Upper city of Igwynt, Radiance Church.
In the morning, the sunlight streamed through the massive stained-glass windows into the spacious chapel. Clad in a nun’s habit, Vania knelt before the sacred altar, her expression devout as she recited her morning prayers.
“Oh Lord… I thank You for granting Your new radiance upon this day, allowing us once more to bask in Your grace. I stand before You again to offer my gratitude and praise. May Your greatness be eternal. May Your knowledge endure forever. I shall forever remember Your revelations. Thank You for shielding my mind from the corruption of heretical knowledge. You… tch…”
Mid-prayer, Vania suddenly sensed something amiss. She abruptly slapped her own face and immediately halted her recitation.
“No, no, this isn’t right. The morning prayer isn’t supposed to be . It started off normally, so how did it go astray toward the end? There’s no mention of praising knowledge in the morning prayers… And what was that nonsense I said just now?!”
Frustration and embarrassment welled up in her heart. This had been troubling her for days now. Whenever she engaged in prayer, her words would inexplicably deviate in strange directions—especially when she immersed herself in a state of sincere devotion.
In short, as long as she kept her prayers superficial, everything was fine. But the moment she prayed earnestly, just as she used to from the depths of her heart, the prayer would veer further and further off track. It had been bothering her for the past two days, and she had nearly let something slip in front of the other nuns.
“Sigh… I should practice more and try to correct it.”
With a silent sigh, Vania resolved to continue practicing her prayers. But just then, a voice called out beside her.
Vania turned toward the voice and saw a portly priest approaching. She recognized him—his name was Conde, one of the local church leaders, known for his fondness for flattery and boasting.
“Haha… Morning prayer time ended over an hour ago, yet Sister Vania persists in her devotion. Such steadfast piety is truly admirable. As expected of a nun from Tivian—an example for us all!” Conde praised, causing Vania to feel a deep sense of awkwardness.
“Ah, ahaha… You jest, Lord Conde. I just happened to pray a little longer than usual. It’s nothing extraordinary…” Vania responded with a polite smile, all the while thinking to herself that she was merely practicing due to repeatedly making mistakes in her prayers.
“Haha, such humility—truly a virtue, Sister Vania…”
With that, the two engaged in some idle chatter. After exchanging pleasantries, Conde inquired about the progress of the relic recovery mission for Bishop Dietrich. Vania replied that most of the work had already been completed and that they would be returning to Tivian in a week’s time.
Hearing that she would be leaving in a week, Conde took the opportunity to ask Vania about her impressions of Igwynt. He was probing her attitude toward the local church, hoping to discern whether she might report anything unfavorable to the higher-ups upon her return. Vania, however, skillfully deflected his inquiries with vague pleasantries, stating that she had a very good impression of this place.
Satisfied with her response, Conde bid her farewell with a smile and left. Vania, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief before kneeling once again before the altar to continue practicing her prayers.
This time, she took out the holy scriptures from her waist, intending to recite directly from them to strengthen her faith.
However, as she turned to one of the pages, her gaze was suddenly drawn to a newly appearing line of text.
A few days later, western outskirts of Igwynt, Saint Amanda School.
Night had fallen. A waning moon hung in the sky. Though darkness loomed, Saint Amanda School was brightly illuminated, its halls abuzz with activity. The boarding students were in the midst of their evening lessons, their collective recitations ringing through the night air, carrying far into the distance as they always did.
A short distance from the School, on the winding mountain road of a low hill, a carriage was parked. Inside, two figures sat in silence—Goffrey and Oswan.
Through the carriage window, they observed the distant, well-lit School, listening to the echoes of its lessons. Oswan let out a cold snort.
“They’re still holding classes at this hour? Hmph… That old fool really doesn’t know a thing.”
“Yeah, he doesn’t seem to have noticed anything yet. But to be safe… should we send a spirit in to investigate?” Goffrey suggested, intending to conduct one last reconnaissance of the school ahead.
However, Oswan immediately dismissed the idea.
“No need. We’ve already scouted the place ourselves. There’s a protective ward inside that detects spectral entities. If we send a spirit in, it’ll be discovered immediately—no point in alerting them.”
“That old man is cunning. As a sworn enemy of Mr. Deer Skull, there’s no way he wouldn’t have taken precautions against spirits.”
Goffrey nodded. Over the past few days, they had conducted various investigations on the school grounds. They had found clear traces of Beyonder activity—specifically, traces of the Stone pathway.
After extensive probing, they were finally able to confirm their target. The sworn enemy of their master, Deer Skull, was hiding within this very School.
Now that the investigation was complete and their prey identified, it was time to close the net.
Time passed slowly. The two men alternated between glancing at the distant School and checking their pocket watches. At last, the appointed moment arrived.
“It’s time. Let’s begin.”
“Yes. The optimal moment for the ritual is now. Let’s summon Mr. Deer Skull.”
Exchanging brief words, the two stepped out of the carriage and made their way to its rear. Opening the storage compartment, they revealed two large suitcases and a long, massive coffin.
First, they removed the suitcases. Then, working together, they dragged the coffin out and placed it on the ground. Afterward, they retrieved a large clay jar from the carriage. When they unsealed it, the jar was filled with fine, white ashes.
Oswan began pouring the ashes onto the ground, carefully tracing intricate symbols as he went. Eventually, he completed a circular ritual array. At its center lay a circle intersected by an upright triangle—the symbol of Stone, the core of this ritual. Beneath it, a smaller symbol shaped like a closed eye represented Silence.
Stone as the primary path, with Silence as the auxiliary—such was the essence of this ritual and the mystic art of the Bonesmith, a branch of the Stone path.
Once the ritual array was complete, the two men opened the coffin. Inside lay a fully intact human skeleton.
Gazing at the pale bones, the two simultaneously extended their hands. The skeleton floated from the coffin, drifting over the ritual array before slowly settling onto the ash-drawn symbols.
Then, Oswan retrieved a finely crafted wooden case from within his robes. Opening it revealed a single human bone—a right humerus, pitch black and covered in countless inscribed runes.
Holding the cursed bone with reverence, Oswan knelt before the formation. Goffrey followed suit, removing the right humerus from the skeleton and replacing it with the blackened, rune-engraved bone. Then, both men lowered their heads and began chanting in unison.
As their incantations echoed through the night, the black bone began to emit an eerie glow. The light spread gradually, enveloping the entire skeleton. A faint creaking sound filled the air as the bones shifted, and slowly, within the ritual array, the skeleton sat upright.
Under the murmured incantations, the humanoid skeleton rose fully to its feet. The ashes forming the ritual array lifted into the air, swirling around the skeleton before clinging to its form.
Gradually, the ashes condensed—forming "skin," then "muscles," then "fingers," then a "nose," then "ears," then a "mouth"… A "man."
At last, all the ashes were consumed, leaving behind a fully-formed being—its entire body an ashen white, its face chiseled and handsome like a sculpture hewn from stone. Its eyes were pure black voids, devoid of pupils, exuding an eerie presence.