Anvey

We reached the temple’s heavy stone doors—both shut, with a thick crust of filth caked at the threshold like they hadn’t been opened in months.

“Follow me, Timaeus. We need to use one of the side entrances.”

We stepped inside through a creaking side door that Elsbeth unlocked with a thin iron key.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, already tugging her hood off. “The main hall still has its charm, but we mostly use the kitchens and study rooms now.” A shy giggle escaped her. “And the big doors are too heavy and the hinges too rusted to push.”

I shook my head. “I’m not here to judge.”

She smiled at that, walking ahead to push open the wooden inner door.

“Everything on this layer has seen better days after all,” I said.

The air inside was thick with incense and old stone. The rows of benches were weathered but orderly, and the vaulted ceiling above us was like a painted sky. Light filtered through the dust in shafts, and all the lit mana lanterns gave the cathedral a warm, but eerie glow. The shadows the lights cast seemed deeper than usual, and made me chide myself for letting it unnerve me.

“Wow,” I said, taking another step into the hall.

“You never were the judgmental type…”

I glanced at her, and then our eyes met.

“Don’t get too cozy,” I said with a smirk. “I’m practically a new person.”

“Oh?”

“You have to get to know me again.”

Elsbeth's lips parted, and then she nodded. “I would love to, Timmie,” she whispered.

A trio of robed Sisters approached from one of the side doors across the way.

Elsbeth bowed her head. “Good day, Sisters. This is Timaeus—the alchemist I spoke of. He even brought potions for us! He’s donating.”

Two of the Sisters nodded politely, though their eyes skimmed over me with cautious neutrality. There was nothing that stood out about them. Their attire was that of an everyday marketgoer, with maybe the sash of white on their waists being the only thing that denoted their association to the faith.

The third, however, held my gaze.

She was older—maybe a little older than Meredi—and taller than the others, and though her gray robes were plain, she wore them with obvious pride. Her figure had the firm grace of someone long past youth but in full command of herself—mature, poised, and ready to scold. There was a trace of silver through her near-black hair, braided close to her scalp, and her face was sharp-boned. A faint scar curved at the corner of her lips, subtle enough to wonder if it was a trick of the light.

Her eyes didn’t soften when she looked at me. I felt her disapproval.

“Hey, Elsbeth… Am I really welcome here?” I asked, leaning closer to her ear.

She giggled like an innocent girl. “Of course! They told me you could come!”

The stern Sister growled with uncanny timing. And Elsbeth just kept smiling as if she hadn’t heard it. Instead, she introduced me to the Sisters. The two NPC-like Sisters were Elesca and Lune. The third was Sister Anvey, and she was still staring me down.

“Okay, well, I’m going to help with preparing lunch for the kids,” Elsbeth said, her voice like a bell.

“What?” I asked.

“We’ll just be over there, okay?” she said, standing with Lune and Elesca.

I looked at perma-scowl Anvey and then at Elsbeth. “You’re just leaving me with her?”

Elsbeth giggled. “Yes, of course. Anvey’s the best teacher for a curious alchemist.”

My mouth dropped.

Elsbeth waved, all smiles, and disappeared into one of the side rooms.

I just stared for a few seconds. Then Anvey broke the silence with a scoff.

“I feel unwelcome,” I said, forcing a polite smile.

She said nothing at first. Then, with a tilt of her chin and a voice low and even: “You reek of lust.”

It was like she had thrown a dagger at me.

“I—excuse me?”

She folded her arms and shook her head. “Lust.” Her tone was flat. “Men like you always bring it in with them. Hidden under civility. Behind smiles and gifts.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I can see it—your designs on women.”

My brow lifted. I had never been offended.

“For your information, I am the embodiment of restraint,” I said, straightening. “I’m practically a monk. I have withstood things, Sister. You’d feel like a fool if you knew how strict I have been with myself.”

Her lips twisted with disgust.

“Then why do you wear your guilt like a cloak?” she asked, raising one brow. “If you had no lust, you would not struggle. If you had no lust, you would not agonize over it.” She took a step closer until I was reflected in silvery-blue eyes. “You know your nature, and you know it is perverse.”

I feigned a smirk. “Does my restraint count for nothing?”

“‘Restraint’ is just the inevitable being delayed.”

I activated Mana Vision and kept my face from reacting. Anvey’s mana network was developed around her eyes, with a cluster being right where you’d expect the stereotypical eastern third eye to open. I checked her fingers, but they were normal, unlike Mava’s.

“Why are you looking at my fingers?”

Our eyes met again.

“Should I just leave?” I asked.

Silence came again. Then she shook her head and began walking down the center aisle, toward the altar at the other end of the hall. “Learning while in the presence of the departed Saints may do you some good.”

I followed her quietly.

“You seek knowledge?” she asked. “Elsbeth told me you wish to ‘understand’ something. Could you be more precise?”

“Yes, certainly—whoa.”

It stole my breath, this portion of the ceiling that was directly above us. Between the ribs of the vaulted stone were frescoes that bled vibrant color even through the dimness. Robed figures, vibrant plains, vibrant skies, beams of light like auroras—all circling a central image that stretched over the peak of the ceiling’s arc.

Calling it an image may not have been correct. Part of it was a statue. Its body came out from the roof by a few feet, its outstretched arms extending just a little further. It was a figure cloaked in robes painted to be radiant and heavenly. Their face was obscured by a swirl of clouds and gold light, as though even the artists hadn’t dared to paint them clearly.

But what drew my attention was the robes themselves.

They parted at the torso. The navel was exposed.

It wasn’t erotic in any sense of the word. It seemed as natural as the tastefully nude ancient statues of Earth.

“I’ve never seen something like this,” I said, stepping forward slowly.

“That is the First Saint,” Anvey said. “They were the one who received the original Inheritance and passed it to the other nine. The depiction is older than the Noble Layers.”

“So… It’s not the Great God?”

“No. The Great God has no form. The First Saint, on the other hand, was a human from whom light poured out and illuminated the world around them.”

I stopped directly beneath the statue, right when my eyes began to itch. Curious, I activated Mana Vision.

I almost gasped.

From the navel, mana poured out like it was magma escaping from the bowels of the Earth. Bright, vigorous, and fading before it could descend upon mere mortals—it reminded me of the First Protagonist’s outrageous mana.

Anvey cleared her throat, and suddenly, I could feel her gaze on me. I turned my head slightly and confirmed she had stopped too, and was staring right at me. Her brow furrowed deeper.

“Do not look upon the First Saint with such greedy eyes.”

“I’m not greedy,” I calmly replied.

Her eyes narrowed. Her head then tilted slightly. “Hmm… So it seems… My apologies.”

She gestured for me to sit at the bench right in front of the altar. As soon as I did, she sat one cushion’s space away from me.

“You were mystified by our art,” Anvey began. “What do you wish to learn?”

“What’s the theory on magic? What do humans have to do to wield it? Or maybe… massage it? The Saints had magic, right? Not just mana crystal-powered weapons, right?”

“So you wish to know about ‘Power’ and not ‘Grace,’” she replied, obviously judging me.

I sighed. “If you would rather not, I won’t be offended.” I opened my bag and placed the potions between us. “You can take these either way.”

“No, I will share with you, but I intend to also explain why the Saints were worthy of the power they inherited.”

“I am totally fine with that, Sister Anvey.”