Chapter 18

Chapter 18
A month had passed since Alon came back from the Blue Tower.

“Hoo-“

Now in possession of the Insignia of the Impure, Alon was able to cast magic three times each day, and with meticulous control of his mana, he could sometimes push it to four. On this day, he uncovered another principle governing phrases.

‘Even if the exact phrase isn’t repeated, employing a related phrase can generate an effect that is almost like an overlap.’

He still hadn’t completely deciphered, however, that to achieve an overlap, particular phrases needed to be arranged in a specific sequence before the spell.

‘It appears to be a matter of order.’

Alon was lost in these thoughts for a moment.

“Your magic appears more potent every time I see it, my lord.”

But before Alon could fully explore his ideas, Evan’s voice cut through his concentration, pulling him back to the present.

“You think so?”

“It’s more than just a feeling, my lord. Look there.”

Alon turned to where Evan was pointing and saw a sizable, deep crater in the center of the training ground.

“A second-tier spell shouldn’t normally possess this much force, correct? Of course, you’ve always cast spells that feel beyond the second tier, but the difference between now and a few months ago is stark.”

Alon studied the sunken earth.

‘It’s true, for some reason my magic does feel like it’s been intensifying.’

The spell Alon had been testing was “Gravity,” a second-tier spell from the gravity school. Yet, even a focused gravity spell of that tier should not be capable of crushing a person or gouging the earth to this extent.

In essence, it should have been impossible for “Gravity” to leave such a depression.

‘This isn’t just a matter of improved skill…’

Naturally, Alon had been rigorously honing his magical craft, and his proficiency was advancing at a notable pace, but proficiency typically enhances control and precision, not the fundamental strength of the spell.

‘The power boost from the phrases… well, that is a factor, but it doesn’t fully account for this.’

For the past four months, Alon had been regularly incorporating similar phrases into his spells, and for the last two weeks, he had been cycling through nearly identical phrases.

Having a baseline for comparison, Alon could perceive that his magic was progressively becoming more powerful.

It was a subtle change, like a graph trending slowly upward, his magic was strengthening bit by bit.

‘It can’t simply be that I’ve grown more accustomed to the phrases, making them stronger, can it?’

One of the core understandings Alon had developed after his long years of studying phrases was that they were more akin to incantations than the spells themselves.

Repeating a phrase acted more as a catalyst to modify or imbue a spell with a particular quality, not a means to amplify its raw power through familiarity.

Therefore, his growing familiarity with the phrases could not be the reason for his magic’s increasing strength. This led him to ponder other explanations.

‘In this world, a person’s power suddenly grows for only two reasons… either through a deity’s blessing or by receiving compensation from a curse. I can dismiss the first one.’

Even as a count, Alon was merely a noble from a minor kingdom, and currently, he was even being quietly overlooked by the criminal underworld, making divine favor seem highly unlikely.

‘So that leaves… gaining compensation from a curse by enduring some form of sacrifice.’

At this idea, Alon’s face showed a flicker of discomfort, but he swiftly dismissed the thought.

In this world, obtaining compensation from a curse meant either being cursed by someone who offered themselves as a sacrifice or casting a curse upon oneself.

Moreover, such curses were rituals practiced only in the East, and at this time, no one in Alon’s circle had any links to the East.

In short, neither scenario applied to him… Alon firmly reminded himself of this.

Thus, the explanation he settled on was:

“I suppose I’m just having a good day today.”

“…Is that all?”

“That’s all. There’s no logical reason for my magic to be growing stronger.”

It was a clear denial.

“…I was told a letter from Yutia arrived earlier. I should go and read it.”

With that, he chose to halt his magical experiments and made his way to his office to read Yutia’s letter.

***

The Holy Kingdom of Rosario.

Unlike the Holy Empire of Bartiakan, which lies past the empire and holds the sun as its chief deity, Rosario worships Sironia, the goddess who embodies the moon and peace.

Before the convent situated east of its capital, a city called the White City because every structure is made of pure white stone, stood a holy knight.

His name was Roque, and he was dressed in platinum armor that represented purity, matching the city’s namesake.

Carefully, he opened the door and entered.

Soon after, he noticed a nun with white hair standing before the statue of Sironia in the convent’s courtyard.

Dressed in a neatly pressed habit and wearing a calm smile, she did not appear to hold a particularly high station.

In Rosario, those of higher rank always wore a sash of divine grace across their shoulders, but this nun did not have one.

