Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

The girl was somewhat surprised at the sudden change of face of the Saintess before her, but she did not panic. She stayed silent, pondering quietly for several seconds.

"Didn't Feruceline say earlier that my origin could not be detected?" This statement should not have been a lie.

"Indeed, the inability to detect the origin is what is surprising," Feruceline replied.

"All Angels slumbering in the Aijeika Sea have names, a total of 365, each of whom I know, each of whose status I understand. But among them, none match your condition."

"Yet you are indeed of Angel's form, in body, mind, and Soul Form," Feruceline's golden eyes seemed to burn as she gazed tranquilly at Hexia.

"Too flawless and perfect, unlike anything born naturally," she said and gently shook her head.

"Besides the Angel's Descent Ceremony, there is another group of people capable of creating Soul Forms akin to Angels. This is the prototype of the Black Sun."

"In essence, both the Black Sun and the Solar Crowns of the glorious era operate on the same principles, yet the Black Suns are not the four great Primordial Souls. They cannot withstand the spiritual impacts of hundreds of billions or trillions of beings and must prune the foundation of the Throne of God, simplifying the spiritual consciousness of their subordinate 'newborn races', making it easier to manipulate and control."

"Sadly, no matter how resilient one's convictions may be, they cannot withstand the assimilation of billions of spiritual prayers. Artificial Soul Forms are ultimately not the four Primordial Souls, and the Black Sun's light cannot brighten the entire Milky Way. They will eventually be consumed by the creeds they themselves created, becoming tragically divine dead objects."

"The reason Angels slumber in the depths of the Aijeika Sea is to avoid such assimilation by prayers, showcasing this gathered prayer power only through the descent of a portion of their abilities."

"The reason you haven't noticed anything unusual is merely because you haven't reached your own limits," Feruceline shook her head.

"Abandon the identity of the Songstress and stay here for the rest of your life. I will ensure the cult reserves a position for you."

"What if I leave, what will happen?"

"You will gradually, through the influence of the Songstress, spontaneously gather the prayers of countless sentient beings until one day, the mechanism as a Black Sun is triggered in you, raising a new Solar Crown. But that is destined to be the beginning of tragedy."

"Thank you for telling me all this, but what if I refuse to stay?"

"Since I dare to tell these things to Hexia, it's because I don't want to be deceitful or dishonorable, and also because I am confident I can keep you here," Feruceline raised the Golden Staff, and the golden Light Sand enveloping the entire hall began to flow as if surrounded by billions of stars around the two.

The world seemed to melt here, everything becoming a flowing liquid.

At this moment, gravity and space became distorted, resembling underwater currents interwoven, where everything lost its original direction.

The girl gently shook her head, pulling back her hood, gazing with clear blue eyes at the singing Saintess before her. A longsword of transparent azure crystal took form in her hand, while at her brow, A Plume of Blue Bird Feather also glistened and appeared.

Like the silhouette of a spreading phoenix, a phantom appeared behind the girl, and then she transformed into a flowing blue shadow, piercing directly at the Saintess with fiery hair and a long skirt.

However, the distance that could have been crossed in an instant now seemed like an insurmountable gap. The surrounding space was like flowing sand, with every movement meeting a sluggish resistance.

Facing the girl's attack, Feruceline held the Staff across her, her eyes slightly closed, reciting poetry that grew increasingly clear.

"I will become the vast, radiant flame."

"Dispel the confounding gloom."

"Safeguard the world's final order."

"No matter how many times."

"From within the night."

"From beneath all evil."

"From all hopelessness and chaos."

As her eyes reopened, sacred symbols blossomed within her gaze, three pairs of brilliant snow-white wings slowly unfurled from her back, and her aura surged, lifting her into the air.

Wings burning with soft red flames shimmered, reflecting a gentle golden light, so holy, and each feather's tip contained faint threads, disappearing into the space behind her, as if connecting to another world.

When she sang her hymn, a myriad of voices chorused together, like a giant bell tolling, causing the entire world to shine brightly.

The oppressive feeling from the high heavens made the girl feel burned just by gazing, a force far beyond that of Sequence 7 Transcendents, rare even among Sequence 8, and truly the peak of this world.

This is troublesome now, thought Tilan with a wry smile, she might really have to stay here.

But, given the current situation, it seems she can only pull out all her hidden abilities.

Truly unexpected, she didn't think she was a vessel of the Black Sun. However, this all seems to make sense now—why her father always kept a distance from the two. He probably knew some truth.

As Tilan made up her mind, an exceedingly hot and bright flame fell from the high heavens. Within the stream of fire, there were pure orange particles, each containing unimaginable heat and flame, with even the space surrounding the fire stream slightly distorted as it passed. If struck by such a stream, even creatures with a strong defense of Sequence 7 would evaporate on the spot.