As we entered the Court of Origin I saw hundreds of new Deacons and thousands of other people of Faith, from Priests to Archbishops, they were all there to witness the ordination ceremony conducted by Pope Zephyr IV. In the center of it all was the main church, a grand church, grander and more beautiful than any church I had ever seen, tall as a mountain, it seemed like it was scraping the sky itself.

  Among the newcomers, only two caught my sight. The other Named, Medora the First. A little shorter than me, with black hair and black eyes, lips as thin as leaves and skin as pale as ghosts, her eyes looked empty as she looked around the room. She wore the same color vestments as mine, but the quality of the material used was not the same, mine was a step or two above.

  The other, wearing a white robe with red lining and embroidery.

  ‘I couldn’t find out what his name is from June, but I will once the ceremony starts.’

  He was tall, a head taller than I was and it was clear he had undergone some sort of training, perhaps in Divine Arts. The red color jumped out as if screaming ‘Look at me, here I am!’… the color of Saints. June was right, he indeed was a Saint.

  His hear was a bright blond hair, with red eyes and average-looking lips. His skin was not as pale as Medora’s, but it was not that much darker either, perhaps a shade or two darker than Medora’s.

  The rest were all the same, all in the Vestments of Deacons, a standard black robe with black stitching and without any embroideries. A symbol of humility. I stop searching the room, I looked above us, straight at the door from which the Pope would come out of.

  A grand door that lead to a balcony just as grand, with intricate windows and pillars, it looked as if it was something plucked from the dreams of architects and the nightmares of engineers and workers. Above the door was the figure of a Demigod, Demigod Saphir, the Messenger of Aurora.

  **Medora**

  Looking around the room, I finally found the people I was searching for, the First Named and the Saint.

  The First Named, Innocentius the First was standing near High Priest Alexander, a man renowned among his peers for the kindness he shows.

  ‘I guess the rumors were not baseless.’

  Innocentius was wearing identical Vestments to mine, with the same sticking and embroideries, but with a noticeable difference, the material used was of a higher quality than mine. A boy who had barely been baptized a week before could not earn so enough money for such a high quality robe, it was clearly a gift from the High Priest.

  Innocentius had blindingly white hair, with snowy eyes that seemed to watch over everyone. A head taller than me, with skin some shades darker than mine, he was not bad looking in the least, I would say that out of everyone in the room, he was among the more charming. His gaze was fixated on the statue of Saphir, the Messenger of Aurora.

  The other one was the Saint. He looked… trained, rigorously trained, as if he was a soldier getting ready for war, he too was among the more charming, his skin was a little darker than mine, about a shade or two, but he was still ghost-looking with his blond hair and red eyes.

  His red lined Vestments announced his status loud and clear to everyone. ‘I alone am the Saint.’ As the gazes of those around were captured by its red lining. Though his face was stoic, his eyes betrayed deep regrets and sorrows.

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  ‘What could he possibly regret so much?’

  But I quickly put that thought aside, I would soon be ordained Priestess and I could finally walk towards my goal, I will do my best to take revenge on those who dared to kill me, I will return no matter what, no matter who stands in my way.

  My fist tightened. Noticing, Bishop Neun, my father, placed his hand on my shoulder.

  Wearing a smile and with a kind tone, he asked me.

  “Formidable people aren’t they?”

  He was always quick to calm me down and ease my nerves when I was anxious. A great father, leaps and bounds beyond my previous life’s father who abandoned me the moment he saw I was a girl.

  “Yes father.”

  **Ahram**

  A scene I was all too familiar with. Priests and Deacons, and Bishops, and Cardinals, all gathered around for the Ordination ceremony. This would mark the tenth time I would be ordained a Saint, the tenth time my Stigmata would change, and the tenth time I would be assigned Saint of Protection.

  As I looked around the room, searching for the people I needed to approach later, two robes caught my sight, robes I saw for the first time. White robes with golden lining and embroidery. Firsts.

  My heart sank. I had never seen them before, in all my regression, they had never appeared, not even once, not even in the streets, yet here they were, not one, but two Named, wearing their blinding white robes as if mocking me.

  Despite my emotions, they didn’t show on my face, after hundreds of years I was a master at hiding my emotions.

  The first one that caught my glance was the boy. He had striking features, memorable features, features I was seeing for the first time. His hair and eyes were as white as his robes, as if snow had planted itself within them. With slightly darker skin than average, he was a head shorter than me.

  He looked very frail, but contrary to his body, his eyes seemed to hide worlds behind them. Despite being as stoic as a stone, I could not bear looking in those all-encompassing eyes of his.

  Standing behind him was High Priest Alexander. In all my previous lives he had never adopted a child, living his life dedicated to the Faith and dying a meaningless death at the beginning of the calamity, despite the fact that by that time he was a Middle Archangel.

  The other one, was a girl, slightly shorter than the boy, with black hair and eyes, with skin even whiter than mine and with leaf-thin lips, she looked like a ghost. She was standing proud despite her ghastly look.

  Her robes seemed to be of lower quality than mine and the boy’s. Well, not that it mattered. What mattered was who was standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder, Bishop Neun, who, in all my previous lives, adopted a boy that would be killed a few years after his ordination as Deacon, never living to be even a Priest.

  One of the staunch supporters of Pope Zephyr, he did his best to oppose Ira’s ascendancy to pope-hood, an effort that brought him a death as swift as his son’s.

  My previous regression had been my best shot yet at stopping the calamity, I reached a power realm I had never before reached, Middle Principality, at that level I could walk with my head high anywhere I went, only Pope Zephyr would surpass me, he was the strongest Divine Practitioner across the Ten Continents…still, it was not enough. I died a vain death once again, barely hindering Ira.

  The boy had his gaze fixated on Saphir the Messenger whilst the girl was smiling at her father. I had to find out their names, despite my grand stature as a Saint, Named ones were still special, very special.

  Their appearance changed everything, everything, both in good an bad ways. Most of the knowledge of the future that has been imprinted in my mind would be rendered useless, but the two also had the possibility to vastly impact the world, much more than I could, since, despite their lower Blessing, their power was affected by their names, they could even become Peak Angelic in just a year, that is how great of an impact their named had.

  ‘I need to get them on my side!’