The Chapel's public healing center occupied a converted warehouse near the city's heart.
What had once stored grain and trade goods now housed rows of cots, privacy screens, and the organized chaos of mass triage. The building's high ceilings and open floor plan allowed dozens, sometimes hundreds of people to be treated simultaneously.
When Seraphine arrived, a crowd was already waiting.
They formed a queue that snaked out the main entrance and down the street: mothers with feverish children, laborers with work injuries, elderly with chronic conditions, soldiers on medical leave.
The desperate, the hopeful, the faithful… All of them were waiting for her.
Inside, the other nuns had already begun preliminary work, sorting patients by severity, administering basic first aid, and providing comfort.
But they were holding the worst cases for Seraphine, for the Saintess Candidate whose skill far exceeded theirs.
She moved through the room like a dancer following choreographed steps she'd performed a thousand times before.
In the first cot, a young boy lay with a shattered leg, most likely the result of a construction accident. His bones jutted at wrong angles while his skin bruised purple-black. His mother hovered nearby, face drawn with worry.
Seraphine placed both hands on the break.
{Activated Skill: Soothing Touch}
The boy's screaming stopped immediately as warmth flooded the injury site. Not healing yet… first numbing, calming, and then preparing. The skill lived up to its name: soothing.
Then she layered Soulweaver's Whisper on top, willing the bones to realign, the tissue to knit, the bruising to fade.
It took three minutes.
When she withdrew her hands, the leg was whole. The boy sat up, testing it experimentally, then burst into tears of relief.
Second cot… A middle-aged woman missing two fingers from a workplace accident, stumps wrapped in bloodied cloth. Recent enough that reattachment might be possible if they'd preserved the digits.
They hadn't.
But soothing touch could accelerate natural healing and ensure the wounds closed cleanly without infection. She couldn't grow new fingers; that was beyond even her current Step, but she could prevent complications that might cost the whole hand.
She worked carefully, ignoring the woman's embarrassed apologies for "wasting the Saintess's time on something small."
Nothing was small when it meant someone's livelihood.
Third cot… An older man with a cough that had plagued him for months; they were harsh and wet. Tuberculosis, probably, Seraphine thought even as she moved to treat the man. The disease was contagious. It could even be deadly if left untreated.
This one took longer.
She used Soothing Touch once more, first to ease his labored breathing, then Desire's Renewal to purge the infection from his lungs.
She could feel the disease fighting back, trying to dig into tissue and spread. Her will crushed it methodically, section by section, until his lungs cleared.
When he took his first easy breath in months, he wept.
Fourth cot… Fifth... Tenth... Twentieth…
She moved between them without pause, voice murmuring her desires, hands glowing with azure light, Blissful Aura keeping panic at bay while people waited their turn.
Burns. Infections. Broken bones. Chronic pain. Partial paralysis. Failing organs.
She treated them all.
Hours passed.
The sun shifted position, streaming through high windows at different angles. The crowd outside slowly filtered in, was treated, and filtered back out—healed, grateful, spreading word of miracles.
Seraphine felt exhaustion creeping in at the edges. Her mana reserves weren't infinite. Each use of Desire's Renewal drained a little more, each Soothing Touch took its small toll.
But her faction wasn't rich for nothing. The cross-shaped necklace hanging on the neck was another proof. It allowed her to store her excess refined mana beforehand and call upon it whenever she was drained.
…So she kept going.
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Finally, as afternoon bled into early evening, the last patient was treated.
Seraphine stood in the center of the now-quiet hall, surrounded by empty cots and lingering traces of her mana. The other nuns had already begun cleanup, folding sheets, organizing supplies for tomorrow.
Her hands trembled slightly. Mana exhaustion made her head feel light, her limbs heavy. Even the necklace was nearly empty.
But she'd done it.
…Again.
As she had every day for weeks. As she would do for the next weeks, months, and maybe even years.
She turned toward the exit, ready to return to the Chapel for evening prayers and rest.
That's when she heard it.
"What a farce."
The words came from Nancy, who was close enough that only Seraphine could hear, muttered under her breath with all the bitterness of old resentment.
Seraphine glanced sideways, catching pale blue eyes that glinted with something between jealousy and contempt.
Her voice emerged perfectly pleasant, carrying just a hint of concern.
"My dear Nancy, are you also ill? Just say the word and this Saintess will cure you."
The tone was perfectly innocent, but clearly provocative.
Nancy's jaw clenched. She looked at her superior's guileless expression and almost spat.
"Cut the nonsense. Your bullshit won't work on me." Her voice stayed low—no point causing a scene that would reflect badly on them both. "I wonder what they'd think if they found out that their angel had practically enslaved someone…"
It was true that Seraphine had spoken that way just to poke fun at her. But calling her healing and the people's genuine gratitude bullshit?
That was a bit too much.
Seraphine decided some education was in order. Nancy had helped acquire information about Ashen, after all, so she could overlook the venomous tongue to a degree.
"The fact that they're being healed stays true no matter the motive behind it, Nancy." Her tone cooled considerably. "For you to ignore that just to nitpick solely for the sake of nitpicking… it truly baffles me how you ended up in this faction."
She shook her head as if genuinely confused.
Nancy bristled. "Oh yeah? Then the propaganda you're spreading isn't your main motive for doing this?"
She bobbed her head as if agreeing with her own words, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It's me just nitpicking, right? This all just naturally happened. You're just an innocent lamb wanting to help. That's all. Hehe."
Her mocking look could have curdled milk.
"Even if you healed them, you and the ones who put you up to it are hypocrites. Even if the end-result is satisfying, it won't change the facts."
Seraphine looked at her with genuine pity… an expression that made Nancy's face flush with anger.
