Maruti and Esdeath slowly made their way downstairs toward the ground floor. Esdeath stayed ten steps behind, her red eyes quietly watching Maruti's back. She had no intention of stepping into the center of attention and let Maruti walk ahead toward the waiting reporters.
Since it was the medieval era, there were no mics or flashing lights. Instead, reporters stood ready with papers and ink pens in their hands, while cameramen carefully adjusted their bulky devices to capture pictures from every angle.
As Maruti walked forward, whispers spread quickly among the students. Curious faces peeked out from doorways, and soon a large crowd gathered around her. Many leaned over railings from the second and third floors, eager to see what was happening.
"Miss Maruti, are you the blessed one of Goddess Seraphine? The one who wrote that prophecy book?" a reporter asked loudly.
"Yes!" Maruti answered without hesitation. Her voice was calm but steady, carrying across the noisy surroundings. "It's not something I wanted to reveal, but I was exposed. If you've read the newspapers, you should already know."
The reporter scribbled quickly, his hands almost shaking.
Another reporter stepped forward, his brows drawn in a frown. "Why were you hiding your identity? Wouldn't it be better if you worked with the kingdom directly to prevent the upcoming disaster?"
The crowd stirred, and soft murmurs spread among the students. Many nodded in agreement. It seemed like the more reasonable choice.
But Maruti only scoffed, her lips curling slightly. "Do you think anyone would have believed me if I had said it earlier? People don't accept words so easily. And besides, I never wanted to stand in the spotlight. I only wanted to help the shadows. The Goddess doesn't want fame—she wants well being of her believers."
Her words carried a strange weight, and the crowd grew silent for a moment. One reporter whispered to herself as she quickly wrote it down, "The Goddess doesn't want fame but we'll beingof her believers… what a line!"
Cameras clicked one after another, capturing Maruti from every side. She didn't smile or change her expression, but even so, she seemed to stand tall and dignified. Occasionally, she shifted her stance just slightly, almost like she was deliberately giving them a better picture.
"Then why," another reporter spoke up, tilting his head, "would the Goddess choose you—a barbarian—over any other human?"
Maruti crossed her arms, her face calm and serious. "Because she wants to show equality. All living beings are equal in her eyes."
The reporter froze, stunned for a moment, before quickly writing it down with wide eyes.
"One more question," a third reporter said hurriedly, "why did you say black is divine?"
Maruti let out a tired sigh, shaking her head slightly. "You should read the whole article properly first. I can tell you just rushed here after hearing the news without even reading today's release. Of course, I'll soon give a detailed explanation and preach more about it in my cathedral."
The word caught the reporter's attention immediately. "In a cathedral?"
Maruti nodded firmly. "Yes. I foresaw this day would come. It was the Goddess's instructions. That's why I have decided to become the new head priestess of the Faynapotterz Cathedral."
After that, a few more questions were asked. Since it had only been a few hours since the shocking news had spread, most people still had no clear idea what was truly happening. But everyone did know one thing—the Anastasia Times had suddenly become the hottest name in the entire kingdom. Not only had they revealed who the mysterious author was, but they had also managed to get a personal interview. Their reputation soared far above their competitors.
Many students who had gathered there were waiting eagerly for a chance to talk with Maruti once the reporters left her alone. But before that could happen, a loud voice cut through the crowd.
"Hold on, hold on! I still have some doubts!"
The crowd stirred as a man shoved his way past the reporters. His smug face was enough to irritate anyone at first glance. He had messy orange hair, brown eyes behind glasses, and wore clothes that made him look like a tired office worker. An identification card hung loosely from his neck, making him stand out awkwardly in the academy.
"Hmph! Why is everyone treating her words like she's really some prophet?" he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief before looking directly at Maruti. "If you really are a prophet, then tell me—what's going to happen in my future? Will I get married? How many kids will I have? When will I retire?" He threw out his questions one after another, smirking proudly as if he had cornered her.
Maruti remained calm, her blank expression unshaken. "I'm not omnipotent, and neither is the Goddess," she replied firmly. "I only know of important events that will happen in the future—and sometimes, if I focus, I can glimpse small pieces of foresight."
The orange-haired man adjusted his glasses, and the lenses caught the light with a sharp glimmer. He smirked wider.
"Heh, is that so? Then concentrate and tell me this—how many fingers am I holding up behind my back?"
The crowd gasped. The challenge was bold and mocking, clearly meant to expose her. Students whispered among themselves, and all eyes focused on Maruti, waiting for her answer.
Maruti closed her eyes for just a moment, then spoke calmly. "It's three, isn't it?"
The man's eyes widened. He quickly pulled his hand forward. "No way!" He really had raised three fingers. He stammered, "T-That was just luck! A one-in-five chance! Answer again!"
He quickly raised his hand with all five fingers stretched out.
"Five," Maruti answered without hesitation.
Gasps and whispers rippled through the students.
The man's face turned red as he raised his hand again. "Once more!"
"Three again," Maruti replied smoothly.
He stomped his foot. "Again!"
"One."
"One more time!" he yelled desperately.
Maruti's lips curled slightly into the faintest of smirks. "This time it's seven. Four on your right hand, three on your left."
