"Good luck, you three," Mistress Kora said, planting a kiss each on our forehead. "Evy, don't forget. If anything happens..." He pushed a bottle into my hands. The warmth of it seeped through a little bit and bled into my skin.

"Thank you, mistress." I put it into my pocket before looking at Mistress Veronika as well.

"I hope everything I taught you until now will be enough," she said. "Remember your promise."

I nodded.

"Good luck, you all."

The thought of redemption allowed me to redirect the fire within me to a more driven purpose. I realized I'd been burning myself out with grief over my mother's death not to mention all those days of self-blame. Of course, I was allowed to grieve and blame myself for whatever the heck I wanted, but if I kept on doing that, then I would never be able to go anywhere or do anything productive.

I was ready to move on. Not completely, maybe the next step.

Mistress Veronika told me I had to earn the right to redemption before I could claim it. She was right. Revenge was just purely destructive. Redemption, being its more righteous sibling, would only right wrongs and treat the whole thing with tact and justice—one took what they are owed and nothing more. Looking at it more closely, I realized that Ovanolish had two different words for revenge in their language. One was ielblutrachen which had the harshest, most violent definition. It could probably be translated to vendetta. The other was iatelgung which was what Mistress Veronika told me about—redemption.

It made sense because Ovanol was a country which emphasized on warrior conduct. They were the most well-versed in the art of war. Their military prowess alone could rival all the countries in Erindal. The only thing that was stopping them from actually taking over was tradition and, of course, their code.

Having come to a decision, I decided I would try out for the heritage of the Temple of the Gods. If what Mistress Veronika said was indeed true, then this was the best place to learn how to control my ability. It was much safer compared to trying out for the War College. There would be room for only five disciples. If there was indeed a lot of people vying for the privilege, then that would mean I had a lot of competition.

Eren and Maun were trying out for it too. I had high expectations that Maun would pass the trials considering his aptitude. He definitely had talent for this sort of stuff while Erenol would probably have the least chance. The girl was much too soft and spoiled to endure harsh trials. Even with the training with Mistress Veronika, she was already not faring too well.

Nonetheless, if there was something Erenol would have that neither Maun nor I could match up to, it would be resilience. Erenol might look soft but she was no persimmon. She could recover from any heartache easily. She ran away when her mother died and stuffed herself with strawberries, covering the bitterness with literal nauseating sweetness. She was pretty much in the same situation as me. Our mothers died not too far apart and there she was comforting me with a smile.

Maun was sensitive but he was cluelessly freakishly capable. He had talent and we all knew it. There was just that big problem. He was too scarred by whatever scarred him—both literally and figuratively, hence he lacked any strength to be fully independent.

I brushed off a bead of sweat from my forehead, enduring the high sun as the Abbot came forward in his baggy robes and shiny head. I hid in the sanctuary of my hood as did the two others on either side of me. We were drowning in a sea of people that had gathered inside the Temple. It wasn't a pretty picture.

The Abbot addressed the crowd with a wave of his hand and a smile, instantly embedding silence in the place.

Maun and Erenol being on either side of me helped me deal with my claustrophobia. Even now, I could find my stomach flipping in discomfort at the thought of having to be trapped in this whole ordeal. Luckily we were early so we managed to find a fairly good and breathable spot at the rim of the crowd. I was secretly regretting having agreed to this whole farce. If it weren't for my Mistress Veronika's reminders of me "having to earn my right to redemption," I would have long since taken off.

"Will this take long?" I heard Eren ask beside me.

"What you think? Mistress Veronika said the selection process can last as long as a month," I said.

"Whaaaatt?!" I could hear the complains beginning to rise from Erenol.

I quickly shut her up by saying, "Just pray it doesn't last that long. Besides, did you really expect this would be easy? You can consider this a part of the test."

"Why go through all the trouble for just five people?" she continued to ask.

"Because it's just five people," I replied with a sigh. "Now quiet down."

Erenol pouted but said nothing any longer, proceeding to pat off the sweat from her face with a white hanky...wherever she got that from. With an eyeroll, I trained my gaze forward as the Abbot geared to begin his speech. He was the epitome of calmness at that very moment, facing an eager crowd brimming with enthusiasm and hope.

"I know this will sound very redundant, but we are not accepting disciples older than fifteen years old. If you are, please file out of the temple in an orderly manner. Even if you stay, we will know."

At that announcement, several people from the crowd made sounds of disappointment. Several heads rolled through the otherwise still crowd. There weren't many who failed that requirement so it didn't thin that much. Nonetheless, that still meant less competition. That didn't make this any easier though.

"Ooh. Almost didn't make it," Erenol said with a sheepish smile.

"That also means it's your last chance to try out for this one," I told her.

Her shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Ah. I'll do my best," she muttered.

"Don't worry. Mistress Veronika didn't train you for nothing."

"Says you who's been with her since day one," she bitterly stated, giving me the pout and side-eye.

If she only knew I barely even knew anything, she would be laughing at me as well. Nonetheless, having a frequent one-on-one with a warrior-freak like Mistress Veronika for the past thirteen years or so was bound to give me an advantage over everyone else here. The heritage of the Temple was, after all, very concerned with kung-fu talents...or whatever. The mistress, having come from their teachings, would have passed on some knowledge to me at some point. I did still have a big chance. I wasn't totally pessimistic about this whole ordeal, but I wasn't that confident either.

"Also, we do not accept non-Conduits," the Abbot added. "We cannot pass on the teachings of the Temple to you if you are not a Conduit. If you don't know whether you are or you aren't, you can stay. We will still test you for it."

"You're a Conduit, aren't you?" I asked Eren.

"I am. Don't know which one yet though. I didn't get to confirm anything because I was due to take the phasing test I ran away from if you remember. Also, my Deliverer hasn't shown themselves to me yet."