"Nancy, your jealousy is leaking again."
Sigh.
"You've been with me since I was running my company back in Esperra. Didn't you learn anything?"
She adjusted her coat, preparing to walk.
"In business, the best deals aren't the ones where you win, nor the ones where others win. It's when both sides win."
She gestured broadly, encompassing the healing center, the city beyond.
"Any other option reduces a partnership to a one-time deal. And a business can't survive alone; it needs partners. The same applies here: Seravelle's populace is our partner. We receive their support; they receive better livelihood in exchange."
Her voice softened into something almost pitying.
"It's win-win. Everyone is happy."
She turned to face Nancy fully.
"Why do you have to paint everything in only black or white? The world exists in shades of grey. No one is innocent—not me, not the people I'm healing. I don't have to be an absolutely selfless being to genuinely want to ease suffering."
She started walking toward the Chapel, gesturing for Nancy to follow.
"And above all else..." Her tone grew more serious. "Do you think what I'm doing is merely for fame? Let's not even discuss the obvious reason—training our healing skills through practical application."
She glanced back.
"Did you forget my new identity?"
"...Saintess," Nancy muttered, following a few steps behind.
"Candidate," Seraphine corrected firmly. "And not confirmed yet. Do you know why?"
Nancy shrugged, not bothering to hide her disinterest.
"Why do you think that unlike my sisters, who only heal a dozen people each day, I have to do hundreds… sometimes thousands?"
She spread her hands.
"Why do you think I have to travel every region of this Domain? From the poorest slums to the richest estates? Healing every kind of injury and illness; soldiers and farmers, nobles and beggars?"
"Isn't it just to spread your fame wider?" Nancy's tone suggested she thought the answer obvious.
"Wrong."
Seraphine stopped walking, turning to face her subordinate fully.
"This is a test. You called me a hypocrite earlier because you don't believe I'm sincere in my desire to see them healthy—you think I only care about the benefits."
Her expression grew intense.
"But you must never forget: I'm using mana to heal. Mana shaped by will and desire."
She held up one hand, letting faint azure light dance across her fingers.
"For each person I heal, I have to genuinely desire their wellbeing. Each person I cure has to be treated with their utmost health in mind. Not as numbers. Not as reputation points. As people whose suffering I want to end."
Her hand closed into a fist.
"Such a thing can be maintained for a dozen people. Maybe a hundred, if you're disciplined. But can a normal person genuinely keep this up for thousands?"
She let the question hang.
"What about repeating those thousands every single day? What about maintaining that level of genuine compassion for as long as you live?"
Nancy's expression had shifted from mocking to uncertain.
"Let me enlighten you: over time, they'd come to even hate the act of helping, despite even the thought of compassion, and spit at the face of kindness."
Her voice dropped, as if she was about to reveal a secret.
"Even the most pleasurable acts will turn stale when overdone; one might even get sick of them…"
Even lower…
"...let alone having to wish from the bottom of your heart for the wellbeing of people that you have nothing to do with, don't truly care about, and will probably never see again…"
Now she was basically whispering…
"Do you understand now, my dear Nancy?"
Then, her whisper transformed into an almost reverent tone…
"When you have the capacity to hold such a burden… to desire the wellbeing of countless strangers with the same intensity you'd reserve for family… only then will you be considered a Saint."
She resumed walking.
The rest of the journey back to the Chapel passed in unusual silence.
.
.
But Seraphine's mind drifted elsewhere.
Truthfully, at first, she wasn't sure if she had the courage to pursue the Saintess candidacy when it was first proposed. The responsibility had seemed crushing with almost impossible expectations.
But when she'd learned that such a position could help Ashen more effectively by giving her the political leverage to intervene on his behalf, she'd accepted in a heartbeat.
And she couldn't be more thankful for that decision.
It had given her enough standing to sway her Domain's position when he was unfairly imprisoned and apply the needed pressure to keep him out of the worst outcomes. She may even be able to coordinate with others working on his behalf in the near future.
Her rapid advancement and her confession that it was because of him had played a huge part in the decision-making as well.
Seraphine had been forced to divulge that information. It was the only way to make Lust Domain move in his favor politically.
How could they allow the one man who'd pushed their Saintess Candidate to race across the pathway Steps to perish just like that now?
From Lust Domain's perspective, such a maneuver is only logical. Ashen's value as a man and as Seraphine's catalyst far exceeded whatever Innate skill he might be hiding.
To Lust Domain's leadership, he was now an investment worth protecting.
But all Seraphine truly wanted was to meet him again.
It wasn't merely lust talking; though the Ecstatic Bond's constant connection made her body ache with need.
No, during the bond's active moments, when she could share his senses fully, she'd seen things.
…Impossible things.
Sights of events that shouldn't be unfolding in the present, echoes of a history that hadn't happened yet… or had already happened, depending on perspective.
She'd glimpsed through his eyes enemies that shouldn't have appeared… A war that didn't even exist in her present, no matter how hard she looked…
Seen him fighting through a Narkal tide that should have killed everyone it touched.
Watched him protect Alice with such desperate determination that it transcended mere duty.
Felt his infinite will… that strange, unbreakable core that refused to surrender no matter what was stripped away.
And she wanted to know the complete story. She wanted to understand how her beloved had survived the unsurvivable.
Wanted to hear, from his own lips, the adventures he'd endured while she'd been here, becoming someone who could actually help him, even though she wasn't present when it mattered.
'Soon,' she thought, a small smile playing across her lips despite her exhaustion. 'We'll meet again.'
The Chapel's spires came into view, white stone catching the last rays of sunset.
'After all...'
Her butterfly pupils flickered, just for a moment.
'A saintess candidate needs to spread her love and kindness even beyond her own Domain. Humm~"
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