Ludolf caught every word. The blessing of the Goddess had not only granted him the gift of power but also sharpened his senses far beyond those of ordinary men. Even a hushed whisper was as clear to him as if spoken aloud. The moment he heard his name, a strange unease stirred within him.

Genev turned to Ludolf, his expression still clouded with confusion.

“I think the Saintess wants to speak with Ludolf because he’s her master’s son,” Kyle whispered again. After a brief pause, he added, “And she seems to know that it’s Ludolf’s birthday. I saw her carrying several gifts. I don’t know how she learned that.”

“Perhaps Magnus told her in the past,” Genev muttered in response.

Ludolf, standing nearby, felt his curiosity grow. His eyes narrowed slightly, intrigue flickering across his face.

“Ludolf,” Genev called, beckoning him closer. The boy obeyed, stepping forward.

“The Saintess wishes to see you. Are you alright with that?” Genev asked.

Ludolf gave a small nod. “I’m fine with that. I… I also want to see the Saintess, Genev.”

“Alright then,” Genev said, studying him carefully. “Wait in your room for now. I’ll speak with her first and then come to get you when we’re done. You can change your clothes in the meantime.”

“Okay, Genev,” Ludolf replied.

With that, he turned and left the two men behind, making his way down the quiet hall toward his room. He wondered what the Saintess could want from him, and why she had come bearing gifts on a day he had hoped would pass unnoticed.

“Saintess,” Genev said, bowing his head respectfully, before he entered the drawing room.

“Mr. Genev,” Liviana replied with a warm smile, returning the gesture with equal courtesy. Unlike her usual armor, today she wore a flowing white gown that draped gracefully over her form, cinched at the waist with a golden sash. Gold ornaments adorned her wrists and neck, delicate yet regal, and a laurel-like circlet rested lightly upon her brow. She looked less like a warrior and more like a goddess stepped down from the heavens.

“It’s been a while,” Genev remarked as he straightened. “How have you been, Saintess?”

“I’ve been well, though the temple’s duties never cease,” Liviana said with a gentle laugh. “Accept my apologies for not sending word ahead. Learning of the child’s birthday moved me to act without delay.” Her eyes softened as she studied him. “And you? How fares the Magic Tower? I hear your training regimens are as merciless as ever.”

Genev gave a faint smirk. “Merciless only to those who ask for it. The Tower has been… unstable ever since Magnus…” His words faltered, but he did not need to finish. Liviana understood.

Her expression darkened. “I still can’t believe it. Master was a man of unmatched strength, and yet he’s….” Her voice wavered. “The Emperor has his suspicions.”

“I know who he suspects,” Genev said quietly. “And I’m certain he’s already moving pieces behind the scenes to uncover the truth of Magnus’s death.”

“Right,” Liviana nodded sharply, her hands tightening against the fabric of her gown. “When I first heard, I couldn’t contain myself. I lashed out at the Emperor and demanded that he give me an update within three days. At the time, it was all grief and fury speaking through me. Now, thinking back… I realize how shameless—how rude—it was of me to speak to him that way.” Her lips twitched with embarrassment, though sorrow still lingered in her eyes.

Genev allowed himself a chuckle. “If I had learned of my master’s death in the same way, I’d have done no differently. Still…” he tilted his head, his smirk returning, “you demanded the Emperor himself to report back in three days? That’s bold—even for you, Saintess.”

Liviana exhaled, half a sigh, half a laugh. “Bold—or reckless. I’ll admit I surprised even myself.”

With a teasing glint in his eye, Genev added, “Though between the two of us, I think the Emperor might be more frightened of you than you are of him right now.”

Liviana arched a brow, fighting the ghost of a smile. “You exaggerate.”

“Do I?” Genev replied dryly. “I wouldn’t want to be in his place when the Saintess of the temple storms into his hall demanding answers.”

Her faint smile finally broke through. However, moments later, she exhaled heavily, “It has been a month already, yet we’ve uncovered almost nothing—no trace of the assailants, no hint of their master.”

“We’ve begun our own investigation as well,” Genev admitted. “And our efforts fared no better. Whoever commands them is no mere opportunist—this reeks of a noble with vast influence, someone skilled at hiding their hand.”

“Or perhaps,” Liviana interjected with a cold scoff, “an empire bold enough to move its pieces in the shadows.”

“Perhaps,” Genev conceded. “But so far, not a single thread leads directly to that empire.”

