Vol 2. Chapter 43: The Real Selina

“Forgive me for asking, but... who exactly are you...?”

Vanessa stood frozen for a long moment, unable to process what was happening. Her gaze lingered on the girl before her — pink hair, the same heart-shaped pink eyes, a face eerily similar to her own. She had her suspicions, but even so, she hesitated to believe it. After all, the pink-haired girl standing there looked even younger than herself.

Not only was the girl slightly shorter, but her outfit and way of speaking radiated the air of a pure, lively, energetic beauty.

But, though the girl was a little shorter than Vanessa, the... grand peaks they both possessed were evenly matched.

Vanessa couldn’t help but think that if they were to walk down the street together, everyone would probably assume this girl was her younger sister.

“Me? You still haven’t figured it out? Didn’t you already see my statue? Tsk, I knew it—those statues make me look way older than I actually am. Seriously, they carved me looking like some ancient matron, when I’m obviously forever sixteen.”

The pink-haired girl pouted, clearly displeased as she grumbled softly.

“And on top of that, when they made those statues, they wouldn’t even let me wear this outfit. I had to be in that boring Saintess gown. Ugh, zero creativity, zero personality.”

“Wait... so you...?”

Vanessa had already guessed, but hearing it out loud still caught her off guard.

“Mhm~ If you count by bloodline and generation, little Vanessa, you’re supposed to call me great-great-great-great... great-great-grandmother. But that sounds ancient, doesn’t it? Who in the world likes being called Grandma? Ew. And ‘ancestor’ doesn’t work either—it makes me sound like I belong in a museum.”

The pink-haired girl crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks in protest.

“So, why don’t you just call me by my name? Selina.”

“Y-You’re... Saintess Selina?!”

Vanessa was dumbfounded, her worldview thoroughly shattered.

All the history books described Saintess Selina as graceful, refined, with a voice like morning dew and a gentle breeze—an elegant, soothing figure who made all her followers feel at peace.

“What’s wrong? Don’t I match the image in your head? Well... more like, I probably don’t match the version of me you read about in those dusty old books. That’s normal. When I’m doing official Saintess duties, sure, I keep it composed and proper... but when I’m off the clock? This is the real me.”

Selina smiled brightly, her expression pure mischief.

Then, like an overly curious child, Selina darted behind Vanessa, playfully fiddling with her hair, tugging at her skirt, toying with the wing-shaped accessories at her temples.

“Little Vanessa, your hair’s so soft~ Cute, cute~ Hey, wanna become a Church idol with me?~”

“This outfit of yours—is that one of your Soul Armaments? Hm, impressive. If I could’ve absorbed two Soul Armaments back then like you, I totally would’ve chosen one that lets me swap outfits at will too. Just picture it—showing up in full formal attire, then bam, magical girl transformation straight into battle gear when the Demon God Pillar cultists show up. Just imagining it’s exciting!”

“Right? Right? You totally get me, don’t you, little Vanessa? Otherwise, why would you have picked that Soul Armament that lets you change clothes so easily?”

“Ahh, amazing~ One-click outfit swap, saves all the hassle of changing, even switches your hairstyle. You really have the makings of a Church idol! Though... you’re still a little behind me.”

“....”

Vanessa’s expression stiffened in disbelief.

This girl, who looked younger than her, acted even more childish... was really her ancestor?

It felt downright absurd, but... there it was.

Vanessa couldn’t reconcile this playful, mischievous girl with the Saintess Selina—heroine of the people, savior of the suffering, immortalized in the annals of history.

It was... too surreal.

So, this was the difference between real history and the version recorded in books?

But maybe it wasn’t entirely the historians’ fault. After all, work was work, life was life. Saintess Selina could have been completely dutiful when fulfilling her responsibilities—and still had this personality behind closed doors, right?

Well... Vanessa had always believed that as long as someone performed their Saintess duties faithfully, what they were like privately wasn’t anyone’s business. What mattered was their deeds, their abilities, and how they served the people.

No matter Selina’s personality, her qualifications and sense of duty as Saintess were undeniable—history had simply focused on that side of her.

As for this other side... maybe the Church chroniclers weren’t unaware, but chose to omit it for fear of tarnishing the Saintess’s divine image.

It probably wasn’t even Selina’s choice. Judging by her attitude now, she clearly didn’t care if people saw her unfiltered side.

And so, the Saintess Selina remembered by history wasn’t false—just incomplete.

The records showed only one face of her, but everyone assumed that was her whole self.

Not exactly right, not exactly wrong... but a shallow way to understand a person.

After all, real people aren’t simple—real people are complex, layered, alive.

“So... Ancestor Selina?”

“Tsk, I told you, don’t call me ancestor! That makes me sound ancient. Do I, this radiant, youthful beauty, look like a wrinkled old granny to you?”

The pink-haired girl puffed out her cheeks adorably, twin ponytails swaying behind her.

Radiant... youthful beauty...?

Vanessa fell silent.

If you went strictly by age, Selina was easily over a thousand years old. Even if you counted only the age when she died, she was still far from young. Calling her “Grandma” wasn’t exactly wrong.

If you wanted to sound polite, maybe “Auntie” would be pushing it, but...

Sure, the Fasylis bloodline granted eternal youth—after a certain point, their appearance froze. But still, the fact remained: Selina was old enough to be called “Grandma Selina.”

“Aw, little Vanessa, you’re being so mean.”

As Vanessa’s thoughts wandered, Selina’s soft, delicate fingertip poked her cheek.

“You were thinking rude things about me just now, weren’t you?”

“That’s a misunderstanding. I wasn’t thinking anything like that.”

