Serene and peaceful footsteps... then a woman in a white robe stepped out of the camp, her feet were bare but not a single speck of dust could be seen on them. The whole village center quietened down as soon as she appeared.
She looked gentle, and a kind smile lingered on her face as she slowly sat down on a small wooden log that was placed on a raised ground. The bark on it looked fresh.
Riktor’s eyes glead up when he noticed who she was. He had seen her before — she was with the two other won in the first carriage. Now that she was alone, she looked so beautiful, but still nothing compared to the person he saw in the third carriage.
’Was that even a person?’
Rembering the third carriage, Riktor’s brain snapped, and he looked around. The newly established military camp was by the riverbank, set by the Knights. They were big and looked more comfortable than the village wooden huts. In the heart of them all, there was a golden-colored tent. It was big and felt more like the famous golden mountain of the east.
Roth’s glare stabbed him like a piercing arrow as his head, which was darting around, beca straight. The children beside him looked forward at the Priestess in awe. In Riktor’s eyes, she looked normal and was not as beautiful as they were making her out to be.
’She... she’s clean, yes! Unlike us, who have dirt and mud on our faces — she’s clean, that’s why they feel this way.’
"Hello, little ones. I am Agatha, a priestess. I ca from a very far place. Her Highness the Queen has instructed to perform a Blessing Ritual on you, so I will try my best."
"In the capital, when a person becos twelve years old, he or she goes through a mandatory Blessing Ritual through a Priest or Priestess like . What’s that about? Well, every mortal has a heart, and every heart has five special Veins."
The Priestess looked around, and seeing children and even adults looking at her as if she were speaking so kind of mythology, her eyes flickered once — this was supposed to be basic knowledge.
"These five Veins are different. They connect a person with their soul. The stronger the connection is, the more power we can draw from our soul. Now, who can tell how many types of souls there are?"
The Priestess looked around for a participant, for she felt like she was in a graveyard. The whole village was too quiet; other than the patrolling Knights clanking their armor, there was nothing more.
As soon as the question was dropped, every child looked at Riktor. Even the adults nodded their heads, as if only Riktor could answer such a thing.
Riktor’s father, Vector, was a war veteran. He was also the only Awakened human in Lasa’s history. The Priestess also looked at Riktor with hope and curiosity.
"Sigh... there are three types of souls — Magic, tal, and Mythic Soul."
Riktor stood up, clenching his nervous fist to report. Even compared to the rest of the children there, he looked overly dirty.
"Eh! That is right. Yes, three kinds of Souls represent the different Gods that have blessed us. One in ten thousand can awaken their Soul using their Vein, and Magic Soul ans..."
Whooosh
The Priestess smiled broadly, then with a leisurely pace, she brought out her hands and opened them flat. A candle-like fla erupted from her palms. It looked gentle, then began to change shape. Soon, everyone noticed the fire in her hand looked just like Riktor’s silhouette.
"I made a fire silhouette of you, hehe. What’s your na, little girl?"
Hehe
Ahaha
Don’t be rude!
As soon as the Priestess mistook Riktor for a girl, the whole village center beca lively. The Priestess seed confused, while Riktor looked down at the ground with an embarrassed face. The Village Chief’s booming voice made them shut their mouths.
"We are sorry, Priestess. This one might look delicate, but he’s a boy nad Riktor — son of Vector."
Roth took a step and explained the confusing part to the Priestess. They couldn’t be rude to a Holy person.
"Eh? Boy?"
The Priestess, hearing Riktor was a boy, changed her expression from confusion to surprise. Riktor looked lean, and with his long silver hair that reached his waist and Blue Star-like eyes, he looked more cute than handso. Although his face was dirty, even the Priestess felt jealous of how fair Riktor was.
"No matter. You are just very handso. Even with dirt, you shine brightly — that is why I mistook you for a girl. I apologize. Co sit near ; you seem to be knowledgeable."
