The First Pope - Chapter 11
Chapter 11
The white flame that Sarah, Betty, and Chelsea didn't recognize—Cynthia had just learned its true identity from Olivia. She shed the last bit of her casual demeanor and grew a little more serious. Just as she was about to ask Olivia for more information about this white flame, a sudden gust of wind swept her up and deposited her on the ground.
Olivia's voice, somewhat cold, accompanied the gust. "It's late. See yourself out."
Cynthia: "..."
Hadn't Olivia patiently and meticulously explained the Goddess of Light and the Power of Light just to test whether she could use this ability?
Why would she toss her down after seeing her produce the white flame?
Shouldn't they be having a more in-depth discussion about this Power of Light?
Filled with questions, Cynthia stood frozen on the spot, still processing what had happened. She squinted, staring at the white figure on the trestle bridge, when a flash of inspiration struck. For some reason, she lowered her head and rubbed her nose, her expression becoming a little peculiar.
It sounded incredible, but she felt that Olivia's action was a bit like getting revenge for her earlier inattentiveness.
The thought made Cynthia find the situation rather amusing. She shook her head slightly, the corners of her lips turning up into a smile as she muttered to herself, "Her personality is kind of cute."
Olivia might seem cold and stern, but to think she could be as willful as a child. Cynthia wondered how old she was; she'd heard that the Elf Race had very long lifespans. She glanced up at the seemingly endless bridge, let out a soft laugh, and turned to leave.
After Cynthia left, Polly leaped onto the trestle bridge. She walked to Olivia's side and peered down. Her superior elven eyesight allowed her to spot Cynthia's figure at a glance. "Her Majesty the Queen," she asked curiously, "can that member of the God Race actually use Light Magic?"
The elf she had sent to follow Cynthia had returned the day before with a leaf scorched by the Power of Light. According to that elf, she had also seen this God Race member produce a kind of white flame.
Olivia was silent for a moment before slowly uncurling the hand she had kept clenched. The small flame Cynthia had left behind appeared before Polly.
Polly's eyes widened in astonishment. "It really is the Power of Light! Has the God Race already developed Light Magic? Is there anyone in their clan who can use the Grand Light Spell?"
The Grand Light Spell was the Goddess of Light's favorite Light Magic, possessing immense range and devastating power.
Olivia frowned, staring at the small flame. "It's still unclear," she said in a low voice.
She had tossed Cynthia down before she could ask her any of these questions.
But she wouldn't admit it was revenge.
"It's late, so I sent her back to rest," Olivia said nonchalantly.
Polly glanced up at the sky, blinked, and played along. "It is indeed very late."
Olivia shot her a sideways glance. Polly took the hint, tactfully found an excuse, and left as well.
The night wind howled across the bridge, making the vines sway, but it didn't affect Olivia in the slightest. The wind seemed to part around her. Her pale green hair hung obediently below her waist, the ends curling up slightly.
Olivia held the small flame Cynthia had left in one hand. With the other, she made a grasping motion in the air, catching a ball of white mist.
She looked down at these two forms of the Power of Light, and the first smile of the evening graced her lips.
The Power of Light contained within the white flame Cynthia had produced was far denser than the white mist she had caught. Moreover, its flame-like state clearly indicated it was already in a combat-ready spell form, not just a simple manifestation of the light element.
This was the difference between the Power of Light gathered by a member of the God Race, favored by the Goddess of Light, and that gathered by an elf like herself.
Olivia dispersed the white mist, then reached out and held the white flame in her hand, feeling the faint burning sensation it emitted. "I knew the God Race wouldn't be useless," she murmured.
While the other races had always been skeptical about whether the God Race was truly created by the Goddess of Light, Olivia was not. She had always been certain that the emergence of the God Race was connected to the Goddess of Light.
Different gods had their own preferences when creating races; the elves and the werewolves were clear examples.
