, Anslem thought, his mind a swirl of cautious optimism and lingering doubt.
—
Author's Notes:
[1] I want to extend my sincerest apologies to any Christians if my depiction of certain aspects of faith, rituals, or terminology is inaccurate or unintentionally offensive. While I've been doing my best to research and portray things authentically, I've never had the opportunity to so much as step inside a church myself. As such, some elements may not align perfectly with real-world practices.
Please consider this story as taking place in an alternate universe (AU). While the religion depicted shares similarities with Christianity—particularly Catholicism—it will diverge in some ways, reflecting its fictional nature.
This creative choice is inspired in part by Yūki Tabata, who blends Jewish and Christian motifs in Black Clover. I hope you can approach these differences with an open mind as part of the story's unique world-building.
[2] Feel free to join the discord: /s3MME8X8ar
If it appears as one paragraph just read it on Fanfiction or A03, FF is better as A03 get's rid of the italics, bold words, and what not, just leaving it as plain text
Anslem led the trio into his office—a circular room perched at the highest level of the Basilica, where a wide-open window overlooked much of the royal palace. It wasn't an office in the traditional sense. No grand desk, no bookshelves stuffed with tomes, no serene picture frames, no cushy chairs inviting people to sit.
Instead, it was nearly empty, save for a towering black stone cross that stretched nine feet high, its featureless surface nearly grazing the ceiling. Around it stood two large cylindrical cases, where frankincense and myrrh burned eternally, the sweet, citrusy, and faintly piney aroma saturating the air. Beneath the cross lay a stack of ancient, withered parchment, a quill pen, and an ink bottle. A closed, well-worn Bible—its pages seemingly papyrus—rested on a small bookstand, exuding an aura of reverence.
Noelle, still snug in Acier's arms, darted her gaze around the room, her wide, curious eyes shimmering in the dim candlelight. Normally, babies might coo or babble when encountering something new, but Noelle seemed subdued, as though an invisible force had wrapped around her, quieting her very essence. What is this place? her expression seemed to ask. Her curiosity remained, but she wouldn't voice it, as though she, too, sensed the sacred atmosphere and refused to disturb it.
The same feeling gripped Sebastian and Acier. The moment they entered the room, their zealous facades faltered, melting into something real. Both felt an inexplicable urge to kneel before the cross, to pour out their hearts in surrender. The sensation gnawed at their agency—a deeply unpleasant loss of control, even if fleeting.
They managed to regain their composure, suppressing the strange compulsion, but the unease lingered. Acier glanced at Cardinal Anslem, who stood nearby with a serene smile on his aged yet lively face.
"Are you curious what that feeling was?" Anslem asked softly, his tone brimming with understanding. "That desire to submit and serve?"
The couple nodded, their shared confusion evident. Anslem's smile broadened before his expression darkened, taking on a somber weight. "I call this my office," he said, gesturing to the room, "but it is also His Holiness'."
Both Sebastian and Acier raised their brows at that.
"Not only that," Anslem continued, "but it's a free-use space for all Cardinals and Blessed within the Diocese."
"For what purpose?" Sebastian asked, his curiosity overtaking his unease.
Anslem's smile returned, though now tinged with a sly hint of teaching. "Well, what is an office used for?"
Sebastian fought the urge to roll his eyes at being treated like a schoolboy. Still, he replied plainly, without hesitation. "A designated space, often for people of authority, to handle professional matters—commercial or bureaucratic work."
"Certainly," Anslem nodded, "but…" His tone shifted, taking on a more didactic edge. "Everyone's work is different. Carpenters use their offices to design blueprints. Noble lords manage their estates. Shopkeepers track income and inventory. You see my point?"
Sebastian sighed, already feeling the lecture drag on. "What are you getting at, Cardinal?" His words were direct, but not disrespectful.
Anslem's somber expression deepened. "As spiritual leaders, the greatest threat to our faith is mixing the sacred with the mundane. That is the gateway to the seven sins—and the loss of faith itself."
He let the words settle before continuing. "To combat this, we separate the two as much as possible. We higher-ups have distinct spaces for spiritual matters—assessing the Blessed, seeking divine guidance, and tending to matters of faith—as well as for organizational duties, such as managing funds, socializing with the kingdom's aristocracy, and delegating resources."
Sebastian's brow furrowed as realization dawned. The logic, while seemingly exaggerated, made sense. By dedicating specific spaces to particular tasks, one could foster focus and clarity, mentally associating a space with its purpose. It was a principle used even in modern workplaces to boost productivity—so seeing it applied here was unexpectedly clever. Interesting. Even faith, for all its mysticism, has its own brand of structure and strategy.
