— Second update. Seeking bookmarks, recommendations, and clicks.
The evening sunlight pierced through clusters of crimson clouds, falling upon the solemn square of the Adheran Church. The miniature sun held aloft in the bishop's hand had lost its brilliant radiance. He hung it against his chest and turned to walk back into the church.
In the center of the square, the rather beautiful black-robed Witch had already been burned to ash. Yet her frantic laughter and curses seemed to linger still, making many people shudder involuntarily as they glanced around before following the bishop and priests into the church. Under the Lord's gaze, they confessed their sins and offered sincere prayers.
The blinding white light still seemed to linger before his eyes. The sacred and overwhelming power it contained could almost still be felt. Shaken to the core, Lucian had already accepted his identity, burying every remnant of his former life deep within his heart, daring not to show the slightest hint of anything unusual.
"What incredible power Divine Arts possess — I wonder if I'll ever have the chance to learn them?"
Lucian thought, his mind and body still reeling from the shock. He lacked the reverence an ordinary person should have. Suddenly, a tremendous force struck his left shoulder, sending him tilting to the left until he nearly lost his footing.
"Oh, my poor little Evans, you're finally all right! This is the Lord's blessing. I thought you'd end up like your father — once he fell ill, he never got back up again. Thank the Lord for letting such a fine young man go on living."
That single slap jolted Lucian out of his daze. He saw a large, brown-haired woman standing beside him — easily twice his width — dabbing tears from her eyes with one hand while the other, which could rival a bear's paw in force, repeatedly thumped his shoulder.
He ducked slightly to avoid being slapped into coughing up blood. Lucian opened his mouth, only to find he couldn't utter a single word, because: "What should I call this woman? My full name seems to be Lucian Evans?"
His evasive movement only made the woman more sorrowful: "Poor little Evans, the fever must have muddled your brain. Look at that little face — so thin you can see the bones..."
As she rambled on, Lucian felt desperately awkward. He had transmigrated here, and aside from being able to understand and speak the local language, he'd inherited not a single memory. If he responded incorrectly, he could easily be mistaken for a demon-possessed soul — though, in a sense, the current Lucian truly had had his soul seized by something else.
Fortunately, at that moment, a middle-aged man standing nearby patted the plump woman and said soothingly: "Elisa, little Evans has just recovered. His spirit must be exhausted. Don't fuss over him. Evan, support your mother. Let's head home together."
The middle-aged man was quite thin, his back slightly stooped, with short, gold-streaked hair that had begun to show gray. On his face, etched with the marks of time, one could still glimpse the traces of youthful handsomeness.
But in Lucian's eyes, this middle-aged uncle looked at that moment like an angel wearing a halo of pure light — an angel pulling him free from embarrassment and tension.
"Aunt Elisa, I'm completely fine now. Just a bit dizzy." Lucian chose his words carefully, afraid of giving himself away.
The boy Evan — the same one who had dragged Lucian to watch the Witch's burning — half-supported his mother while pulling a face: "Big Brother Lucian isn't the kind of coward who dies from a single illness. You're the only one who still treats him like a helpless little kid."
Aunt Elisa dabbed her tears: "Little Evans, seeing you on your feet again puts my heart at ease. Blame that wretched, evil Witch — may she rot in hell."
Supported by Evan, Aunt Elisa shuffled forward while chattering away: "When she first moved in next door to you, she was so quiet and lovely, so gentle and refined. I was thinking if little John could marry a girl like that, it would truly be the Lord's gift. But — she turned out to be a Witch! And she went to the graveyard to steal the remains of the dead to perform dark magic. Fortunately, the Lord's glory shines over everything. A Night Watchman from the Tribunal happened to be at the graveyard and caught her right then. If she'd managed to prepare her evil spell, who knows how many people in our Adrang District would have died..."
Walking behind the middle-aged man, Lucian pieced together the gist of events from Aunt Elisa's rambling. The Witch had been caught by the Church's Night Watchman while trying to steal corpses from the graveyard. As her neighbor, Lucian had been brought in for interrogation. During the process, the Church had likely employed some means involving Divine Arts. While clearing the real Lucian of suspicion, it had also inflicted damage to his mind or body, causing him to fall gravely ill and die — which was how Lucian had been able to take possession of the body.
Seeing that Lucian remained silent, the middle-aged man patted his shoulder and said quietly: "That's just Elisa for you — always nattering on. Best to just pretend you don't hear."
Lucian didn't know what to say and simply nodded.
The middle-aged man gazed at Elisa's retreating figure and let out a quiet sigh: "Ah, the Elisa of old was such a pure and passionate beauty. But ever since little John was born, it was as if she'd been cursed by a demon — in barely a year she turned into what she is now."
He wore an expression brimming with worldly wisdom, his gaze somewhat distant, then paused: "I can't beat her in a fight anymore."
Having just transplanted into this world and witnessed the power of Divine Arts firsthand, Lucian was still shaken and unsettled. He managed only a weak smile without directly answering — besides, he still didn't know what to call this uncle.
Perhaps lost too deep in memory, the uncle hadn't noticed how loudly he'd spoken. Elisa snorted: "Joel, you 'Bard' brimming with ideals and passion — you who journeyed all the way to Altor to chase your musical dreams — look at you now, nothing more than a boozer drunk from dawn to dusk."
Joel smiled sheepishly: "Altor is the City of Sacred Hymns. Every day, who knows how many young people arrive chasing their musical dreams, but how many of them actually make it? And Elisa — ever since little John started his training, haven't I given up drinking?"
Aunt Elisa turned and shot him a glare: "Thank the Lord you at least realize our hopes rest on John and Evan. If little John hadn't trained every single day, how could he have been chosen by Sir Vein to train as a proper knight at his estate? If he can awaken the 'Divine Grace' within his bloodline and become a true knight, the Grand Duke could grant him a lordship — making him a respected noble."
Her stern gaze made Joel shrink his shoulders. But Elisa quickly noticed Lucian's distant expression: "Oh, I'm sorry, little Evans. Auntie didn't mean to bring that up. You're very talented too — it's just that... you didn't start training from a young age..."
Realizing that the more she said, the more she was digging into Lucian's sore spot, Elisa quickly shut her mouth and signaled Joel with her eyes to say something.
Joel let out a hearty laugh and slapped Lucian's shoulder once more: "Our little Evans — how could he possibly be that fragile? He's going to be the one to carry on his Uncle Joel's dream of becoming a musician."
Lucian, still unsteady in heart and mind, could only grin: "That's right. My dream is to become a musician."