Rise of the White Devil

As he stepped inside the church, he was greeted by a warm, serene atmosphere.

Soft candlelight flickered along the walls, casting gentle shadows on the intricately carved wooden pews.

The air was filled with the faint scent of incense, and the polished stone floor reflected the colorful light streaming in from the stained-glass windows.

High above, the vaulted ceiling was adorned with delicate frescoes depicting scenes of peace and devotion.

The quiet stillness of the interior provided a stark, comforting contrast to the storm raging outside.

Slowly, Lucas walked towards the front row, looking around the church.

'Certainly is beautiful... and looks like this entire place is blessed, huh,' he thought as he sat in the front row, his drenched clothes leaving a trail of water behind.

Gazing ahead, he saw four faceless statues towering above him.

Each had a pair of angelic wings on their backs.

As he gazed at the four figures, Lucas felt small.

He felt inferior, even though they were only statues.

One statue held a scythe and was dressed in a robe that covered everything, including its head—the God of Death.

Another was dressed in battle armor, holding a sword embedded in the ground with both hands—the God of Swords.

The third wore scholar-like robes, held a book in its left hand, and had its right hand raised in the air—the God of Mana.

The last statue, which appeared female, was dressed in a simple tunic with its hands clasped together in front of its chest as if praying—the God of Life.

These were the four gods the religious people in Myrniel believed in.

It was said that one who could use mana was loved by the God of Mana, and one who could use aura was loved by the God of Swords.

Many such beliefs surrounded the four gods.

The church held significant political power due to its many followers.

It was said that if you chose and worshipped one of the gods, you would be blessed by them.

The type of blessing one received was always different and unpredictable; even gaining a skill was possible.

Lucas was surprised that everyone close to him didn't believe in the four gods, even though they could get a blessing.

'No... with all the monsters surrounding me, it makes sense why they don't believe in these gods,' he thought.

Instead, the people around him, like Lucas himself, preferred to get stronger on their own rather than rely on a god's blessing.

'A blessing that is granted can as easily be taken away,' he mused.

Perhaps there was some merit to the belief that these gods actually existed, or at least some sort of gods, since people did get blessings.

But Lucas would never waste his time devoting it to a god for a few blessings.

Of course, not everyone was a monster like Lucas.

For example, people who felt they couldn't advance yet still sought strength might become believers for a blessing.

Or simply someone who was an actual believer in the gods. The reason to believe in the gods was different for everyone.

In the end, these four gods were also a mystery to Lucas. He didn't really believe in them after all.

'Still, why the God of Swords? Is that why the sword is so revered?' he wondered.

As he pondered, he suddenly heard footsteps behind him and a kind voice addressing him.

"The Devil Goes to Church—I am sure I have heard that before."

The man chuckled at his own joke before continuing.

"Or was it the White Devil? Forgive me; I don't really have the best memory when it comes to the nicknames these younger generations give out these days."

A small smile appeared on Lucas's face as he kept his gaze ahead, answering the man who now stood behind him.

"It is quite rude to call a mere kid the devil himself, don't you think, Father?"

Hearing the man laugh behind him, he walked forward, standing in front of Lucas, who was seated, and finally looked towards the priest.

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"A mere kid, you say? I didn't think the newer generation, especially someone like you, would have the respect and generosity to call me Father," the man said, amused, as Lucas gazed at him with raised eyebrows.

The priest was an elderly man with silver hair that framed his kind, weathered face.

His deep blue eyes sparkled with wisdom and compassion.

He wore a simple yet elegant white robe adorned with gold embroidery depicting sacred symbols.

A string of beads hung from his neck, clicking softly as he moved.

"You haven't done anything to earn my ire, have you, Father? Well, at least not yet..."

Smiling softly, the elderly priest turned around, gazing at the four statues.

"So what brings you all the way here, so far from the academy, and especially in this weather? You don't seem injured, though perhaps you might catch a fever with how drenched you are."

"Want me to bring you a health potion?"

Lucas shook his head, answering the question.

"I'm good; I don't easily get sick, Father."

If Lucas could, he would rather never take another potion in his life again.

"As for why I'm here... call it curiosity."

"Ah, you are at the age where you get curious about countless things after all," the priest said, nodding to himself as if in understanding.

"So, are you interested in becoming a believer?" the priest asked, turning back to Lucas, facing him with the same smile on his face.

