Witch Monastery

Among the witches, Hattie was voluptuous while Sephera possessed a slender waist—but both shared the same statuesque height.

Now, standing in the doorway with the sun at their backs, they cast long shadows across the room, covering the two figures on the floor—their fingers still tightly intertwined.

Seeing the newcomers, Charles and Anno sprang apart like scalded cats, scrambling to their feet in flustered disarray.

While Anno merely blushed crimson, Charles' heart hammered against his ribs!

Damn it! Just yesterday I swore I harbored no such desires toward Anno, and now we're caught red-handed!

This... this...

His scalp prickled as he forced out an explanation: "Lady Anno and I were sparring. I may have... overexerted. Though we both learned much from the exchange..."

Truthful, yet woefully inadequate under the circumstances.

Hattie's gentle smile never wavered. "I see. The Priest has VIP guests requiring... private tutelage these days."

"Our apologies for interrupting this special session. We'll inform Sister Sophia to reschedule today's agonizing blast practice—after you've finished... attending to Lady Anno."

With a slight curtsy, she made to leave.

Beads of sweat formed on Charles' brow, but before he could speak, Anno abruptly declared: "Unnecessary, Sister Hattie. Priest Charles, please tend to your duties. I've been absent too long."

Head bowed, cheeks burning, she nearly fled toward the exit—her thoughts too tangled to parse.

Charles watched her retreating figure helplessly when Hattie commanded: "Sephera, escort Lady Anno."

Sephera hesitated momentarily, but unwilling to challenge Hattie's authority publicly, acquiesced with a stiff nod—swallowing this subtle defeat as she followed Anno out.

With their departure, the vast Training Grounds held only Charles and Hattie.

Charles rubbed his nose awkwardly before muttering: "It truly happened as I said. She came to deliver that spellbook I commissioned... I merely offered a tour... That moment was completely accidental."

Hattie chuckled, linking arms with him. "I never doubted you, Master. Even if you lied, you'd have good reasons for discretion."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Our trust in you transcends all worlds."

Moved, Charles stroked her hair—until Hattie's tone shifted slyly: "Starting tomorrow, I'll increase your meat intake to improve constitution."

"And we should intensify physical training. Unlike us, Lady Anno's a paladin conditioned by daily drills. Should your stamina prove inadequate... well, a man's pride suffers in such situations."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Your foresight astounds me, Hattie."

Instantly, her voice dripped honeyed venom: "How telling that you didn't deny it this time."

"'Respect'? More like wanting to worship her between bedsheets, no?"

Charles gaped.

Goddammit! Hattie was fishing all along!

And I took the bait!

Watching Hattie's smugly curling lips, he sighed: "Fine... explanations are pointless now."

"But yes... let's schedule that endurance training."

...

Monastery Doorway

Sephera escorted Anno to the monastery's entrance before halting, her smile polite yet distant.

"Lady Anno, forgive me, but given our station, we cannot accompany you further. The rest of your journey must be made alone."

Anno nodded, her composure now regained. As she prepared to take her leave, she hesitated, then—with an almost naive curiosity—asked:

"Ah, Miss Sephera, if I may… what does Priest Charles enjoy? Beyond spellbooks, I mean. Surely, even he must have some pastimes…?"

Sephera, who had been about to turn away, froze mid-step. Flames of indignation flickered behind her eyes.

So this woman really does have designs on Master!

Churches imposed varying constraints upon their clergy—and the Goddess of Life was famously lenient. She scarcely restricted her followers, even encouraging lovestruck believers to pursue romance during divine manifestations, celebrating life's pleasures.

Were it not for the public's broad assumption that nuns must remain unwed (and that those who took vows had forsaken earthly love), suitors for the Goddess of Life's devotees would form lines stretching to the sea.

While ordinary folk might not grasp such nuances, Anno certainly knew. That was why she dared ask so boldly, oblivious to the subtle tension between Charles and the sisters.

In her innocence, Anno believed their bond purely pious—never suspecting the undercurrents of rivalry.

Sephera seethed inwardly, yet her expression remained flawless as she turned back with a practiced smile.

"My apologies, but I couldn't say. The Priest's days are spent in study and training, nothing more."

She spoke truth—after all, "day after day" perfectly described monastery life.

Anno sighed, impressed.

"Priest Charles lives with the discipline of an ascetic monk!"

Reaching this conclusion, Anno's reverence for Charles swelled even deeper. Meanwhile, Sephera wore a smile, her heart seething with venom—until it spilled forth in mocking words:

"Indeed. This was our very purpose for joining the monastery, wasn't it?"