Vanessa smiled naturally, without a trace of awkwardness despite being caught.

“Really?”

Selina smiled back, watching her intently—those pink eyes seeing straight through her act, leaving not a single thought hidden.

Vanessa’s flawless mask didn’t fool a fellow Fasylis.

In matters of deception and charm, Vanessa was playing at a level Selina had long since mastered. To her, it was child’s play.

Come on, how could you call yourself a Fasylis without being an expert at both?

“Ancestor Selina... you saved me earlier, didn’t you?”

Vanessa smoothly changed the subject.

“Mhm~ Who else could it have been? Is there anyone else here?”

Selina giggled.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? If I didn’t help, wouldn’t that make me a failure of an ancestor?”

Her words clearly referred to what Vanessa had said while wandering the Saintess Selina Cathedral earlier.

“Ancestor Selina... Maybe this is asking too much... but... can you help me again?”

Vanessa’s eyes burned with determination. “Tyrellis Continent... needs you...”

“I know.”

At that, Selina sighed, rubbing her temple in frustration.

“This whole mess... even for my lifetime, it counts as one of the bigger incidents.”

“Wouldn’t you know it, the Radiant Church decided to exile their Saintess again, weakening their power. With the continent’s current defenses... we may really not survive this.”

“I doubt the Church can even rally humanity into unified resistance now. Forget the Demon God Pillar—if the Demon Race invades, I question if we’ll even hold the line.”

“Then... will you help me, Ancestor Selina? Without your strength, Tyrellis... can’t...”

“Of course I want to help, little Vanessa. But as you can see... I died a thousand years ago.”

Selina’s voice turned bittersweet.

“Though I’ve retained fragments of my strength, I no longer belong to the Tyrellis Continent. Just like the Demon God Pillar, without special means, I can’t interfere directly.”

She shook her head helplessly.

“I saved you because this place is close to my soul’s resting place.”

“Saintesses have the right—and the duty—to lead humanity. But right now, I am not the Saintess.”

Selina’s eyes landed firmly on Vanessa.

“Not even you... can help...?”

Vanessa’s eyes darkened.

“Though...”

Selina’s voice softened, “Your luck is remarkable, little Vanessa. You happened to collapse at a time when I could muster a shred of power.”

“I can’t intervene openly... but the people’s lingering faith in me lets me lend you strength.”

Selina’s tone sharpened.

“Lend me strength? How?”

Vanessa’s eyes lifted, filled with hope. The playful girl from before was gone, replaced by the flawless, divine Saintess immortalized in history.

“I can temporarily possess your body. Through your vessel, I can unleash my power. I can’t destroy Elrunas—but I can force him to retreat.”

“Really?! Thank you! Please, we must hurry—if not—”

“Let me finish, little Vanessa.”

Selina’s voice turned stern.

“There’s risk. We share blood, and the continent still remembers me. That’s why I can possess you. But that doesn’t mean you’ll withstand the full power of a Consecrated Angel unscathed.”

Her gaze softened, pure compassion flowing from her eyes.

“I understand.”

Vanessa nodded.

“I was prepared for this from the beginning.”

“In that case...”

Selina smiled, unsurprised by Vanessa’s resolve. Every Fasylis carried both the blessing—and the duty—that came with their blood.

“Close your eyes, little Vanessa~”

Vanessa obediently shut her eyes. A burst of shimmering pink light enveloped her, lifting her away from the sacred cathedral.

――――――

Carillian Academy, at that moment.

The crowd stared, dumbfounded.

Students with ties to the Church knelt in prayer, even the skeptical professors questioning their beliefs.

“What... now...?”

In the distant shelter, Milian gaped.

“So that’s... the Fasylis... my sister always talked about? So... was it the Saintess manifesting, or the Goddess herself?”

“I don’t know either...”

Shikondell stood beside her, equally lost. Yet, when the pink-haired angel was defeated moments ago, Shikondell’s heart clenched painfully, as though gripped by unseen hands.

What... was that?

Had she... seen that angel somewhere before...?

The situation spiraled beyond comprehension—no one could predict what would happen next.

Perhaps... even the Demon God Pillar Elrunas, summoned by his fanatical followers, was now equally uncertain.

As the iridescent divine light scattered, pure, immaculate wings {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} unfurled in the sky—a lone untouched sanctity blooming in the filthy world.

A white snow lotus blossomed in midair. Wings spread wide, revealing the peerless pink-haired girl, unharmed and radiant.

The wings—no longer merely a pair—had become six!

“Six wings—six wings! The number’s right this time!”

“See? Told you! There’s no way Her Excellency the Goddess could be hurt, could be defeated. It was all an illusion—to deceive the Demon God Pillar and his cultists!”

Church students shouted, ecstatic.

“That’s right! Her Excellency the Goddess is invincible! No mere Demon God Pillar like Elrunas could possibly defeat her!”

“Praise the Saintess! Praise the Goddess!”

The girl bloomed like a snow lotus, her brilliant pink eyes opening as six pure white wings unfurled like petals. Countless iridescent fragments cascaded from her wings, falling to the wounded below—injuries vanishing instantly.

“M-My severed arm... it grew back?!”

A grievously wounded professor gasped.

“M-Me too! All my scars... they’re gone!”

“My lung disease is gone!”

“Praise the Saintess! Praise the Goddess!!”

“Vanessa...”

Mirexia’s emotions whirled like a rollercoaster. Relief, awe, joy—yet, when Vanessa opened her eyes, a subtle unfamiliarity unsettled her.

What... was that? Just her imagination...?

‘Virtue +500.’

‘Current Virtue: 2024.’