Act I Part 2 Chapter 3 – Daughter of a Saint

November of the Sainted Year (Second Civil Month)

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Rozen Nizareus found herself in a difficult position. She had recently taken charge of the newly founded Academy of Alchemy, a task daunting enough on its own, even without the weight of her lineage pressing down on her shoulders. It was never easy to be born to a mother like hers, nor to live under the expectations of both family and people who knew her name. And it was worse still when one was a Saint born to another Saint, especially when that Saint merely pretended to be one.

Many had expected Rozen to behave like Saint Sylia, to inherit her powers or walk in her footsteps. Rozen often laughed silently when she heard such remarks. They had no idea they were comparing her to a living Goddess, one who kept the majority of her power hidden.

Over the years, Rozen had been approached by many men who expected her to accommodate them in the same way her mother sometimes did through her Divisions or Sub-Servants. More than a few had left with broken noses for their trouble. Lately, she had been courted by Josias, a Fire Knight serving under Master Mathias Herves. Although they were compatible, she had no intention of entertaining his advances. He was far from the only one among Mathias’s group to have tried, but she had no desire to involve herself with any of them.

That didn’t mean she hadn’t been tempted. Josias was among the more persistent and perhaps more appealing suitors. However, Rozen had grown up observing her mother, and she knew all too well how dangerous Mathias was. She had seen him hold the upper hand in nearly every interaction with Sylia. That alone told her everything she needed to know.

Sylia could create powerful humanoid beings with nothing more than blessed flowers. Mathias had Gods and Spirits crafting his forces for him. Josias, like most of Mathias’s people, had been ordered into existence, as casually as one might order a pie from a magic shop that specialized in instant culinary spells.

Rozen had not been made that way.

She had been born the old-fashioned way, sired by a mortal man, Tamren Syrmundi. Her father was a Declassed Noble, descended from a modest maternal Gentry family and a higher-class paternal Noble House. Despite her more humble paternal roots, Josias always addressed her as Lady Rozen, for she was the daughter of Saint Sylia. Even Mathias’s own underlings bowed to Sylia, whom they saw as something far beyond their reach. A Goddess in truth.

Not long ago, Rozen had finally discovered her mother’s true purpose in this world. For years, she had heard whispers, suspicions, half-truths, but now she had confirmation and it was worse than anything she had imagined. Sylia had been sent to this world to purge it and if necessary, to destroy it. Her presence here was not to protect the world and its people, but to salvage what could be saved and to erase the rest that was too rotten or damaged to keep.

Rozen’s heart had broken thinking of her father, his family, and all of her siblings.

She now understood that she, her brothers and sisters had been born not out of love, but for a purpose. They were meant to help restructure and fracture the world so that Sylia’s plan could be carried out more efficiently. They were disposable. All of them. Sylia could cast them aside at the first infraction or opportunity. Some of Sylia’s Divisions were equally expendable.

The Division that had borne Rozen had already been reabsorbed and reconditioned. There was little left of her. She had been no more than a temporary experiment, used, then erased.

Not long ago, after Rozen and a few of her siblings clashed with some of Mathias’s children and servants, their mother had spoken plainly. If they jeopardized Mathias’s interests or angered him in any way, she would not hesitate to sacrifice them. Mathias, Sylia had said, was the only true family she had in this world. They shared a common mission.

Mathias had come to that world to support Sylia’s Source in whatever she was meant to do. He helped keep certain powerful enemies at bay—foes Sylia couldn’t handle alone.

Rozen had been distraught upon hearing the truth, but she had not been able to confide in her father. He had only recently moved to her city, and she had no right to burden him. She wouldn’t have been allowed to, anyway. It wouldn’t have mattered since Sylia had tampered with his mind in order to keep him safe and prevent him from learning too much.

Instead, Rozen had confided in Josias.

The man had been eager, almost painfully so, to comfort her. Yet from that sincere and warm conversation, Rozen had come to understand something she had long suspected. He did not love her. At least, not anymore. Perhaps he had, once. However, something in him had shifted, and now his attentions seemed to lean toward her half-sister Seyka. Rozen, it seemed, had become little more than a second choice.

