It has been a month since Alon returned from the Blue Tower.

“Hoo-“

Having acquired the Insignia of the Impure, Alon could now use magic three times a day, and by carefully managing his mana, he could even use it up to four times. Today, he realized one of the new rules about phrases.

‘Even if the same phrase doesn’t overlap, using a similar phrase can produce an effect similar to overlapping.’

However, he hadn’t yet fully figured out that to overlap phrases, certain specific phrases had to precede each spell.

‘It seems to have something to do with arrangement.’

Alon pondered briefly.

“Your magic is getting stronger the more I look at it, my lord.”

But before Alon could fully address his thoughts, he was interrupted by Evan’s voice, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Is that so?”

“It’s not just ‘is that so,’ look over there.”

Following Evan’s words, Alon turned his gaze, and there, in the middle of the training ground, was a deep, wide depression in the ground.

“A second-tier spell shouldn’t be this powerful, right? Well, you’ve always used spells that don’t seem like second-tier spells, but there’s a noticeable difference between now and a few months ago.”

Alon glanced at the sunken ground.

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‘Indeed, for some reason, I’ve felt that my magic has been growing stronger.’

The spell Alon had been experimenting with was “Gravity,” a second-tier gravity-based spell. However, even gravity magic at the second-tier level shouldn’t be powerful enough to crush a person or carve out the ground like that, even if the power is focused.

In other words, it was impossible for “Gravity” to create such a depression in the ground.

‘It’s not just an increase in proficiency…’

Of course, Alon had been diligently refining his magical abilities, and his mastery had been improving rapidly, but proficiency only improved accuracy and the ability to perform the spell, not the raw power of it.

‘The increase in power from the phrases… well, that does exist, but it’s not that either.’

For the past four months, Alon had been consistently using similar phrases in his spells, and for the last two weeks, he’d been using almost identical phrases in rotation.

Alon had a reference to compare with, and when he did, he could tell his magic had been steadily growing stronger.

It was subtle, but like a graph showing a gradual upward trend, his magic was improving little by little.

‘It can’t just be that I’ve become more familiar with the phrases and that’s made them stronger, right?’

One of the conclusions Alon had reached after years of studying phrases was that they were closer to incantations than spells themselves.

The more a phrase was recited, the more it served as a trigger to alter or add a special characteristic to a spell, not something that made the spell stronger through mastery.

So, his increasing proficiency in the phrases couldn’t explain the growing power of his magic. This led him to consider various possibilities.

‘In this world, there are only two reasons why someone’s power would suddenly increase… either through divine favor or by gaining compensation from a curse. I’ll rule out the former.’

Even though he was a count, Alon was just a noble from a small kingdom, and at this point in time, he was even being subtly disregarded by the underworld, so receiving divine favor didn’t seem plausible.

‘So that leaves… gaining compensation from a curse by suffering some kind of loss.’

At this thought, Alon’s expression grew uneasy, but he quickly shook his head.

In this world, gaining compensation from a curse meant either receiving a curse from someone who sacrifices themselves or placing a curse on oneself.

Even the curse was a ritual used only in the East, and at that time, no one Alon was connected to had any ties to the East.

In short, neither the former nor the latter applied to him… Alon repeatedly reminded himself of that.

Thus, the conclusion he arrived at was:

“I guess I’m just in good condition today.”

“…Is that it?”

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“That’s it. There’s no reason for my magic to get stronger.”

It was denial.

“…I heard a letter from Yutia arrived today. I should go and read it.”

With that, he decided to stop his magical research and headed to his office to read Yutia’s letter.

***

The Holy Kingdom of Rosario.

Unlike the Holy Empire of Bartiakan, which lies beyond the empire and worships the sun as its primary deity, Rosario venerates Sironia, the goddess symbolizing the moon and peace.

In front of the convent located to the east of its capital, the city known as the White City due to all its buildings being pure white, stood a holy knight.

His name was Roque, and he was clad in platinum armor symbolizing purity, matching the city’s namesake.

Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Not long after, he saw a nun with white hair standing before the statue of Sironia outside the convent.

Dressed in a neatly arranged habit with a gentle smile on her lips, she didn’t seem to be of a particularly high rank.

In Rosario, those of higher ranks always wore the sash of divine grace over their shoulders, but this nun did not.

