Under the bishop's calm instructions, the priests from the Church moved with practiced precision. Their white and gold robes brushed softly against the marble floor as they took their positions, forming a circle around the cleared space in the center of the hall. With murmured incantations, they began drawing intricate sigils across the polished stone — glowing runes intertwined like woven threads of light.
Before long, a complete magic circle spread across the floor — elegant, ancient, and filled with quiet power. Its faint azure glow shimmered like ripples across still water.
In the middle of it stood a small round table, its surface polished to mirror brightness. Atop it rested a crystal orb — clear as ice yet radiating a faint inner glow, as though it held a slumbering flame within.
A hush fell over the hall. Even the servants, who had been bustling moments ago, now stood still.
The bishop turned, his aged voice carrying easily through the silence.
"All preparations are complete," he said. "Let the child step forward."
Saphy blinked once, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes fixed upon her. Her small hands clenched the sides of her skirt, but she took a deep breath and began to walk forward. Each step echoed faintly against the marble floor — soft, deliberate, and impossibly loud in the silence.
Her mother, Lady Astley, gripped her husband's arm tightly. Count Charles's face was calm on the surface, but his eyes betrayed a quiet storm of anxiety. Every parent in the realm understood this moment — the Awakening determined everything.
In this world, awakening was not merely the birth of special abilities— it was the birth of destiny.
Once awakened, any mage could wield the basic four elements — air, water, fire, and earth — provided they possessed the knowledge and skill. But beyond those lay the rarer forces — ice, lightning, shadow, light, magma, and others — elements born only of exceptional affinity. Few ever touched them.
And during the Awakening, fate chose one path to strengthen.
For some, it was gentle water. For others, blazing flame. Yet for a rare few… something else. Something the world itself paid attention to.
That uncertainty — that cruel, beautiful randomness — made this moment terrifying for every noble parent.
Saphy reached the center. The bishop smiled kindly, though his eyes glimmered with restrained curiosity. "Place your hand upon the crystal, child," he instructed softly. "Do not fear. Let your mana flow naturally — it will answer in kind."
Saphy nodded, her throat dry. She extended her small hand, pale and delicate against the crystal's glow. The moment her fingertips brushed the orb, a faint hum filled the hall — a vibration that seemed to come not from sound, but from the air itself.
The light within the crystal stirred.
The faint hum deepened. The light inside the crystal began to swirl, slow at first—like mist gathering in a dream. Then, without warning, it burst forth in a blinding flash.
It was as if the Creator Himself had spoken,
"Let there be light."
The crystal orb erupted in brilliance so pure, so fierce, that it swallowed the entire hall in white radiance. Shadows vanished. The grand chandeliers, the banners, the pillars—everything disappeared beneath that overwhelming glow.
Gasps echoed across the chamber.
Some nobles shielded their eyes; others simply froze in awe. The priests who had formed the circle fell to their knees, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what they were witnessing.
The bishop's breath caught in his throat. "By the Divine…" he whispered, voice trembling. "Such… potency…"
The light was not warm or blinding with pain—it was absolute.
Pure. Untouchable.
It enveloped everything, yet harmed nothing.
Every spectator could feel it—not heat, not pressure, but presence. As though the world itself was acknowledging Saphy.
And though many assumed it was a sign of divine favor, the bishop knew better. White light in the Awakening did not mean Light Magic. The crystal orb was incapable of reflecting elemental color—it only revealed the intensity of mana. And this intensity… was beyond ordinary measure.
But while the hall drowned in radiance, something else was happening.
For Saphy, the world had gone completely silent.
She could hear nothing. See nothing. Only white.
Then—before her—something appeared.
A faint shimmer, like glass being drawn into shape, hovered in the endless light.
Her eyes widened as glowing letters began to form one by one, arranging themselves into a familiar shape she had seen once before in her dreams.
Her status panel.
It opened on its own.
No chant. No thought.
