Moments after, because of his desperate demands, the nuns gave him clothes to wear. However, it wasn't the particular fashion that Lucian was used to.
The main clothing was a robe of pristine white fabric that was startlingly soft against his skin. It was embroidered with holy patterns of what looked like molten gold along the sleeves, collar, and hem.
Emblazoned across the chest area was a large, complex symbol: a circular sunburst radiating sharp points of light, with a single, stylized eye open at its center — all rendered in thread the deep, vibrant red of living flame.
A long mantle of heavier white cloth, edged with the same gold embroidery, draped his shoulders, fastened securely by a large, ornate brooch shaped like a stylized torch.
Only a few seconds wearing it and Lucian felt like the Pope. And not in a good way.
After giving him clothes, they guided him through a grand archway into a smaller, quieter chamber.
It appeared to be some kind of gothic reading room. That was Lucian's guess from the tall shelves positioned left and right, filled with ancient, leather-bound tomes and tightly rolled scrolls stored in brass racks.
The tall, ornate candle holders burning with steady flames gave the room this fantastical edge that kept reminding him that he actually was in another world.
Even the new scent in the air that he could not recognize, mixed with dust, and paper. Everything he could see or sense reminded him of the fact.
He stepped on the floor which was inlaid with a massive, intricate circular seal carved from dark stone and inset with veins of glowing crystal, before sitting stiffly on a hard wooden bench.
The fine white robes suddenly felt heavy and constricting. Maybe they always were and he was just noticing it now.
Because of her.
The nun that sat opposite of him. She had luscious red hair flowing down in soft waves, contrasting to the black and white of her veil and habit. A large gold cross hung from her neck, resting over her large breasts, and matching cross earrings added to the theme
She had her arms folded deep within her voluminous sleeves, her posture ramrod straight, her green eyes fixed on him sternly, like she was studying him.
Lucian found himself nervous for many reasons. He'd never been that close to such a beautiful woman. He was still confused about what was going on. And, she was a little scary.
When she decided to speak, her voice was as crisp and dry as parchment being smoothed flat. But it was still a very enticing voice.
"The duties that await you are plentiful, Sovereign."
Lucian frowned. "Duties?"
She half-ignored him and opened the large book on the table before them. "As Sister Elaris, Anchor of the Scholar Nuns, it is my obligation to inform you of them."
"This world is called Altareign. It is sacred. Bound not by physical laws alone, but by divine decree, shaped and sustained by the will of the goddess Exalta — the embodiment of good and order."
Lucian swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet room. His throat felt tight. "…Right. Okay." The words felt utterly inadequate.
She continued without pause, without acknowledging his response, as if delivering a preordained lecture.
"Here, magic is a tangible manifestation of the divine will. Magic comes from the beating heart of Exalta herself, spreading through the atmosphere in invisible tendrils that nurtures the world.
"In order to harness this very sacred power, humans wield instruments called Runes."
She turned with a precise movement, gesturing towards a section of the book where a detailed mural was carved.
Lucian lifted his brows and woah'd at the display. The page showed six distinct symbols, glowing with an inner light: a stylized flame, a jagged ice crystal, a coiled serpent, a clenched fist, a radiant sun, and a complex, interlocking knot.
A pattern he quickly noticed was each of the symbols were encased within a ring of smaller, glowing sacred glyphs.
"Magic manifests through five Rune types, each governing a facet of existence: Flame for creation and destruction, Frost for stasis and preservation, Flesh for life and form, Force for energy and motion, and the Rune possessed by Exalta and Exalta alone — Light, for purity and revelation."
Sister Elaris's tone remained flat, didactic. "Only those anointed and sanctioned by the Holy Church may wield them. And only the High Priest — the living vessel of Exalta's voice, the keeper of the sacred Flame — possesses the divine right to command them all."
Lucian stiffened, the implication settling like a lead weight in his stomach. 'Me?' he thought. 'Is it possible that I could have that much power?'