“That’s what frustrates me most,” Liviana muttered. “Even the Emperor and I are groping in the dark.”

Genev let out a quiet sigh. “Let’s just keep investigating. If my side uncovers anything new, I’ll inform you.”

“Thank you, Genev. I’ll do the same.”

After that, silence settled over the room.

“So, you wish to talk to Ludolf?” Genev asked, to which Liviana gave a small, hopeful nod.

“Though it’s fine if he doesn’t want to talk to me,” Liviana assured quickly with a small wave of her hands. “I only wish to give him these gifts I prepared.”

“We appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Genev replied, though his tone carried a hint of uncertainty. “I’m not sure if Ludolf will accept them. The boy doesn’t even want to celebrate his birthday.”

Liviana had a suspicion why.

“But that’s just me,” Genev continued. “I’ll bring Ludolf here and leave you two to talk.”

“Thank you, Genev.”

With that, Genev left the drawing room.

A few moments later, the door creaked open. Ludolf stepped inside, shoulders drawn tight, only to freeze in place when his eyes fell upon the woman waiting for him. The Saintess sat in quiet grace, sipping her tea as though she belonged in that very room. There was an elegance about her presence that momentarily stole his breath away.

When Liviana noticed him standing by the doorway, she smiled warmly and set her teacup down. Rising to her feet to greet him, her expression suddenly faltered as something about him caught her off guard.

“You!”

The sharpness of her voice startled Ludolf, and he instinctively took a step back. Behind him, Kyle, who accompanied him, stiffened in surprise.

Realizing her mistake, Liviana immediately lowered her gaze and clasped her hands together. “I-I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Forgive me for raising my voice. Hello, Ludolf. I am Saintess Liviana Athanasiou. It’s an honor to meet you finally.” She forced herself to smile again, though gentler this time.

Ludolf hesitated. After a long pause, he gave a small, awkward bow of his head. “...It’s nice to meet you as well, Saintess.” 

Encouraged by his response, Liviana gestured lightly toward the empty seat across from her. “Please, come in. Sit with me for a while. I promise I won’t take too much of your time.”

Kyle smiled and gave Ludolf a nudge, urging him forward. Reluctantly, Ludolf entered the room, his gaze flicking between the Saintess and the gifts resting on the table.

Once he sat down, Liviana’s smile grew a touch more genuine. “I prepared these for you,” she explained, her tone carrying both kindness and a trace of nervousness. “I heard it was your birthday… even if you don’t wish to celebrate, I thought a small token might still bring you comfort.”

Ludolf looked at the wrapped gifts. For a moment, silence hung in the room. Then, quietly, he murmured, “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Liviana replied. Her gaze fell to her lap, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips. “I know you don’t know me—and perhaps you’ve only ever heard my name in passing. But today, I learned of your birthday… because my master once told me.”

Ludolf blinked. “...Master?”

“Yes,” Liviana lifted her eyes to meet his. “Your father, Magnus, was my master.”

Ludolf’s breath hitched. He stared at her in disbelief. “F-Father…? My father was your master?”

“Yes,” she said gently.

“He… he never told me anything about that.”

Liviana sighed, “Master has always been that way. He keeps many things within himself. Even when I trained under him, there were secrets and thoughts he never shared. It was something I noticed about him long ago.”

At that, Ludolf lowered his gaze, “Yeah… I noticed that as well.”

Liviana studied him for a moment, her eyes thoughtful, “And yet, Ludolf… there is something I’ve noticed about you.”

Ludolf looked up, “Something about me?”

“Yes, when you came into the room, I sensed it—divine power.”

The color drained from Ludolf’s face. 

“W-what?” His voice trembled, disbelief flashing in his wide eyes. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“It isn’t,” Liviana said, yet with calm assurance. “I would not mistake such a thing.”

Ludolf swallowed a lump in his throat. Panic twisted in his chest as the thought clawed at him, ‘If others found out… what would they think? What would they do to me? And her—she’s the Saintess. Of course, she would be the first to know.’ His hands trembled slightly. ‘What if she appoints me as a Saint? What if she uses this against me?’

Liviana could see right through him and said, “Ludolf. Look at me.”

He hesitated, then reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet hers.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Liviana said. “I will not speak of this to anyone. And I would never use this truth to bind you to a path you do not choose. To betray you would be to betray Magnus’s trust in me. And that, Ludolf, I could never do.”

