When Iver woke up, he found himself in an incredibly familiar place again.
This was Candle Holder Cathedral in the Red Queen District.
It wasn't St. Genevieve Chapel, where he had entered the last time he studied Sacred Art, but the bustling main hall.
And he wasn't presiding over the ceremony. Instead, he was sitting in the back, quietly praying.
Iver lowered his head inconspicuously and glanced at himself, discovering that his outfit was basically no different from before he entered the instance.
He was still wearing a white priest's robe, and he wasn't even wearing a mitre.
Was he a newly ordained priest...? Strange, who am I?
Just as Iver was puzzled, a harsh, hoarse voice suddenly rang out in his mind, as grating as fingernails scraping across a blackboard:
"You are Priest Julio Alexander, twenty-seven years old.
"Your niece, Lisa, was murdered a month ago, but the Bureau of Supervision failed to find the culprit.
"One month after that incident, you received a letter. It said that you 'hadn't done as they said' and threatened to kill your son, Iver Alexander—the exact time was today.
"Fortunately, you are Bishop Mathers's student, so today you brought your wife and child to Candle Holder Cathedral for refuge..."
The next moment, several lines of text appeared before Iver's eyes.
Necessary Task-- Continue playing the role of Priest Julio Alexander without being exposed or discovered by anyone other than your teammates (Points: 100) Within four hours, ensure the survival of your son, Iver Alexander (Points: 500) Additional Task-- Preserve yourself: Ensure your own survival (Points: 100) The Heart Is the Sanctuary: Do not choose to hide inside Candle Holder Cathedral; take the initiative to go to Legal Square (Points: 100) The Nature I Never Forget: Treat those certain to die (Points: 100 per person, up to 300) End It Once and for All: Find, arrest, or kill the culprit (Points: up to 500) My Beloved Jasmine: Ensure the survival of your wife, Anne Alexander (Points: 500) Live Longer: Among the nine ritualists, survive to the end as long as possible, or die as late as possible (Points: up to 500) The Beginning of Everything: Find the mastermind (Points: up to 1,000)
After reading everything, Iver's pupils suddenly contracted.
He suddenly realized something. Even Iver's breathing stopped for a moment.
He turned his head and saw his "wife" beside him.
She had platinum-blond hair falling to her shoulders, a dignified and elegant figure, and wore a pearl-colored silk dress. Her beautiful face had originally given off an impression of gentle intelligence, but it was now filled with weariness and haggardness. She was holding the child in her arms and praying with her eyes closed.
The boy in her arms had platinum-blond hair.
Because he was still so young, his hair was sparse and fine, like the dense, soft fuzz of a kitten or puppy.
He clearly had no idea what he was about to face. He simply sat quietly and obediently in his mother's arms, staring blankly ahead with sea-blue eyes.
When "Iver" looked over, the boy widened his eyes and looked back.
"Daddy..."
He lowered his voice and whispered in a childish tone, "You were spacing out, Daddy. You can't space out... You said so."
Iver's thoughts were in turmoil. He merely nodded hurriedly without answering Little Iver, then lowered his head and continued praying.
Only then did he truly react.
1884...
Wasn't that fourteen years ago? Iver was eighteen this year. Fourteen years ago was precisely when he was four years old—the year both his parents died.
He had been far too young at the time and couldn't remember exactly how his parents had died.
He didn't even remember their faces, much less their names. But in his hazy, indistinct memories, there did indeed seem to have been a scene like this...
He was sitting in his mother's arms, with countless black silhouettes before him, towering like giant trees. People were chanting something, while he felt feverish, dizzy, and nauseated...
Julio...
Was that my father's name? So my mother was called Anne... And I had a cousin named Lisa.
Then they were all killed.
That voice said I "hadn't done as they said." What had they told them to do? Why hadn't they killed "Julio," but instead wanted to kill "Iver"? Yet in real history, Iver was the one who survived, while Julio and Anne died—was something different here?
Although the Apostle had repeatedly emphasized that the ritual's contents were all fictional, Iver found the scene increasingly familiar.
For a moment, he couldn't distinguish what was real and what was fiction.
First, he needed to confirm whether his vague memories were accurate.
With that thought, Iver turned around and opened his eyes to look at Little Iver. He spoke softly, asking, "...Iver, does your head hurt right now?"