Elaris still had more to say. "To protect her will, the Church of Exalta stands above all. By its side are the Royal Family headed by King Theomund Ironhart, and the Conclave led by the Council of Priestesses."
Lucian's jaw almost dropped. 'There's a conclave in this world?! And a king too?!'
"More importantly, as the Sovereign and High Priest, you should know what lies at the heart of the church."
They locked eyes. Elaris's stern green eyes told him that she had something important to say.
"The Six Holy Orders of Nuns."
She turned the next page. On that page was an image of a fierce nun with a powerful glowing sword in one arm and Runes wrapped around her other arm.
"Warrior Nuns," Elaris described. "They are the sword of the church. They fight holy wars and strike down heresy."
At the next page was a nun kneeling before a light, herbs growing around her.
"Healer Nuns. They are the hand of mercy. They treat the wounded and cure the cursed."
The next page showed a nun intensely reading from a tome.
"Scholar Nuns — my order," Elaris said with a tighter jaw. "We guard the doctrine and decode the deeper meanings of Runes."
A nun deep in prayer while rays of loving light poured upon her was on the next page.
"Prayer Nuns. They are messengers of the people. They carry pleas and praises to the Goddess. Or to you"
Lucian caught her gaze before she turned to the next page where a nun was squatting on top of a building, masked.
"Spy Nuns," Elaris said. "They are the silent veil of the Church. They root out internal corruption and watch for external threats."
And finally, she arrived at the last page where a taller, stronger nun was wielding a work hammer.
"Lastly, Worker Nuns. They sustain the world. They are the most equipped in strength and are therefore the builders and laborers. Caretakers of sacred flame."
Elaris then closed the tome, the large book making a heavy thud. "As High Priest and Sovereign, you are our master, and every single nun is a disciple to your cause."
Then her eyes narrowed. "As long as you do not fall astray."
Lucian's mouth slowly fell open. "Fall… astray. What if I do?" he asked. "Look, I'm not the strongest guy when it comes to faith or resisting temptation, okay? I don't even know why I'm here."
Elaris looked at him with her monotone eyes. Then, her tone growing even colder, she finally decided to speak.
"Because Altareign is dying."
She extended her hand and a book floating from a shelf and came to her. Lucian watched in disbelief as she took the book and opened to a page that showed an altar.
The sacred brazier atop it was cold. Blackened. Lifeless.
"Three weeks ago, the Heart Well — the divine source of all magic — went dark."
Her voice sharpened.
The pages turned, and her magic stirred. Through her power, the books came alive, showing the story to him as she narrated.
"The Sovereign before you had died before his time, and because none of us expected it, we were not able to prepare. The Heart Well lost its connection and faded off. Holy magic failed because of this. Relics cracked. Across the world, Runes dimmed and magic left us."
Lucian stared at the motion picture of ink before him, watching magic fail people, especially those who required it for survival. Like a mother cradling her dying child because her healing Rune had gone dim.
"The shadows saw the opportunity and creeped in," Elaris continued. "Dark magic has grown because of people's desperation. Atheists rise and cults have gotten stronger. Demons threaten to attack the Church."
"In desperation, the Anchors of all six nun orders, I and my Sisters, gathered. With the Prayer Nuns, we performed the Rite of Radiant Desperation— a very difficult invocation that requires days to complete. It was our greatest plea to the Goddess. To send us a new Sovereign so the Heart Well can shine again."
Lucian listened with heart pounding, brows raised as Elaris gave him an unimpressed once-over.
"And she gave us you."
There was silence after that.
"Sister Elaris," a lively voice came out of nowhere. "Was that a tone of condescension you had when you spoke to the Sovereign just now?"
Lucian turned his head.
The voice came from the arched doorway, velvet-sweet but edged with a sharpness that could draw blood.
Sister Celeste, the nun that had calmed him down earlier, stood there, her expression serene but her eyes blazing with sudden, protective fire.
"Do I have to remind you that he was chosen personally by the goddess herself, unlike you, who was only selected by a mere cleric?"