The temple doors closed slowly. Before they shut, Reyn heard cries from outside:
"Careful, extract the blade first, then heal!"
He looked at Viola beside him and smiled slightly smugly.
Viola was still immersed in the poem's lines. Her lake-blue eyes looked at Reyn, and she said quietly:
"I never knew you could write poetry."
"Uh..." Reyn rubbed his chin a bit unnaturally. "Inspiration struck, so I wrote it."
"Really?"
Viola looked at him doubtfully. Recalling now, Reyn had insisted so strongly on competing with Yett in poetry, clearly confident—this hardly seemed like sudden inspiration.
And that melody, "Viola by the Lake," had also been created by sudden insight.
Inspiration struck him too often!
All of Reyn's wondrous displays differed starkly from his behavior at the academy over the past three years. As if they were two completely different people.
Had the perfect soul transformation affected Reyn's mind so much?
Viola shook her head slightly, not wanting to delve deeper, and suddenly said:
"I loved the poem, but there's one inaccuracy in it."
"What?" Reyn asked.
"I'm half-elf. Like pure-blood elves, even in my later years, I won't look old; I'll keep a youthful appearance. Only right before death will I age sharply, literally in a few hours. I won't have time to sit by the fireplace, reminiscing our love," Viola spoke of something sad, but her face glowed with happiness.
Reyn was stunned. He truly hadn't known that.
He had just copied the poem; how was he to know such details?
Viola smiled enchantingly, like a blooming flower, and said:
"Be that as it may, I love your poems; they're beautiful. Since you're so talented, you should write me more poems."
Reyn blushed slightly but, recalling the poetry collection on his phone, gained some confidence and thumped his chest, promising:
"No problem, as long as you like it."
He hastily changed the subject:
"And what about this Yett, from what family is he?"
"Just the son of the Sandimon family. His father is a viscount, a famous artist in the Empire. He owns several galleries in Longsanda and other major cities, deals in art auctions. He has plenty of wealth and connections. But you have nothing to worry about. I'll teach Viscount Sandimon a lesson so Yett stays away from you."
A cold spark flashed in Viola's eyes. She had no intention of forgiving Yett's behavior today so easily.
After the ritual, she would personally settle accounts with him.
"Do you think I'd worry about that narcissistic fool?" Reyn laughed carefree. He'd be delighted if Yett came looking for trouble in the future—it would give him cause to kill him and take his soul.
Suddenly a thought struck him.
This Yett had clearly pursued Viola for years. Setting aside his hostility toward Reyn, Yett was decent by all measures: handsome, strong, an artist, and moreover a priest of the Long-haired Lady—he was perfect for Viola's ritual. Why hadn't she chosen him earlier?
"I know what you're thinking."
Viola slapped Reyn discontentedly.
"Even if you weren't here, I wouldn't have chosen him."
"Why?" Reyn asked curiously.
"This man has too strong a sense of possession. His adoration of me is overly fanatical. He wants to see me as a trophy confirming his own charm, not a true beloved," Viola explained calmly. "If I were with him, it wouldn't end well."
"You understand people well," Reyn admired Viola's wisdom.
In truth, he had noticed it himself, but only thanks to the Eye of the Soul could he see Yett's pathological nature. Viola had concluded it on her own by observing him.
"If I didn't understand people, would I have chosen you?"
Viola smiled slyly, her face flushing slightly.
"Let's not talk about him," she said quietly. "Let's prepare for the ritual."
"Alright."
Reyn surveyed the temple. Before him stretched an open space like a vast hall. On both sides stood two rows of round stone columns supporting the dome, from which hung dozens of bright crystal chandeliers emitting soft light and creating a romantic atmosphere.
The floor was adorned with flowers and stone paths, resembling a small garden. Hundreds of flowers bloomed, exuding a captivating fragrance.
At the far end of the temple rose the statue of the Long-haired Lady.
Her face was incredibly beautiful, her pose majestic. She was clad in a light gauze tunic, hands folded over her chest. Most striking were her hair, cascading to her knees and shining with soft white light.
This statue was evidently the work of a great sculptor—lifelike, expressive, conveying both form and spirit.
At the statue's base was an altar.
To Reyn's surprise, the altar was shaped like a pool. Small, with crystal-clear water through which the bottom was visible. Depth—only waist-high for a person.
The edges of the altar-pool were covered in runes pulsing with magical energy. Light steam rose over the water, and the pool bottom also glowed softly, creating a sense of comfort.
A disrespectful thought flashed in Reyn's mind: this altar looked like a hot spring.