This meant the nun standing before Roque was undoubtedly of a lower rank than the holy knight.

“Greetings, Sister.”

Yet, upon seeing the nun, Roque immediately bowed and spoke.

“Hello, Sir Roque. I hope you have been well?”

The nun accepted the knight’s greeting with a smile.

It was an uncommon situation.

Still, neither Roque nor the nun found the circumstance strange.

To them, it seemed completely appropriate.

“Yes, because of your guidance, Sister, I was able to rescue eight children and twenty-five adults in a small village to the east.”

“That is wonderful news.”

“The credit belongs to you, Sister.”

“Not at all, it was you who saved them, Sir Roque.”

Her tone was gentle, but Roque, his expression steadfast as if clinging to his resolve, spoke again.

“Yes, I was the one who performed the acts, but it was you who illuminated the path and granted me strength when I had none.”

In reality, Roque had not begun his life as a holy knight.

Despite being a devoted follower of Sironia and dreaming of becoming a holy knight, he had failed to master the divine power that was essential for the role.

In fact, he could not even feel it.

Consequently, while all his contemporaries mastered divine power and became holy knights, Roque remained a trainee for many years.

That period extended beyond eight years, and just as he was on the verge of abandoning his dream of knighthood due to his inability to wield divine power, he met her.

She, who always wore a tranquil smile, with eyes that seemed to hold a fiery intensity, was the first to say these words to the despondent Roque:

“Believe in the moon.”

At first, Roque did not comprehend her meaning.

He could not discern the distinction between believing in Sironia, the goddess of the moon, and simply believing in the moon itself.

But at that moment, Roque was desperate, and he clung to those words like a lifeline.

He believed in the moon because, in his despair, he had no other option.

And after several days of unceasing prayer, Roque, who had never once been able to harness divine power in his twenty prior years, finally managed to wield it that day, becoming a holy knight at last.

Though Roque was elated at suddenly accessing the power he thought was forever beyond his reach, his joy was soon tempered by suspicion toward the nun.

For someone like Roque, born and raised in Rosario, having dedicated his life to Sironia, gaining divine power was a cause for profound happiness.

But on the other hand, he began to worry that he might have ventured into heresy.

After all, the source of his newfound power was not his worship of Sironia, but his faith in the ‘moon.’

Yet, curiously, as time went on, Roque’s doubts slowly dissipated.

The reason was straightforward: the divine power he had gained by believing in the ‘moon’ was indistinguishable from the power derived from worshiping Sironia.

Every function of the power granted by his faith operated identically, without a single variation.

The sacred artifacts blessed in the goddess’s name also shone just as brightly in Roque’s grasp, further confirming the authenticity of his divine power.

Even so, a sliver of doubt remained in his heart, and eventually, Roque asked the nun why she had instructed him to believe in the ‘moon.’

Her reply, however, had little to do with heresy, religion, or intricate doctrine.

“Faith stems from belief in the unseen, but that process is often slow. For many, it is far simpler to find belief in something they can see.”

“That is why I suggested it. The goddess in the sky may not always be visible, but the moon is constantly with us… and ultimately, the goddess Sironia *is* the moon.”

It was simply a lesson about faith.

It was a method to help people, who are often burdened by doubt, to believe in the divine with greater conviction.

With that answer, Roque let go of the remaining doubt in his heart.

And he expressed his gratitude to the nun.

He felt a sincere thankfulness toward her, for aiding someone like him, who was filled with uncertainty, to find belief in the divine.

“Ah, if you wish to show your thanks, would you care to join us in prayer? The prayer time is nearly upon us, and many have already assembled.”

“It would be my honor.”

As Roque nodded, the nun gave a soft smile and opened the door to the prayer hall.

Inside, a great number of people were already gathered.

Believers, children, trainees, pilgrims, and holy knights.

Each assumed their own preferred stance.

Some stood motionless.

Others were seated in chairs.

Some knelt on the floor, while others simply bowed their heads, their hands joined with those beside them.

Yet, one thing united them all: every person in the prayer hall was perfectly still and reverent.

In complete silence, they simply bowed their heads, eyes closed in prayer.

And as the nun moved between the rows of worshippers, arriving at the front of the hall—

No.

“Now then—”

With a gentle smile on her lips, she spoke.

“Let us all pray.”

Yutia Bludia, her crimson eyes shimmering faintly, addressed them as she stood with the moonlight from the stained glass window at her back.

“To the great moon.”