For a long moment, Ludolf was silent, his thoughts a tangled knot.

“However, the divine power I feel in you is different,” Liviana added.

Ludolf frowned, the words leaving him more confused than before. “Different? In what way?”

“Your divine energy is like mine, Ludolf—it’s meant for battle.”

He blinked, “I’m… sorry, Saintess. I still don’t understand.”

Liviana folded her hands neatly before her as she explained, “When a person awakens as a Saint or Saintess, their divine powers almost always manifest as gifts of healing, purification, and restoration. Those are the qualities the temple reveres and exalts—that is the standard they cling to.” She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, as though recalling something long buried. “But I was different. My awakening defied that order. My divine power is meant for battle, for war. From the very beginning, I carried a power designed not to mend wounds, but to inflict them.”

Ludolf could not believe what he had just heard.

“I mean,” Liviana continued, “although this power of mine is meant for battle, I can still heal. But… not to the extent of restoring someone completely. My strength is limited in that way. I can close wounds, soothe pain, and buy them time—but I cannot return them whole. Not like the other Saints or Saintesses.”

Her eyes lowered, a shadow flickering across her face. “That was always my burden. To the temple, I was flawed—useful on the battlefield, yes, but unworthy of the same reverence given to those who could fully heal and restore. They saw me as something… different. Something dangerous.”

Ludolf studied her in silence, struggling to reconcile the Saintess’s calm, poised presence with the truth she was revealing. He clenched his fists, conflicted. So even she… even someone like her bore the weight of power that didn’t fit the mold expected of her.

Liviana lifted her gaze to him again, “But that is why I recognized it in you, Ludolf. The divine power you carry carries the same edge. It is not gentle, nor is it wrong. It is simply different—like mine.”

Her words lingered in the air, sinking into him.

But then Liviana continued, her voice lowering to a warning whisper, “And that is why no one else can know.”

Ludolf’s brows furrowed.

“You are still a child,” she said firmly. “If the temple learns of you, they will take you away. They will strip you of your freedom and bind you to a life you never chose. Because your power does not fit their sacred image, they will never see you as equal. They will whisper that you are dangerous, treat you as something to be kept at arm’s length—never honored, only used.” 

Ludolf’s stomach knotted.

“If you want to avoid that fate, then you must learn to control your power. Hide it. Shape it. You want to avenge your father, right?”

He swallowed hard, “How do you know that? And what…Shape it… into what?”

Her lips curved in the faintest of smiles, though it carried no mirth. “Into something the world understands. Elemental power, for instance—fire, wind, even light. Most people will never question it if they see sparks, or flame, or force. They will think you are gifted, yes, but not divine. Not touched by the gods.”

Ludolf blinked at her, trying to grasp what she was asking. “You mean… turn my power into something else?”

“Not change it,” she corrected. “Control. Refine. Let your gift breathe through the elements, and it will protect you.”

She reached across the table, her hand settling lightly over his clenched fists.

“It will take training. Discipline. And more strength than most children your age should ever need to carry,” she said gently. “But if you wish to learn, then come to me. Let me train you.”

Ludolf’s eyes widened, disbelief spilling across his face. “Train me? But… Saintess, you already have your duties—the temple, the ceremonies, and the empire conflicts. Why would you go through so much trouble for a child like me?”

For the briefest moment, amusement flickered in Liviana’s gaze. The corners of her lips twitched, as though she wanted to laugh but held it back.

‘This child… does he truly think so little of himself?’

“You are Magnus’ son,” she replied softly. “That alone is reason enough. But if I am to be honest, I simply want an excuse to escape the temple halls. Every hour in that place grates on me, and every ritual gives me a headache. Besides, I am the only one who can truly understand how your power works.”

Ludolf shifted uncomfortably, doubt pressing against him, “Wouldn’t the temple know? If I really have divine power, they’ll discover me… the same way you did.”

“The temple may serve as the messengers of gods and goddesses. They may read the stars, divine prophecies, and declare blessings upon their people. But they cannot sense the birth of a Saint or Saintess unless the mark of golden eyes is present. That is how they recognized me before I could even understand what I was. To them, golden eyes are the irrefutable sign of the divine.”

She then added, “Magnus, however, sensed my divine power before the temple did.”

She leaned closer now, studying him intently. Ludolf shifted under her stare, unease crawling across his skin as her eyes locked on his own.

“You do not have golden eyes,” she murmured.