It was true. His divine name was Zarthos.
Adrienne lowered her head in submission, her voice trembling. "M-My Lord, forgive me for failing to remember Your great name… It has been spoken in the legends of noble and royal families alike. They awaited Your return… You were the true guiding god, the one who protected this world…"
She spoke hurriedly, overwhelmed by excitement, her fear and the eerie atmosphere forgotten. Adrienne had always been fascinated by mysteries and the unknown. She had once dreamed of becoming a sorceress, but her family had forbidden it, deeming it too dangerous. Forced to abandon her ambitions, she had resigned herself to fate—until now.
According to legend, the Ascended King chose certain individuals, the Chosen, to inherit the path of magic. And now, the very god who had guided that king stood before her.
Could it be… that I was brought here because I was chosen?
The thought struck her like lightning. Overcome with anticipation, she blurted out:
"My Lord, can I learn magic? Can I become a sorceress?"
The words lingered in the air. It sounded familiar. A mortal yearning for power, seeking the path of magic…
Alaric cast a glance at her before speaking. "If you wish to become a sorceress, you can try joining one of the academies, the Sky Society, or the Cathedral."
Then, he paused, his gaze scrutinizing her. For a brief moment, there was something unsettling in his eyes, a predatory glint.
"But your situation is dire," he said finally. "Your veins are completely sealed. It will be almost impossible—unless you receive help from an eighth-circle sorcerer. And they are… rare. Give up on this path."
"…What do you mean my veins are sealed?" Adrienne asked, voice taut with urgency. This was the first time she had been able to speak so freely about magic, to discuss the possibility of becoming a sorceress.
Julius, too, was listening intently. Though he now inhabited the body of a man obsessed with magic, his own knowledge remained fragmented, his memories disjointed.
Alaric sighed. "It's simple. Humans fall into three categories.
"The first are those born with magic coursing freely through their veins. They are called kings.
"The second are those with lesser magic. Their veins are not entirely open, so they require the assistance of fourth- or fifth-circle sorcerers to gradually stimulate their bodies, allowing magic to flow. The process takes time—one, maybe two years of daily effort—and even then, it is not always successful.
"And then… there is the third category."
He exhaled. "You belong to this group. A person born with no magic at all. Your veins are completely sealed, and as you age, impurities build up inside them, solidifying over time. Without magic flowing through, the passageways remain blocked. Some theories suggest that eighth-circle sorcerers can cleanse their bodies of these impurities, but due to their rarity, this remains unproven.
"But you…" His tone grew colder. "You're already in your twenties. Your body is filled with impurities. I can't help you. Just… abandon the idea."
Adrienne's expression darkened. The thrill of discussing the arcane had been intoxicating, but this? This was not what she had wanted to hear.
Yet—
"There may be… one possibility."
Alaric's words snapped her back to attention.
"What? A possibility? But didn't you say only an eighth-circle sorcerer could help? Do you know one?" Her voice wavered between hope and desperation.
Alaric smirked and turned toward Julius. "Perhaps the one claiming to be a god can do it—since he was the one who summoned us here."
The thought struck Adrienne like a thunderbolt. If he truly was the Forgotten God, the Ascended King of legend, then perhaps… perhaps he really could do it.
Her mind raced. She still didn't understand why she had been summoned alongside Alaric, but if this was her only chance, she would take it.
Falling to her knees, her voice quivering with devotion, she pleaded:
"My Lord, can you cleanse my body of impurities so that I may learn magic? You are my last hope. Please, I will serve you with unwavering faith!"
Alaric's gaze flickered toward Julius, narrowing slightly.
Show me your true nature.
He wasn't fooled by the talk of divinity. No, if his instincts were correct, then Julius was simply an eighth-circle sorcerer playing god. The nonsense about divinity… was just that. Nonsense.
I'll play along… Let's see how he handles this girl's request.
Meanwhile, Julius was deep in thought.
She is offering faith in exchange for purification… A reasonable deal. But can I actually do it?
If I think about it logically, Alaric described the process as simply flooding the body with enough energy to break open the sealed veins. It requires immense power.
But if it's just a matter of energy…
Julius clenched his fingers slightly.
I possess the power of the Five Kings. A divine force beyond measure.
After organizing his thoughts, he spoke.
"I can grant your request."
His voice reverberated through the grand hall, echoing like a divine decree.
"R-Really, My Lord?!" Adrienne's breath hitched. Could this truly be happening?
"…However," Julius continued, his tone calm yet solemn, "your faith must be sincere. Only those with true belief will receive my blessing. The hypocrites, the faithless, will be denied."
A chilling aura spread through the room, creeping into the very bones of Adrienne and Alaric.
Then, Julius slowly raised his hand from the shadows of his grand throne. The darkness around him obscured much of his form, making him seem both omnipresent and unknowable.
This concept of true faith—it was a convenient excuse. If he failed, he could simply claim her belief had not been genuine.
Focusing his mind, he willed the forbidden throne's power to respond.
I desire to cleanse this girl of impurities and grant her the path of magic.
At that moment, the celestial hall trembled.
Julius's eyes widened slightly.
What's happening?
Adrienne collapsed under the weight of the vibrations, while Alaric instinctively drew his sword.
This power… It's unnatural. It surpasses my understanding. Damn it, what's happening here?!
Adrienne's body began to glow.
She gasped. What's happening to me?
Energy surged through her like crashing waves, her body lifting off the ground as light radiated from her eyes.
Alaric was frozen in place, watching in disbelief. This… This is beyond my level. Is he truly purifying her? But that should be impossible without a proper ritual…
Then, from the depths of his memory, a voice resurfaced.
"Alaric, do you believe in gods?"
"…If I did, they would have answered me twenty years ago."
"Oh? And what did you ask for, you little brat?"
"Forget about me. Do you believe in gods?"
"…Hah! No, I don't. But—" He had laughed and taken a deep drink before continuing. "If someone could wield magic without rituals, I might start believing. Even eighth-circle sorcerers require rituals."
Reality snapped back into focus.
Alaric stared at Adrienne, who floated mid-air, engulfed by a sea of arcane energy. Dark impurities seeped from her skin like ink dissolving in water.
He's actually cleansing her… And without a ritual.
His lips parted, but no words came.
The truth he had once dismissed—one he had rejected for so long—now stood before him, undeniable.
A whisper escaped his lips, filled with sorrow, filled with awe.
"…There really is a god in this world."