364: Lena Ep - The Ritual
The daily routine of a trainee in the capital's church educational facility was monotonous.
Awakened by the morning bell at dawn, I climbed out of bed and knelt on the floor. With my elbows resting on the bed, I offered my morning prayer.
To the god who raises the sun and sustains our peaceful daily lives, I give thanks.
I shall strive to make this day worthy of Your delight.
After finishing my morning prayer, I changed my clothes and went out for a roll call.
This roll call wasn’t the kind where trainees stood in lines while their nas were called.
Instead, it required each of us to report directly to a priest to confirm our attendance.
Today, Priestess Ophelia was in charge of the dormitory roll call.
“Good morning.”
“A pLenasant morning to you.”
The middle-aged priestess greeted kindly.
Her presence here was unusual.
Priestess Ophelia was an esteed high priestess on the verge of becoming an arch
priestess.
She wasn’t soone typically assigned to mundane tasks like this.
Her presence, however, was deeply tied to .
Before heading to breakfast, I asked her a question.
“Has Veronian woken up yet?”
She smiled warmly as she replied, “Yes, just a mont ago.
True to form for soone who’s contended for the top spots—he asked about you as well.”
If I hurry, I might catch up with him.
After bidding Priestess Ophelia goodbye, I rushed toward the dining hall.
The crisp morning air cooled my cheeks as I quickened my pace.
Before long, I caught sight of him.
Sensing my presence, Veronian turned around.
“Good morning, Lady Lena.”
“A pleasant morning to you.”
Having seen each other every day, there wasn’t much to say.
Our lives were routine, after all.
We ate breakfast together in comfortable silence.
After breakfast, we usually headed straight to class.
On days without classes, we’d study in the library.
But today…
“What’s on your mind?”
“...Nothing, really.”
I didn’t feel like doing muChapter
Veronian, seated across from , seed to feel the sa.
The dining hall quickly filled with trainees, creating a cacophony of scraping cutlery and murmuring conversations. Amid the noise, a thought struck .
‘Why hasn’t Senior Daniel shown up yet?’ It was strange.
Then Veronian broke the silence.
“You seem restless, Lady Lena. Actually, so am I.”
I answered honestly.
“I suppose so. I anticipated this, but now that it’s happened, I feel strangely deflated.”
“Haha! You anticipated it? I was so shocked I nearly fainted!”
“Oh, please. You seed perfectly composed.”
“It was just an act. Shall we move sowhere else? If it’s not too much trouble, could I ask for your company for a while?”
“Of course.”
We stood to return our trays. Behind us, whispers reached my ears.
“There go Lady Lena and Veronian. Did you hear?”
“Yeah, incredible… They’re undergoing the ritual after less than a year here. I failed again this year…”
I felt a pang of guilt.
It was as if I had stolen their turn.
After returning my tray, I tucked the single thread dangling from my waist into my clothes, hiding it from view. I wanted to do the sa for Veronian’s thread, but he was already striding ahead.
He led to the garden beside the main sanctuary.
The vibrant hues of sumr were beginning to fade, hinting at the approach of autumn.
We sat around a table in the tranquil space.
Leisure.
Since our upcoming ritual had exempted us from the sester’s schedule, we had no pressing duties. I relished the last remnants of sumr’s vibrance, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.
For a while, Veronian did the sa, until he broke the silence with a question.
“This might be a bit premature, but… after the ritual, what do you plan to do, Lady Lena?”
Ah, the request. I Leaned back in my chair, evading his question with one of my own.
“What about you, Veronian? What are your plans?”
“Ah, turning the question on … That’s a bit embarrassing.”
He confessed that he’d asked because he wanted to share his own intentions.
Such an honest person, this older brother figure of mine.
“I want to reform the churChapter That’s why I plan to stay here and work. What about you? If you don’t have a specific path in mind… would you help ?”
His words mirrored those from a dream I once had. In that dream, after becoming a priestess, he had also sought my aid.
Back then, I’d declined. I wanted to return to my hotown, where my friend Rev awaited —unaware that he had already died in the Kingdom of Conrad.
It was an old mory.
This ti, I felt compelled to decline again. Yet, unwilling to refuse outright, I deflected his request.
“So, you’re pursuing a grand undertaking.”
“Indeed. It’s that accursed cycle. Everyone believes in predestination, refusing to rise above it. The church grows more stagnant with each passing day. I believe true clergy mustn’t live like that. Life is harsh, filled with people struggling daily to survive—how can we, under the guise of serving the divine, simply sit and preach destiny? That’s not genuine devotion. Ah, a perfect example approaches.”
Veronian’s words grew fervent as he pointed at a nearby figure—a monk feeding birds.
Unfortunately, the timing was poor.
The person he pointed to was an elderly man.
A mild-mannered monk by appearance, but his na was Mihael.
Just last year, he had been a cardinal.
Veronian despised him deeply and did not lower his hand as he continued speaking.
“That man is the root of this era’s decay. He massacred countless indigenous people, was dismissed last year, yet still commands reverence as a theologian. People claim he’s living a devout life, that he’s genuinely embraced the cycle. Hah! What a joke.”
“You should put your hand down.”
“...”
His fiery, revolutionary eyes turned to . Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand but shifted to a more direct line of questioning.
