Alice’s work within the church mostly involved acting as a mascot, using her status to ensure the church’s authority.
Theoretically, that was the case.
But the church strictly controlled the amount of time Alice appeared in front of people.
So, most of her time in the church was actually spent studying…
To date, Saint Alice and Holy Sword User Diana were the only two humans with light affinity.
Alice’s profession was naturally White Magic.
It was just a pity that in her second month of being chosen as the Holy Maiden, Elibol, the strongest White Magic user in history and Lilith’s grandfather, unfortunately, died as a martyr.
Alice had also applied to enroll in Sibyl Magic Academy, but unfortunately, her application was unanimously rejected.
The mess she left behind from secretly selling indulgence tickets behind the church’s back still hadn’t been cleaned up.
Since she was the first Holy Maiden to appear in a thousand years after the Holy War, the number of pilgrims had surged in recent years.
Therefore, hundreds, even thousands, of travelers queued up daily for Alice in the main hall…
She could always spot the wealthiest person in the vast crowd at a glance:
“Do you have anything to confess? Is every penny of yours clean and holy?”
“Your next life will be plagued by poverty and suffering, but if you leave your money with Alice, it will surely be returned to you in the afterlife.”
“Gold is heavy because it is the devil’s shackles.”
The nuns only had to take their eyes off Alice for a minute, and she would rake in a fortune.
The cardinals couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if she were sent to a school…
Aside from that, everyone liked Alice; after all, she was God’s beloved daughter, and her healing smile always made people feel especially at ease.
The twilight dyed the Gothic spires a honey color, and the stained glass refracted violet halos.
White doves swept past the bronze lintel, carrying the lingering echoes of evening prayers as they flew towards the gilded dome.
After a day of study, Alice took off her tall triple crown and prepared to get into her carriage to return to her residence…
Just then, a silver-haired girl suddenly entered her line of sight:
“Alice! Wait a moment…”
The girl’s clear call, carried by the evening breeze, swept across the stone steps.
Her hair gently swayed in the wind, her porcelain-white skin showed a faint pink flush, and her delicate features carried a hint of stubbornness.
Her legs, encased in black stockings, gleamed with a satiny sheen beneath her plaid skirt, and the crisp tapping of her small leather shoes on the ground startled the perching sparrows.
“Miss, is there anything I can help you with?”
Alice turned her head, a warm and pleasant smile on her face, but the silver-haired girl opposite her retorted:
“I’m a man!”
“This young Mister?”
“It’s me! Fafner!”
Fafner, his face flushed, stamped his foot in exasperation.
Alice looked him up and down, then nodded thoughtfully:
“Hmm? Prince Fafner, you really are a girl, aren’t you?”
“I’m a man! It was that vulgar Mil who made me wear this!”
Fafner’s voice suddenly rose, tinged with a hint of angry embarrassment. His chest rose and fell slightly, his silver hair swaying gently with his movements, shimmering with Shattered Light in the setting sun.
“You’re not allowed to speak ill of Brother Mil! Otherwise, Alice won’t talk to you anymore.”
Alice’s expression darkened, her tone showing a hint of displeasure, and Fafner could only lower his head:
“S-sorry…”
“Do you have anything else?”
“Wait a moment! I’m just not an adult yet. When we male dragons mature, we are very brave and very hot-blooded!”
“Oh…”
Alice Shrink pulled in her neck, once again looking Fafner up and down, but in her mind, she pictured a muscular man wearing a JK skirt…
Fafner, however, steeled himself and continued:
“Miss Alice, would you like to have dinner with me next week?”
“No! Alice doesn’t like boys like you.”
Alice shook her head, taking half a step back, her eyes full of disdain.
Looking at Alice’s golden eyes, dazzling like gold and brilliant like jewels, Fafner was enchanted, his eyes full of longing and infatuation.
He thought for a moment, feeling it might be due to his personality, so he mustered his courage and asked again:
“Then what kind do you like?”
“I like someone like Brother Mil.”
Hearing this, Fafner’s expression became very unpleasant, but he gritted his teeth, made up his mind, and said in a deep voice:
“Good! I understand… I will become a man like Mil!”
He stomped his foot abruptly, the hem of his skirt fluttering in the sunset and gentle breeze, a resolute expression appearing on his tender cheek.
…
On the other side…
Mil arrived at a very peculiar place—
The Adventurer’s Association.
This is where various commissions are often posted, such as investigating ancient ruins or venturing into demon lairs.
At the same time, it is also one of the largest taverns in the Holy City, open 24 hours a day.
Aged wine stains clung to the bronze doorknob, and pushing the door open, a roar of noise hit him like a hot wave, mixed with the strong scent of ale, roasted meat, and sweat.
The moment Mil entered, he was almost deafened by the clamor.
Oak wine barrels were stacked like towers in the corner, and chandeliers reflected the amber ale, making it look like flowing gold.
Burly dwarf warriors slammed their fists on tables as if their lives depended on it, though despite carrying a greatsword, one might even be a Magician…
There were slender Assassin Cat-girls, seasoned Elf Rangers, and a White Magic user who had been expelled from the church.
In the game, the Adventurer’s Association represented the entire campaign line, a special battle mode where a small number of heroic units faced off against large armies.
Although this place was generally unrelated to nobles, there were some priceless treasures that, if Mil didn't proactively seek them out, would likely fetch astronomical prices at an auction.
In Mil’s memory, there should be a dragon heart slumbering in a certain ruin.
Unfortunately, Mil had no map and didn’t know the exact location.
Otherwise, he could just bring a group of mercenaries or knights and charge in to get it over with.
Of course, besides the dragon heart, there were many other valuable treasures, those that could influence the entire world’s direction, which were also made into campaigns.
Finding even one of them would not be a loss for Mil.
However, before that, he first needed to register as an adventurer to facilitate his future actions.
To prevent unnecessary trouble, Mil chose to use a disguise spell and a mask to conceal his identity.
He approached the counter, where Receptionist Miss was sitting on a small stool, reading a novel.
Mil gently tapped on the tabletop and said:
“Hello, I’d like to register.” His low voice cut through the noise.
“Mm, the form is on the table. Can you write? Take it and fill it out yourself first.”
Receptionist Miss didn’t even lift her head, speaking in a perfunctory manner.
The form was to Mil’s right, with a cheap quill pen in a horn inkwell.
After Mil picked up the form, he first looked it over, but then he saw a very out-of-place name in a row of profession choices:
“Dark Knight? What is this?”
If he remembered correctly, this wasn’t a human faction unit, but a characteristic unit of the demon race, like a Black Magician, belonging to the fallen.
They abandoned the search for the Holy Grail in their hearts, turning instead to seek the mire of the abyss.
Receptionist Miss still didn’t look up, lazily saying:
“You don’t need to worry about that; it’s a historical relic.”
“I’d like to know more about it.”
“If you ask me, I don’t know either. You’d probably have to ask the Guild Master.”
Mil sighed and wrote down his name—Juste Do It.
Motto: Just Do It.
Profession: Elemental Mage (Apprentice)
After quickly filling it out, he brought it to the counter:
“I’m done.”
At this point, Receptionist Miss reluctantly stood up, came to the counter, glanced at the form, and then let out a gasp:
“Oh my goodness, Sibyl Magic Academy?”
The surroundings instantly fell silent, and everyone turned to look at Mil with astonished expressions.