"A little, Daddy..."
The little boy obediently answered.
"What?"
Hearing this, his mother Anne suddenly started, opening her emerald-green eyes. She hurriedly reached out and pressed a hand to Little Iver's forehead, scolding him softly, "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"How is he?"
Iver immediately leaned over.
Anne knitted her brows tightly and tested his forehead with her hand again.
She said uncertainly, "It feels... a little hot. But I'm not sure..."
"It's all right. Let me."
Iver spoke gently as he took his younger self from Anne's arms and held him against his own chest.
He reached out and pressed a hand over Little Iver's heart.
Illumination Spell.
The next moment, gentle, watery light seeped from his palm. Warm power continuously poured into "Little Iver's" body.
Fortunately, they were sitting in the back and hadn't disturbed anyone else.
The instant he cast the Illumination Spell, Iver immediately realized that the mana pool he was using now wasn't his father "Julio's," but his own.
A priest should have at least completed their first advancement. It was impossible for him to possess only that pitiful seven points of Light Attribute mana.
He poured in a full point of mana before stopping the Illumination Spell.
Iver's mood grew even heavier.
That was because he hadn't sensed any trace of illness in "Little Iver's" body.
If it had been someone else, they might have assumed that Little Iver was merely imagining things, or that he didn't want to stay there and had blurted it out carelessly.
But precisely because he was Iver, he knew that "Little Iver" hadn't been talking nonsense... He had actually been extremely restrained.
He remembered.
At the time, his head had been groggy, as if some solid object were pounding against the inside of his skull. His entire body had been unbearably hot, and even breathing had become difficult. The air leaving his nose seemed hot enough to burn his nasal passages. It was like being tightly rolled into a blanket while sick with a cold, becoming a solid roll of bedding, with every beat of his heart clear enough to reverberate all the way to his fingertips.
Yet Little Iver was a very strong child.
Sensing how anxious his parents were, he hadn't said anything about what he was experiencing. Instead, he had silently endured it.
Later, young Iver had gradually lost consciousness.
Seeing this familiar scene, the memories in Iver's mind were gradually filled in, piece by piece.
More and more details became clear:
He realized that the problem his "son" was suffering from was absolutely no simple matter. Something that could cause a person to faint outright and lose consciousness was already an illness that could potentially result in death.
However, he truly hadn't detected any illness in Little Iver...
"Is it not an illness?"
Seeing this, his wife Anne frowned worriedly.
She looked at her child, unsure what to do.
She merely edged over restlessly, brows tightly furrowed as she thought, then offered one possibility: "I was wondering... could it be that the person who sent you the threatening letter actually used a curse?"
At that, Iver's movements suddenly stopped.
He looked deeply at his wife, "Anne."
The perspective and position from which she said that were obviously wrong.
Iver pulled Little Iver into his arms, letting the boy bury his face against his chest.
Then Iver looked at "Anne" and leaned close to her ear.
He spoke softly, lowering his voice one word at a time: "I think... you're 'Lu Lu,' right?"
Seeing the emerald-green eyes of Anne suddenly become flustered, her legs clamped together in an instant. She sat bolt upright, then instinctively shifted slightly away from Iver.
Iver couldn't help sighing. He inexplicably felt as if he were bullying a child, which filled him with guilt.
...She was so easy to figure out.
She was clearly a young girl who had never been a mother.
There were far too many holes... Weren't you an All-rounder of the Path of Beauty? Didn't an All-rounder study acting?
But then again.
It was precisely because he had so easily pulled "Lu Lu" out from beside him that he truly realized the ritual had begun.
So he immediately steeled himself.
Iver didn't want to reveal that the child in his arms was his younger self. Thus, he didn't display the slightest trace of anxiety or concern. Instead, he revealed a confident, composed, gentle smile.
He applied a little force and lightly pulled "Anne," who had instinctively leaned back to avoid Iver, back to his side.
"Don't move around. If my guess is right, your task also involves 'playing a role,' doesn't it...? You are my wife right now."
His low, magnetic voice rang out word by word beside the frightened "Anne's" ear:
"Don't be afraid. I am 'Fox.'
"I assume you didn't choose to abandon 'Devotion,' did you? I'll protect you. That's my task."
...One of them.
Iver added silently in his heart.