“What about you, Lady Lena? What do you think of all this?”
He adjusted his posture, sitting opposite , with Mihael and the birds behind him.
“Let ask again. What do you plan to do after the ritual?”
I answered, “I will follow my fate.”
Disappointnt washed over Veronian’s face.
“That’s unexpected. I thought you wouldn’t choose such a path.”
“What kind of path?”
“A life of re compliance. A puppet’s life. I believed you wouldn’t follow that road.”
A puppet…
I thought of my old friend, Rev. He must still act as if I were beside him, speaking and moving in step with his mories of .
Poor Rev.
I Responded for the Sake of My Childhood Friend and His Comrades
“No, Veronian. That is also a choice. The winds of destiny, ever-changing, demand decisions at every mont of life’s fla. What is your destiny? If you dislike the word ‘destiny,’ let rephrase it as ‘mission.’ If reforming the church is your mission, then that is the destiny you’ve chosen.”
Veronian fell silent. After gathering his thoughts, he asked again,
“Then, Lady Lena, what destiny have you chosen? What path will you walk?”
“I…”
“When Sir Rev arrives, take Priestess Ophelia with you to Orville. There, everything will end, and everything will begin anew,” the Saintess had told on the day I arrived at the capital’s church with Priestess Ophelia.
In that mont, I recalled my given mission and spoke it aloud.
“I seek to eradicate evil. To restore the distorted destinies of myself, you, and all others.”
Veronian’s expression grew puzzled. Behind him, the elderly monk—once a cardinal and even a royal successor—was weakly scattering feed to the birds.
***
The Ritual
“De~~~us pro~tius. e~~eeeis impus-Shea-!”
A soprano priestess’s voice soared to the heavens.
The hymn, sung in ancient Arcaean, was akin to a divine incantation, causing light to flood the grand hall.
“Fors quo. que- haaabere credo.”
A baritone harmony followed, grounding the music’s celestial weight as the floor turned pristine white.
Though such sacred chants and divine power were usually reserved for the utmost necessity, today was an exception.
The day of the ritual had arrived.
This occasion celebrated a trainee’s ascension to becoming a mber of the clergy. Yet, it was more renowned as the day when fates diverged—so would beco priests, others monks.
C_7
A dark C minor 7th chord played as the filtered few trainees who had passed years of trials entered the hall in order. Solemn glances replaced cheering encouragent, as was appropriate for the sacred mont.
Lena stood among them.
While many trainees wore five or even seven threads at their waists, she had only one.
As the trainees knelt before the altar, the harmonies faded into silence.
Click.
The sound of footsteps broke the stillness. Aside from the heavy breathing of a fellow kneeling trainee, it was the only noise. Lena closed her eyes and prayed.
“Raise your head.”
The footsteps stopped before her. It seed her turn had co. Lena raised her head to look at the Saintess.
“Lady Lena, it’s been a while.”
“...It is an honor to see you, Saintess.”
It had indeed been a while—since early in the year. Yet, she seed…
“You look surprised.”
“To be honest, I am.”
The Saintess appeared frailer than before, as if age had struck her down all at once.
She Leaned heavily on her staff—the scepter of her station now repurposed as a walking aid.
The click sound earlier had not been the sound of heels but of the staff striking the floor. Even so, the Saintess approached with a cLenar smile.
“Because it is your ti, Lady Lena. Though I know you have no need for the ritual, I must perform this.”
The Saintess placed her hand atop Lena’s head. A fragile, elegant woman—praying for the future of this remarkable young lady.
Monts later, the Saintess withdrew her hand.
She had seen enough of Lena’s future. And, in doing so, had glimpsed her own.
‘Binar, you’re quite mischievous. So that letter was for this?’
[...Well done, my 87th—no, the Saintess with no number.]
‘What do you an by that?’
[It doesn’t matter. Fulfill your duty to the end.]
‘TChapter Can’t you just tell outright?’
Though she playfully grumbled, even the usually talkative deity, Binar, refused to elaborate.
She didn’t need to know, he insisted.
Clicking her tongue, the Saintess returned to the present, instructing the priest standing nearby.
“This one is an exception.”
“Pardon?”
Typically, one would either beco a monk or a priest. The Saintess’s statent, however, caused confusion. Lowering his voice to avoid disrupting the ritual, the priest asked,
“An exception? Does that an she is to beco a monk?”
The Saintess shook her head.
“No. I will bestow divine power upon her directly.”
“...What?”
Such a declaration was unheard of. While the first Saintess may have done so, divine power had since been shared carefully, priest to priest, to grow its strength.
But now, the Saintess declared she would personally grant it to a trainee?
This must have been unprecedented in the Cross Church’s millennia-long history.
The astonished priest stumbled and fell.
Thud!
For soone, that stumble beca a stroke of luck.
As everyone’s attention turned toward the priest, Rev burst through the grand hall’s doors.
“Lena! I’m not… not too late, am I?”
Fortunately, he wasn’t.
And even more fortunately, past the murmuring crowd and beneath the towering altar, Lena turned to look at him.
Still kneeling before the altar, she smiled brightly.
‘You’re here! I love you.’
With her eyes, she spoke. And Rev understood.
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