He likely knew they were Mana compatible. That much was not difficult to discern. Among those of their rank and status, such truths often revealed themselves with minimal effort. To him, Rozen may well have represented the most favourable match for continuing his bloodline. She was, genetically speaking, ideal for the bearing of powerful children from his bloodline.

Rozen had almost felt sorry for him before she finally understood the truth during their heartfelt conversation. It was as though a veil had been lifted from her eyes. She had not been angry. They had flirted, perhaps even gone a little further than that, but she had never taken him seriously. Josias had always been a naive man, and for that reason, she felt more than mere pity for him.

Josias had fallen for a woman who had been deeply wounded, one who had long since buried her heart and vowed never to offer her love and trust to another man.

Unlike Josias, Rozen understood that her sister was still grappling with the weight of her past. She did not ignore that the man who had once betrayed Seyka and broken her heart repeatedly was still pursuing her, driven, it seemed, by greed. He ought to have been afraid, though.

Seyka was a Saint, and one with a volatile temper. If ever provoked too far, she might very well impale him with her sword and kill him outright. No one would stop her. The situation had become all the more uncomfortable since the man’s illegitimate son had also begun pursuing Seyka, albeit likely for different reasons.

Rozen, more than anyone, understood that her sister would never return Josias’s affections. She still knew that his heart was already too deeply entwined, and there was nothing Rozen could do to save him from the pain that would inevitably follow. All she could offer was support him, perhaps even help them grow closer. Josias was the sort of man Seyka might tolerate, perhaps even appreciate, in time. However, love from her might need a lot more time and patience.

Rozen’s own position was more entangled than many around her.

She had three intendeds. The first, a Duke-class nobleman, was to be her First Husband. The second, a Count already titled, was marked as her Second Husband. And the third, a second Duke-class and easily the most troublesome and formidable of the three, was to be her Third Husband.

She had not chosen any of them.

Each proposal had been the result of relentless pressure exerted by various parties. Her acceptance had been extracted more than granted.

Her engagement to the first had been arranged years prior, as tradition dictated, when she turned fourteen. A formal ceremony had been held to celebrate the union. All of it had been orchestrated for the benefit of the Head of her father’s maternal Gentry family, the Kalterin. Marquess Kalteris, who held sway over several Noble families including the Kalterin, had coerced her father’s maternal relatives into accepting the marriage of Rozen with the future Duke of his region, Lord Kyenzemel.

At first, she had not minded. Her intended, on the other hand, had seemed reluctant. However, his familial pressure had quickly worn him down. His maternal and paternal families were keen to bind themselves to Saint Sylia’s bloodline. Over time, he had eventually warmed to Rozen. He had even appeared enamoured of her for a short time. Although, it had not lasted long. Rozen had uncovered the truth long before he had understood it himself. He had always been blind to the calling of his own heart. He had not even realized he had fallen for Rakaelle, the former stepdaughter of Rozen’s father. The girl was a daughter of a renowned Count with close ties to the Royal Family. She was also a sweet and naive person.

Edouard Kyenzemel, for the longest time, had remained painfully unaware of the depth of his feelings or the fact that he and Rakaelle were strongly Mana compatible. His mother, however, had sensed it at once. Since then, Lady Selserima had grown cold toward Rozen, offering none of the earlier warmth she had shown her during visits to the Duke’s Estate. The Duke had not shifted in his stance, though. He, too, had recognised his son’s growing attachment, yet continued to push for the match with Rozen, intent on securing the Divine protection her bloodline offered.

Rozen had been waiting for Edouard to admit the obvious and confess at last his love for Rakaelle. The two of them were, by all accounts, already a couple in all but name. Yet, he had remained silent for far too long, most likely constrained by his father’s will. His mother, a romantic at heart, would have accepted the match eagerly. Like Rozen, she also believed that true Mana compatibility was the foundation for lasting unions especially those meant to provide powerful children.

At last, Edouard had summoned the courage to speak to Rozen of his feelings. He still offered her the formal position of First Wife, while Rakaelle would be relegated to Second or even Third Wife, depending on the strength of the children she bore them. It was the only concession his father had been willing to make. Rakaelle, after all, was illegitimate. Her mother was from the lower Gentry whom her father Tamren had only wed her temporarily to protect their children. The match had always been unequal and Tamren had no interest in keeping the woman. Or perhaps, Rozen mused, he had simply grown accustomed to women of greater stature.