Anslem wasn't privy to Sebastian's thoughts—or if he was, he gave no sign—as he finally arrived at his point.
"There is no better place to dedicate oneself entirely to matters of the highest faith than here," Anslem said, gesturing to the towering stone cross. "Under the audience of this."
He paused for effect, his voice softening as if revealing a sacred secret. "The first crucifix ever constructed in the world. It keeps this room eternally purified with its sacred and incorruptible aura."
Sebastian and Acier froze, their minds racing to process the revelation. Anslem continued with unnerving nonchalance, as if discussing the weather. "It is said to be over 1,400 years old. Are you curious why the Silvamillions of old chose this land to establish the Clover Kingdom?"
Before either could answer, Anslem pressed on, his words carrying the weight of history. "It wasn't just the fertile soil or abundant resources that brought them here. The old texts speak of a stone that fell from the heavens—imbued with a pure and righteous aura that stirred reverence in all who beheld it.
"The great-grandfather of the First King Clover, the first recorded holder of a four-leaf grimoire, received a divine revelation. He was told to carve the stone into this very crucifix, and by making pilgrimage to it, he and his descendants would achieve eternal glory."
Sebastian and Acier exchanged stunned glances as Anslem's tale unfolded.
"The Silvamillions, along with their extended family, built a village around the crucifix. The settlement thrived, seemingly sheltered by divine protection, warding off evil with an invisible grace. Outsiders flocked to this sanctuary, treating the Silvamillions as divine custodians.
"Nearly a century later, buoyed by destiny and divine favor, the great-grandson of the one who carved the crucifix established the Clover Kingdom, claiming his God-given right as king."
Sebastian and Acier stiffened, their bewilderment plain. Acier, choosing her words carefully, shook her head. "No... that can't be right—"
"I know what you're thinking," Anslem interrupted with a knowing smile. "How could descendants of the Silvamillion family, like yourselves, not know such a pivotal piece of history? And more importantly, how could the royals relinquish such a priceless, divine treasure to the clergy?"
Their silence spoke volumes, and Anslem took it as an invitation to answer his own question.
"This, too, is a matter of faith," he began, his tone tinged with pity and resignation. "Or rather, the lack of it—or its corruption."
He stepped closer to the cross, his eyes distant, as if peering into the past. "Unlike the First King Clover and his ancestors, their children and grandchildren grew up in privilege. They were born into royalty, with everything handed to them, and their faith suffered for it.
"Some showed no gratitude to the Lord, believing themselves entitled to His blessings. Others fell into a far graver sin: they began worshiping the crucifix itself, mistaking it for God rather than a gift of God."
Sebastian's breath caught as Anslem's voice dropped to a near whisper, the weight of his words pressing down on the room.
"The crucifix was too divine, too alluring. It blurred the line between the Creator and the creation, and many began treating it as though it were God."
Anslem sighed, the sorrow in his voice unmistakable. "That blasphemy terrified the reigning King Clover. He feared not only for his descendants but for the noble houses who had grown equally corrupt. He and his closest vassals made a difficult choice, opting for the lesser of two evils.
"They executed the misguided zealots, officially accusing them of other crimes to maintain order. Then, they entrusted the crucifix to the King's most trusted ally, Saint Luminous, for safekeeping."
Acier's brow furrowed, but she held her tongue as Anslem continued.
"The King believed that being ungrateful was a sin, yes—but it was nothing compared to worshiping a false idol. He knew the crucifix was too dangerous to remain in royal hands, where it could corrupt further. Saint Luminous devoted his life to ensuring the crucifix was never equated with God again. And he succeeded."
"Meanwhile, the King and his vassals erased all records of the crucifix from history. Its existence is now known only to the Pope, the Cardinals, and a select few Blessed individuals."
Anslem's gaze lingered on the couple, his voice heavy with lament. "But that secrecy came at a cost. Without tangible evidence of the divine, faith among the nobility and royalty dwindled. Sincere belief is a rarity among their ranks now, and perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of all."
Sebastian furrowed his brow, looking at Anslem with open confusion. "Let's say I believe you. Why would you make such an exception for us? Do you even have the authority to make this decision on your own?"
Acier nodded in agreement with her husband. "Aren't you afraid we might disclose this to the other royal houses and try to retrieve the crucifix ourselves?"