The man froze, his arms stiff. Slowly, he revealed both his hands. It was exactly as she said.
A wave of awe swept over the reporters and students. Their gasps turned into murmurs of amazement, and their pens scratched furiously across their papers. Cameras clicked one after another, capturing the miraculous moment.
The man's legs shook as his smug expression collapsed. He scratched his head wildly, his voice trembling. "No… this can't be…!"
Maruti's eyes shifted upward, her tone sharp and cold. "The right side is unlucky for you."
The orange-haired man clenched his fists, refusing to accept it. "I don't believe you!" he shouted, stepping firmly to his right.
And at that exact moment, a bird flew by overhead. With perfect timing, it dropped its mess straight onto his face.
The crowd burst into laughter and gasps. The man fell to his knees, humiliated, finally defeated.
Maruti didn't look at him again. With her usual blank expression, she turned away and began walking back toward inside the academy. Her footsteps were steady, and though her face remained calm, there was a quiet confidence in the air around her.
But as she walked a little further, she let her eyes glance sideways. In the distance, under the shade of a tree, a green-haired woman sat with a satisfied smile. She raised her thumb proudly.
It was Vesilisa—one of the four squadron leaders of the Revolutionary group.
Maruti's lips curled into the faintest grin as she subtly returned the gesture with a quick thumbs-up of her own.
In truth, the whole scene had been carefully staged. The so-called reporter with orange hair was one of their own. He had willingly humiliated himself, just to make Maruti shine brighter in front of the students and the reporters.
-------
All the students rushed toward Maruti, especially the girls, surrounding her with endless questions.
"Can you give me an autograph?" one asked with sparkling eyes.
"Did you always have this power? So cool!" another leaned closer in excitement.
"Did you pray thousands of times to the goddess to become her blessed?" someone shouted from behind.
"Can you tell us some mysteries and secrets of the deity level knowledge?"
One girl even hugged Maruti's left arm, her face full of worry. "You said you're now the new head priestess… does that mean you're leaving the academy?"
The nonstop chatter and questions irritated Maruti so much that it was hard for her to keep her expression calm. But she forced herself to stop, turned around, and gave them a warm smile.
"I'm not leaving the academy," she said gently. "I'll hold preaching sessions every Saturday and Sunday, while continuing my charity and social work every day like I used to. Since today is Thursday, you can all come the day after tomorrow!"
Choosing the weekend was perfect. Saturday had fewer lectures and Sunday was a holiday, so she didn't have to skip classes. This way, she would still have time for herself during the rest of the week. Of course that was only to show that how serious she was about her studies.
The girls looked at each other with shining faces. Some clapped, some squealed in excitement, and others started making plans to attend. Maruti, however, turned back quickly and began running, eager to escape the crowd.
She sighed in her heart. "Now I know how Calista feels. You have to keep smiling and speak politely, no matter how irritating the person in front of you is. It's just like working a corporate job!"
——————
By evening, in a grand mansion, Adviser Alger sat on the ground floor near a wide glass window, sipping his tea while gazing outside.
In front of him sat his secretary, waiting patiently for Alger to look at him. When Alger finally glanced over, the secretary leaned forward, rubbing his palms together.
"My lord, I have already sent some men from the police department to place allegations on her and arrest her. Since she is the daughter of the patriarch of the Vanara tribe, it may take some time, but I don't think there will be any problem. We'll just announce she's a scammer, and soon people will forget her words as time passes," he explained confidently.
"Good," Alger replied coldly. "It'll be even better if there are fake witnesses. Perhaps a helpless mother who claims she lost her child because of her… or news that she worked as a street girl or part-time escort in the past. Anything to stain her name."
"Yes, yes! I was already planning that. Just let her be arrested once," the secretary said with a sly grin.
Alger nodded slowly, taking another sip of his tea. But at that moment, a guard hurried in and handed him a letter.
"This is from the Kingdom of Church, directly from Pope Igret. It's tomorrow's breaking news, but she has given us the information in advance," the guard explained.
Alger casually opened the letter, still sipping his tea. But the moment he read the contents, his hands shook, and he literally puked the tea out of his mouth. His eyes widened, and he immediately turned to his secretary.
"Stop them! Stop those officers from arresting her!" he shouted.
The secretary blinked, confused. "But why?"
"Fuck!, Just do what I say! Hurry and stop them!" Alger roared, his voice echoing across the room.
The secretary jumped to his feet and rushed out, still not understanding what was going on. But Alger knew very well.
Until now, he and the king had believed this was just a scheme by Lortell or the revolutionaries. But the truth was far more weird..
The letter confirmed that the Awakened Kingdom had publicly announced Maruti as a true blessed of Goddess Seraphine.
A real prophet.
The Kingdom of Church was considered the purest land, untouched by sin for over two hundred years. It was known as the divine land that worshipped the goddess, yet still gave freedom to all religions, a land who believed in equality. The pope herself was seen as the messenger of the goddess.
People had blind faith in them.
Tomorrow, when this will news spread, the whole kingdom would believe in Maruti no matter what accusations were made against her.
Any attempt to defame her now would only destroy the king's reputation instead.