She could still recall the conversation with Edouard in vivid detail. Her fiancé’s confession had followed his proposal to Rakaelle. Rozen knew he was within his right. She couldn’t speak up since she was already promised to two other suitors.

Edouard had already promised the title of Second Wife to one of his third cousins, but that woman had recently taken a second husband from a modest Noble Gentry background, making her claim less secure. Despite that, Rakaelle’s standing was to be reassessed only when her future children’s levels were confirmed as superior. That would not occur for another six years. Until then, Rakaelle would live in the shadows, seen by most of Noble Society as little more than a dignified concubine.

Rozen had known her answer from the moment Edouard spoke. She had given it clearly, but Edouard insisted she take time to reflect. Weeks had passed since then, and she knew she would have to make her position unambiguous, if not for her own sake, then for theirs.

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She had explained it to Edouard in plain terms. When one loved truly and deeply, that love must be acknowledged in full. The First Spouse must be the beloved, or the union itself became a mockery, an insult to the Gods who bore witness, and to the spouse asked to play a lie.

Rakaelle’s magic was strong. Perhaps not equal to her father’s, but formidable. Of course, when compared to Rozen’s, her Mana would scarcely fill a thimble in the ocean. Still, few possessed the abundance that flowed through Sylia’s bloodline. Even Josias, whose powers were beyond the imagination, had recognised that.

Rozen sighed, aware that by nightfall, she needed to send letters to Edouard and his family to clarify the situation. Her cunning mother had already taken the initiative. She had sent the Mage she had created with Rozen’s blood long ago. Rivana had been dispatched by Sylia to the Duke, with the specific intention of deterring him from pursuing a union between his son and Rozen.

As always, Sylia remained elusive in her methods. She merely hinted that Edouard was not the rightful heir to his father’s Dukedom due to a questionable Noble bloodline. Yet she had offered no further explanation, leaving both Rozen and her father, Tamren, in the dark.

Devious as the woman was, Tamren placed absolute trust in her, especially when she insisted her decisions were made for their protection or greater good.

Rozen wasn’t sure if that trust was deserved. After the recent incident with Master Mathias Herves, she had come to realize that their lives didn’t hold much value in the grand scheme of things.

Still, that wasn’t the concern for now.

Her mother had issued warnings—vague but chilling. She had also warned that the change in her position would provoke shifts in the behavior of those around them. Rozen needed to steel herself, both mentally and magically, for whatever came next. She also had to carry out her responsibilities with an unshaken front, as though nothing had happened.

It was Thursday, not long after Masha had forged that unbreakable Pact, in a clumsy attempt to enslave Saint Sylia. Rozen had only found out about it that very morning. A few of her siblings had begun to panic, fearing their mother had gone too far. What if she was now bound by the terms of that pact? However, their mother, as calm and inscrutable as ever, had reassured them—telling them to go on with their tasks as though the incident had never occurred.

Today, Rozen was promoting a healthy dish made with medicinal herbs from the Alchemy & Botanical Guild. She had recently taken up oversight of various departments, since her mother’s Divisions and Bunnies had all abandoned their posts.

The Creamy Spinach Pesto Linguine she was showcasing had gained popularity, though still not as much as the Chicken, Spinach & Sun-Dried Tomato Pizza they were also serving. The King Cake and soft serves they were offering had become a sweeping success among the Nobles, Noble Gentry, and Gentry alike. The line of Nobles’ servants and Gentry awaiting the Linguine she prepared live with her assistants and Summons was impressive, but it still couldn’t compare to the line for the desserts. And for good reason—sugar was rare and expensive in the Province.

Rozen and her brother Danielu had Enclaved exploitations nearby, which allowed them to offer sweets at much lower prices during promotional and Marketing events.

Suddenly, Rozen froze.

She had spotted her third intended, Sernesto Sefraz, who had come accompanied by several of his relatives. They looked delighted to be there. She remembered that family had a preference for pasta; they had power boosts through God Blessings, but those generally worked better with Spaghetti and Lasagna than with Linguine. Unless, of course, their Spirit Guardians had altered that, which was highly probable.

