“Olovice, how are you feeling today?”

The Healing Nun drew back the curtains, letting the sunlight stream in as she looked at Olovice lying in the hospital bed. She placed the fresh flowers she brought into the vase on the bedside table—cornflowers, sunflowers, and baby’s breath, all picked from the church’s garden. Their natural fragrance and bright colors were meant to lift the patient’s spirits.

“It still hurts a lot, but at least I’m alive,” Olovice said, lying in bed and opening his eyes. It was his third day recovering at the White Tower in Morito City. He had been in a coma for the first two days and only woke up yesterday evening, still feeling groggy.

“I told you the goddess of luck would bless you, and the holy light would protect you,” the Healing Nun said, sitting beside him and placing today’s potion on the table, clearly in a good mood. “Now, you’re a big hero, Olovice. The bishops will soon head to the southern capital, Poitiers, to receive the honorary medal and rewards from the Cardinal.”

“It’s a pity you’re too injured to go with them, dear. Don’t be sad.”

The Healing Nun felt sorry for the young deacon, trying to comfort Olovice, who had sacrificed the most in this incident. As a key candidate for the Holy Son’s descent, his soul and body were battered, and he had suffered severe injuries from the alien demon. Surviving was already a miracle in her eyes.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Olovice said, realizing how hoarse his voice sounded when he spoke.

The Healing Nun carefully helped Olovice sit up against the headboard. “Let me give you some water.”

Olovice was indeed very thirsty. The water in the cup was clear, with a bit of sunflower pollen mixed in—a low-grade version of holy water that many clergy members drank regularly. Olovice had drunk quite a bit of it before and particularly enjoyed tea made with sunflowers.

But this time, after drinking it, Olovice couldn’t help but cough, blood trickling out. The slight burning itch in his throat made him cough uncontrollably.

The Healing Nun quickly patted Olovice’s back and wiped the blood from his face, apologizing, “Sorry, your body is still too fragile. Let me treat your wounds first.”

She unwrapped the bandages around the young deacon’s chest and abdomen. Due to the death of the Black Tower demon, Olovice’s wounds hadn’t become actively contaminated. When the bishop brought him for treatment, the nun thought he was already dead because his injuries were so severe.

“I’ll use high-concentration holy water to clean around your wounds before applying the flesh-healing potion. It might hurt a bit,” the Healing Nun explained.

Olovice finally saw his injuries. They were indeed ugly. While he was unconscious, the Healing Nun had treated him several times, preventing them from becoming unbearable. The edges of the newly grown flesh still bore traces of the Black Tower demon’s contamination. The Healing Nun needed to remove these stubborn pollutants to ensure the new flesh and internal organs were clean.

“I’ll inject a numbing potion first to reduce your pain,” the Healing Nun explained each step, injecting the potion into the black granules around his chest and abdomen wounds, cleaning them thoroughly with a cotton swab dipped in holy water, and finally shaking a potion bottle.

“This is a high-grade blessing potion, very effective,” she said, pouring it onto Olovice’s wounds, watching them slowly heal and close before wrapping them with bandages. Only then did she smile and look up.

Olovice watched the entire treatment process. “How many days will it take to heal?”

“At least a week for the surface to heal,” she replied.

“I want to write a letter to my teacher. Could you bring me some paper and a pen?” Olovice asked.

“In your current condition, I don’t think it’s suitable to write a letter,” the Healing Nun advised.

“No need to write. I’ve already sent a letter to Father Andre. He should have received it by now. If he wants to visit you, you’ll see him in three days,” Bishop Ulrich said as he entered, having overheard the conversation.

The Healing Nun left with the tray.

Bishop Ulrich looked at the pale deacon, his tone much gentler than before. “Stay here in the White Tower and recover well. Don’t worry about your merits; I’ll report them truthfully to the Cardinal and strive for more rewards for you.”

“Thank you for your efforts,” Olovice said. “I remember during the Black Tower battle, the Alektryon Mirror seemed to have been taken by the Enchantress.”

“I’ve spoken with the baron. Although he still believes the Enchantress took it unintentionally,” Bishop Ulrich said angrily, “injuring Captain Prine and taking the church’s forbidden item violates the ‘Light Code.’ When I see the Cardinal, I’ll report this matter and ensure he pressures the Witch Association in the imperial capital to demand the Enchantress return the mirror.”

Olovice nodded weakly. “I hope we can retrieve the church’s forbidden item soon.”

