"Mother, bless me."
Splash.
Deep within the church, a sacred ritual was underway.
Though the room was bare and undecorated, a divine stillness filled the air.
At its center stood Camelia, arms spread wide, blood flowing freely from slits on her wrists. She whispered prayers to her "Mother," letting her blood—tinged faintly with gold—spill across the chalk-drawn pentagram beneath her feet.
Her face had grown deathly pale, her breathing shallow, yet she refused to stop.
Beside her stood a young woman with blonde hair and blue knight's armor. Her lips parted several times in worry, but no words came out—any sound could disrupt the delicate ritual. For seven nights and seven days, Camelia had drained herself to the brink of collapse, and the girl knew she would never forgive herself if she caused her aunt's efforts to fail.
All this… just for that human, Sol. Why would she risk so much for him?
The girl—Chloe—gripped her cloak tightly, frustration and helplessness washing over her. She couldn't understand why this woman she so admired was sacrificing herself for a boy.
Sol Luxuria.
Even his name stirred something in her—curiosity mixed with irritation. She had only recently joined the Church of Castitas for her paladin training, and she couldn't fathom what made that human so special. Why were so many of the sisters, even the Supreme Daughter herself, so enamored with him?
Does he even know how much Lady Camelia is doing for his sake?
Camelia's ritual wasn't a simple blessing—it was a plea to all fourteen goddesses at once. Through seven days and nights of blood and prayer, she was asking them to bend the laws of the Astral Realm when it next opened, giving Sol a direct chance to obtain a powerful spirit.
In short, she was asking the gods to cheat on his behalf.
It's said the previous Supreme Daughter did something similar for the Hero King, Chloe recalled. Though back then, she used not just her own blood, but that of every Holy Daughter as well.
"Chloe, come help me," Camelia's faint voice called.
Startled from her thoughts, Chloe quickly covered Camelia's nude, bloodstained form with a cloak.
"Thank you," Camelia murmured.
"You shouldn't thank me—it's my duty," Chloe replied quietly.
"Fufufu~! To think the clumsy little Chloe has become a proud paladin trainee from Industria's holy order. Your mother must be proud."
Blushing furiously, Chloe averted her gaze, though her heart swelled with joy. As part of their training, all paladins were sent to serve in a different church. Normally, the assignments were random, but as the top of her class in Slothstein, Chloe had been allowed to choose—and she'd chosen Lustburg without hesitation.
After all, she'd grown up hearing the legends of the Hero King and his companions—among them, the Supreme Daughter of Castitas and her own mother. Still, she couldn't help feeling disappointed that the Hero King's son was, by all accounts, a shameless womanizer.
"Thank you, Aunt Camelia. Mother always said I'd make a ridiculous knight someday."
Camelia chuckled softly. She would never tell her niece how hopeless her mother had once been before becoming Industria's Supreme Daughter—parents deserved a little dignity.
"Now, help me to my room. I need to wash and take some potions. I can't let Sol see me in such a pitiful state."
Sol, Sol, Sol… Is that all she ever thinks about?
After a hesitant pause, Chloe finally asked, "Aunt… why are you doing all this for a human?"
Camelia gave a tired smile, recognizing there was no malice in the question. "First of all, Chloe, I am human."
Chloe's face turned crimson. "S-sorry! I didn't mean it like that! I just thought… You never seemed interested in men. Didn't you reject King Mars because he wasn't your type? Prince Sol looks just like him—they could be twins."
Camelia's eyes softened as she recalled Mars, one of her dearest friends.
"When I said 'not my type,' I wasn't talking about appearances," she said quietly. "For someone like me, who can see deeper than faces, looks mean very little. What truly draws me… is a person's soul."
Her gaze turned distant, dreamy—as though remembering the most beautiful thing she'd ever witnessed.
---
Meanwhile, Sol lay on his bed, lost in thought.
He still had a few hours before his meeting with Camelia, but he didn't know how to spend them. Lilith had canceled his lessons for the day, insisting he rest and get used to the sensation of mana.
Mana—the mysterious energy flowing through all creation. For Sol, who'd come from a world without it, it was something out of myth. Now that he could sense it, it felt almost unreal.
He rose and faced the full-length mirror on his wall. Stripping down to his boxers, he steadied his breath.
"Alright. Let's do this."
Closing his eyes, he focused inward—not seeing, but feeling the mana moving through him.
Inhale. Exhale.
His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Using mana, he reminded himself, should be as natural as breathing. Not forced—instinctive.
With time and focus, warmth surged through his veins. His heartbeat quickened; his body felt alive in a new way.
When he opened his eyes, his reflection startled him—his usual blue irises had turned deep gold, slit like a reptile's. His senses sharpened; everything became clearer, louder, brighter. This wasn't just mana—it was the mark of his bloodline.
"Looks cool," he muttered, "but I hope this isn't all there is."
There wasn't much data about hybrids like him. You'd think that with so many contracts between humans and magical beings, more half-bloods would exist—but apparently, they didn't. Maybe genetics played a role, though reasoning with science in a world of gods and dragons was probably pointless.
"Anyway," he sighed, "this is the first real step."
Years of training—mental, physical, spiritual—all led to this moment.
He thought back to something Lilith had said: that he had an "attribute." But what could it be? His mother was a Chaos Dragon, but that didn't narrow things down. Dragons weren't defined by the magic they used—but by what they were immune to.
A Fire Dragon, for example, might master ice magic yet be impervious to flame. That unpredictability made them truly terrifying.
Lost in thought, Sol examined his reflection with fascination.
"Sol, I wanted to talk to—"
The door opened abruptly.
Milia froze mid-step, staring not only at his nearly naked body but also at his golden, reptilian eyes reflected in the mirror.
"Sol…?" she breathed.
He blinked in surprise—not just because she'd caught him in an awkward pose, but because a moment earlier, he'd been extending his senses outward, detecting every maid's footsteps and laughter throughout the mansion.
But Milia… he hadn't heard her at all.