Just—there.
Suspended before her, clear as crystal, surrounded by endless white.
She could see nothing else—no people, no floor, no hall—only that screen, shining faintly in the void.
Saphy blinked, confusion and awe battling within her.
"W–What…?" she whispered.
The panel flickered slightly, and her name glowed at the top.
Status
Name: Sapphire Rosabelle Astley
Age: 5 years
HP: 100%
Mana: 2M
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Affinity:
Light Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Dark Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Ice Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Lightning Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Fire Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Water Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Earth Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Wind Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Void Law: 4%
Skills: Perfect Language, Appraisal, Inventory, Void Cultivation, Mana Manipulation
Debuff : Infantilization
When she focused on her status panel, a sudden line caught her eye—Debuff: Infantilization.
Before she could take a closer look, another panel appeared before her eyes.
"Please choose an Element to awaken!!"
Saphy froze. Choose? That shouldn't be possible. Awakening an element was always random.
To confirm, she asked hesitantly,
"Can I really choose an element?"
"Affirmative."
"Can I know the reason?"
"Affirmative. All the Host's magic is at Level 10."
"So that's why…" Saphy muttered under her breath, realization dawning.
Her lips curved into a grin. She already knew what she wanted. All those webnovels she'd read—Void was always overpowered.
"I choose Void."
"Unable to perform."
Saphy: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
She took a deep breath to calm herself. Honestly, she'd half expected that answer, so she didn't let it bother her.
Her next choice was clear. During her visits to the marketplace, she had seen too many people missing limbs or bearing old injuries. The smiles of the children, bright despite hardship, had stayed with her.
"I choose Light."
"Acknowledged."
Warmth flooded her body, spreading from her chest to her fingertips. It was gentle yet overwhelming, like sunlight filling her veins.
Before she could savor the sensation, her updated status panel unfolded before her:
---
[Status Window – Updated]
Name: Sapphire Rosabelle Astley
Age: 5 years
HP: 100%
Mana: 2,000,000
Strength: 2
Agility: 3
Affinity:
Dark Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Ice Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Lightning Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Fire Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Water Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Earth Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Wind Magic Lv.10 (Max)
Light Law: 20%
Void Law: 5%
Skills:
Perfect Language, Appraisal, Inventory, Void Cultivation, Mana Manipulation, Purification (New), True Healing (New), Resurrection (New), Void Bullet (New)
---
Saphy was speechless.
Resurrection? Void Bullet?
Her mind went blank for a moment as she stared at the glowing letters.
Whatever she had just awakened… it was something far beyond ordinary.
And then, as suddenly as it began, everything returned to normal.
The blinding light faded, the air settled—and yet the shock still lingered in every corner of the hall.
The bishop, still trembling slightly, stepped forward and asked with careful reverence,
"M–My lady… what magic did you awaken?"
His question drew everyone's attention back to Saphy. She blinked, the lingering daze fading from her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself—but her hands were still shaking as she replied,
"Light magic."
For a moment, silence.
Then, as if on cue, several priests exclaimed, "Praise the Lord!" Their voices echoed through the marble hall, followed by a chorus of nobles—those who were more devout—joining in the chant.
The atmosphere grew bright and jubilant, until a calm, regal voice cut through the noise.
"Congratulations, my dear, on your successful awakening. May you have the brightest future ahead."
All heads turned. It was the King himself, smiling warmly from his throne.
Saphy immediately curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
The King chuckled, raising a hand. "Actually, you don't have to be that formal. Look—our royal family and your house both share the same sapphire eyes. We might even be distantly related. You can call me uncle, too."
Every noble in the hall froze—mouths agape, eyes wide.
And just as the King opened his mouth again, he added playfully,
"If things go well, you could even call me Fa—"
A discreet ahem cut through the air. The royal butler had stepped forward, his expression composed but his throat-clearing perfectly timed.
