After the first few days of chaos, confusion, and constant adjustment, Lily finally began to settle into something resembling a routine.
It wasn't anything special—at least, not to anyone else.
She woke up every morning at around seven, sometimes earlier if her thoughts refused to let her rest. The dorm room would still be quiet at that hour, the faint morning light slipping through the curtains and painting everything in soft gold. Gina would still be asleep most days, buried under her blanket like a hibernating animal.
Lily would quietly get up, wash, and head out.
Her first destination was always the library.
At first, it had been out of necessity—there were simply too many things she didn't understand. But now, it had become habit. Comfort, even. The smell of old books, the silence, the feeling that every answer she could ever need was somewhere within reach…
After reading for a while, she would head to class, always arriving ten to twenty minutes early. Not because she had to—but because she liked being there before everyone else. It gave her a sense of pride
Lunch was usually spent with Kane and Olivia. Their table had slowly become "their spot," even if no one had ever said it out loud. Occasionally, Arlen would join them, though his presence always brought a slightly different atmosphere—more intense, more focused.
After school, Lily's time split between training and reading. Sometimes both. Sometimes neither.
There were days when she wandered through the streets instead, aimlessly exploring, letting her mind drift.
Then dinner.
Then sleep.
And then the cycle repeated.
Weekends were a bit different. Olivia would often drag her out, insisting that "life isn't just about magic," while Kane would sometimes tag along—though more often than not, he only agreed if Olivia was going.
Lily didn't mind.
She found it… peaceful.
Predictable.
Safe.
Two months passed like that.
Quietly.
Because despite everything she had learned… despite all the reading, the experimenting, the constant effort—
She hadn't unlocked anything new.
No new elements.
No sudden breakthroughs.
Nothing.
At first, she told herself it was fine. Growth took time. Everyone said that.
But slowly, a faint unease began to settle in her chest.
It wasn't frustration.
Not exactly.
It was something… duller.
Heavier.
Like walking forward without knowing if you were actually making progress.
There was one thing she had improved on.
With Miss Joane's help—and a ridiculous amount of reading—Lily finally learned how to distinguish the smaller components within substances.
Salt had been the starting point.
What once felt like a single, unified thing now appeared… layered.
Separated.
Structured.
It was as if her perception had sharpened, peeling back the surface of reality itself.
And once she understood that—
She couldn't stop.
She applied the same thinking to everything.
Air.
Water.
Metal.
Even the ground beneath her feet.
If everything was made of smaller parts… then in theory, everything could be taken apart—and reassembled.
That idea alone excited her more than any spell she had ever learned.
When she looked at the air now, she didn't see "nothing."
She saw particles.
Weight.
Presence.
And by treating it as something tangible—something that existed rather than something empty—she found she could draw moisture from it.
To others, it looked like she was creating water from nothing.
But Lily knew better.
She wasn't creating.
She was… gathering.
Rearranging.
And yet—
Even with this new perspective, she felt stuck.
That feeling followed her today.
After class ended, Lily didn't head to the training grounds like she usually did.
Instead, she walked.
No destination in mind.
Just… walking.
Recently, her progress had slowed to a crawl. It wasn't that she lacked ideas—if anything, she had too many. New spell concepts, new ways to manipulate elements, new theories…
But every time she tried to execute them—
Something felt off.
Incomplete.
Like she was missing a fundamental piece of understanding.
She couldn't even do something as simple as turning water into juice.
Not that it was actually simple—only high-level mages, those nearing disaster class, could pull off transformations like that.
But still.
The fact that she couldn't even approach it…
It bothered her.
More than she wanted to admit.
As she walked through the streets, her thoughts began to drift.
Did she really need to rush?
There was no immediate danger.
No looming threat.
No reason to force herself forward at this pace.
She was only fifteen.
She had time.
Plenty of it.
…Right?
But then another thought crept in.
If I slow down now… will I fall behind?
Her goal—to become the youngest sovereign—felt distant.
Almost unrealistic.
Was she wasting time?
Or was she finally doing things properly?
She didn't know.
And that uncertainty irritated her more than failure ever had.
It was then that something unusual caught her eye.
At first, it was just movement.
A figure standing out against the dull tones of the street.
But when she looked closer—
She paused.
The man was dressed entirely in white.
Not the off-white of worn fabric, nor the slightly tinted white of common clothing.
No—
It was pure.