The power behind the witch race surprised Olovice. What he read in books was nothing compared to experiencing it firsthand.

At the battle scene, the forbidden item was brazenly taken. If it were anyone else, like a witch or a demon, a wanted notice would have been issued. Instead, the church had to communicate with the Witch Association first and let them handle the Enchantress.

It’s a pity; he felt he had a connection with that mirror.

“Given your excellent performance this time, once you’re fully healed, I’ll approve you as a priest in Letania. Your teacher is also reaching retirement age. During this period, your salary and benefits will be the same as a village priest, and you’ll receive a six-month nutrition allowance,” Bishop Ulrich, hopeful for a promotion due to the successful elimination of the Black Tower demon, fulfilled his promise and offered appropriate benefits.

Finally, he was officially recognized. It wasn’t easy, Olovice thought to himself.

“Rest well, Olovice,” Bishop Ulrich said, patting his shoulder.

After the door closed, leaving him alone, Olovice turned to look at the water cup beside the vase.

He slowly picked it up, took a sip, and forced down the uncomfortable burning sensation, suppressing the blood that rose to his throat before placing the cup back.

His heart pounded intensely.

Thump, thump.

Olovice looked at his heart, unbuttoning his white hospital gown. Apart from the heavily bandaged waist and abdomen, his chest showed no scars. Even the Ouroboros Reverse Life Magic Circle he had drawn with his blood was gone, along with the Soul-Eating Sacred Beetle that served as the array’s core.

He had noticed it as soon as he woke up yesterday evening. Something had perfectly treated his wounds and the Soul-Eating Sacred Beetle, leaving no trace.

Olovice pressed down on his heart, feeling a small lump of flesh.

In his daze, he often heard faint gnawing sounds from his heart. Initially, he thought it was eating his heart, but later realized it was consuming the Soul-Eating Sacred Beetle.

Now it was long gone.

What would it eat next?

With everyone believing the Black Tower demon was eliminated, if he revealed himself, he’d be the first to die because he was the last host of the Black Tower demon. Due to the demon’s parasitism, he was clearly experiencing rejection symptoms.

The Black Tower demon didn’t like drinking holy water.

Olovice irritably brushed his hair back, revealing his cold eyes. As he pressed down on the lump, it seemed to melt away.

He needed to find a way to extract it.

Olovice took another sip of water.

If he was having a hard time, it wouldn’t have it easy either. Living in his body meant it had to follow his lead. Olovice looked out the window, seeing smoke rising with a pungent smell.

Soon after, the Healing Nun rushed in, closing every window.

“What’s happening outside?” Olovice put down the cup.

“They’re dealing with the black thorn bushes. You know, there were many of Samuel’s things there. The church plans to burn it with holy fire, including the Black Tower,” the Healing Nun replied.

After she left, Olovice closed his eyes, lightly dozing for a few hours. When he opened them again, it was already five in the evening.

The Healing Nun brought dinner. Since his damaged internal organs and bones hadn’t fully healed, he was still on a liquid diet, a nutritional liquid invented by the Church of Knowledge and Wisdom.

One pack could last half a day.

The Healing Nun checked Olovice’s wounds again, reapplying medicine and carefully bandaging them. After finishing, she closed the door.

Olovice drank the nutritional liquid through a straw. It wasn’t particularly tasty, with a faint grassy flavor, mild and just okay.

After finishing, he lay down to rest.

The ward was very quiet. Olovice pressed his eyes, feeling something crawl onto his eyeball before retreating to his heart.

“Come out, we can discuss this,” Olovice said calmly.

He then felt an itch in his throat, like tendrils, making him cough again. He calmly wiped the blood from his mouth and drank a large cup of holy water.

The result was that, late at night, he had to get up to deal with physiological needs.

Should he thank the Healing Nun for her diligent treatment? His internal organs’ basic functions were still intact.

Olovice opened the bathroom door, washed his face, and wiped it with a towel. In the mirror, his face was bloodless, thinner than before, with his left eye bloodshot from the demon’s doing.

Olovice suddenly stopped.

A vertical slit opened on the back of his hand, blood dripping to the floor, and a black, eye-like object emerged.

Was it using him to perceive the world?

Olovice thought of the demon’s ability to deprive senses in its absolute domain and covered it with holy light, feeling less than pleased.

Though in a severely weakened state, it was still a fundamentally dangerous creature.