At the centre of the ceremonial platform, the Pope of Seven Virtues rose from her knees. Her golden-rimmed ceremonial cloak fluttered in accordance with her grace. Bright colourful lines emerged from where she stood, expanded into an intricate array of symbols, and covered the ceremony ground.

The believers bent their heads to their clasped hands and prayed silently for one last time. An air of comfort drifted around, dispelling the wicked crimson mists and their terrible aura.

“May The Lady accept our humble plead,” The Pope, Vernil the Third, said. “May your guiding light purify our darkness.”

White translucent wings materialised on Vernil’s back. They gently flapped, sparkles flickering out from the feathers. Rays of golden Pure Power spread throughout the ceremony ground and formed a high-rising tide, whose advance pushed back the crimson mist.

Divine pillars of light all over Donhalgen shone brighter than before. Their radiance towered over the sky and oversaw the city, crashing, annihilating, and purifying the blood-scented mood. A faint yet heart-gripping howl resounded, and the viscous air that dyed the world red faded out of reality.

Silence engulfed the ceremony ground before the crowds erupted with reverberating chants, singing praises for the angels and the divine, showing their devotion to their goddess.

Vernil’s attendants knelt before her. She turned away from the believers and to the statue of her lady. Her heavenly wings folded behind her back, retracted inside her heart, and fluttered along with her heartbeats. As her Holy Power, resonating with her Faith, coursed under her fair skin, she lifted her head and closed her eyes.

An angelic voice rang, not from the crowds or the platform, but from the sky. The desolate clouds above Donhalgen parted, revealing a delicate vortex, from whose swirls gold and glitters came.

To all but Vernil, the voice was incomprehensible. She beamed at the vortex, at the Archangel who looked kindly at her soul, before she opened her eyes.

The vortex disappeared. Holy Resurgence Ceremony had ended.

After giving the closing statement, Vernil excused herself, exiting the platform with her attendants. They skillfully removed her cloak, changed her into her usual wear, and guided her to a luxurious suite.

“Her Holiness has arrived,” an attendant said as she opened the door to the suite.

The arguments within quietened. The Principal and Vice Principals of Royal Magic Academy hastily got up from their seats and bowed at her. The Princes and Princesses of Garcient Kingdom also paid their respect.

“Your Holiness,” the principal said. “Please excuse our disrespect. We’ve received the news that the Corrupted Ones and the Cultists have invaded our academy.”

“We understand your worry.” Vernil nodded. “But fret not; we’ve anticipated their attacks and coordinated a plan with the imperial family.”

Rubanila, the Third Princess, pressed her hands on her chest, forming a prayer gesture. “Your Holiness is insightful. Indeed, we Knoffvegent Imperial Family have already sent suppression units to the locations of chaos.”

“Your generosity shan’t go unrewarded, Princess.” Vernil smiled at Rubanila, whose face burned pink.

“The Lady knows all!”

The principal coughed. “Thank you for your assistance, Your Highness, Your Holiness. However, we can’t sit still while our students suffer. They’re the seeds of our future shades.”

“We admire your determination, and we do not intend to impede you.” Vernil stepped away from the door. Her attendants followed her.

The principal and vice principals thanked Vernil before rushing out. Their figures vanished into colourful mirages as their spells brought them away from the ceremonial ground.

After the attendants closed the door, Rubanila strolled to Vernil and, fiddling with her hair, blushed. She grasped Vernil’s hands and kissed their back before smiling the brightest smile she could.

“Is there anything we could do for you, Princess Rubia?” Vernil said.

“Please don’t tease me, Lady Vernil. It took much of my courage to kiss your hands. I . . . The Lady must be disappointed.”

“If we were alone, you would’ve hugged me.” Vernil glanced at her attendants, who, though surprised, accepted her silent order and left the room. “Now, where’s your courage?”

Rubanila hmphed. She wrapped her hands around her close friend and squeezed gently. The soft fabric tickled her skin. A blissful warmth infused her body, filling her with vitality that chased away her anxiety.

Jania gasped. She didn’t know her sister had such an intimate relationship with the Pope of Seven Virtues. The Second Prince narrowed his eyes, and the Fourth Prince leaned on his seat, amused.

“If you hold me for too long, they might misunderstand us,” Vernil said.

“The Lady doesn’t forbid romance.” Rubanila chuckled and separated herself from Vernil.

“But she forbids lying.”

Rubanila pouted. “I love you, just not romantically.”

“And The Lady loves all of us.” Vernil turned to the other royalty. “Please excuse my impropriety, Your Highnesses.”