The King paused mid-sentence, then gave a small cough of his own. "…Yes, well. Perhaps this isn't the place for that."
Laughter rippled through the hall, the tension finally breaking. The atmosphere softened, and the ceremony gradually returned to its calm, dignified tone.
One by one, the nobles and priests approached Saphy, bowing deeply and offering congratulations. Each word of praise seemed to ripple through the hall, filling it with warmth and admiration.
Her mother's eyes glistened. She opened her arms, instinctively wanting to hug her daughter—but before she could, the head maid, Sophia, gently stepped in.
"My Lady, this isn't the correct occasion," she said firmly, though her voice carried no harshness.
Lady Astley's heart clenched, but she nodded obediently. Later, she promised herself. After the party is over… then I will hold Saphy to my heart as long as I like.
Saphy felt the warmth of the congratulations wash over her, the pride, the admiration—but then, unexpectedly, a chill ran down her spine.
Her smile faltered for a heartbeat. Something unseen had brushed against her senses—a fleeting whisper, a subtle disturbance that made the hair on her arms stand on end.
She shook it off, but the feeling lingered, a quiet warning in the back of her mind.
As the hall gradually calmed, the bishop's expression grew solemn, his eyes sweeping over the assembled nobles before resting on Saphy. He straightened slightly, as if gathering divine courage. The King noticed the subtle motion but made no move to intervene, his calm blue gaze observing the unfolding scene with mild amusement.
"My lady," the bishop began, his voice low yet resonant, carrying effortlessly through the still-charged air, "congratulations on your successful awakening."
Saphy remained silent, her small hands folded neatly in front of her, her bright eyes fixed on the bishop. She knew better than to interrupt; this was his moment to speak.
After a short pause, he continued, his tone shifting slightly, weighted with authority and purpose:
"Actually… I was sent to accomplish more than merely performing the ceremony."
Saphy tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She didn't speak, waiting patiently for the bishop to finish.
But the Duke, standing nearby, stiffened noticeably, his jaw tightening. A flicker of unease crossed his features as his carefully composed mask cracked ever so slightly.
The bishop's eyes softened as he looked at Saphy, a rare warmth seeping into his words:
"Your kindness has reached the Church… and far beyond. We have heard of how you selflessly heal the poor orphan children who suffered such tragic misfortune. How you declared, humbly, that this gift bestowed upon you was meant to help the masses. Your overwhelming compassion… your unyielding dedication… it has touched the hearts of all who know of it."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle. The hall was utterly silent, the nobles' eyes wide, the priests leaning forward, and even the King's lips curved into a faint, approving smile.
"And now, my lady… you have also awakened your Light Magic."
A ripple of astonishment ran through the assembly. Whispers spread like wildfire. Many nobles had suspected what was coming, yet the confirmation still left them awestruck.
The bishop's voice grew firmer, imbued with reverence and a quiet urgency:
"And currently, the Church… has no Saintess."
Gasps echoed around the hall. Saphy felt the weight of hundreds of eyes upon her, the realization dawning like a tide of expectation. Her small frame trembled slightly, though she remained composed outwardly.
"So… my lady," the bishop said, his voice almost a whisper now, as if he were speaking directly to the divine, "this humble servant of the gods asks you: Will you… take on the mantle of the Saintess?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Saphy's heart raced; her palms felt warm and cold at once. Every noble, priest, and attendant held their breath, waiting for her response.
The Duke's face had gone pale, lips pressed tightly together, his envy and disbelief barely contained. Meanwhile, the King leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
At the bishop's request, the hall fell into a hushed silence. Every gaze turned toward Saphy, waiting for her answer. With resolute heart, she stood sharp and confident, as if she already knew the world would bend around her choice. The glow of the sigils reflected in her eyes, hinting at a power that could change everything.
Then, with a single step forward, she made her decision. The hall seemed to hold its breath. Whatever path she chose, one thing was certain—nothing would ever be the same again.