"After all, our Strength is so pitiful. If we neglect our training, gallivanting about and fraternizing with outsiders, what then? When monsters next emerge, we'll fall in battle—only to be trussed up by cultists in most undignified postures!"

Her words were daggers aimed at Anno's scars. She longed to voice cruder, bolder taunts—to provoke the maiden paladin into unseemly fury.

Yet, mindful of the monastery's reputation, she choked back the venom, swallowing every unspeakable syllable.

Alas, Anno—now wholly preoccupied with pondering what gift to bring Charles next—missed every poisoned nuance. She took Sephera's words at face value: This sister is emphasizing Priest Charles's hardships. Her heart ached; her brow furrowed softly. Then—a spark in her mind.

If he trained so relentlessly with sword and shield, his life so arduous, his frame so frail… why not bring him nourishing food next time?

The thought lit her face with clarity. She beamed at Sephera. "Thank you for the reminder, Sister Sephera. I'll take my leave now—until we meet again!"

With that, she spun and hurried off. Sephera's polite smile held until the paladin vanished—then twisted into bafflement.

What just happened? Did she understand me?

If she did, how could she smile?

If she didn't… what exactly did I 'remind' her of?

Uncertainty churned within her—a tempest of confusion and unease.

...

Several more days passed.

After receiving the spellbook from Anno, Charles adjusted his schedule. He skimmed through the entire tome and couldn't help but marvel—though the highest-level spells within were only of the 5th circle, their sheer number surpassed his expectations.

Had he tried to purchase this on the open market, even 2000 gold might not have been enough.

To put it in perspective, a skilled laborer in Liberl Port earned barely 60 gold a month. A modest 80-square-meter home in the South Harbor District rarely cost more than 1000 gold.

Yet Anno had gifted him this priceless spellbook without a second thought. Truly, the gap between Liberl Port's upper echelons and its underbelly was as vast as heaven and earth.

With a sigh, Charles revised his study plan, deciding to master a few 2nd-circle spells before anything else.

At present, his only mastered 2nd-circle spell was Gust of Wind. While he could upcast his 1st-circle spells, they still paled in comparison to true 2nd-circle magic.

For a spellcaster of the 4th level, this was downright embarrassing.

Moreover, the book appeared to have been written by a mage well-versed in adventuring. From Charles's perspective, it contained nearly every practical, battle-tested spell imaginable—learning them would swiftly bolster his combat prowess.

Add to that Sophia's warning that Agonizing Blast was particularly challenging to master, and he promptly shelved his original plan. A few 2nd-circle spells first!

However, mastering 2nd-circle spells proved far more difficult than their 1st-circle counterparts. Even with the dual advantages of Eyes of the Rune Keeper and the 2nd-tier scriptorium, it took him a full week to finally learn one.

Blur.

The spell's effect was simple: it rendered his silhouette hazy, causing him to flicker indistinctly in the eyes of others for 1 minute. This made him exponentially harder to hit—another invaluable defensive tool.

Of course, against foes who relied on senses beyond sight—warriors trained in blindsight, bats navigating by ultrasonic echoes, or oozes perceiving through other means—the spell's utility dwindled. But in the material world, its battlefield value remained undeniable.

"Not bad…"

After mastering it, Charles cast Blur on himself and examined the results in a mirror. Watching his own form waver like a mirage, he gave a satisfied nod.

With this, combined with Mage Armor and the 2nd-circle False Life, ordinary weapons could hardly touch him.

Even against something like a heavy crossbow, layering Armor of Agathys on top would ensure near-impenetrable defense!

The only downside? The mana cost of this protective suite was… steep.

Well, improving his Constitution wouldn't happen overnight. He'd have to make do.

Suppressing his own greed, Charles glanced at the spellbook on his desk and sighed.

A single 2nd-circle spell had taken him a week to master. But what of 3rd-circle spells? 6th? 9th?

At this rate, a single spell might take an eternity!

Ah, how he envied proper wizards—they merely needed to transcribe spells into their spellbooks to wield them in battle, without the agony of memorizing every arcane syllable. Their efficiency dwarfed his own!

Alas, such was the price of choosing the Pact of the Blade for balanced combat strength.

He'd chosen this path. Now, he'd grit his teeth and walk it to the end.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, a new mosquito flitted in through the window—undoubtedly one of Andny's apostles. Spotting the tiny messenger from the corner of his eye, Charles felt a flicker of anticipation.

Who's seeking me out this time?

Please let it be Anno. Anyone but Porter. Though if Porter's here to pay the house deposit in advance… well, she's welcome too.

Who doesn't love a money-bearing guest?

But as the mosquito alighted on his ear, the message it carried shattered his hopes:

"Master! Hide—Theresa's back!"

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