In other words, the nun standing in front of Roque was clearly of a lower rank than the holy knight.

“Greetings, Sister.”

However, upon seeing the nun, Roque immediately bowed and spoke.

“Hello, Sir Roque. Have you been well?”

The nun smiled as she accepted the knight’s greeting.

It was an unusual situation.

Yet, neither Roque nor the nun expressed any doubt about the situation.

Instead, it seemed entirely natural to them.

“Yes, thanks to you, Sister, I was able to save eight children and twenty-five lives in a small village to the east.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Sister.”

“Not at all, it was you who saved them, Sir Roque.”

Her voice was soft, but Roque, maintaining a resolute expression as if determined to keep his conviction, spoke again.

“Yes, I was the one who saved them, but it was you who showed me the way and gave me the strength when I had nothing.”

In truth, Roque had not always been a holy knight.

Despite being a devout follower of Sironia and aspiring to become a holy knight, he couldn’t wield the divine power that every holy knight was required to master.

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In fact, he couldn’t even sense it.

As a result, while all of his peers mastered divine power and became holy knights, Roque remained a trainee for many years.

That number stretched beyond eight years, and just when he was about to give up on becoming a holy knight due to his inability to harness divine power, he met her.

She, who always wore a serene smile, with eyes that seemed to burn like flames, was the first to say these words to the despairing Roque:

“Believe in the moon.”

At first, Roque didn’t understand what she meant.

He couldn’t see the difference between believing in Sironia, the goddess of the moon, and simply believing in the moon.

But at that time, Roque was desperate, and he held onto those words as though grasping at straws.

He believed in the moon because, at that moment, he was beyond desperate.

And after several days of continuous prayer, Roque, who had never once been able to harness divine power in the past 20 years, was able to use it for the first time that day, finally becoming a holy knight.

Although Roque was overjoyed at suddenly being able to wield the divine power he thought he could never attain, his joy was short-lived as he began to doubt the nun.

At least, for someone like Roque, who was born and raised in Rosario and had devoted his life to Sironia, gaining the ability to use divine power was truly something to be happy about.

But on the other hand, he began to wonder if he had strayed into the path of heresy.

After all, the reason he had gained divine power was not because he had worshipped Sironia, but because he had placed his faith in the ‘moon.’

However, amusingly, as time passed, Roque’s doubts gradually faded.

The reason was simple: the divine power he had gained by believing in the ‘moon’ was no different from the divine power that came from worshiping Sironia.

All the powers granted through faith in a deity worked exactly the same, without a single discrepancy.

The sacred tools permitted under the name of the goddess also gleamed brilliantly in Roque’s hands, further proving that his divine power was genuine.

Even so, the lingering doubts in his heart persisted, and eventually, Roque asked the nun why she had told him to believe in the ‘moon.’

Her answer, however, had nothing to do with heresy, religion, or complex theology.

“Faith comes from invisible belief, but that takes too long. It’s much easier for most people to find belief in something that they can see.”

“That’s why I suggested it. The goddess in the heavens may not always be visible, but the moon is always by our side… and after all, the goddess Sironia *is* the moon.”

It was simply a story about faith.

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It was a way for people, who always carried doubts in their hearts, to believe more firmly in the divine.

With that answer, Roque erased the doubt from his heart.

And he thanked the nun.

He sincerely felt gratitude toward her, for helping someone like him, who was full of doubts, to believe in the divine.

“Ah, if you’d like to express your gratitude, would you join us in prayer? It’s almost time for the prayer session, and many others have already gathered.”

“I would gladly do so.”

With a nod from Roque, the nun smiled softly and opened the door to the prayer room.

Inside, many people were already seated.

Believers, children, trainees, pilgrims, and holy knights.

Each one assumed their own posture.

Some stood still in place.

Others sat in chairs.

Some knelt on the ground, while others simply bowed their heads, hands clasped with those beside them.

Yet, there was one thing they all had in common: everyone in the prayer hall remained reverently still.

Without making a sound, they simply bowed their heads and closed their eyes in prayer.

And as the nun made her way through the rows of worshippers, reaching the front of the hall—

No.

“Now then—”

With a gentle smile on her face, she spoke.

“Let us all pray.”

Yutia Bludia, her crimson eyes faintly gleaming, spoke as she stood with her back to the moonlight streaming through the stained glass.

“To the great moon.”