Anslem paused, shrugging his shoulders with deliberate ease. "You are Silvamillion descendants. Saint Luminous decreed that while this crucifix should be hidden from the masses, if members of the royal family seeking to reconnect with God appeared before it—no matter how grand or seemingly trivial the reason—we should give them the benefit of the doubt and show them."
He leaned back slightly, his tone sharpening. "Normally, I wouldn't be so inclined. But knowing you two personally, I trust you understand what can and cannot be spoken of."
He let his words hang for a moment before chuckling softly. "Unless, of course, you want this crucifix revealed to the masses, sparking an existential religious crisis across the kingdom. I trust you'll keep your mouths shut."
"Besides," Anslem added with a knowing smirk, "if you're truly a Blessed, this isn't an exception—it's your entitlement."
Acier scratched her cheek awkwardly. "But Cardinal, my husband aside, have you forgotten me? I'm not a Blessed."
Anslem shook his head firmly. "That's where you're wrong, Lady Acier. If Lord Silva's dream is true—a revelation of how to save you—then it means you are also Blessed. The heavens themselves intervened to change your fate."
Or to correct it, Anslem thought to himself, keeping the observation unspoken.
Acier fell silent, lost in thought. Is that how it works?
"The point is," Anslem said, his gaze softening as it settled on Noelle in Acier's arms, "this child, blissfully unaware of what's happening, aside—there are no outsiders here."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "As long as I'm telling the truth."
"As long as you're telling the truth," Anslem agreed, spreading his arms. "Now, are you ready to verify your claim?"
Sebastian nodded firmly. Anslem turned slightly, gesturing toward the stone cross. "Good. Then kneel before the crucifix."
Sebastian blinked in confusion. "And do what?"
"Nothing," Anslem said simply, shaking his head. "The divine will take it from here."
Sebastian scratched his cheek, bemused. "You're… not going to do anything?"
"No," Anslem said with an arched brow, his tone faintly exasperated. "This is a matter for the divine. What could a mere Cardinal like me possibly do?"
Sebastian opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. What was I expecting, exactly? He could hardly admit he'd envisioned some grand ritual—Anslem holding a cross, placing a hand on his head, chanting sacred words, maybe sprinkling some oil or petals for effect.
No, he'd keep that to himself.
Instead, he glanced over his shoulder at Acier. She gave him a slight shrug, and he returned the gesture before turning his attention to Noelle, gently poking her cheek to make her giggle.
With a deep breath, he faced the stone cross, stepping closer until he was half a meter away. Slowly, he knelt, instinctively adopting a seated prayer position.
And then he waited. For what, he wasn't sure.
His answer came quickly.
Without warning, his grimoire shot out of his satchel, floating upright before him.
What the?! Sebastian's eyes widened as the grimoire flipped through its pages with wild speed before stopping at its first blank page.
But it wasn't alone. The Bible, quill pen, ink bottle, and a sheet of parchment from the nearby stack lifted into the air, glowing with a faint golden hue as they hovered above the grimoire.
The Bible opened, its pages flipping before stopping halfway through. A section of text, written in what resembled ancient hieroglyphics, began glowing red.
Sebastian watched in disbelief as the quill dipped itself into the ink bottle, then darted to the parchment, copying the glowing text from the Bible with flawless precision.
Once finished, the quill, ink bottle, and Bible returned to their original places. The parchment hovered over the grimoire's blank page, pulsing faintly with the same golden light.
What is it doing?
Anslem's voice reverberated behind him, startling Sebastian. "If there is a reaction within a minute, your claim will be proven true."
Sebastian was glad his back was to Anslem, as his face twisted into a strange mix of bewilderment and incredulity.
So nothing from before counts as a reaction?
—
Beyond the planet lies the vast expanse of space—a boundless, ever-expanding universe of celestial bodies and empty voids.
At least, that's what scientists in the modern world had theorized. But reality seemed to harbor a different truth.
If the planet Sebastian stood on was taken as a reference point, and one ascended beyond the exosphere into the great unknown—traveling straight upward for approximately 100 billion light-years—one would encounter an unexpected limit.
An invisible wall.
This barrier, imperceptible to the eye yet impenetrable, would forcibly repel any who dared approach it, preventing further passage despite the visible stars and galaxies lying tantalizingly ahead.
Yet, if someone were to somehow breach this inconceivable boundary and journey nine additional light-years, they would find themselves in an entirely new realm.
Gone was the cold void of black space, the desolation of lifeless dwarf planets, and the silence of the stars. Beyond the infinite, they would pass through an endlessly expansive white cloud, entering a domain unlike any other.
