Chapter 47 : When the East Calls

Curtis  blinked.

“That’s not just rare. That’s…”
“Terrifying.”

In this world, miracles were divine techniques—power granted by sacred authority, unlike the elemental magic Curtis  wielded. Where a mage could only cast spells tied to their affinity, miracles were universal among the faithful. Fire, water, air—none of it mattered.

What did matter was how many miracles a cleric could command.

There were ten miracles in total. The Fourth was the gate to priesthood.
The Fifth and above? Only bishops could wield those.

And Lilia, freshly eighteen, had already claimed the Fifth as her own.

“No wonder the Church let her post that ridiculous request,” Curtis  muttered.

This wasn’t a case of someone abusing their station. No—the Church was probably bending backward to please her. Even if she scribbled nonsense, they’d seal it in gold.

Still grinning in disbelief, Curtis  asked:

“So… what’s the request actually about?”

The clerk chuckled, clearly familiar with this particular headache.

“Technically, it’s simple: she wants someone to accompany her into the frontier. To hunt aberrations. Constantly. Endlessly. No stopping. No defense missions. Just… seek and destroy.”

“No outpost support? No protective duties?”

“None. Just travel, find enemies, and purge them. Repeat. Indefinitely.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wrote it down in her own words. You saw it: ‘To spread the light of salvation through the cleansing of evil.’”

“That’s her reasoning?”

“If you interpret it with… secular logic, yes. It translates to: ‘Let’s go kill monsters before they hurt anyone.’”

Curtis  scratched his chin.

“Sounds like a fanatical volunteer who thinks the best defense is preemptive slaughter.”

The clerk nodded.

“You’re not wrong. It’s a noble goal in theory, but… exhausting in practice. She treats it like a divine calling. There’s no structure, no rest, no fallback plan. Just nonstop purging.”

“And the pay?”

“Undefined.”

“Of course.”

“A few brave souls tried to join her. All of them quit. Most barely lasted a week. Some came back swearing they’d never take a Church commission again.”

“So now it’s…”

“Officially listed. But treated like cursed parchment. No one touches it.”

Curtis’s smile turned thoughtful.

It was, in every way, a nightmare posting.
Poorly defined. Overzealous. Physically demanding. Light on compensation. Littered with divine rhetoric.

But it was also exactly what he’d come for.

Aberrations. Every day. Without end.

A partner who chased them with religious fervor could be the perfect companion—not to mention a future bishop with immense pull.

“Everyone else is running away from her? Good. That means no competition.”

He looked the clerk square in the eye.

“Who do I talk to about accepting it?

Curtis  left the mercenary guild with a quiet purpose and made his way to the Doris Trading Company headquarters—a sprawling complex of elegant stone and merchant banners that fluttered in the rising dusk.

When he mentioned Donnie’s name at the reception, he was shown inside without hesitation. As it happened, Donnie himself was already there, managing business among scrolls and sealed ledgers.

“Well met again, Lord Curtis !” Donnie greeted him warmly.
“We meet again,” Curtis  replied with a nod. “Still working?”

“Just finished. If your evening is free, I would be honored to host you for dinner.”

“I won’t say no to a good meal.”

Though Curtis  was the guest, it was Donnie who seemed truly delighted.

Soon after, they were seated in a restaurant that rivaled the luxury of the inn Donnie had arranged—gilded chandeliers, soft lute music in the background, a menu filled with delicacies Curtis  hadn’t tasted since leaving the House of Naroc.

“It’s been almost a month since I’ve eaten like this,” Curtis  mused as he savored a spiced lamb dish glazed in honeyed wine.

As the wine flowed and the main courses dwindled, the conversation shifted easily. Donnie told stories of returning to Abaca, gossip from the merchant roads, recent shifts in trade laws, and mentioned—almost in passing—that he had reported Curtis ’s deeds to the higher ranks of the Company.

Eventually, the subject of a certain white-robed priestess emerged.

“I heard you met Lady Lilia?” Donnie asked.

“Yes,” Curtis  said. “Ran into her at the mercenary guild. She approached me directly. Offered a commission on the spot.”

“Ah, of course. Today was the scheduled day for the regular caravan’s return. She must have come with it.”

“Still, I didn’t expect to be recruited at first glance.”

Donnie chuckled knowingly.

“Her search for mages is something of a legend—at least among those who’ve been through the guild even once.”

And with that, Donnie began to unravel a story far more intricate and illuminating than the one Curtis  had heard from the clerk earlier.

“Rumors started years ago,” he said, lowering his voice as though sharing something precious. “A young girl in a gray robe, not yet a priest, wandering around while casting miracles. Some said she had eyes that shimmered like sacred gold. Others thought she was a saint in disguise.”

“That’s not just an oddity,” Curtis  murmured. “That’s a public spectacle.”

He leaned in, intrigued. “Did the rumors go anywhere?”

“Of course. But the Church denied everything. Some say they wanted to protect her until she came of age.”

In this world, gray-robed initiates—monastics—belonged to the Church but held no power. They were not yet clergy. They couldn’t cast miracles. Not officially.

And yet, Lilia had done exactly that. Her eyes shimmered with a golden radiance, a sign of the first miracle—The Stigmata, the awakening of divine power within the body. The light in her irises was more than aesthetic—it was divine proof.

In lesser initiates, that glow would be faint, flickering, unstable. But Lilia’s? Hers shone like starlight in the dark.

That meant only one thing: she had already accepted and mastered the sacred energy.

“If she had divine power while still a monastic, the Church must’ve scrambled to keep her hidden.”

“They did,” Donnie nodded. “But they couldn’t hold her back forever. Rumor has it, last year, she demanded recognition—and wouldn’t stop until they caved.”

“So, she became a priest this year?”

“Indeed. But even before her ordination, she was well known. Not just for her miracles—but for her beauty as well.”

“And her personality?” Curtis  asked, sipping his wine. “I had a brief conversation. She struck me as… eccentric.”

Donnie chuckled again.

“I’ve never spoken to her myself, but the consensus seems to be: kind-hearted, if a little odd. Energetic. Perhaps too energetic.”

“But not malicious.”

“No. No dark rumors. Just… stories of her running around chasing mages and preaching crusades against aberrations.”

Curtis  nodded, the wheels in his head turning.

“So, the request may be absurd—but the issuer is not.”