Jania waved her hands. “I promise not to tell others, Your Holiness. For your sake, and for Rubia’s sake!”

The Second Prince and the Fourth Prince also promised, though the Second Prince’s stiff expression implied his unease.

His rival suddenly revealed a powerful card. He had to make changes to his plan.

“Lady Vernil, is there something we must know?” the Fourth Prince said. “You wouldn’t show up without any objective.”

“You saw right through me, Prince Lubrial.” Vernil smiled before her expression grew solemn.

She softly clapped her hands. The door behind her opened, and her attendants entered and handed her a letter. “Our people have identified a few potential hideouts for the Evil Cults and Secret Organisations. We’d like to request your assistance in subjugating them.”

“Was the ceremony a decoy all along?” Lubrial said. “You use the concentration of powers to lure the enemies to leave their bases and, in their absence, sent your forces to capture them.”

Rubanila wanted to reprimand her brother for being too direct, but Vernil stopped her by raising her right hand.

“The ceremony is important, but the lives of the people are, too.”

Lubrial nodded. “I can mobilise my army right away.”

“Mine too!” Rubanila said. “Those cultists have terrorised our citizens for too long. It’s time we punish them.”

Vernil opened the letter and took out a map of Donhalgen with coloured marks on various locations, each colour representing a hideout of a specific Evil Cult or Secret Organisation. After sweeping her gaze over the content, she lay it on the table, around where the royalty gathered.

As everyone contemplated the information, Jania took a deep breath. Her heart raced, but she suppressed her anxiety, lest someone noticed her abnormality.

There was a dark purple mark on Yellow Dandelion Orphanage. Intelligence indicated that it might be a hideout for Court of Indulgence.

“Your Holiness, which locations have you sent your priests?” Jania said.

Vernil gestured her fingers. Golden rays of light hovered above the locations. Most of them were of Evil Cults, but there were also a few Secret Organisations, those of violent or demented nature.

Jania almost heaved a sigh. The Court wasn’t one of the targets.

“Where shall I send my people?” she said.

“There’s no need to worry, Princess Jania.” Vernil looked up at the sky, at where the heavenly vortex used to be. “This operation, I’m not the overseer. Saintess of Pure Mind herself will ensure its success.”

…

Iris, under a brown cloak, walked on a crowded street. Her two attendants, also in ordinary attires, followed her, pinching her clothes like two nervous sisters. After the crimson mist dissipated, the people got out of their houses and stores and rushed to various places of safety, some to the churches, others to the military or academies.

Though she was far from the battlefield and Royal Magic Academy, Iris never relaxed. She kept her head hung low, her face hidden, and blended in with the commoners. She deliberately suppressed her movement, stifling her natural grace.

The crowd in front of her stopped moving. They shouted about an incoming army and made their way to the sides of the road. A few careless men almost bumped into Iris, but Lorient pushed them away. Her calm yet fierce gaze scared them into silence.

Iris gestured for her attendants not to cause a commotion. Secain held on her arm and led her to a comfortable place.

“There’s no need to hold so tight,” Iris said. “This body won’t slip away, but it will shatter if you handle it too forcefully.”

“Then I shall take the responsibility.” Secain coyly tilted her head. “Please allow me; I promise to pleasure you whenever you desire.”

“How about now—”

Iris swallowed her words. Her eyes contracted.

An army of Paladins and Priests marched through the street, their dazzling armours and holy robes shone golden. They chanted their prayers and cast calming spells for the panicking mortals, who knelt and shouted gratitude towards the Church of Seven Virtues.

Among the Priests and Priestesses, a bright lady held her chest high, proudly revealing her devotion to her goddess. Her long golden hair, blending with her white robe, flowed around her. She held an exquisite staff in her right hand and pressed her left on her chest.

Beside her, another Priestess, a shorter silver-haired lady, nudged her shoulder.

“Iris, aren’t you nervous? We’re heading for a real battle, against real cultists!” the friend said.

“Our teachers are also with us. The Master Paladins and Bishops will protect us. The Lady will bless us!”

“You always get too worked up, Iris. Don’t be reckless when we arrive. I don’t want to rush after you.”

“I only rush in because you always watch my back.” The priestess Iris chuckled. “When I become a Bishop, I’ll recommend you as my assistant.”

The friend sighed. “I have no idea how you’re still like this even after so many reprimands.”

“The Lady must have liked me very much.”

The priestess Iris and her friend chatted in a low voice, but the Monster Girl Iris heard all. She lifted her head, and her hood slid down, revealing her face. Her radiance illuminated her surroundings.