This realm was a space of unparalleled beauty. Rivers of crystalline water wound through vast grasslands, their surfaces shimmering like liquid diamonds. Fields of verdant green stretched endlessly, suspended impossibly upon the clouds themselves.
Overhead, a clear blue sky reigned, dotted with celestial creatures resembling swans and doves. These beings glided majestically, their feathers radiant with an otherworldly glow, lording over this serene paradise.
If a mortal ever gazed upon such a place, words would fail them. Only one term could encapsulate the wonder of what they beheld. Only one word could do it justice.
Heaven.
Across the infinite expanse of this sacred land, countless wooden huts dotted the terrain, humble yet harmonious with their surroundings. On a relatively isolated hill, one such hut stood, bathed in the golden light of an eternal sun.
Inside, a tall man sat cross-legged on the simple wooden floor. He was barefoot, clad in a white tunic reminiscent of ancient Roman attire.
His features were sharp and commanding, almost intimidating. A face carved like lightning, eyes fierce as fire, and bronze skin that seemed to radiate strength.
He sat in perfect stillness, his eyes closed, exuding an air of quiet authority. But then, a voice—ancient yet youthful—resounded within his mind, breaking the silence.
"Gabriel."
The man's eyes snapped open, revealing golden irises that burned with divine intensity. A luminous white halo materialized above his head, and peacock-like wings unfurled from his back, shimmering with iridescent hues.
"What is it?" Gabriel spoke gruffly, his voice low and indifferent, devoid of emotion.
The voice, undeterred by his brusque tone, replied with calm clarity.
"You will feel a call from the mortal realm soon. Approve it."
Gabriel's golden eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sharp and contemplative. After a brief pause, he closed his eyes once more, the halo and wings fading as he returned to his earlier stillness.
"Very well," he said, his voice firm and final.
With those words, the conversation ended, leaving Gabriel once again alone in his quiet vigil.
—
Sebastian knelt before the stone cross, each passing second an eternity to his quickening heart. The minute ticked closer, merciless and unyielding.
He believed he was Blessed—he had no reason to doubt it. If some cosmic force had gone to the lengths of weaving a fabricated reality for him to live in for 27 years, then surely, he qualified. If not him, then who else?
No, Sebastian's fears lay elsewhere.
What truly qualifies as a blessing from God? Is there even such a thing? Or are mortals merely watched over by That One's angels, while That One remains a passive observer?
And worse still—if being Blessed by God really means being Blessed by an angel—what happens if that angel refuses to acknowledge you? Wouldn't you seem like a fraud then?
Sebastian didn't know much about angels or their temperaments, but he could imagine himself in their shoes. If he had gone out of his way to help someone, ensuring they didn't succumb to despair, and that same person turned around trying to probe or "test" him, he might feel petty enough to deny involvement altogether.
So, Michael, Metatron, Mumen Rider, Mario, Mickey Mouse, or Mufasa—whoever you are—are you going to deny me? That wouldn't exactly inspire my faith in following your grand, divine narrative.
Fifty seconds passed.
Sebastian stilled as the parchment hovering over his grimoire descended and seamlessly merged with the blank page.
The ancient hieroglyphic text from the parchment appeared on his grimoire's black page, glowing faintly before stabilizing. Beneath it, additional script in ancient runes and magical sigils he vaguely recognized began to appear, filling the page completely.
He watched in silence as the grimoire snapped itself shut and floated back into his satchel. Slowly, Sebastian lifted his gaze toward the stone cross, narrowing his eyes before rising to his feet.
From behind, Anslem's voice broke the silence, soft and reverent.
"I apologize for doubting you, child. You truly are Blessed."
Sebastian turned to face the elderly Cardinal, whose expression now radiated a warmth and sincerity he had never seen before. Nearby, Acier stood, her gaze fixed on him with a complicated mix of emotions. She opened her mouth hesitantly.
"So… that's how you saved me?" Her voice wavered slightly. "And how you knew all those things… it was foretold in a dream?"
Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it again, nodding.
It wasn't a lie. In fact, it was the literal truth—he had learned countless truths about this world through that dream. Yet something about simply agreeing felt incomplete.
Divine revelations through dreams were likely much simpler than what he had experienced. He suspected most people received straightforward prophecies, not an alternate life packed with lessons conveyed through a medium as unconventional as manga or anime.
Their revelations were probably less "abstract" and more direct.
The thought made him want to scratch his cheek sheepishly. Hey, I didn't lie to Dorothy—I guess I really am a prophet.