Viola took Reyn's hand and led him to the altar.
Her face flushed, and she said quietly:
"The prayer ritual to the Long-haired Lady is best performed standing in a pool or bath. It symbolizes purity."
Reyn checked the water temperature—it was perfect. "Still, it's a bath..." he thought.
He looked at Viola and asked with a smile:
"What should I do?"
"Enter the water and just watch as I pray," Viola directed Reyn into the pool. He removed his upper clothes, revealing firm muscles, and immersed himself. Feeling the pleasant warmth, he relaxed, recalling how in his past life he lounged in hot springs.
Viola took out a gramophone, placed it on a stone pedestal by the altar, wound the handle, and lowered the needle.
Melodious music filled the temple.
Viola turned her back to Reyn and changed into a light gauze dress, exactly like the goddess statue's. Expertly sewn, it billowed with movement, creating a semi-transparent, teasingly mysterious effect.
Reyn watched her without blinking.
Then Viola began dancing before the altar—this too was part of the prayer ritual.
The dance was full of beauty and carried mesmerizing magical vibrations. Accompanied by the music, the sight was even more enchanting, giving Reyn true pleasure.
Reyn noticed that from the moment Viola started dancing, her Flame of Faith began growing rapidly, as if fueled by oil, becoming brighter. An illusory faith thread extended into the void, resonating with the statue. The statue began emanating a trembling aura, as if a great being was about to manifest.
The dance ended, but Viola's Flame of Faith continued vibrating.
She slowly entered the water, stood with hands folded over her chest, bowed her head, and began whispering the sacred name of the Long-haired Lady, starting the main prayer.
Viola recited the prayer quietly, her voice blending with the gramophone music without dissonance.
Reyn clearly heard that she not only recited the prayer texts but added information about the gramophone at the end.
After three repetitions, the gramophone record finished one cycle.
Viola restarted the music, turned, and standing in the water, looked straight into Reyn's eyes. Her beautiful face held only a light blush, her pointed ears twitched slightly, but her gaze held no trace of shyness.
The prayer ritual had reached its most crucial stage.
Reyn's heart beat faster. He understood it was time for him, the instrument, to play.
The warm pool water rippled lightly, spreading in circles. A crimson tint spread underwater and dissolved.
In that moment, their souls were so close, without the slightest gap.
The gramophone record, which so far held only "Viola by the Lake," played a bit over three minutes per cycle. Three repetitions took about ten minutes.
Twice Viola wound the handle, twice the needle returned to the start.
Reyn gradually got into it. When he wound it the third time, and the process was in full swing, he suddenly sensed a terrifying presence emanating from the altar statue. The statue's eyes flashed with light and fixed on the two in the pool.
The deity had descended!
Reyn rejoiced. Divine descent meant the ritual was half successful. If they continued pleasing the goddess, Viola would receive divine blessing.
However, the terrifying pressure made Reyn's heart tremble.
He dared not look at the statue with the Eye of the Soul, feeling as if needles pierced his back. His strength was leaving him.
"Don't stop," Viola said with difficulty. Her voice trembled; clearly, she too was awed by the deity's power.
Reyn could only grit his teeth and continue.
After a few seconds, the gaze on him shifted, as if drawn by the gramophone. A white ethereal figure enveloped the musical device. Reyn sighed in relief.
In the temple sounded only the gramophone music.
The beautiful melody repeated again and again.
Having wound the handle once more, Reyn had already grown accustomed to that gaze. He could only pretend not to notice the presence and focus on the intimate contact with Viola.
He was not a follower of the Long-haired Lady, so he could not communicate directly with the deity and had no idea how things stood.
However, judging by Viola's reaction, everything should go smoothly.
Acquiring the divine art was beyond doubt.
Immersed in the process, Reyn suddenly noticed something strange about Viola, whom he held in his embrace. Her hair was growing longer, falling below her waist, and its color was gradually shifting from golden to fiery red. Her beautiful face remained the same, her gaze was clouded, but her lake-blue eyes, blinking, turned dark golden!
When those dark golden eyes looked at him, Reyn felt something very strange and at the same time familiar.
At the same moment, the terrifying aura of the statue vanished.
Reyn instantly understood what had happened and mentally howled: "Damn! Damn..."
Steel Body activated instinctively, his entire body becoming as hard as iron, which allowed him not to disgrace himself physically. But psychologically, he could not cope with the situation. He froze, unsure whether to continue or pull away.
At that moment, Viola spoke in an unfamiliar voice:
"Don't stop."