And besides their distinct silver hair and golden eyes, the God Race was almost identical to the humans created by the Goddess of Light.
This was clearly the Goddess of Light's preference.
Next time they met, she would be sure to ask Cynthia properly about the Power of Light and the God Race. If... her attitude was more serious than it had been this time.
Not even a Second Generation Vampire would dare to face her with such a nonchalant attitude. Olivia's impression of Cynthia now included "excessively casual" in addition to "excessively gentle."
Olivia put the flame away, turned, and sat down at the wooden table. She picked up the bottle of nectar, intending to pour herself a cup, only to find that the only thing on the table was the cup of nectar Cynthia hadn't finished. The cup she had taken out for herself when pouring for Cynthia was gone.
Olivia: "..."
Cynthia, who had accidentally walked off with Olivia's cup, was being led out of the woods by an enthusiastic young elf. The cups used by the elves were all made of wood. Cynthia's own cup was a very ordinary one, but the one Olivia used was quite exquisite.
It was a unique violet color, tall and slender, and carved with an openwork pattern of vines. Where the vines intertwined, clusters of small, lifelike flowers were carved, making it both delicate and magnificent.
Cynthia felt it could practically be considered a work of art.
Seeing Cynthia glance down occasionally, the young elf leaned in for a curious look and said in surprise, "Huh? Isn't that Her Majesty the Queen's cup?"
"Her Majesty the Queen only ever uses this cup to drink nectar. How did you get it?"
"Her Majesty the Queen gave it to me," Cynthia said with a straight face as she stored the cup in her Space Gem.
She had happened to be holding the cup when the gust of wind tossed her down, so it wasn't stealing. It could only be considered a gift from Olivia.
Though Olivia herself might not agree with that perspective.
Cynthia pressed her lips into a smile. Catching the young elf's suspicious look out of the corner of her eye, she smoothly changed the subject. "How much longer until we're out?"
"Ah, we're almost there." The young elf, her attention successfully diverted, leaped to the top of a tree to check the path. "Are you tired, Cynthia?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
"It's nothing, it's nothing." The young elf jumped down beside Cynthia, leaned in close, and said with a grin, "You smell really nice."
"It's a shame my Twin Flower hasn't bloomed yet, or I'd invite you to visit our territory," the young elf said with a hint of regret.
This was the second time she had heard "Twin Flower" and "invitation" used together. Sensing something, Cynthia didn't respond rashly. Instead, she just smiled and subtly put a little more distance between herself and the young elf.
Just as she stepped out of the woods, Cynthia heard the sounds of a fierce argument between Chelsea and Eunice. She glanced around, and seeing no other open space to rest, she had no choice but to walk toward them.
"Contact with the Power of Darkness is forbidden by clan rules. Camille is your sister; since you brought her out, you should teach her properly." Chelsea's face was cold, a trace of anger in her voice. "Otherwise, send her back."
They had been arguing for a long time. Eunice impatiently wiped the blade of her dagger with her finger, not even bothering to look up as she sneered, "If you think I haven't taught her well, then you send her back."
"Why are you yelling at me?" she said with a pout. "I'm not the one raising a dark creature."
Chelsea's expression darkened. "She is your sister."
Eunice scoffed. "What, because I'm her sister, I should be exiled from the witch clan too if she breaks the rules?"
While the two of them argued, Camille stood to the side, hugging her skeletal rat and kicking at a stone on the ground.
Chelsea glanced at the unrepentant Camille, her anger flaring. "Camille!"
Camille looked up, staring at Chelsea innocently with her wide eyes.
"I can overlook you raising a dark creature as childish curiosity, but what did you mean by throwing it at Cynthia? If she hadn't dodged in time, you could have killed her."
Besides being angry that Camille was secretly raising a dark creature, Chelsea was even more furious with the Anderson family's disregard for life.
Camille wasn't even ten years old, but her cold-bloodedness was on par with Eunice's.
