Selina didn’t hear what happened after that, because she fell asleep.
She never knew what Father Laite said to Sela that day.
When she saw Sela again, her face still wore that sweet smile, only with a bit more fatigue.
Intuition told Selina that Sela was no ordinary nun from a border town.
It was then that she realized she had never met Sela’s parents.
Every month, Milia took a few days off to visit her parents.
Since they were also followers of the goddess, they often met and chatted.
Milia would use the time talking with them to sneak in some good rest.
But she had never seen Sela’s parents.
On her fixed days off each month, she just wandered around town holding herself.
One thing was certain: Sela truly loved her.
Not long after that baron left, a young couple came to the church.
Their newborn child had died.
In their grief, they came to tell Laite their sorrow, and then they saw Selina—fair-skinned and adorable—and offered to adopt her to replace their lost baby.
Sela was the first to disagree.
Her attitude on this matter seemed very firm, as if Selina were her own flesh and blood.
Compared to going to an ordinary family, Selina preferred staying at the church.
Here she would have more room to grow.
Ever since that Thomas left in disappointment, her mind kept replaying Sela’s state at the time.
This world had magic.
As a standard feature of another world, Selina wasn’t surprised, but it also piqued her interest.
Her eyes scanned the bookshelf for magic-related books.
“Selina, you want this book, don’t you?”
Sela said, holding Selina.
The little girl nodded her tiny head.
“Hmm… so you really do understand what I’m saying. You’re only a year and a half old. Is this normal for a one-and-a-half-year-old?”
Probably not very normal.
After all, my mind isn’t really a baby’s.
Aba aba aba…
Better to just play dumb.
“Fine, you want this book. So you’re curious about what happened that day.”
Sela’s voice was still gentle and delicate.
The faint fragrance she gave off made Selina feel at ease.
After getting the book, she read it to Selina as usual.
Even though Selina could already understand the writing here, she’d better keep up the act for a few more years to avoid suspicion.
That book didn’t cover much about magic.
It only gave her a general understanding.
Magic ranks were divided into levels one through ten.
Levels one to three were low-tier, four to six were mid-tier, and seven to nine were high-tier.
Level ten was said to be the realm of demigods.
In history, the number of people who had reached level ten could be counted on two hands—mostly past Popes, Saintesses, or Empire Guardians.
A single such person could match a superpower.
A level-ten powerhouse was humanity’s or an empire’s trump card, only deployed when survival was at stake.
The seventy-two sealed Demon Kings were each said to be level-ten existences.
Selina silently scoffed, ‘Good thing these are just legends. If there really were seventy-two tenth-order beings, not even a few empires would be enough to level them.’
Magic rank cultivation was basically tied to talent.
According to the book, the crystal ball for testing talent emitted five colors: white, yellow, blue, purple, and red.
White meant no talent for cultivation—stuck as a mortal for life.
Yellow meant low talent, capping at level three.
Blue talent’s limit was around level six.
Purple talent’s upper limit was level nine, with a chance to break through to level ten with luck.
As for red, it was a legendary talent—reaching level ten was only a matter of time, and with effort, one might even touch beyond level ten.
The Fireball Spell that baron used was an offensive magic.
Such spells were not circulated among the lower classes; even with mana, you couldn’t learn them, and they were forbidden.
The most common spells were only healing, detoxification, and body enhancement.
That baron must have learned it through his connections.
His own level seemed to be only third-order, on par with Father Laite.
Also, mages couldn’t use magic above their own rank unless multiple people cast it together.
To legally use magic, you needed a certificate.
At this rate, I’ll probably end up taking a trip to the otherworld’s specialty magic school.
Father Laite said the magic Sela used was at the sixth-order level, meaning she was at least above sixth order, so her talent was likely purple.
‘I wonder what my talent level is. Transmigrators usually have some kind of cheat, right?’
It had been a year and a half since she came here, and there was neither an old man in a ring nor a system.
‘Could it be red talent?’
‘That’s just wishful thinking for now.’
After thinking through all possibilities, Selina stopped thinking.
No matter how powerful a cheat was, she was just a one-and-a-half-year-old baby.
Why bother being so competitive?
Kids should act like kids and just lie back.
Like now, in Sela’s arms, smelling that reassuring scent, she drifted off to sleep.
These days, she spent more than half the day sleeping.
Her body’s limitations meant that no matter how strong her will was, she couldn’t fight off drowsiness.
…..
Three years later.
Another Sunday.
The faithful gathered in the church, singing hymns and praising the goddess.
But unlike before, a little nun was leading the singing.
The girl’s voice was clear and loud, though unavoidably a bit childish.
No one minded, though.
In the goddess’s eyes, children were pure incarnations, beings blessed by angels.
Besides, this little angel was so adorable.
Golden hair as bright as the sun fell to her shoulders.
Her features were exquisitely carved, her cheeks round and chubby.
Her bright blue eyes, clear as gemstones, reflected everyone’s faces.
Her small mouth worked hard to sing every word of the hymn.
She wore a custom-made nun’s habit sewn by Sela herself, sacred and not to be profaned.
Sela had started sewing that outfit when Selina first learned to walk, but every time she finished, the child had grown another size.
Manila reminded her that children grew fast—different every month.
Sela, who had never been a mother, experienced this firsthand.
The hymn ended with the piano, and that week’s prayers to the goddess came to a close.
Daily life continued.
As the believers left one by one, Selina trotted over to Sela’s side.
A hand—not thick but infinitely warm—rubbed her head.
That was her reward.
Sela’s gentle face captivated little Selina.
Three years had passed, and the girlishness had faded, replaced by a maturing charm.
‘She seems more like the goddess now. What do I do?’
‘Could she actually be the goddess reincarnated?’
Selina thought this as she received her daily head pat.
Her mood brightened noticeably.
Whether it was the environment or Sela’s influence, her personality had become much more cheerful than before, as if the gloomy, reclusive girl was long gone.
Once the believers left, the group began cleaning the church.
To keep the church holy, a weekly cleaning was mandatory.
There were only a few people in the church, and everyone had to participate.
Except for a certain little nun carrying a water bucket.
“Selina!!! Put that bucket down! Go wipe the benches!!!”
‘So violent.’
Selina covered her forehead with one hand and wiped the benches the believers usually sat on with a rag in the other.
She sometimes liked to tease Sela to see her reaction, but most times she got a flick on the forehead as punishment.
‘This gentle nun’s character seems to be fully fleshed out now.’
As she silently complained, her hands never stopped working.
Just as everyone was taking a break, another man dressed as a monk walked in.
He wore a black iron cross pendant around his neck, carried a holy book and a backpack.
The spiral cross emblem on his arm marked his identity and status.
The tired middle-aged man with glasses looked around and asked, “Where is Father Laite Tall?”
“Here, Your Grace,” Laite hurried out, bowing to the middle-aged man.
“This time, it’s your town’s turn for the Holy Selection.”
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