He stepped closer to Acier, holding out his hands. She paused, studying him for a moment before softening, a faint smile gracing her lips as she handed Noelle over.
Sebastian cradled the infant gently, wrapping her snugly in her blanket as she nestled into his arms. He looked down at her fondly, a warm sense of purpose settling over him.
Finally, he lifted his gaze toward Anslem.
"Cardinal…" Sebastian began, his tone measured, "could you kindly explain what just happened?"
Anslem Veritas smiled gently and nodded. "Of course, my child. That is your right."
He gestured toward the crucifix. "This is made from a divine stone, meaning it contains traces of divinity. After existing in this world for over a millennium, it has also absorbed the mana of this realm."
"So…?" Sebastian raised a brow, patting Noelle's back absentmindedly.
"So…" Anslem continued, "because it contains both traces of divinity and worldly mana, it can serve as a medium—a beacon—for communication between our world and the heavens."
"Okay." Sebastian nodded, though his expression remained skeptical. "But what does that have to do with my grimoire flying out of my control?"
Anslem's smile took on a sly edge. "Heavenly objects tend to resonate with one another."
Sebastian and Acier froze, the latter's eyes widening as she stammered, "You mean… grimoires are…"
Anslem nodded, his tone steady. "Yes. Grimoires are gifts from the heavens to humanity."
Sebastian's mind raced. Not just humans, though. He recalled Charmy's mixed heritage, the existence of dwarves, elves, and even the possibility of devils acquiring grimoires. But he kept those thoughts to himself as Anslem elaborated.
"Grimoires—those mysterious spellbooks with unclear origins—grow with their user, responding to their deepest desires and needs. They are bound to our very souls, enabling rapid progress in magical craft and unlocking true potential. Such artifacts, so perfectly tailored and wondrous, are beyond human capability to create. Naturally, they are gifts from God."
Acier furrowed her brows, a chilling thought surfacing. "Why has no one ever asked this before?"
Though she hadn't voiced it clearly, Sebastian understood her question immediately—and it sent a shiver down his spine.
It was such a fundamental question: Where do grimoires come from?
They materialized seemingly out of nowhere, stored in grimoire towers or libraries across the world, waiting for their destined owners. Yet no one—no one—ever seemed to question their origins. People accepted their existence as naturally as breathing. Not even Julius, a self-proclaimed magic geek, had ever raised this glaringly obvious question.
That realization unsettled Sebastian.
Anslem's expression grew solemn, and he lowered his head. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that. The Lord's will is mysterious, His thoughts too complex for lesser mortals to fathom. It seems He wishes to keep this truth hidden from the masses. By His will, our thoughts are unconsciously guided away from pondering such matters."
He paused, his tone softening. "Only those blessed with a direct connection to the Lord may learn fragments of these truths. Even then, we are bound by an unspoken rule never to disclose them. I trust you will respect that."
Sebastian and Acier exchanged a glance before nodding. Revealing such knowledge wouldn't bring any tangible benefit. If anything, it would only invite divine displeasure—or worse, the wrath of a certain zealot.
Sebastian's thoughts darkened briefly. Best not to test that theory.
Acier, sensing the heavy atmosphere, attempted to lighten the mood. "It's a shame, though. You could've used that truth as concrete evidence of the divine. Imagine how much stronger faith would become."
Anslem chuckled slowly. "A shame indeed. Few would doubt our religion then, wouldn't they?"
But perhaps that was the issue. The clergy had long theorized that too much faith could breed greed and chaos. Everyone longs for the divine—immortality, ascension, a closer connection to heaven.
If the world learned grimoires were divine artifacts, it could spark wars. Nations might vie to hoard grimoires, attempting to unlock heavenly secrets and approach godhood.
Such conflict would taint the gift's purpose entirely.
Others within the clergy believed it was a test of faith. God offered hints of His existence but no undeniable proof. Would mortals follow His decrees, live virtuously, and earn a place in the next world—or would they demand concrete evidence to dedicate themselves?
Perhaps it was an act of mercy, sparing humanity from the burden of proof. Or perhaps it was a challenge, asking who could believe without seeing.
Sebastian glanced once more at the crucifix, his hand continuing to rhythmically pat Noelle's back. Then, turning to Anslem, he asked, "So, anyone wielding a grimoire who approaches the crucifix will resonate with it?"
Anslem shook his head with a patient smile. "Not quite. First, you need a clear intention—like you, approaching with the desire to verify your status as a Blessed."
"And second?" Sebastian raised an inquisitive brow.
"Second," Anslem continued, his tone steady, "you need a grimoire from the Clover Kingdom."