"So you haven't awakened yet."

She shook her head. "No."

"There are four parts in this selection. The first test will confirm your affinities should you be a Conduit," said the Abbot. "The second is complicated, but it involves how strong a Conduit you might be. Contrary to common knowledge, there are many different levels of favorability between a Conduit and their Deliverer. The more favorability you have, the stronger your control over your element will be."

I nodded. I have read this one somewhere before though it didn't really stick to me that much. I was more concerned with finding more about Kaliya that I sort of ignored everything else.

"The third part of the test is your own talent. That can be made up of a variety of things such as character and comprehension. The specificities will be elaborated on later when you take the test. The last part is your current ability for martial arts. It is alright if you don't know any, but knowing some will be of some advantage to you. You will be provided with a basic skill and be given three days to practice it. Your execution will be examined by our masters and you will be given scores depending on your performance. Each part of the test has twenty-five points to be counted towards a full hundred. You will be rated based on the given criteria.

"That being said, for the assessment, the materials we will be using costs to operate, so we will be charging a fee of fifty bullions per person," said the Abbot. "The five chosen disciples will be refunded this fee. We will not charge for their education."

People agreed this was reasonable. The Temple's selection process would indeed be quite expensive to run. Considering the fact that the place functioned through people's generosity during the rest of the year, it would not be enough to support the demands of the crowd. In exchange for the fee, even if people didn't get chosen as disciples, they would get to know themselves better somehow.

I heard many people would take the Temple's test before they would apply for the War College. There was advantage in knowledge after all. Whatever they could learn about themselves during the Temple's selection, they could use it to apply for the War College for a second chance. Many people would succeed like this. After all, the War College had looser criteria and more slots to accommodate hopefuls than the Temple did.

That made the Temple's heritage all the more sought-after.

"Now that I have explained this, we shall start with the registration process. You will be given an affinity stone which will be branded with your unique signature. This way, this cannot be transferred or traded with others and we can reduce the instances of cheating. When you're done, please proceed to the building behind the registration tables to take the first test."

There were ten different counters with monks manning each. The counter was just a simple wooden table stocked with the so-called affinity stones underneath along with a pile of pristine white paper about the size of one's thumb piled inside a box on the side.

We were asked to queue. As we were a little ways to the front from having come somewhat early, we were very lucky to secure good spots. The selection went underway in no time at all. People looked over the shoulders of the people in front of them to see how they were doing the whole registration thing. However, being a little far away from the front, we weren't given any chance until about an hour later.

The monk we were in front of was swift with his job. He quickly took one stone from under the table and a small piece of paper on the side.

"Hold out your hand," he said.

The person did. The monk then flipped the paper and reached to swipe its angled edge across the finger of the person at the front, slicing the skin lightly and letting blood rise from the wound.

I inwardly cringed. They were using papercuts? A papercut was one of the most painful things I'd ever had to endure—and one of the things I frequently endured, being a bookworm. Was there really a need to go through this, though?

The monk then had the person wipe off the blood on top of the stone after which he reached up and ran a finger pad down the open wound. When the cut finger was revealed, it showed not a mark on the skin.

Instant healing of a papercut. Wow. Okay. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

Well, they disposed of the paper afterwards so I trust it was quite sanitary.

Erenol went first before me. She didn't dare show any cowardice in front of the straightlaced monk who could care less about how the person before him would react. Still, when the paper went for the swipe, she still flinched and showed a teary expression. The monk regarded her with nothing but a blank stare and proceeded about wordlessly, pinning her finger on the stone for that drop of blood and instant-healing the small cut before sending her away.

I came next and gave my payment for the registration. I reflected the blank stare he gave me with another blank stare. When the paper's edge made a dive for my skin, all I gave was an irritated quirk of my lips.

The same could not be said for the guy beside me queuing up to a different monk though. "AAAHAHH! Why'd that hurt so much?" he loudly complained, holding his finger away from the monk guardingly. "That's only a piece of paper!"

"Give it over," the monk told him, motioning for his finger.

"One cut is enough! I'm not falling for it a second time! How dare you assault me!"

The monk gave an exasperated sigh. He probably could not believe someone like this was hoping to get accepted into the discipleship of the Temple.

I felt the cool surface of the stone alighting on my wound which warmed pretty quickly as it absorbed the drop of blood from my wound. The monk then instant-healed my papercut and sent me away with a nod. I went out of the queue to proceed to the next part of the test only to overhear someone talking.

"Can I not pay? I'm going to get in anyway and you're just going to give it back to me."

I quirked a brow at that statement, amused by the confidence. I threw a look over my shoulder to see a youth smirking arrogantly at the monk before him. The monk shook his head and stared at the youth with a weary face.

I didn't listen in on their conversation any further because I wanted to get this whole thing over and done with quickly. However, by the time I reached the door of the building for the first test, I heard a loud bang. Looking back once more, I saw Maun close behind me. I exchanged looks with him before looking back at the registration tables. The arrogant youth from earlier was lying flat on his stomach on the ground with his arm twisted on his back. The monk was still seated on his chair and his foot was aptly pinning down the guy as he continued entertaining the others in line.

"I'll pay! I'll pay!" the youth finally exclaimed after a bit.

"You can pay later when you get your turn," said the monk, kicking him free. "I recommend you fall in line now if you don't want to take the whole day."

The disgruntled youth rose from the ground after being set free, a dark look on his face as he went to the end of the line to queue up again. With the arrogant youth made an example, nobody else would probably dare to make trouble. These monks might look like nothing, but they definitely had some skill being able to instant-heal and take down troublemakers even without having to rise from their seats.

Formidable indeed.

Seemed as though this wouldn't be as boring as chanting mantras and meditating like I first thought.