Aileen was already sick and tired of being the saintess.
It had only been two days since she moved back into the temple as the "true" saintess, but already, she regretted everything. She had imagined honor, glory, and admiration. Instead, she was being slowly crushed by the endless routines and expectations.
High Priest Samiel had personally taken it upon himself to retrain her, walking her through the duties that Alya had been performing for years. It began each morning at six o'clock with two hours of prayer in the temple's icy prayer room. Not silent reflection—no. Loud, kneeling prayers until her knees ached and her back throbbed.
Afterward came breakfast. She had looked forward to it, only to be horrified by the realization that saintesses weren't allowed to eat meat. No beef, no poultry, not even fish. They could have milk or eggs—but anything cooked in animal fat was forbidden.
Aileen had grown up on roasted lamb, spiced boar, and buttery stew. Being denied all of that felt like punishment.
But it didn't end there.
After the disappointing breakfast, she was dragged to bless newborns, heal the sick, and then back to the prayer room. By afternoon, she was allowed a light meal and a short rest before being summoned once more for evening prayers.
Then bed.
Every day was the same.
She had dreamed of the title. Not the burden. She thought being the saintess meant wielding power, commanding respect, and doing whatever she pleased. That's why she'd fought so hard to steal it. But no one had told her she'd be living like this, trapped in cold stone walls, watched day and night, forced to give and give until there was nothing left of herself.
Aileen came from a powerful noble house, but had always been outshone by her siblings. Her sister was a rising general. Her brother was a genius scholar. She had been overlooked her whole life.
But when her holy power awakened, she saw her chance. She prayed to become the saintess. To rise above them all. To finally be chosen.
But the gods hadn't chosen her. They'd chosen a poor, scrappy orphan girl. Alya.
It was unfair. She had noble blood. She had sacrificed everything. She had given her life to the temple. Why hadn't it been her?
And if the gods didn't want her… then she didn't want them either.
So she made a deal.
The demon clan offered her power. Influence. Recognition. All she had to do was ensure that the true saintess—Alya, was destroyed.
With her family's influence, it wasn't hard to isolate Alya. To spread whispers. To paint her as unstable, unpredictable, impure. Alya's enemies rose like weeds, and Aileen watched it all with quiet satisfaction.
But now, sitting in Alya's place, wearing her robes, praying in her halls…
Aileen felt nothing but dread.
The holy relics wouldn't respond to her touch. Her robes itched against her skin like they were rejecting her presence. Even the air in the prayer room felt colder when she entered.
She hated this.
She couldn't do it anymore.
"I need to return to the palace," she muttered to herself, gripping her sleeves tightly. "Just for a few days."
---
Meanwhile, in the North, Soren stood atop the high wall of his fortress, inspecting the latest defense installment.
Rows of weaponry lined the battlements. Each had been designed to counter a specific kind of threat.
But they remained dormant. Empty.
The wind was cold, biting against his skin as he stared out across the mountains. He could feel it, the calm before the storm.
Carrion, his weapons master, stood beside him, face grim. "We've installed the weapons exactly as you described. Everything is in place."
"But?" Soren asked, already knowing the answer.
Carrion exhaled. "But there's no power source strong enough to activate them. Not for the weapons and certainly not for the shield system. Without it, the North won't survive a full assault."
Soren nodded slowly. He remembered this event clearly.
The next great disaster would be the demon clan's invasion, triggered the moment Aileen failed to bless the Guardian Stone.
They walked over to the power core meant to supply energy to the weapons. Carrion, the weapons master, stroked his beard and sighed.
"We've tried using magic stones and elemental stones, but none of them work," he said.
Carrion had been invited from the elemental kingdom by Soren himself. In previous timelines, Carrion had created the first large-scale weapons capable of inflicting real damage against the demons, an invention that had greatly helped the elemental kingdom. This time, those same skills would be used to protect the north.
"I have a solution," Soren said. He turned to a nearby guard. "Bring the item here."
The guard nodded and soon returned carrying a box, the same box that once held Alya's robes, the one she had given to her nanny.
Soren had two reasons for going after the nanny. The first was to gain control over Alya. The second reason was far more important: Alya's holy robes. Over the years, they had absorbed an enormous amount of divine power. At this point, they were practically a sacred relic.
When Soren opened the box, a sudden image flashed in his mind: Alya, standing before him in those very robes, her eyes burning with hatred. Her usual calm smile was gone. The memory felt sharp and vivid… but unfamiliar, as if it didn't belong to him.
Pushing the thought aside, he took the robes out and carefully placed them inside the power core.
The ground trembled. The walls hummed as a blinding white light surged out. A shield slowly rose and spread over the entire northern region. The moment it completed its formation, it vanished into the sky, completely invisible, yet clearly present.
