Birth of the Sanctuary
Five days had passed since the oracle. The hut repairs were progressing smoothly. They’d torn off the old roof and replaced it with a new one crafted from felled and processed timber. They’d fixed the chair missing a leg and the bed with its mangled frame. All that remained was repairing the fence and stocking the interior with furnishings. At last, the hut was starting to look like a proper home, and a satisfied smile spread across Vera’s lips.
The shelter’s good enough now.
The fence could wait; he’d rebuild it later with the twins’ help. As for the furnishings, he’d already placed the order with Norn. With the urgent matters settled, a sense of calm settled in his chest—but only for a moment. Vera then stepped into the center of the open clearing in front of the hut.
Today...
Today was the day to test the framework of the holy spell arts he’d built over the past five days.
…That was right. The path Vera had chosen was holy spell arts.
He’d devoured the manual from Trevo, building a foundational understanding of divine spells, and experimented with various ways to integrate his power. But he’d reached a single conclusion: the Oath’s Stigma couldn’t be fused into martial techniques.
Unlike the twins’ straightforward “Indomitable” power, his lacked intuition, making it hard to apply directly to the body. Once a vow was set, it was inflexible during that time, unable to adapt to changing circumstances. This left the existing flaw unaddressed: no immediate feedback in combat.
To solve this, Vera turned to holy spell arts—specifically, to formations.
If applying it to the body was difficult, apply it externally instead. If immediate feedback was impossible, create an environment that didn’t require it.
By using a formation to imprint rules from his power onto the space itself, he could turn the surrounding area into a battlefield tailored to his advantage. That would resolve all those shortcomings.
The Oath’s Stigma was a power of rules. It turned a sworn vow into an unbreakable law, granting proportional strength in exchange. There was no reason such a power couldn’t be utilized this way, leveraging the very nature of those rules.
With the concept solidified, the next step had been crafting the formation to make it real. Fortunately, the necessary theory had come from studying the formation analyses Trevo had provided.
Over five days of racking his brain, he’d created this barrier formation. And now was its first demonstration.
Of course, his shallow knowledge meant it wasn’t highly refined. The rough edges would need gradual improvement, so for this test, Vera focused solely on activating the formation.
Vera drew a deep breath and unleashed the divinity pooled within him.
Infuse the divinity with the power.
At the thought, his divinity took on a gray hue. As Trevo had said, the process was remarkably simple. He just needed to route the divinity through the stigmata’s location as it flowed out.
Confirming the gray-tinged divinity, Vera gathered the strands dispersing around him.
Condense.
The most basic manipulation of divinity. The hazy smoke scattering in the air twisted together, forming several threads.
Now all the materials for the formation’s frame were ready. Without hesitation, Vera drew the threads before his chest.
The first step:
Fix the coordinates.
Anchor the formation’s scope to himself. He wove the longest thread into a circle.
Woooong—.
The divinity hummed. It swirled around Vera at its center.
Next: set the range.
Five paces.
About three meters. His capacity couldn’t yet extend to a wider area. Vera wove the longer threads circling him to draw the range formation.
The outermost circle handled coordinate fixing. At its center, in the empty space, sat the spherical core formation.
It resembled a planet with orbiting rings. The formation was complete.
Vera surveyed his surroundings once it was done.
Success.
The dispersing divinity now lingered within the set boundaries.
Now for the most crucial part: applying the power.
Vera envisioned the rule to imprint on this roughly three-meter-radius space. Stability was key, so he chose a regulation with minimal variables in a visible range.
“Within this area, all physical abilities increase by one tenth. However, no one may move faster than a falling leaf. Violators will have three tenths of their physical abilities stripped for ten minutes.”
Woooong—.
The formation vibrated. The gray divinity aligned, imprinting the power onto the space.
He’d weighted the penalty heavier than the gain because that was the nature of the Oath’s Stigma. Oaths demanded adherence. Thus, the penalty for breaking one had to exceed the reward.
Vera felt the space vibrate again as the power took hold, the formation’s activation drawing near. Only the finishing touch remained.
The short threads of divinity left over. Vera moved them to inscribe the formation’s master in the name of its owner.
“All these rules are hereby proclaimed in the name of Lushan.”
The binding force of the rules, guaranteed by a god’s name.
With that:
Whiiiish—.
A wind blew into the space, its flow distinctly slower than the surrounding breeze. Vera knew what it meant.
The incoming wind was violating the space’s rule.
It worked!
A thrilling rush shot up his spine. Vera didn’t suppress the smile rising on his lips; he scanned the area with a grin.