Sebastian froze, his face contorting in confusion. "Wait—what? It has to be a Clover grimoire?"
Anslem nodded firmly. "Yes."
"Why?" Acier interjected, her own curiosity evident.
Anslem's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a more solemn expression. "If grimoires are a sign of God's blessing to all humanity, we of the Clover Kingdom are especially blessed because of our unique grimoires."
"Unique?" Sebastian and Acier echoed in unison, leaning forward.
Anslem nodded again, his voice carrying the weight of reverence. "Faith, hope, and love—the three leaves of a clover. These virtues align with the Holy Trinity of emotions in our gospel. Through their grimoires, God has granted every citizen of the Clover Kingdom a portion of these virtues in some form. This land—our land—is where the faith was first established, and it remains the only place where our religion is practiced."
He straightened, his tone growing almost fervent. "The Heart, Diamond, and Spade Kingdoms, even the Witch's Forest—none of them have chapels or churches, not because we fear preaching there, but because this faith is a divine gift meant solely for us. Heaven's salvation was given to the Clover Kingdom alone. That is why we are, and always will be, the strongest nation. We are God's chosen!"
Sebastian listened in silence, his thoughts churning. He had no shortage of objections, but he kept them locked behind a neutral expression.
Are the people of other kingdoms not worthy of salvation? He thought of the kind souls he'd encountered—people who, despite lacking faith in the gospel, lived morally upright lives that often surpassed the behavior of many citizens of the Clover Kingdom.
What about the people of Hino? They didn't even have grimoires. Did scrolls count as God's gift, tailored to their culture?
His thoughts shifted to Yami and Dorothy, foreigners who had gained Clover grimoires, and to refugees from other nations who had come to the kingdom as children and also received grimoires.
And then there was Julius. The grimoire he received in this kingdom had a blank cover—did that mean he wasn't truly of the Clover Kingdom? Technically, Julius was from the Spade Kingdom. But what about Yuno, a Spade prince who had been granted a Clover grimoire? Then again, Yuno's other soul had been an elven prince who lived in the Forsaken Realm.
So was Licht's son the one who will be admitted to heaven, and not Yuno himself?
And Asta.
Sebastian's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Asta, born and raised in the Clover Kingdom, hadn't even been given mana, let alone a grimoire. One of the purest souls alive, and yet… had God deemed him unworthy of salvation? Did Asta not deserve heaven?
And what of Asta's grimoire—the one he'd eventually obtained? It wasn't even his. Its true owner could be considered Liebe after Licht lost control of it, a devil.
Sebastian's lips twitched with dark amusement. Would the clergy choke on their own sermons if they had to admit a devil was chosen by God and granted entrance to heaven?
He let his gaze linger on the crucifix. And if Liebe, one day, entered a cathedral to pray, holding up that five-leaf grimoire—would he be turned away?
Perhaps they'd argue the five-leaf clover no longer counted, its corrupted nature placing it outside the "holy trinity of emotions."
Sebastian exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on the present.
"Then what about four-leaf clovers? What's their significance?" Sebastian asked, tilting his head.
Anslem's smile widened, a glint of reverence in his eyes. "The first leaf represents faith, the second hope, the third love, and in the fourth resides good luck. This isn't just a saying—those who possess a four-leaf grimoire are literally blessed with divine fortune. Their very existence is proof enough of their status as God's Blessed. They don't require testing."
Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, deciding to shift the conversation forward. "Then what exactly was that ritual doing? What were those words being inscribed into my grimoire?"
Anslem folded his arms behind his back as he explained, "You came here to prove yourself as one of God's Blessed, did you not?"
Sebastian inclined his head.
Anslem continued, his voice steady, "And you claim to have received a dream—a divine revelation, correct? A vision that instructed you on how to save Lady Acier?"
Sebastian nodded again, this time more stiffly.
Anslem's expression turned solemn. "What you need to understand is this: God, the Lord, is currently inactive."
Sebastian and Acier froze. "Inactive?" Acier repeated, confusion flickering across her face.
Anslem nodded gravely. "Yes. God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. That's why we hold Sunday mass. I'm sure you're both familiar with this teaching?"
The couple nodded hesitantly.
"Now, the real question is: what has God done since then? What is He doing now?" Anslem's gaze bore into them, as if daring them to speculate.
Before they could respond, he pressed on. "Aside from bestowing us with the holy scriptures to provide guidance, God has been in a relatively still state—existing as an observer."
"An observer?" Acier echoed.
