One Isn't Enough

Hearing his daughter mention his wife again, Logan's pupils trembled, and he fell into his memories.

That was five or six years ago, when their family of three still lived in a red-brick house in the Old City, living a life that was plain yet fulfilling.

Every morning, his wife would bake bread in the kitchen, the aroma filling the entire house.

In the evenings, the three of them would drink the black tea his wife brewed in the courtyard, watching the sunset sink behind the distant church spire.

Those beautiful days lasted until that one rally.

The square was deafeningly loud that day, with the flags of various political parties snapping in the evening wind.

Logan Gustav, as a popular councilman of City Hall, had to represent his party and give a speech before the crowd.

His wife had insisted on coming with him for the first time, saying she wanted to see what her husband looked like when he was being serious.

Facing his wife's admiring gaze, Logan had inexplicably agreed, letting her follow by his side as his assistant.

Little Diana, being too short at the time, could only stand at the highest point of the crowd in the back, looked after by a city bailiff; thinking back on it now, that was a mercy of fate.

His speech had only just reached the halfway point when a commotion broke out at the back of the crowd; some were shouting slogans, while others were throwing stones at the stage.

Before Logan could react, a piercing gunshot tore through the noise; the projectile from the crude firearm wasn't powerful, but it was lethal enough.

The moment he heard the shot, his wife instinctively pushed him aside. Logan stumbled to the ground, only to see fresh blood staining his wife's light-colored skirt.

His wife's lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but her voice was swallowed by the bailiffs rushing over and the chaotic clamor of the crowd.

"No!"

Logan lunged toward her collapsing body, feeling the warmth in his arms fading bit by bit. The people around them were in a state of total disorder, protesters and bailiffs shoving each other, with smoke and dust filling the air.

Little Diana stood in the distance, staring blankly at the scene, her small figure appearing so helpless and isolated amidst the crowd.

That image was deeply etched into his mind, and ever since then, he had transferred the guilt he felt for his wife onto his daughter.

He always tried his absolute best to be good to little Diana, wanting her to grow up without a single care.

To him, Diana was not just a daughter, but his only remaining connection to the past and the entire meaning of his existence.

"Diana..." Logan shook himself out of his memories, his voice somewhat hoarse.

"Father, I didn't mean to blame you," Diana looked up, a firm light shining in her azure eyes.

"It's just that I want to become strong, so that in the future, I can protect you and protect more people."

The air fell silent once again.

The shadow of the church dome loomed over them, and the light and shadows from the stained glass flickered on the floor, as if watching them in silence.

Bishop Tarik stood with his hands clasped before him, watching the father and daughter quietly without interrupting, a faint, indefinable smile lingering on his lips.

Logan remained silent for a long time; a father's instinct made him want to shield his daughter behind him, to keep her from touching anything dangerous.

He sighed, his gaze falling back onto Bishop Tarik, his tone filled with obvious helplessness:

"Tarik, is there really no safer way?"

Bishop Tarik leaned forward slightly, his hands still clasped, his expression resolute and gentle:

"Oh, my dear Logan, believe me, Miss Diana is much stronger than she looks.

You must trust that her will is sufficient to see her through the Lord's trial."

Logan persisted, asking about many more details, refusing to give up:

Could the eyeball be kept in a sealed box? Could it only be carried during the day? Could it be kept by someone else?...

Tarik only smiled and shook his head, emphasizing that it must be carried on her person, day and night, without exception.

He gave his assurance, saying it was merely a test of Diana's willpower, and that if there were any abnormalities, he would handle them properly so no real harm would come to her.

In the end, Logan compromised.

He looked at his daughter's expectant eyes and understood in his heart that he could not refuse her choice, just as he had been unable to stop his wife from following him to that rally all those years ago.

"Fine," he said in a low voice, "but if there is anything wrong, I will terminate this trial immediately and throw this damn thing as far away as possible."

Bishop Tarik nodded, as if accepting this condition.

He said no more, turning toward the altar to begin the supplementary Holy Blood Baptism Ceremony for them.

Inside the carriage, Ivan watched Diana's inner thoughts and let out a silent sigh.

He hadn't expected that such a thing had happened to Diana.

So this is the reason Diana chose the Order Aspect—to possess the strength to protect her family...

A long time later, Diana and Mr. Logan returned to the steam carriage.

The sky outside the window had already grown dim; to put Logan's mind at ease, the two had stayed in the church for nearly the entire day.

Only after discovering that the eyeball truly had no issues, save for the occasional inexplicable headache, did Mr. Logan bring Diana away with a slightly more settled heart.

Ivan sat in the carriage, silently watching Diana.

Her long, pale-gold hair was gently held back by a ribbon, and she sat upright in the carriage like a quiet lamb.

"Hmm, the knight lady's acting isn't bad at all. Looking at her like this, no one would ever guess she is already a Punishment Knight in the Beyonder world."

Ivan stared at the wooden box in her hands, recalling the appearance of the eyeball.

"The God Eye is a sheep's eye, and the God Blood is just duck blood..."

"Tsk tsk, the god worshipped by this Church of Divine Grace isn't some fragment of the Creator's body; it's practically just a strange animal..."

He imagined the scene of the Church of Divine Grace kneeling before a strange animal and felt a sense of familiarity.

"Hmm, as for that eyeball, I'm not sure if it carries any lingering traces that the Church of Divine Grace could track."

"It's better to wait a couple of days and devour it in the East District or some other corner, then bestow the ability upon Gais."

Having decided on his follow-up plan, he transmitted his voice to the composed Diana.

"You have done well, Knight lady."

"You may keep this eyeball for now. In a couple of days, I will arrange for its proper use."

Hearing the revelation from the Lord, Diana nodded excitedly in her heart, though her expression remained calm.

"I shall strictly follow your instructions, great Lord of All Spirits."

She gripped the small wooden box in her palm a little tighter, the corners of her mouth curling into a smile involuntarily.

The steam carriage let out a series of whimpers, leisurely traveling along the road back to the villa.

After Diana and her father left, the main hall of the church had dimmed, leaving it completely empty.

Inside the adjacent side hall, the copper lamp on the wall cast flickering light, and Bishop Tarik sat on a high-backed chair with his back to the door.

He had already removed the vestments he wore while presiding over the Holy Blood Ritual and changed into casual attire, his face hidden in the shadows of the chair's back.

Thump, thump—two muffled sounds echoed from outside the heavy hall door.

"Come in."

The oak door was pushed open from the outside, and the church deacon appeared in the shadows, bowing toward the back of the chair.

"Bishop Tarik, I just saw the Gustav family seemingly obtain a God Eye..."

Before he could finish, Tarik interrupted him, his voice calm and gentle.

"It was I who gave it to them."

The deacon seemed somewhat puzzled, adjusting the tasseled glasses on his face.

The setting sun shone from behind him, making it impossible to see his features, only sensing that his head had lifted slightly.

His shadow stretched longer, covering the back of the chair, and he asked in a respectful tone.

"Oh? Bishop, are you cultivating another Beyonder because you intend to..."

Although he couldn't see the movement, he could still feel the Bishop nod, and the voice drifted out from the shadows.

"One is not enough."