“Good morning, Mr. Olovice.”

Susan greeted the steward energetically, delighted to see him again.

“Good morning, Miss Susan. Thank you for your help. I’ve got my bank card sorted out,” Olovice replied with a smile. The business card Susan gave him was very useful. When Olovice arrived at Star Flag Bank, he just showed the card and explained his purpose, and was immediately led to the VIP service area to get his bank card. The card had the roaring golden lion emblem of the Hearn Kingdom on it, and Olovice fell in love with it instantly. He deposited all the money he earned from selling potions yesterday into the account.

Now, with eighty gold pounds in his account, he felt a strong sense of security and happiness, which put him in a great mood today.

“It was nothing, you’re too kind,” Susan said, walking over in a bright, puffy dress. “Mr. Olovice, when is your exam?”

“This afternoon,” Olovice replied, still wearing the regular attire issued by the church—a white collared shirt and black trousers. He didn’t wear the deacon’s white robe as it was too conspicuous and too hot.

After chatting with Susan for a while, Olovice left Star Flag Bank. The bank was located in the bustling commercial center of Montpelier, on Sparrow Avenue. Although September hadn’t arrived yet, the summer heat still lingered. On Sparrow Avenue, leather and fur shops catering specifically to nobles, high-ranking clergy, and political figures had already launched new products.

These shops were the kind that could go half a year without opening, but when they did, they made enough to last another six months.

Montpelier was a genuine inland city, not near any seaports, so whenever precious animal furs like sable and beaver from the Northern Continent appeared in Montpelier, they would cause a buying frenzy.

Families of slightly lower status could opt for squirrel, fox, or wolf fur. In short, fur was a luxury not everyone could afford.

Thanks to Lady Borgia, the mayor’s wife, who was passionate about various makeup and clothing magazines, Olovice had learned a bit about these things.

“Olovice, over here.” At the entrance of a dessert shop, Mr. Briel, leaning on a cane, waved at the strikingly handsome deacon.

Olovice wasn’t surprised by Briel’s appearance. He knew he was going to get a bank card, and Briel must have noticed something unusual about Emile’s boyfriend. Since Emile was his employer, it was normal for Briel to be more concerned than he was.

Olovice walked to the dessert shop entrance. “Shall we go inside and sit for a while?”

The dessert shop had just opened and was already welcoming customers.

Olovice deliberately chose a secluded corner, surrounded by greenery, and painfully declined the staff’s offer of rich coffee, opting for two glasses of mint water instead.

“Mr. Briel, this is for you.” Olovice first took out something he had selected half an hour ago—a heather root pipe, practical and beautiful, along with three packs of tobacco and a small pack of rolling papers.

“This tobacco has herbs added to it, so it’s not as harsh,” Olovice said, pushing the gift towards Mr. Briel.

Briel, who had been frowning, was pleasantly surprised and delighted by the carefully chosen gifts. He couldn’t help but say, “You shouldn’t have spent so much, Olovice.”

“As long as you’re happy,” Olovice replied with a smile.

Briel put away the gifts and returned to his frowning state. After taking a sip of iced mint water, he said, “Miss Emile’s boyfriend, Noah, Olovice, you should avoid too much contact with him.”

“Is he a dark magician? I smelled the scent of graves, death, and ashes on him,” Olovice shared his observations from the previous night. “Noah has been selling his mummy ash powder outside the Magic Eye.”

“He’s a dark magician, and his research seems to focus on the eerie and troublesome soul category. I suspect he took some kind of soul-related potion to split his soul and project it onto a crow,” Briel explained. “That crow is Noah’s avatar.”

“Some dark magicians from the Northern Continent, who are skilled in souls, create soul puppets and soul dolls, but this is the first time I’ve seen a living creature used as a soul vessel. That Noah is not simple.”

“When I used holy light to touch the crow, it only felt uncomfortable,” Olovice mused. “If the split soul is so powerful, why does Noah disguise himself as an ordinary clerk?”

“I don’t know, but with me watching, Miss Emile is safe for now,” Briel assured. “I’ve set up a natural guardian for Miss Emile.”

“Noah’s situation reminds me of the Church of Death. I dare say, in the realm of souls, the Church of Death has the most authority. This mysterious and dangerous cult focuses on souls, death, and resurrection,” Briel reminisced after taking another sip of iced mint water. “Fifty-three years ago, the Church of Death sent me an invitation to join their Resurrector Project as a consultant. That’s when I learned they were researching life.”

“Doesn’t it sound absurd and bizarre? A Church of Death researching life and resurrection, contrary to their name.”

“I think life and death are two sides of the same coin,” Olovice pondered. “To understand life, one must grasp the meaning of death.”

“Keep these thoughts to yourself,” Briel sighed. “The dead should return to the embrace of the River Styx. The Church of Death’s Resurrector Project has been ongoing for at least a hundred years, recruiting many dark magicians and cultists, collecting numerous strange esoteric rituals, and even involving many master-level figures.”