"Yes," Anslem confirmed. "Watching His creations live their lives, make their choices, and eventually face judgment on the appointed day."
Sebastian suppressed a bitter thought. What's the point of judgment if only those with Clover grimoires are allowed into heaven? Is it truly about us, or just punishing those deemed 'unworthy'?
Shaking the notion from his mind, he focused on the conversation. "What does this have to do with anything, Cardinal?" he asked politely, his hand instinctively shifting to gently cradle Noelle, who had begun nuzzling against his chest.
Anslem offered a carefully measured response. "Because, Lord Silva, rather than saying we are blessed directly by God, it is more accurate to say we are blessed by His angels, acting in His name."
Sebastian's lips twitched into a faint smirk. So, my hunch was right after all.
Acier frowned in thought. "So, are you implying that this verification ritual was actually a way of communicating with an angel? Specifically, the one that blessed Sebastian?"
Anslem's expression brightened. "Precisely, Lady Acier. God's most active messenger to the mortal realm is the Angel of Revelation. Any act involving divine messages, prophecies, or blessings is undoubtedly connected to Him. The ritual you just performed was essentially seeking an invisible spiritual 'stamp' from this angel within Lord Silva's grimoire. If the parchments hadn't fused with the grimoire, it would have been a denial."
Sebastian straightened slightly at this revelation, while Acier's frown deepened.
"The Angel of Revelation?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I'm not the most devout, but I've read the Bible several times. I've never seen any mention of such an angel—or any specific angel, for that matter."
Sebastian nodded in silent agreement. The gospel only described angels as God's servants—immortal, perfect beings of beauty. There were no records of distinct individuals.
Anslem chuckled softly. "That's because it is another secret. Just as humans are individuals, angels are too. They differ in appearance, powers, personality, and responsibilities."
He stepped forward, his voice growing more reverent. "In fact, there are hierarchies among angels. Some are of higher rank, closer to God. The Angel of Revelation is one of the highest class—an Archangel. He is one of the divine rulers, a steward managing heaven on God's behalf until the Lord awakens and reclaims His throne."
Anslem gestured toward the papyrus Bible resting on the bookstand beneath the crucifix. "That," he said with reverence, "is the very first Bible in existence, inscribed by Saint Luminous himself on primitive paper using rudimentary tools."
Sebastian and Acier's eyes widened at the revelation as Anslem continued.
"This is the source of much of our hidden knowledge—knowledge not shared with the general public. For example, the existence and descriptions of the Archangels. The Bibles you see today are diluted versions of this scripture, containing only the teachings we are permitted to share."
Anslem's tone grew even more reverent. "The heavens bestowed countless revelations upon Saint Luminous, and among them was the divine order to omit any specific mention of angels."
"We do not know why, nor do we dare to question it. We simply obey. Perhaps the Popes of each generation, the only ones capable of deciphering the contents of the Primordial Scripture, hold some insight or suspicion, but they have never disclosed it. And it is not our place to press them for answers."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes in thought. Does becoming Pope grant one the ability to read this scripture, or is the ability to read it a prerequisite for becoming Pope?
He and Acier exchanged a subtle glance before Sebastian scratched his chin and voiced his next question. "So the page the Primordial Scripture flipped to—that was the description of the Angel of Revelation?"
Anslem nodded in confirmation.
Sebastian's curiosity deepened. "Would you be kind enough to tell us about him? I'm quite intrigued."
Anslem smiled warmly. "Of course, my child. I sense your interest. In fact, would you like me to introduce all the Archangels to you?"
Sebastian fought back the urge to smirk. Thanks for saving me the effort, old man.
Instead, he nodded politely. "That would be wonderful, Cardinal."
Anslem's expression grew solemn and pious as he closed his eyes and began to speak in a practiced, almost ritualistic tone.
"We begin with the Angel of Light. He is the one who strengthens our faith, shining his blinding and unconditional light upon our souls. Even in the darkest days, when the sun does not shine, his gleam illuminates our lives. This divine light connects us to our higher selves, granting us enlightenment and guiding us to repent and move forward."
Uriel? Sebastian mused inwardly, filing the name away as Anslem continued.
"Next is the Angel of Revelation. He is the Lord's chosen messenger, tasked with delivering divine will and messages to humanity. Of all the Archangels, he has been the most active in the mortal realm, appearing to messiahs and prophets throughout the ages. He bestows upon us the gift of hope."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly, masking the unease stirring within him. Isn't that Gabriel? he wondered. So Anslem thinks the Angel of Revelation is someone else. Or is Gabriel not the only one who delivers divine revelations?