Clean.
Almost unnaturally so.
In a place like this—where dust, dirt, and wear clung to everything—his clothes remained completely unstained.
Untouched.
Around him, several beggars sat or knelt, quietly receiving food and small bundles of clothing.
Charity wasn't unheard of.
But it wasn't encouraged either.
Resources were limited. Most people prioritized survival over generosity.
Which made this scene…
Strange.
But what truly drew Lily's attention wasn't the act—
It was the symbol on his back.
A cross-like shape, formed from what looked like Ornithogalum flowers.
Delicate.
Carefully arranged.
Intentional.
She had never seen anything like it before.
Curiosity won.
As it usually did.
Lily approached him.
"Excuse me, sir," she called out.
The man turned toward her.
His face was pale—almost as white as his clothes—but not in a sickly way.
Calm.
Composed.
His eyes remained closed, yet somehow, it didn't feel like he couldn't see.
A gentle smile formed on his lips.
"Yes?"
"Which organization are you from?" Lily asked. "I've never seen one that does… this."
She gestured lightly toward the people around him.
The man's smile didn't change.
"I'm afraid I'll disappoint you," he said softly. "We are not an organization."
He paused briefly.
"We are a faith."
Lily blinked.
A… faith?
That wasn't a term she recognized.
Before she could ask, the man continued.
"We place our faith in our father, our lord and savior—the original omniscient and omnipotent being."
He tilted his head slightly upward.
"God."
The word meant nothing to her.
And yet—
The way he said it made it feel… significant.
"Who is that?" Lily asked.
Genuine confusion filled her voice.
She had read countless books.
Studied history, theory, magic systems—
There was no mention of any "god."
The world, as far as she knew, had formed naturally.
Mana gathering in empty space.
Clashing.
Evolving.
Forming elements.
And from those elements—
Everything else.
That was fact.
Proven.
Documented.
So where did this… "god" fit into that?
The man didn't seem bothered by her question.
"Fear not," he said gently. "It is never too late to learn."
"There are times when being late matters," he added, his tone shifting just slightly, "but this is not one of them."
He opened his eyes.
And for a brief moment—
Lily felt something.
Not mana.
Not pressure.
But… something.
"He is the one who created this world," the man said, looking toward the sky. "And the only one who can bring salvation to it."
Lily frowned slightly.
That didn't align with anything she knew.
And yet…
There was a strange confidence in his voice.
Not arrogance.
Not uncertainty.
Just… belief.
She asked more questions.
What was this faith called?
What did they do?
Why had she never heard of them?
The man answered each one without hesitation.
"The Church of Salus," he said.
Their goal was simple: spread their faith, carry out their god's will, and offer salvation.
But when Lily asked for proof—
The answer changed.
"We do not need proof," he said.
For the first time, his tone grew firm.
"Why must you be certain before you believe?"
"That doubt itself is a sign your faith is lacking."
Lily fell silent.
That… didn't sit right with her.
Everything she had learned—everything she believed in—was built on understanding.
Observation.
Verification.
Magic itself required precision.
Control.
You couldn't just believe something into existence.
…Could you?
And yet—
These people were helping others.
Feeding them.
Clothing them.
Without asking for anything in return.
…Or were they?
By the end of their conversation, Lily had formed a rough conclusion.
They weren't bad people.
Strange, yes.
Unfamiliar.
But not malicious.
At least… not obviously.
"If I wanted to join," she asked, "what should I do?"
The man smiled again.
"Seek out orphanages or charities," he said. "Tell them you wish to bring salvation."
"They will guide you."
Lily nodded slowly.
Then, just as he turned to leave—
"One last thing."
He stopped.
"Yes?"
"What's your name?" she asked. "I'm Lily."
The man gave a slight bow.
"This humble believer is called Chris Tian."
And just like that—
He left.
It wasn't until he disappeared into the crowd that Lily realized something.
The sky had darkened.
The streets were dim.
Night had fallen.
Her heart skipped.
The guards—
If she wasn't back soon—
She was definitely going to get in trouble.
She turned quickly, ready to run—
But then—
Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
Lily froze.
"…Seriously?"
She glanced back toward the street vendors.
Then toward the path back to the dorm.
Then back again.
"Well…" she muttered.
A small, slightly guilty smile formed on her face.
"I'm already in trouble."
She turned toward the food stalls.
"...might as well be punished on a full stomach."