Rozen attempted to ignore them, but it grew more difficult when the Spirit Guardian who had created Sernesto materialized beside him in his usual wolf form.

The Wolf Spirit Guardian let out a booming laugh, tongue lolling out playfully.

“Oh, look at that. Syl is bringing the good stuff, boys. Go have some.”

Rozen straightened, forcing a formal bow.

“Sir, thank you for your praise and presence.”

The Wolf Spirit Guardian waved it off.

“None of that. We’re like family and you’re about to match with my kid.”

Sernesto gave her a proud, eager smile. The women around him cast Rozen unfriendly glances, and she suddenly felt a sharp unease. Sernesto’s brother, Teryon Sefraz frowned.

“My Lord, must we really? I’ve come to know more about her mother… perhaps it’s best to walk away.”

The Wolf Spirit Guardian growled, clearly unimpressed.

“Don’t spoil our fun. She won’t find a better match than my boy. Well—unless it’s from her Flock. Her mother’s Source probably ordered one of the High Spirits to craft someone suitable. Or maybe he already exists. Anyway, stop being foolish. Order the hidden premium version of the Linguine as well. It’s not available to just anyone and they don’t even mention it on their Menu.”

Sernesto was about to reply when he spotted Mathias Herves approaching, accompanied by a few of his young children. Mathias greeted Rozen with a warm smile, but his expression soured as he saw the wolf.

“Stop drooling!” Mathias snapped. “You’ll end up carving a cataclysmic hole in these lands.”

At once, Sernesto and the other Sefraz relatives pulled back. The Wolf Spirit Guardian looked wounded.

“You’re still holding that against me? It was an accident! My Master made changes after my other Master complained. Even Chester filed a formal complaint though he’s done worse with just a tap of his toe. I cried discrimination, but he showed me the Discrimination Act in favor of Chipmucks you helped write! I couldn’t fight it. Even my Master said it was so discriminatory that he agreed with it. Only you would come up with a law that favors you!”

Mathias coughed, face flushed, glancing away awkwardly. But then he froze, whirled around, and shouted.

“You bastard! Only your siblings were affected! You used your other form to get special treatment!”

The Wolf Spirit Guardian looked sheepish.

“I’m only considered cute in my Master’s book because of my dark brown and fanged Chipmuck form. Still, Master refused to let me play the joker card—said Chester would make me eat it since I wasn’t actually cute. My other Master agreed and said I was cuter as a wolf. He even said Chipmucks weren’t cute but terrifying, since people could accidentally step on them.”

Mathias winced.

“Well… it’s true Father is a little uneasy around Chipmucks. He’s so powerful, he’s afraid he might crush them by accident. I think that’s why we started going with Chipmuck forms—or maybe it was Uncle’s idea.

Mathias sighed, looking most chagrined.

“Anyway, things changed once Chester chose that body. Father said those forms were dangerous—hard to catch, too concentrated in power. Chester nearly collapsed an entire world by punching a hole through it with his Chipmuck body.”

The Wolf Spirit Guardian burst into laughter, nearly in tears.

“Yes! I remember! My brother and I were sent to patch it up. It was one of the outer worlds tied to this one. I’d say we did a fine job. Doesn’t look like it’s about to collapse—yet.”

Mathias scanned the area cautiously, then gave a slow, thoughtful nod.

“Indeed. Unless Chester shows up, that is. Maybe it’s because he keeps one of his Ancient children and a small part of his original body anchored here that he’s so heavy. That’s the whole reason Sylia was sent in the first place… so he wouldn’t collapse it.”

The Wolf Spirit Guardian gave a low chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that. Master and your father reinforced this Sub-Realm. Chester couldn’t collapse it, even if he tried.”

Mathias froze mid-thought, his expression darkening.

“What do you mean by that? I knew they’d strengthened the structure, but why would they go that far?”

The Guardian’s laughter died away, replaced by a guilty blush.

“Well… the Masters intend on coming here themselves. They’re almost certain Sylia and you will fail.”

Mathias’s voice rose into a sharp, disbelieving yell.

“What? Explain!”

Rozen blinked, stunned, as the Sefraz family collectively paled.

The Wolf Spirit Guardian spoke carefully now, each word deliberate.