The priestess Iris’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced to the side. Amidst the crowds, a graceful lady seized her attention.

The two Irises, alike in appearances and minds, beheld one another.

The priestess Iris halted her footstep. Her right foot stepped on a rock and lost its footing. She gasped and tipped, but her friend caught her.

“The Lady doesn’t like you that much, it seems,” the friend said. “What were you thinking? You never were absentminded before.”

“I . . . I saw—”

The priestess Iris looked for the mysterious lady whose appearance mirrored hers, but that lady had vanished, leaving behind an empty spot which other civilians now occupied.

“Saw what? A cultist disguising as a civilian?” The silver-haired priestess tightened her grip on her staff.

“I . . . nothing. I thought I saw a familiar face.”

Iris inhaled and exhaled, pushing that strange event to the back of her mind. Her priestess duty came first. Her first battle required her total concentration; she mustn’t be distracted, lest her friends might get hurt.

…

The Monster Girl Iris swiftly walked through a sparse street. Her two followers silently kept pace with her, staring at her back, their expressions conflicted. They wished to speak something, to offer an explanation, but they couldn’t, for what they saw, what she saw, was beyond mere coincidence.

“Mistress . . .” Secain raised her voice. “Who . . . is that priestess?”

Iris slowed until she came to a stop. She gazed skyward. “Maybe she’s a part of me that I unknowingly lost.”

“No matter who she is, we only serve you!”

Lorient sternly nodded. “We’ll investigate her identity. If she’s . . . truly a part of you, we’ll bring her to you.”

“No. Don’t touch her. Don’t approach her either.” Iris frowned. “This matter, only we and the senior members shall know. Could you please keep it a secret for me?”

“Mistress’s words are absolute!” Secain and Lorient shifted closer to their mistress and leaned on her shoulders.

Iris didn’t mind them. She began walking again, with her two lovers holding her arms.

Once was a coincidence, twice raised the alarm. The guide Iris, the priestess Iris, were there other Irises living their lives throughout this world?

Who were they? Who . . . was she?

Iris arrived at the street where Yellow Dandelion Orphanage was. She and her two attendants entered an inconspicuous alley and turned several corners. They navigated their way through a complex maze until they reached a narrow path in which a group of Monster Girls guarded the orphanage’s backdoor.

Recognising their mistress, they rushed to her and expressed their worries. Secain and Lorient should have blocked them, but those two too wished to ask their mistress what was on her mind.

“There’s no need to worry,” Iris said. “We’ve arrived safe and sound, all according to my expectation.”

“Lady Parmin and Lady Morbi are waiting in the lounge,” an Ink Girl said. “They told us to escort you to them immediately. You must’ve worried them, Mistress.”

“Then, let us waste no time.”

The Monster Girls eagerly opened the door leading to the underground hideout and guided excitedly their mistress into the deep end. They sang praises for her feats and kindness and charms, hoping to take a peek at her aloof heart.

Should she react to their words, they would imprint that moment onto their souls.

Distracted, Iris merely smiled and complimented them periodically. Since meeting her priestess doppelganger, an omen loomed over her mind. She couldn’t find its origin, its intention, or even its legitimacy.

While her attendants took off her plain disguise and reported the result of the operation, Iris took out a Card of Destiny. Her Corruption Power, mixed with a hint of her Faith, surged into the blank card. She tossed it in the air. It delicately spun as azure glows manifested on it, painting a mirage beheld from the river of time.

She caught the card between her index and middle fingers and laid her eyes on it. On the card, an incomparably pure maiden knelt in front of a magnificent statue. Her vast purple robe stretched throughout the cathedral. Dots of light, stars, inside the robe glittered, radiating calming aura.

Iris slowed her pace. Her figure thinned, dispersed away from existence. Secain frowned and reached for her mistress, but her hand merely scattered the empty visage of her beloved.

The surrounding Monster Girls froze. A few drew arcane symbols in the air, attempting to find their leader, but all failed.

“What . . . happened?” Lorient said. “Mistress just vanished!”

“I can’t detect her presence either!” Secain held her breath. “We must report this—”

The underground passage quaked. The ceiling and walls rippled. Bricks, concretes, and beams splintered in pieces. A shockwave, accompanying a deafening explosion, blasted through the corridor, splitting decorations and pictures and carpets into pieces.

The Court’s members cast their spells and protected themselves and their friends. Secain dusted the rubbles on her shoulders before she walked to the front. Eyes narrowed, she flicked her wrists, and a pair of daggers slid into her hands.

“The explosion originates at the leftwing of the orphanage,” she said. “Be careful, everyone. We’re under attack.”