His thoughts churned. And why would this angel—whoever he is—grant me his seal of approval? Was it Big-M's—whoever Big-M is—order? Or am I just some group project Gabriel decided to dabble in as well?
Sebastian buried his questions for now, nodding attentively to Anslem as the Cardinal prepared to continue.
Anslem drew a deep breath, his voice carrying a somber weight as he continued.
"Opposite light is darkness, and this brings us to the Angel of Death. Yet, despite His grim role, He loves us all the same. It is said that His love surpasses that of any other angel. Instead of residing in heaven, He chooses to travel through the deepest pits of hell, collecting the souls of the departed and housing them in the world between worlds. There, they await judgment day so they may receive a fair trial. The greatest love, after all, is the release of death."
Azrael. Sebastian immediately recalled the name from his previous conversation with Azazel, the memory sharp and clear.
Anslem subtly licked his lips, then coughed hoarsely before moving on.
"Next is the Angel of Healing. He is the one who oversees the journeys of all the Lord's creations, from birth to death. He blesses us, travelers of life, with safety and fortune on our adventures. He is also responsible for signaling the final journey—blowing the trumpet on Judgment Day. For this, he is among the Lord's most cherished creations."
Raphael? Sebastian guessed, though uncertainty lingered in his mind.
The Cardinal's tone shifted as he continued, his voice carrying a deeper reverence and an unmistakable undercurrent of ecstasy.
"Finally, there is the one closest to the Lord's throne—the Angel of Judgment. He is the strongest warrior in existence and the leader of all angels. He commands the Lord's army, vanquishes evil from heaven, and punishes those who lose their way. He is the antithesis of all that is wrong, the ally and patron of all that is just. He is the Chief of Angels!"
Michael! Sebastian had to fight the urge to exclaim the name aloud. But as that familiar chill crept down his spine, his thoughts darkened. That's only five. Azazel said there were six!
Sebastian coughed lightly into his hand, masking his growing unease as Anslem opened his eyes, his expression briefly confused.
Hiding his turmoil behind a calm, inquisitive smile, Sebastian scratched his cheek. "Cardinal, is that truly all? I don't mean to doubt you, but the Bible mentions nearly a thousand angels. Surely there must be more than five Archangels to oversee them?"
Acier glanced at Sebastian, her eyes narrowing slightly before mirroring his questioning expression. She turned to Anslem with a look of polite curiosity.
Anslem chuckled wryly at their "eager" skepticism, though his expression soon darkened. Lowering his head, his tone grew heavy.
"You're right. That's not all. In fact, there were once two more." He paused before adding somberly, "Or rather, there were."
Sebastian and Acier leaned forward slightly, their attention fully on the Cardinal as he continued.
"The first was the Angel of Order. He was entrusted by the Lord with the power and responsibility to maintain balance in the universe, preventing chaos from taking root. It was said that under His presence, even celestial bodies—stars and planets—were frozen still."
Anslem sighed deeply. "The second was the Angel of Punishment. A favorite of the Lord, He was granted free reign to punish the wicked on Judgment Day. Those sentenced to hell were to be burned alive in His flames, enduring excruciating pain as their sins and impurities were cleansed from their essence in the foulest manner imaginable."
His voice grew even quieter. "Alas, both of them lost their way. Wrath and pride consumed them, leading them to rebel against God's plan for humanity. They corrupted other angels, turning them against the Lord and waging a divine war on heaven's sacred grounds. For their treachery, they were defeated and banished from heaven by the Angel of Judgment, stripped of their angelic grace."
Anslem looked at Sebastian and Acier solemnly. "There were once seven Archangels. Now, we are left with five."
Acier looked contemplative, her brows furrowed as she absorbed Anslem's words.
Sebastian mirrored her thoughtful expression outwardly. But inside, his unease swelled, a chill prickling the back of his neck as he studied Anslem's earnest and sincere expression.
He's not lying, Sebastian realized. He's not holding anything back. That's all he actually knows.
And it was this fact that made Sebastian's heart pound.
Fighting the growing urge to speak, he forced himself to remain silent. Bro, I think you missed one.
Author's Note:
[1] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar
Anda mungkin juga menyukai
Komentar Paragraf
Fitur komentar paragraf sekarang ada di Web! Arahkan kursor ke atas paragraf apa pun dan klik ikon untuk menambahkan komentar Anda.
Selain itu, Anda selalu dapat menonaktifkannya atau mengaktifkannya di Pengaturan.
MENGERTI