I grew up in an orphanage at the temple of the goddess Gina.

  I never had a family. My memory holds no image of my parents — only a faint feeling that someone once held me in their arms. Sometimes it seemed like nothing more than imagination, a fragile fragment of memory. But with time even that dissolved into the scent of incense, the quiet ringing of bells, and the soft golden glow of temple candles.

  The temple became my home.

  While other children pyed in the courtyard, running along the stone paths and ughing, my days passed beside the older nuns. I repeated prayers, listened to teachings, and helped around the temple.

  I liked that silence.

  I liked the calm rhythm of the service.

  In those moments the world felt right.

  I loved to py too.

  But not like the others.

  I loved pying the role of a saint.

  When I was little, there was one story I loved more than anything — about a girl chosen by the goddess. About how she meets a hero. Together they fight demons, save people, and protect those who have already lost hope.

  And then, when evil is defeated, they live a long and happy life.

  When I was small, I often imagined myself as that saint.

  Years passed.

  And my faith grew with me.

  Sometimes I could hear the voice of the goddess. It happened rarely — a quiet whisper, like the gentle touch of light against the soul. But every time it happened, my heart filled with peace.

  And then, on the day of my eighteenth birthday, everything changed.

  During the selection of candidates for sainthood, I stood before the temple altar. Hundreds of candles burned around me, and sunlight poured through the stained gss windows.

  And suddenly…

  The light grew brighter.

  A beam seemed to descend from the heavens and touched me.

  A warm, gentle power filled my body.

  A blessing.

  On that day the goddess Gina chose me.

  That was the beginning of my path as a saint.

  But the world beyond the temple was very different.

  Sometimes it was disappointing.

  Of course, there were good people — like Sir Albert. Honest, noble, sincere. He accompanied me and protected me, like a true knight from the fairy tales of my childhood.

  But most people looked at me differently.

  Men devoured me with their eyes.

  Women whispered enviously behind my back.

  I did not understand those feelings.

  I served the goddess.

  Carnal desires felt distant. Foreign.

  But something else hurt far more.

  The nobility lived in luxury.

  Feasts.

  Gold.

  Silk.

  And beyond the city gates, people survived on scraps of bread.

  Sometimes my faith began to waver.

  But every time the voice of the goddess guided me.

  “You were not given this power without reason, child.”

  “You must restore bance.”

  And so I kept moving forward.

  Even as the road became more dangerous.

  Bandits.

  Assassins.

  Sometimes even demons.

  But the blessing always protected me.

  Until today.

  ?

  The attack happened suddenly.

  Bck figures in robes emerged from the forest like shadows. Their movements were fast and precise — like those of trained killers.

  The knights immediately closed ranks around the carriage.

  Steel cshed against steel.

  Cries tore through the forest silence.

  I stood by the carriage door with my hands pressed against my chest. My heart was beating too fast.

  Another knight fell.

  Blood darkened the grass.

  Goddess Gina…

  I didn’t even have time to finish my prayer.

  And then a stranger burst into the battle.

  At first my mind could not understand what had happened.

  One of the assassins suddenly flew into the air.

  A heavy crack echoed.

  His body smmed violently into a tree.

  Splinters scattered everywhere.

  For a moment silence fell over the clearing.

  The stranger stood among the enemies.

  Tall.

  Nearly two meters.

  His movements were calm — far too calm for someone standing in the center of a battle.

  One of the assassins lunged at him.

  The next moment a dry snap was heard.

  The attacker’s neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

  His body went limp.

  I flinched.

  It happened so quickly… as if someone had simply broken a branch.

  But the most frightening part was something else.

  A smile appeared on the stranger’s face.

  And within that smile there was…

  pleasure.

  Another assassin tried to retreat.

  But the man was already beside him.

  His hand moved.

  Crack.

  The body colpsed to the ground.

  The knights froze as well.

  Someone whispered a prayer.

  Someone simply stared.

  The stranger moved between his enemies almost zily.

  As if it were a game.

  Within moments five assassins were already lying on the ground.

  The sixth was less fortunate.

  His legs broke with a loud crack.

  His scream of pain tore through the forest.

  The stranger slowly crouched beside him.

  His voice sounded soft.

  Almost gentle.

  — Who are you?

  There was no answer.

  So he began pouring mana into the prisoner’s body.

  The scream became inhuman.

  A chill ran down my spine.

  It was cruel.

  But…

  He was saving us.

  My thoughts tangled together.

  Fear strangely mixed with gratitude.

  And then a familiar voice sounded inside my head.

  The voice of the goddess.

  “Child…”

  “This man is not your enemy.”

  “I guided him so that he would save your life.”

  I quietly exhaled.

  If the goddess said so…

  Then it must be true.

  ?

  I looked at the stranger again.

  He was… beautiful.

  Almost too beautiful.

  Beneath the light fabric of his shirt, ropes of muscle were clearly visible. His body looked as if it had been carved from stone.

  Tall.

  His eyes shone the color of red sapphire.

  A long fringe covered one eye, and when he turned his head I noticed a thin scar on his cheek.

  The most beautiful man I had ever seen.

  For a moment I even forgot that he was a demon.

  And suddenly I remembered an old childhood story.

  That same one.

  About the saint and the hero.

  But this man clearly was not a hero.

  Or perhaps he was a dark hero?

  ?

  My blessing allowed me to hear the thoughts of people.

  I listened.

  “Damn idiot… just let that bastard go before he tears us apart.”

  It was one of the knights.

  Panic.

  Fear.

  Then another thought appeared.

  Heavier.

  Calmer.

  “I’ll have to talk to Selina ter… she’s too kind for this world.”

  Those were Sir Albert’s thoughts.

  I tried to hear the stranger’s thoughts.

  But…

  Silence.

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  The st time something like this had happened…

  I was twelve years old.

  Before the goddess granted me her blessing.

  And suddenly two knights beside me colpsed to the ground.

  Their bodies began convulsing.

  Sir Albert cursed.

  — Poison…

  I ran toward them.

  But it was already too te.

  I dropped to my knees.

  Folded my hands.

  — O goddess Gina… receive the souls of your warriors who have fallen today…

  The prayer sted a long time.

  When I finished and raised my head…

  The stranger was looking at me with surprise.

  — Did I do something wrong?

  He shook his head.

  — No.

  He exhaled quietly.

  — It’s just… the first time I’ve ever seen holy magic.

  He looked at me more carefully.

  — It’s astonishing.

  He seemed slightly embarrassed.

  — You’re so pure…