The sky was a flawless, scrubbed cerulean. Sunlight spilled generously into every corner of the Holy Sanctum, warming even the deepest stone crevices. The training ground outside the Indoctrination Hall was glaringly bright, the air dry and fragrant with the scent of sun-baked grass and earth. It was as if the recent conspiracies, crises, and energy disturbances had all been an illusion.
Erika stood among a group of novice clerics in identical white training robes, soaking in the unaccustomed, almost lulling warmth. Most of his classmates looked relaxed, their faces still holding traces of holiday excitement and languor from the recent festivities. They chatted in low voices about the celebrations, clearly still basking in the afterglow. This serene, cloudless scene stood in sharp, disorienting contrast to the tumultuous memories of the previous day swirling in Erika's mind, creating a sense of unreality.
Just then, the mountainous figure of Instructor Wolfgang appeared at the head of the training ground. He wore his usual crisp uniform, his stern face a stark contrast to the leisurely atmosphere. His sharp gaze swept over the assembly like cold water dousing embers, and the faint murmurs died instantly.
"It seems a few days of celebration have softened your bones and scattered your focus," Wolfgang's voice, though not loud, carried clearly to every ear, brooking no argument. "The Holy Light tolerates no slackness. Today: endurance training."
No theory, no energy guidance. Only the purest, most fundamental physical conditioning.
As the order was given, the training ground erupted in suppressed groans and the dull thuds of bodies meeting the ground. Wolfgang's standards were merciless; the slightest imperfection in form earned his icy stare and heavier punishment.
Erika moved with the group, striving to complete each command. His body was far less conditioned than those of the Capital-born nobles trained from childhood, and soon his muscles burned and his breath grew ragged. Sweat soaked his training robes, dripping onto the sun-warmed flagstones and vanishing instantly.
Yet, within this extreme fatigue, his mind remained acutely clear. He noticed Wolfgang's gaze occasionally settling on him—no longer the complex, warning look from the corridor yesterday, but a pure, severe assessment of his performance. As if none of yesterday's events had ever occurred.
This normal training, this ordinary sunshine, Wolfgang's business-like attitude… it was all so normal it felt suspicious.
Was the emergency meeting about Cecilia, the black-clad clerics, the energy crisis just a collective hallucination? Or had the raging undercurrents been firmly suppressed beneath this veneer of mundane routine?
As he mechanically executed the movements, he watched from the corner of his eye. He saw his classmates flustered and complaining under Wolfgang's pressure, concerned only with the immediate ordeal, clearly oblivious to the deeper turmoil. The Holy Sanctum was like a massive iceberg, and novices like him only saw the sunlit part above the water.
During a break, he leaned against a stone pillar at the edge of the ground, catching his breath. His gaze drifted instinctively toward the distant women's training sector where Anna was. He wondered about the outcome of her assessment. Had his risky "guidance" worked? Had it drawn unwanted attention?
The sun remained bright, scorching his skin. Wolfgang's bark rang out again,催促ing them into the next round.
Erika drew a sharp breath of the hot air, forcibly suppressing his churning thoughts, and merged back into the training line. He knew this calm was superficial, a brief lull before the storm. He had to use this seemingly ordinary day to gather strength, because when the shadows fell again, he could not afford to struggle and fear as helplessly as before.
He lowered his head and continued the grueling exercises under Wolfgang's relentless drive, like a young beast honing its claws and fangs beneath the sun.
The afternoon sun finally showed signs of fatigue, its heat diminishing as training drew to a close. Instructor Wolfgang looked coldly at the exhausted, nearly collapsing novice clerics before him and finally dismissed them.
The group scattered with relief, dragging their weary bodies away in twos and threes. Erika wiped sweat and grime from his face with his sleeve and was about to follow when a light, slightly shy voice called out to him.
"Erika!"
He turned to see Anna hurrying over, her arms laden with several thick texts. Her fair cheeks were flushed from running and excitement, her blue eyes sparkling in the late afternoon light—a world away from the desperate girl in the examination hall the day before.
"Great, I caught you!" she said, slightly breathless, stopping before him with a brilliant, unreserved smile of gratitude. "About yesterday afternoon… really, thank you so much!"
