Arriving before the Divine Tree, Ron André stepped inside the fenced area and put on a show of praying for over ten minutes.
Even now, he still found it strange.
He clearly didn't believe in the Goddess of Harvest — Hervesta, yet whenever he prayed, the sheaf-of-grain mark on his forehead—the symbol of a Chosen One—would faintly heat up.
It felt as if he were truly communicating with the goddess.
But in reality…
He was just thinking about what to eat for lunch.
All he could say was—systems were truly mysterious.
So much time had passed, yet Hervesta hadn't come looking for trouble.
Whether the system was forcing it or if some kind of deal existed between the two, Ron had no way of knowing.
After finishing his "prayer," Ron left the enclosure.
The surrounding believers, upon seeing him, all bowed respectfully, drawing the sheaf-of-grain symbol over their chests with devout expressions.
When he entered the nearby convent, he saw several people lined up at the counter, paying money to purchase club-leaves.
The sale of club-leaves wasn't casual.
Because Ron knew their effects, he had set strict rules:
Only those who had prayed devoutly for at least three days at the Divine Tree could purchase them
Each person could buy no more than five leaves
All buyers had to register their personal information truthfully
Although resale would still happen, it wouldn't become a tool for large-scale profiteering.
That was enough.
By the time Ron approached the counter, only one person remained—
An elderly man.
His hair was a mix of black and white. Judging by appearance, he was around fifty or sixty.
After the previous buyer happily left with their leaves, the old man stepped forward and took out a worn money pouch.
His hands trembled slightly—
But his grip on the pouch was firm, as if afraid of dropping it.
Clack.
The pouch landed on the counter with a soft sound.
Under the priest's guidance, the old man provided his personal details and the wish he had made during prayer.
The priest carefully recorded everything.
The priest was patient.
As the old man slowly laid out copper coins one by one, he showed no sign of impatience.
While watching, he continued writing notes on the registration form.
After counting carefully three times and confirming there were exactly 100 copper coins, the old man pushed them forward.
Then, he devoutly drew the sheaf-of-grain symbol over his chest.
The priest returned the gesture gently and handed him a single club-leaf.
The old man placed it into his pouch, tied it tightly with a sturdy string, and carefully tucked it inside his clothing.
He pressed his hand over his chest, feeling the pouch's presence—
And smiled.
His wrinkled face bloomed like a chrysanthemum.
Watching him bid farewell to the priest and slowly leave the convent, Ron stepped up to the counter.
"Your Highness Ron André."
The priest immediately bowed respectfully.
Since Ron came regularly to collect club leaves, the priest promptly instructed someone to bring over half of the leaves gathered during this period.
Although Ron had halted experiments at the Royal Capital Magic Academy, the collection of club-leaves had never stopped.
In the coming days, the mages he had "poached" would begin arriving at the City of Chaos.
Among them were many followers of Hervesta.
Ron planned to give them these leaves for further experimentation.
Most likely, they could develop even more potent healing potions than those from the academy.
Of course—
Such potions would only be suitable for Hervesta's believers.
At that moment, a thought suddenly crossed Ron's mind.
If these leaves could change a person's faith…
Would they affect him as well?
After all, while he was a Chosen One, he didn't actually believe in Hervesta.
If he used one—
Would he become one of her devout followers?
Deciding not to test it on himself, Ron shook his head and dismissed the idea.
While waiting for the leaves, he casually asked:
"Was that old man just now a local? He didn't seem well-off—why spend money on club-leaves?"
The priest slid over the registration form and replied respectfully:
"He's a farmer from Tansen City, in the inland regions of the Empire. He came all this way specifically to pray before the Divine Tree."
Ron glanced at the form.
At the bottom, he saw the entry:
[Charles, 63 years old, Tansen City, farmer.
Wish: That this year's harvest will be better than last year's, and that beast tides will no longer ravage his land.]
Meeting someone from Tansen City here was unexpected.
Even by carriage, the journey took nearly half a month.
This meant the old man was truly devout.
The priest continued:
"Old Charles arrived half a month ago. Every morning, he prays before the Divine Tree for hours."
"Last year, his fields were devastated by beast tides. He only survived the winter thanks to the help from local nuns of the Harvest Church."
"This kind of thing is quite common across the Empire," the priest added.
"Our church does what it can to help."
"For cases like his, convents send nuns every year. Since he received help, it's only natural he wants to give something back."
Ron nodded, feeling a bit moved.
Among the Empire's three major churches—
The Harvest Church was the most grounded.
It lacked influence at the top, so it rooted itself among the common people instead.
And that willingness to do real work—
Was something Ron genuinely appreciated.
That was also why the church's nuns held little prejudice against ordinary people.
Even someone like Sylvie—a sixth-tier mage—
Would personally go to the front lines during times of famine every few years.
Thinking of Sylvie, Ron's mind shifted.
There was still some time before noon…
Maybe he should visit the suburban convent?
Since agreeing to let Sylvie host the War of the Gods, he hadn't gone to see it in person yet.
After collecting the club-leaves and giving a few routine instructions, Ron left the convent, boarded a carriage, and headed toward the suburban cultivation base.