“Well, you have Divisions that were created with those you’re targeting. As for Sylia… her situation is even more complicated. Her Source’s Daughter helped create the Makers of her targets.”

Mathias shook his head, trying to brush it off.

“That’s ridiculous. I agree it will be difficult for me, but Sylia will have far less trouble.”

“You’re right and wrong,” the Guardian replied. “Everything has been prepared for the next step. This Sylia was just laying the groundwork. The one who’ll be sent by Master… she’s the real mission. The plan was never about those small fries.”

Mathias’s eyes widened, his voice low and edged.

“What are you talking about?”

The Guardian’s tone turned grim.

“Master is not as cruel as your father. This world is too corrupted for Sylia and most of her children. They’ll be evacuated. The children born of defective Divisions—those crafted from poorly absorbed Gods and Spirits—will remain. Some of the stronger ones will stay behind to supervise. It’s meant to be a kind of trial for them… a test for something far greater. The children you made together will also be helping here. They are too powerful to be left out.”

Mathias faltered, uncertain.

“What? I’ll be abandoned alone here?”

The Guardian shook his head.

“No. You’ll be seconded by the worst part of Sylia’s Source. That one is ancient—older than you—and dangerous. You might not realize it, but you’re not even half the age of Chester and Sylia’s Source. My own Maker was born before you. I know because I carry a shard of that one.”

He paused, then added more gently,

“Sylia will still drop by to help you both. She’s absorbing a piece of that Ancient Division right now, in order to aid her mission more effectively. You should worry more about yourself. Your uncle is likely sending her to devour most of the targets…and that might include your conflicted Divisions should they prove disloyal.”

Rozen gasped aloud. Her shock was impossible to conceal.

The Guardian ignored her.

“Master sent her because she can do what this Sylia cannot. She can devour those Goddesses easily since she is much older than their Makers. Your other Divisions might even shift their loyalties. She could even assist with your main targets. She lures in the foolish and the wicked… then consumes them.”

Rozen’s discomfort became visible. Her shoulders stiffened; her breath caught.

The Guardian continued unabashed.

“Of course, many of your charges could be eaten by Seron alone. That boy was born through a blessing from Master. You should be kinder to the kid. Give him some ice cream every now and then. You’re far too gentle with these Souls you crafted to act as your children… and too harsh with the one who is worthier, given his incredible power.”

Rozen stiffened further, her eyes drifting fearfully toward Mathias's children.

Mathias interjected, tone defensive.

“They’re sturdier than they look.”

The Guardian shrugged.

“So you say—since you linked them with Spirits. I suppose Sylia’s better at making strong decoy kids.”

Mathias laughed, though there was little humor in it.

“She’s only got the upper hand because of Uncle. And because of this world… and Chester.”

“Wrong,” the Guardian said firmly. “Mathias, there’s something you’ve forgotten or maybe something you were never told. You were partially created by someone forged by both Master and your father. Your current Source has been divided again and again. One part was frozen forever, used as fuel to nourish and stabilize this world. That’s why they sent you here and will soon be sending that Division of Sylia’s Source. If things go wrong, that part might awaken.”

He paused, then added, more softly.

“That part was frozen because he’s ravenous. Your other self would’ve tried to consume the cute and gentle part of you. Master didn’t want that.”

Mathias fell silent, brow furrowed in contemplation. The conversation ended there. Not out of resolution, but because they all knew this was neither the time nor the place to discuss further the Lords’ wills.

Rozen, meanwhile, had been hit with a sudden and painful awareness of just how mistaken she’d been. More revelations awaited her in time, but for now, she tried to suppress thoughts that spiraled beyond her understanding. Her mother, Sylia, remained an enigma layered in contradictions. Every truth Rozen uncovered seemed to dismantle everything she’d previously been told… and yet, it now fit more clearly than ever before.

She would need to speak with her siblings about Sylia. The matter could no longer be ignored.

Sylia, on the other hand, had many children whose circumstances she was forced to take into account in her path of revenge against those who had betrayed her. After all, a few—starting with Georgie—had relatives or fathers who had taken part in Grenar’s devious plan against Saint Sylia and her family. She couldn’t afford to let such betrayals go unpunished, even if that meant harming her own children in the process.