It didn't take Sol long to reach the deepest chamber of the church.
Although he often visited the place, this was his first time entering this inner sanctum. Along the way, he'd passed several patrols and checkpoints — proof of just how significant this area was.
"We've arrived," Chloe said softly.
Before them stood an enormous black-and-white gate engraved with an intricate scene: a woman surrounded by fourteen girls in golden robes stood on the white half, facing another woman cloaked in crimson on the black half. None of them had faces, lending the image an eerie, haunting aura.
"Mother Order and the Fourteen Goddesses against Chaos," Chloe explained.
Her voice pulled Sol out of his reverie. He knew of this story — everyone did — but religion was the last thing on his mind right now.
What truly unsettled him was the overwhelming surge of mana coming from behind that door. For a moment, he almost asked Chloe about it — before remembering that his recent awakening was supposed to be a secret. Still, whether she was trustworthy or not, it didn't matter.
"Forget it," he muttered. "Let's go in."
Chloe shook her head. "I can't enter. The ritual has already reached its final phase. Only you are allowed beyond this point."
Sol hesitated briefly, then nodded and stepped toward the gate. Just as he was about to open it, Chloe spoke again, her tone low and tense.
"Sol…"
He glanced back. "What is it?"
"Please… take care of her." Her words trembled with emotion — and warning. "What my aunt is attempting is a supreme ritual — one that defies the natural order. And the price she'll pay for it… is beyond imagination."
A chill ran through Sol. Ignoring the rising dread in his chest, he pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside.
Behind him, the door shut automatically. Chloe stared at it for a moment, sadness clouding her eyes, then turned away. There was nothing more she could do. Her aunt had already made her choice.
---
The first thing Sol noticed was the metallic tang that filled the air.
Blood.
Then his eyes fell on the figure at the center of the circular chamber — a beautiful naked woman standing within a massive hexagram, glowing circles of magic spinning around her.
Camelia.
Though her back was turned, he recognized her instantly. He wanted to call out, but stopped himself, afraid to disrupt the ritual. The atmosphere was thick with power, the very air pressing down on him. Each step forward felt heavier, as though gravity itself resisted him.
By the time he reached the edge of the circle, nearly a minute had passed.
"Hello, Sol," came Camelia's weary voice. "I was waiting for you."
He struggled for words. "How are you?" he asked lamely, knowing how absurd it sounded. Her faint laugh told him she thought so too.
"I can't say I'm fine," she said softly, "but soon… everything will be."
Sol frowned. "Turn around. Look at me."
She sighed, shoulders slumping, then slowly faced him.
At first, she looked normal. But then—
"Your eyes…" His voice shook. One of her normally bright blue eyes — the mark of the goddesses' blessing — had turned plain black.
Her wry smile only deepened his dread. A closer look revealed another change.
"Your… hair," he whispered. Her golden locks still shimmered, but from the roots… they were black.
Golden hair and blue eyes — the divine traits of those blessed by the goddesses. The mark of royalty. Losing them meant losing that blessing… forever.
"Camelia," he said hoarsely, "what have you done?"
Her smile didn't fade. Her eyes were still filled with warmth and longing. "Only what I must."
---
"The ritual is called Saint's Fall," she said.
"I don't care what it's called — stop it now!"
He wanted to pull her out of the hexagram, but one wrong move could make everything worse.
Camelia ignored his plea, her golden hair dimming with each passing second. "Sol, the most fundamental law of this world is the principle of contract — and every contract demands a price. Witches gain power through deals with Asmodeus, offering fertility and more as payment."
"Enough! You can explain later. Just—stop!"
But she continued, calm and resolute. "Nuns gain strength through devotion to their goddesses. Their power is limited by faith and divine permission. That too… is a contract."
Sol clenched his fists. He understood her point, but not her purpose.
"The Saint's Fall ritual," she continued, "grants a supreme daughter a single wish — one that can break every rule of this world. But in exchange—"
"—You lose your blessing," he finished bitterly.
She smiled faintly. "Exactly. Still as sharp as ever."
"Why?" he demanded. "You know a king receives a divine wish upon ascending the throne! You could've waited!"
She shook her head. "The king's wish cannot defy the rules. The Saint's Fall wish can."
Sol took a deep breath, forcing down his fury. "So even a royal wish couldn't restore your lost blessing, could it?"
She said nothing. The silence was answer enough.
His aura flared gold, his anger boiling over — but Camelia's expression turned from shock to joy. "You've awakened! Perfect. That will make this much easier."
She stepped out of the circle and embraced him. Sol closed his eyes, a wave of helplessness washing over him.
"You'll lose your blessing," he said quietly.
"I know."
"You'll lose your power."
"I know."
"You'll lose your title."
"I know."
"You'll lose everything."
"No," she whispered, lifting her gaze to meet his. Then, with a faint smile, she kissed him lightly. "I'll still have you. Or…" she teased, "would you throw me away once I'm useless?"
His heart ached as he held her tighter. "Never."
'What have I done to deserve such women?' he thought.
"Sol…" she murmured, cheeks tinged pink. "The ritual still needs one last thing. After all, we serve both Chastity and Lust. So…"
"Oh." Understanding dawned on him.
He hadn't been in the mood — but holding her, feeling her warmth, that restraint began to crumble. His body reacted before his mind could protest.
"Hehe," she giggled. "Looks like someone's happy to see me. But we'll have to wait."
Taking his hand, she guided him back into the hexagram. The moment his foot touched the pattern, the crimson symbols flared alive.
Her voice echoed softly, empowered by her remaining mana.
"We need your blood to complete it."
A golden ceremonial dagger appeared in her hand. She handed it to him silently. Without hesitation, Sol took it, cut his palm, and clenched his fist.
A single drop of blood fell.
Drip.
"I, Camelia Castitas, Supreme Daughter of Chastity, beseech the goddesses to hear my plea — on behalf of Sol Luxuria, Crown Prince and future King of Lustburg."
The hexagram blazed from scarlet to radiant gold.
A blinding light engulfed them both. The air trembled with divine authority. The entire capital fell still — all eyes turning toward the pillar of light rising from the church.
Every soul, whether noble or common, bowed instinctively before th
at overwhelming power.
And then, in the midst of the silence, a voice — sweet, celestial, absolute — echoed in both their minds:
[We are listening.]