“When I left the Northern Continent, I heard those masters were working on time reversal and space travel,” Briel shook his head disapprovingly. “Going back in time, resurrecting life, researching souls, it’s destined that the Church of Death is not a righteous religion.”

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Briel said. “This afternoon, when Bishop Ulrich returns, you can take the exam. How’s your studying going?”

“The teachings are always in my heart,” Olovice smiled. “It’s almost noon. Let me treat you to lunch.”

Olovice chose a restaurant near the cathedral, planning to return to the Bright Hotel after eating and wait for the notification.

Outside the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, Olovice put down his knife and fork, looking at a group of black knights suddenly arriving on horseback, led by a white-robed archbishop with a red sash. The archbishop was followed by a group of clergy, all entering the cathedral.

“Someone’s injured,” Briel remarked.

Olovice recalled that Ulrich was supposed to return by steam train in the afternoon. It was now noon, yet Bishop Ulrich had returned early, and his entourage was hurried and solemn. It seemed the trip to the Black Tower hadn’t gone smoothly.

Back at the Bright Hotel, Olovice first checked on Witch Lily, ensuring she hadn’t wandered off, gave her a few reminders, and returned to his room, 301. He opened the window, looking at the church.

He waited until nightfall when the Bright Cross Church closed its doors. Olovice took out a silver pocket watch from his shirt pocket and checked the time—it was 7:25 PM.

Fifteen minutes later, at 7:40, there was a knock on the door of room 301.

Wearing a deacon’s white robe and holding the “Bright Holy Book,” Olovice opened the door. Standing there was a deacon of the same rank as him, along with a church staff member he had met the previous night.

“Good evening, Deacon Olovice,” said Toth, Bishop Ulrich’s deacon, looking at the rural priest deacon. After a moment, he said, “Bishop Ulrich invites you to take the priest exam.”

“Please lead the way,” Olovice replied politely.

The sound of footsteps echoed crisply in the depths of Montpelier Cathedral as Olovice followed the white-robed deacon to the designated exam location by the archbishop.

In a spacious hall, behind a long table, Bishop Ulrich and an old priest sat on either side. Bishop Ulrich wore a priest’s white robe with a red bishop’s sash on his shoulder, while the old priest wore a black robe with a black Holy Light Cross necklace.

One light, one dark, representing the mercy and punishment of the Lord of Radiance.

Standing in the center of the hall, Olovice wore a warm and gentle smile.

Bishop Ulrich’s secretary began questioning him on the teachings of the Light and the contents of the Holy Book. Olovice responded calmly and unhurriedly, having memorized the “Bright Holy Book,” “Holy Rest,” and a series of textbooks thoroughly over the past few days.

Bishop Ulrich occasionally marked a score on a sheet of paper.

The next round was the application of light magic.

The secretary pointed to a spell in the textbook, and Olovice was asked to demonstrate it.

“Holy Light Shine.”

Olovice uttered the incantation in Krumbis, and a cluster of radiant white holy light floated in his palm. The holy light gradually elongated and transformed into an attack-type spell, the Sword of Radiance. The holy spirit condensed to the extreme, forging a sword with a seemingly tangible blade. His long golden hair fluttered in the sword’s aura.

Olovice casually dispersed the Sword of Radiance.

Immediately, a cross cage appeared around him, covered with light spells written in Krumbis, used for imprisonment, suppression, and harm. Just like water, the essence of water doesn’t change, but it can transform into ice, boil, or impact in different states. The holy spirit is the same. By using Krumbis, adding other spells, or altering or merging the power of the holy spirit, it can serve different purposes.

“Instant casting?” Bishop Ulrich marked a red check, his face expressionless, showing a certain sternness.

Naturally, Olovice aimed to do his best. During the potion-making demonstration, he took the opportunity to express his desire to take the church’s alchemist certification.

“You can. The church holds a certification exam for priests every year. This year’s has passed, but you can come back next year,” Bishop Ulrich said. “Father Andre recommended you as a candidate for the next priest of Letania. After the assessment, your theory and practical skills are excellent.”

Olovice finally breathed a sigh of relief. All his hard work and dedication had paid off, and he hadn’t let his teacher down.

“However, things are different now. Normally, priests are required to have attended the church’s seminary, with formal academic records and a university degree, to become a priest or a priest candidate for a region. Your teacher, Father Andre, is such a case,” Bishop Ulrich continued.

Olovice lowered his eyelashes, remained silent for a moment, then looked at Bishop Ulrich.

“Given your special circumstances, you’ll need to do something to quell dissenting voices, as you haven’t formally attended university,” Bishop Ulrich said, his white robe still stained with dried blood. He had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to change.

“What is it?” Olovice asked.

“Your abilities are impressive. One of our comrades was sacrificed in suppressing the Black Tower’s demons. If you want to obtain the priest position, you’ll need to fill his place,” Bishop Ulrich stated.

“So, Olovice, do you agree?”

Olovice sighed softly.

“I agree.”