"Amazing…" Carrion whispered, eyes wide with awe.
Soren gave a quiet nod. As much as he hated to admit it, Alya, brat or not, was truly extraordinary.
"Test the weapons next," Soren said.
Carrion moved to the nearest turret and aimed it at the ice-covered mountains in the distance. With a press of a button, a searing beam of light burst forth and completely obliterated one of the peaks. The mountain crumbled to nothing in seconds.
Carrion's jaw dropped.
Soren stayed calm on the outside, but inside, he was shaken. The holy robes had channeled an unimaginable level of power.
Maybe… maybe he should treat Alya better. She was more dangerous than he thought.
"Try to tone down the destructive force," Soren said quietly.
Carrion just nodded, too stunned to reply, and got back to work.
---
Back at the annex of the duke's mansion, Alya gently laid her nanny on the bed. It had only been a week since she sent her away, how had she aged this much in that short time? Her cheeks were sunken, and her body was frighteningly thin.
"What did they do to you?" Alya whispered, placing a glowing hand on her.
Her divine power flowed gently into the old woman's body. Slowly, her color improved, and a few wrinkles faded. Still, the nanny remained weak and frail.
"Don't worry, Nanny. I'm here now. I'll take care of everything," Alya said, tucking her in gently.
She stepped away and went to find the annex's kitchen, but when she opened the doors, her face fell.
It was completely empty. No food. No utensils. Not even a pot to boil water.
"Of course they left nothing here," Alya muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration. But then she sighed.
It didn't surprise her. They'd never intended to provide her with anything. Good thing she didn't need them.
An example was during the carriage trip. Soren had believed she had starved for two days, but in truth, during that night in the forest, she had quietly grown her own fruits using her divine power and eaten them during the journey. It looked like she would need to do the same again if she wanted to take proper care of her nanny.
Alya stepped outside the annex and into what barely passed for a garden. Snow blanketed everything, and the only things visible were the decaying trunks of long-dead trees. It was a sorry sight, but one she could work with.
She exhaled slowly and rolled up her sleeves.
"Okay. Let's begin," she murmured.
---
Meanwhile, in the main mansion, Jeffrey was going over paperwork in Soren's office. The knock at the door barely pulled his attention away from the reports.
"Come in," he said.
The head maid entered hesitantly.
"Is there a problem?" Jeffrey asked, eyes still fixed on the documents.
"I was wondering… should we send some supplies to the annex?" she asked carefully. "I know the woman staying there is believed to be the fake, but she did come as the duke's guest…"
Jeffrey cut her off without looking up.
"Head maid, I understand your concern, but if they need something, they're free to come ask. No one's stopping them. If they haven't asked, it means they don't need anything."
The head maid still looked unsure, but she gave a polite nod.
"Right. My apologies for interrupting." She bowed and exited quietly.
When she was gone, Jeffrey finally paused. His gaze drifted toward the annex.
He was only trying to maintain order, treating a criminal appropriately. That's what this was. His master would understand that, wouldn't he?
With a sigh, he turned back to his work.
---
At the fortress walls, Soren spent the entire day with Carrion fine-tuning the weapons. They managed to adjust the firepower to a manageable level, powerful enough to hurt demons but not accidentally destroy an entire mountain. Soren was so occupied, he didn't return to the manor that night. Instead, he stayed in a nearby inn, barely getting any rest.
The next morning, Soren moved on to inspect the next critical project—his largest financial gamble yet.
He had poured nearly all of his personal wealth into it: twenty massive indoor farms, each constructed with temperature control, irrigation systems, and lighting channels. They were powered and managed by a team of hired mages and elemental users.
The idea had come from a memory, something he'd seen during a previous regression.
Now, in this life, it would ensure the north's food supply during the coming war.
Soren walked through one of the greenhouses, his boots crunching against the warm stone floor. Bright green crops sprouted from the soil, visibly thriving under the care of plant elementalists. He watched a little girl use a small burst of magic to coax a stubborn tomato plant to bloom.
He smiled faintly.
Everything was working as planned.
But his satisfaction was short-lived. There was still one last matter to check on.
Soren traveled to the center of the duchy, where a group of craftsmen were hard at work constructing something vital. From the foundation and the intricate carvings, it was clear what it would become.
If a priest, or even Alya, were present, they would recognize it instantly: an altar for the Guardian Stone.
Soren stared at it solemnly. He knew what would happen in a month. Aileen would stand before the ancient Guardian Stone and fail to bless it. The barrier surrounding the continent would shatter, and the demon clan would invade.
It had happened every time.
But this time, Soren was ready. Let the old Guardian Stone fall. He would build a new one. A stronger one.
All he needed now… was for the real saintess to comply.
His thoughts darkened slightly.
And that, he knew, would be the hardest battle of all.