Camille hugged her skeletal rat and said nothing. Eunice couldn't stand Chelsea's lecturing tone and said sarcastically, "She's weak, so is she supposed to blame the creature for being too strong? If she dies, she dies. Someone that weak would end up dead at the hands of the Vampires sooner or later anyway."
"Serves her right if she dies."
"Eunice!" An angry voice came from behind them. Eunice's expression froze, and she instinctively stood up straight. Camille's hands, holding the skeletal rat, trembled slightly.
Betty ran over, fuming, and glared at Eunice. "What are you saying, Eunice!"
Eunice scratched her hair in frustration and turned away, avoiding Betty's gaze. The defiance she had shown Chelsea vanished the moment Betty appeared.
Cynthia arrived at almost the same time as Betty. Betty had been about to say more, but seeing Cynthia, she swallowed her words for the time being.
Cynthia acted as if she hadn't noticed the explosive atmosphere between them. Wearing her usual faint smile, she pointed to a nearby bluestone and said softly, "Sorry to interrupt you, but this is the only spot available to rest."
Betty felt a little awkward facing Cynthia. "It's fine," she said quietly.
Cynthia smiled at her, then nonchalantly walked past Eunice and Camille to sit down by the bluestone.
The bluestone was only a dozen meters away from Betty and the others. Although Betty lowered her voice after Cynthia sat down, Cynthia could still hear their argument.
She shook her head slightly and stopped paying attention to them. Instead, she began chanting a spell in a low voice, falling into deep thought as she watched the flame appear in her palm.
After some time, the sound of footsteps approached. Cynthia came back to her senses and turned to see it was Betty.
Betty sat down next to Cynthia with a guilty expression. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I apologize on Camille's behalf."
A little over a meter away, Camille stood alone, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her features, which were eighty percent similar to Eunice's, made her look especially pitiable when she cried. Only at times like this did she look like a child.
But her tears didn't move Cynthia. However, Cynthia had no intention of making an issue with one of their clan members within the witch party. Looking at Camille's red eyes and Betty's guilty face, she said gently, "It's alright. I accept the apology. You don't need to feel so bad."
She reached out and patted Betty's shoulder. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine, aren't I?"
Although Cynthia was forgiving, Betty still felt very guilty. She hugged her knees, tilted her head, and stared at Cynthia for a moment before suddenly saying, "Oh, right, I haven't congratulated you yet. Chelsea said the flame you developed is powerful enough to kill at least a seventh-generation vampire."
She looked at her with admiration. "You're so amazing, Cynthia."
"Actually, I should be thanking you." Cynthia tucked a strand of silver hair that had fallen beside her face behind her ear. She leaned back slightly against the bluestone and looked at Betty with a smile. "If it weren't for the spells you taught me, I wouldn't have been able to produce this flame."
She was truly grateful to Betty.
Betty blinked, her face lighting up. "Were those spells that useful?" She sat up straight, full of enthusiasm. "Then I'll teach you some more."
As she spoke, she began rummaging through her Space Gem, pulling out several spellbooks that recorded her witch clan's witchcraft. She shoved them all into Cynthia's hands. "See which ones you're interested in, and I'll teach you."
The witchcraft in these books ranged from beginner to advanced, and a few were even about magical arrays. Cynthia suspected Betty had given her all of her books. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Is it really okay to give all these to me? This is witchcraft passed down in your clan for many years. Won't your elders reprimand you if they find out?"
After all, she was of the God Race, an outsider. These witchcraft spells were the culmination of thousands of years of research by the witches.
Betty propped her chin on her hand and thought about it seriously for a moment, then suddenly smiled, her eyes clear and bright. "It's fine. You're not a witch, so even if I teach you, you won't be able to use witchcraft."
"And any spell you create from these witchcraft incantations won't be witchcraft in essence." She gave a sly grin. "It will be your own magic."
"So the elders will have no reason to blame me."
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