She glanced around, ensuring no one was paying them particular attention, then lowered her voice, her tone a mix of lingering fear and wonder. "I was completely panicked, my mind went blank, and I just couldn't solidify it… I don't know how it happened, I was just praying desperately in my heart, and then… I just thought of you…"
Her cheeks reddened further, and she looked down, slightly embarrassed, her fingers unconsciously twisting the tie on one of the books. "I… I didn't mean to bother you with 'that'… it's just, when I thought of you, the thought sort of… sent itself." She was referring to the Mind-voice, clearly both confused and uneasy about the ability's involuntary activation.
"But then," she looked up, her eyes bright again, "I tried the method you told me… It felt a bit different from what the teachers taught, but it worked!" Her voice was jubilant. "When the proctor checked it, he looked at it a few extra times and said my Mark structure, while 'deviating slightly from the standard paradigm, demonstrated exceptionally stable energy flow and optimal anchoring'!"
She mimicked the proctor's stern tone, then couldn't help laughing again, as if a great weight had lifted. "Anyway, I passed! Erika, you're my lucky star!"
Seeing her pure, joyful smile, the tension and guilt Erika felt over yesterday's risk-taking seemed to ease slightly. He nodded faintly. "I'm glad you passed."
"Mm!" Anna nodded vigorously, then remembered something and shoved the heaviest tome from her pile into Erika's hands. "This… is the Guide to Basic Energy Channeling I promised to lend you. It has lots of foundational models and annotations. I hope it helps!"
The book was heavy in his hands, still warm from having been held close. Looking at Anna's sincere, open smile, Erika felt a pang. In this perilous Sanctum, such pure gratitude and kindness felt precious, yet… so fragile.
"Thank you," he said softly, accepting the text.
"I have to go now! Need to tidy the scripture room!" Anna waved, hugged the remaining books, and turned away, her white novice robes fluttering slightly in the evening breeze as she hurried off.
Erika stood for a moment, watching her retreating figure. The weight of the book in his hands contrasted sharply with the cold backup circuit hidden in his robe. Anna's crisis was temporarily averted, but he knew his own was just beginning. The proctor's comment about the "slight deviation" pricked at his mind like a tiny thorn.
The serene day was ending, but beneath the coming night, hidden currents never ceased. Clutching the book, he turned and melted into the dispersing crowd, his shadow stretching long in the setting sun.
The sun vanished completely below the horizon, and the lights of the Sanctum flickered on, casting great shadows between the streets and alleys. Erika followed the dispersing crowd mechanically toward the refectory. The noise, the smell of food, the chatter of companions—all felt distant, muffled, as if behind thick glass.
He sat on a bench, eating his allotted meal without tasting it. His mind felt hollow, plagued by a strange, persistent sense of suspension.
Was there… something important he needed to do?
His hand, holding the spoon, paused. He frowned, trying hard to recall. Cultivation? No. Research? Not quite. Some vague, pressing notion floated in the depths of his mind, but he couldn't grasp its shape.
He shook his head, finally attributing it to sheer exhaustion from the day's physical training. After eating, he cleaned his utensils, then followed the inertia of his body, walking blankly back to his small quarters.
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing out the last sounds from outside. He leaned back against it and slid slowly to the floor, not bothering to light a lamp. The room was illuminated only by the faint, perpetual glow of the Sanctum from the window, outlining the vague shapes of the furniture.
Bewildered, Erika recalled, a bewildering day, passed so bewilderingly.
The festival's revelry, the mystery of the black-clad clerics, Anna's plea for help, the Silent One's coldness, the technical brother's complaints, Wolfgang's reprimands, Anna's smile… All these images and sounds spun and flashed in his vacant mind like shards of broken mirror, refusing to coalesce into any coherent meaning.
He felt he had done much, yet accomplished nothing. He had learned many secrets, yet felt further from the truth than ever. A profound, anchorless weariness, born not of body but of spirit, washed over him like a tide.
He sat like that in the dark, letting time slip by, until the regular footsteps of the patrol guards outside finally made him realize, dully, that this long and chaotic day was finally, completely over.
He climbed onto his bed, staring at the unchanging patterns on the ceiling until his consciousness grew hazy.
Just before sinking fully into sleep, an exceedingly faint, almost forgotten sensation emanated from the inner lining of his robe—the cold, hard shape of the backup circuit from the technical brother.
It lay there silently, like an unread riddle, a story yet to begin.