Riktor thought she would be an, a bit rude, or arrogant at worst, but she was sowhat very energetic. He looked at her, and seeing she was pointing beside her log, he was dumbfounded.
GO!
Only after Roth’s harsh voice entered his ear did Riktor move towards her. She was pointing at her platform. Although her feet were resting beside it, it was still a higher place than the ground where the rest of the children were seated.
"Riktor, tell us more about what you know."
The Priestess smiled and asked gently. Riktor sat beside her legs. A smile crept up on his face as he looked down at the children of his age. He was lean, yes, and he was also weak, but he had never lost a fight with soone his age. That was why his hair was long — he had never needed to trim it down.
"Holy Priestess, you have a Magic Soul, blessed by the Magic God. As we know, there are three Gods — the rest are tal and Mythic. No one knows how the Mythic God looks, but we know he is supposed to be stronger than both."
Riktor, with a polite nod, carefully uttered these words while the Priestess nodded her head in acknowledgnt. The village elders also looked proud, as one of them could talk in front of a Holy Person.
"Yes, he is absolutely correct. The Mythic God is a myth for us mortals, but he still grants us his blessings. His blessings are very, very rare — there might not be ten people alive in this LavaFrost world who have his blessing."
Hearing how rare the awakening was, the villagers looked at each other with wide eyes. The shock was written on their faces. They thought Vector was just so lucky chap; they simply didn’t get the chance, and now their children could also awaken and make a na for themselves.
As for gods? Well, when food fills only half their stomach, sacrificing it to a god who never helped them is as foolish as jumping from a mountain onto a rock.
"Well, Magic and tal Gods are everywhere. The earth you see, and the water you drink, the iron you forge — everything is their gift. So if you are blessed by even one of them, they grant your Soul their elent. Like , I have been blessed by the Magic God, and I have one vein to channel fire magic from my Soul. So people can awaken a dual Vein, which is also as rare as they co."
The Priestess tapped on Riktor’s shoulder with a smile on her face. He looked back only to see her nodding her head, as if gesturing him to sit down. Her hands got a bit of dirt from his tunic, but she didn’t even look at it.
"Alright, you get the gist. So those who can awaken their Vein are called Veiners. I am a Mid-Tier White Veiner. Alright, enough with the useless information for now — let us proceed with the Ceremony. I am going to touch your head to work as a link. You will say, ’Magic God, bless ,’ then ’tal,’ and then ’Mythic.’ If your heart lights up only once, it ans you have one Vein. If twice, then two Veins."
The Priestess stood up so gracefully that the children couldn’t remain seated. Even the adults focused more as she gently placed her hands on Riktor’s head.
"Say, ’Please bless , Magic God,’ with your eyes closed."
At this mont, Riktor’s eyes were as wide as they could be. He was shocked, surprised, overwheld — and even though he was given clear instructions, this was the first ti he was not following through.
"Close your eyes."
Her gentle voice ca as if to soothe him or lure him into a trap. Riktor, for one last ti, glanced at the tree near his hut. It was tall and could be seen from anywhere in the village. Then, with a deep breath, his eyes closed.
"Now ask for blessing. If Magic God doesn’t work, ask tal God. Be as humble as possible."
’Magic God? Please blessing—tch!! Please bless , Magic God.’
Riktor now had a frown on his forehead. He felt like sothing tried to enter through his head where the Priestess was pressing him gently, but it looked like it didn’t connect with him.
"Nicely done. You don’t have Magic God’s blessing."
Opening his eyes, Riktor saw gloating villagers and even children smiling—or rather laughing—at him. His failure brought them strange joy. Riktor could only sigh. He was not disappointed; he just had no hope to begin with.
"Alright, children and Riktor, don’t open your eyes until you’ve asked every god or awakened your Vein."
The Priestess sounded a bit irritated. Riktor didn’t know if it was because he opened his eyes or because of the villagers’ reaction; either way, he instantly closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to aggrieve the Priestess.
’Please bless , tal God.’
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