It wasn’t just the wind. Flying leaves and insects too—everything breaching the rule moved a beat slower inside than out.
Strictly speaking, it was a failure. The effect had spilled over to non-living things. True, loose wording had caused it, but at root, it was the uncontrolled power surging freely.
Still, this was an error within fixable range through refinement. Rather than dwell on the minor flaw, Vera chose to revel in the success.
Suddenly, an image flashed in his mind: the Holy Emperor cackling mockingly at him. Vera’s smile deepened at the thought.
Now he had something to shove back at that old coot.
“The Guidance Apostle has returned.”
Norn’s report. In the clearing before the hut, Vera—mid-adjustment on the formation—suddenly recalled a fact he’d shoved aside amid his fixation.
“Ah, the one overseeing the oracle?”
“Yes. He said to prepare, as the oracle will be held tomorrow.”
The oracle. The ritual receiving the gods’ trials, always presided over by the Guidance Apostles across generations. It required the power of Bolar, the god called the Traveler’s God, to connect the divine realm and the mortal world.
Vera’s oracle had been delayed a week because the Guidance Apostle had been dispatched externally; they’d waited for his return.
Vera nodded faintly at Norn’s words, then voiced his rising curiosity.
“What’s the Guidance Apostle like?”
An obvious question for Vera. Consider the apostles he’d met here: a drunkard, a madman, a cranky old geezer. All deviants outside the norm. Prejudices had taken root, so his tone carried a hint of suspicion.
“…Well.”
Norn flinched. Panic etched his face. His words stuttered, trailing awkwardly.
From the reaction, Vera grasped it instantly.
…Another lunatic.
The Guidance Apostle was no exception. More stress incoming.
Irritation crept onto Vera’s face. Norn, hesitating long, averted his eyes and continued in a troubled tone.
“…He’s a cheerful fellow.”
Vera swallowed the retort that cheerfulness and mania were distinct realms. He wasn’t fool enough to blame Norn for the man’s eccentricity.
The next day, at noon on the appointed oracle day, Vera headed to the Great Temple’s chapel and found Trevo at prayer.
“Trevo.”
Trevo’s head lifted mid-prayer. Spotting Vera, he beamed and greeted him.
“Ah, Vera. Here for the oracle?”
“Yes. Where do I go?”
“Follow me. I need to observe too, so we can go together.”
“…You’re observing as well?”
“Ah, didn’t I explain? The oracle is a mandatory attendance for all apostles remaining in the Holy Kingdom.”
His explanation continued. Vera’s body tensed.
“…All of them?”
The thought of those people gathered in one place made his neck prickle.
Trevo, oblivious to the oddity, nodded with his usual enthusiasm.
“Yes. The Apostles of Love and Abundance are on external dispatch, so absent, and the seats of God’s Saint and Repose are vacant. That leaves five of us this time. Hmm, now that you mention it, this generation has unusually many apostles. Normally, five per era is rare.”
His words flowed on. Vera nodded without retort, lost in thought.
Vacancies...
Fifteen years from now, with the Demon King War, every seat would fill. Four years hence, Rene would receive God’s Stigma. Six years after, the Repose Apostle would appear. Judgment’s seat would fill post-Vargo, amid the war’s peak.
Of course, not all would fight. Vera himself had dodged it. Trevo the Wisdom Apostle, this Guidance Apostle he’d meet—figures like the yet-unmet Love Apostle would defend the kingdom internally during the war, staying unknown.
That explained the info gaps.
Mid-thought, Vera glanced at Trevo, still chattering to himself.
Barrier guardianship, was it?
The duty of Wisdom Apostles across generations. Only now did he understand why Trevo had been unknown in his past life. The Guidance and Love Apostles likely had similar roles.
Suddenly, frustration welled in his chest. Despite living one life and knowing nearly every continental event, info on the Holy Kingdom was scarce, hobbling his edge.
With such limits, he couldn’t firmly plan for Rene’s future trials or their solutions.
His brow furrowed at the realization. Trevo finally noticed Vera’s off mood.
“Vera? Are you unwell?”
“No. Just tense.”
“Ah! I can relate, then. It reminds me of my first oracle. As a Magic Tower apprentice, the stigmata descended out of nowhere—that awe, that blessing. On oracle day, it all crashed over me like a wave, shaking my heart. I couldn’t help but weep...”
His ramble continued. Vera’s face twisted in annoyance, but Trevo, immersed, didn’t notice.
For the first time in ages, Vera felt the urge to sew someone’s mouth shut.