Shaking his head in denial, Lucas answered.

"No, I don't really believe in the gods since I have no reason to. Their blessing won't benefit me in the long run."

At this, the priest sighed softly before speaking to him, his voice turning even softer.

"Child, you are thinking about all of this the wrong way."

The wrong way?

Lucas furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly. Just what did he think wrong exactly?

"Do you know why one would believe in the gods?"

Lucas didn't think too much before answering.

"What else but strength—"

"Hope," the priest interrupted, his voice cutting through Lucas's response. He moved closer, reaching out his hand.

Lucas's body tensed up for a second, but sensing no ill intentions, he bit the inside of his cheeks, letting the priest do what he wanted since he was curious.

Tapping Lucas's chest with his right finger at where his heart was, ignoring the drenched hoodie, the priest spoke again.

"One believes in a god not for strength but for hope."

"Hope to have good health."

"Hope to find one's soul mate."

"Hope for a better future."

"Hope in the darkest of times."

"Hope to live."

"Those blessings that we have are proof that we believe in hope."

Every word the priest spoke resonated deeply within Lucas.

He had never really thought of it like that and wondered if it was perhaps the same in his previous life.

"Hope that we haven't given up no matter what."

Pursing his lips and looking down with his head, Lucas clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"What if there is no hope to believe in? Hope to live? Hope for a better future? What if there are only the darkest of times, never to have hope in them again?"

The priest was surprised by Lucas's behavior and the questions he asked.

It felt odd for a child to ask such questions, especially from the most talented and famous student.

But considering the entire situation, he realized it was indeed odd.

The priest wondered what Lucas was really struggling with and decided to go with the flow, treating Lucas as he normally would with anyone else.

"That is why we pray. Praying to the gods gives us hope, and by praying, we believe. You cannot hope without believing, just as you cannot believe without hope," the priest said gently.

Lucas turned his head up, looking at him.

"That makes no sense," he muttered, making the priest laugh out loud.

"I understand, but for it to make sense, you have to try instead of think. That way, you will truly understand the meaning of hope and belief."

Lucas merely nodded as he started to grasp a little of what the priest said.

'But... will it really give me the strength to get through the disaster we will have to face?'

As if reading his thoughts, the priest spoke again.

"In the end, it is not the blessing that gives you strength but hope."

Before Lucas could question him again, the priest asked,

"Tell me, Lucas, what are your dreams?"

Lucas didn't know why he would suddenly ask that, but he decided to entertain him and answer truthfully.

"I want Lena, my little sister, to be happy and to protect that smile of hers. I want my parents to live long, not worry, and live in peace. Everyone I care about to be just... happy," he spoke, his voice getting a little hoarse.

Just thinking about these things made him realize how bleak it seemed with the threat they were about to face.

Hearing his words, the priest spoke softly,

"Isn't that what you would call hope?"

'Huh?'

"Your dreams are your hope, no? You hope for them all to be happy. Doesn't that give you the strength to face whatever life throws at you?"

Lucas widened his eyes as he heard the priest's words.

"Hope..."

He muttered under his breath as he realized what the priest meant, his head bowing down again.

"I don't know what you are struggling with, child,"

the priest said, gripping Lucas's shoulder.

"But I want you to know... I have hope in you. Hope that you will overcome whatever challenges you will have to face."

Hearing his words, Lucas stared at his clenched fist.

'I see...'

He had to suppress a laugh as he realized how pathetic he had become ever since learning about the void.

His entire mind had become a mess after getting just a few answers to dozens of questions.

He was sure this wouldn't be the only threat, not the only mystery that didn't make sense and needed to be solved.

'This had always been a problem of mine, right, Aushburn?' he thought, recalling how he would lash out whenever he faced something he couldn't understand or handle, never trying to face it head-on calmly.

There had always been someone to pull him back, but now he understood.

'Hope.'

A smile appeared on his face, a smile so natural that it would have made anyone freeze if they saw him.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

This was perhaps the first time since he could remember that he smiled so naturally without needing to try.

'To think going to church really helped the devil.'

"Lucas?" a bewildered voice called out, making his eyes go wide as he looked toward the wooden doors.

The priest did the same, and they both saw... Seraphina standing there, and not just her—Sylviette and Amaya were there as well, looking at him in shock, their bodies frozen in place.

'Fuck.'