Chapter 130: Hero and Saintess
Then Lyria spoke again. "How did the dungeon exploration go? With Damien."
Noah’s expression returned to its usual calm. "It went well. We got some decent money out of it."
"That’s good to hear."
He glanced at her. "What about you? Do you come here every day or just occasionally?"
"Every morning," she said simply, without any particular weight to it, as if it were as routine as eating breakfast.
"On Sundays I usually spend most of the day here. Volunteer work, helping where it’s needed." She glanced around the quiet hall.
"Right now there isn’t much to do, so I’m just resting."
Noah nodded, taking that in.
He already knew a fair amount about Lyria’s background. It wasn’t difficult to put together once you paid attention.
She was the daughter of a Pope, not just a man of faith but also the Duke of the Duchy of Radiance, a territory that was part of the empire, deeply religious and largely self-governed by the temple’s order. A place where faith wasn’t simply practiced but woven into the structure of everyday life, into law and culture and identity.
Growing up in that world, it made sense that she carried herself the way she did. That quiet composure. That unshakeable steadiness. It wasn’t something she had performed, it had simply become part of her.
Coming here every morning wasn’t a habit.
It was just who she was.
Noah leaned back slightly against the bench, the peaceful hum of the temple settling around them both.
"Volunteer work," he repeated lightly, more to himself than to her. "On your day off."
Lyria glanced at him, a faint trace of amusement in her expression. "It doesn’t feel like work."
Noah looked at her for a moment, then smiled.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I believe you."
"You must be a really devoted follower of the Sun God." He asked further.
"Well, I suppose you’re not wrong." Lyria let out a small chuckle.
Noah tilted his head slightly. "By the way, does the Sun God give blessings to people? Like some being born with his powers?"
Lyria glanced at him, a hint of surprise in her pink eyes at the question. "Oh, you’re curious about that?" She thought for a moment before answering. "Actually, throughout history there have been a few people who were born carrying Our Lord’s power. It was a blessing granted directly by him. But it was extremely rare. People like that are born perhaps once every few hundred years."
"So they have special powers that make them stronger than ordinary people?"
"Yes and no." She folded her hands gently in her lap. "Some receive a modest ability, but even then it still carries a fragment of his divine power. Which means they were chosen by him regardless of strength. But then there are the few who receive abilities so profound that it sets them entirely apart from ordinary people and awakeners alike."
"Do you know any of them?"
"Of course." She nodded. "Until now, there have only been two people in recorded history who were blessed with truly powerful abilities granted directly by Our Lord. And you would likely know them unless you weren’t paying attention during your childhood studies."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Now I’m curious. Who are you talking about? I genuinely have no idea."
Lyria turned to look at him with a mix of surprise and disbelief. "How can you not know them, Noah?"
She shook her head softly before continuing.
"During the Third Era, when humanity and the other races stood on the very edge of destruction, two individuals were born carrying powers gifted by the Sun God himself. One was Sirus, who was chosen as the Hero. The other was Clarissa, who was chosen as the Saintess."
Noah’s eyes widened.
Those names.
He remembered them. The real Noah, the boy whose memories he carried, where he had read about them in storybooks as a child. Tales of light and courage read under dim lamplight before bed.
"Ah, I remember now!" His expression brightened as a laugh escaped him. "I used to read their stories when I was little. I wanted to become a hero like Sirus someday."
Lyria smiled warmly, a quiet fondness in her eyes. "Hehe, most children feel that way. Even I wanted to be like the Saintess when I was young."
"Hehe—" Noah glanced at her, something genuine settling into his expression. "Honestly, I already think you are one."
Lyria blinked. "Pardon?"
"A saintess." He said it simply, without any dramatic delivery. "You have all the qualities. You’re kind. Gentle. Caring. Warm." He paused, his calm blue eyes resting on her face. "Every time I talk with you I feel at ease, like everything weighing on me gets a little lighter. There’s a warmth around you that I don’t think you even notice yourself."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And not to mention how beautiful you lo—"
"Th-That’s enough!!"
Lyria cut him off, her voice jumping up half an octave. Her hands flew to her cheeks as a deep flush of pink spread across her fair skin, rushing all the way to the tips of her ears. She turned her face away from him, refusing to make eye contact.
"I understood! You- you don’t need to keep going. You’re embarrassing me."
Noah blinked for a second, then burst into quiet laughter.
"Hahaha, okay, okay. I did go a bit overboard. Sorry about that." He calmed down, pressing his lips together to hold back the remaining smile. Then his gaze drifted back to her. "But you know...now that I look at you like this..."
Her cheeks were still flushed pink. Her soft eyes were cast downward, shy and avoiding him completely. A few loose strands of her blonde braid had fallen slightly out of place from her flustered reaction.
Noah looked at her for a moment.
"...You really are cute."
"N-Noah, stop it!" Her voice came out a little louder than she intended.
A few elderly visitors seated further down the benches stirred and glanced over at the two of them.
One old woman leaned toward the man beside her and whispered, "It’s good to be young."
"Indeed," the man replied quietly. "What a sweet couple."
Noah heard every word of it. So did Lyria, based on the way her blush deepened.
"You," she whispered sharply, looking at him with flustered eyes, "should keep your voice lower."
"Me?" Noah pointed at himself with an amused expression.
Lyria puffed her cheeks slightly and turned forward toward the altar, doing her best to compose herself. She stared straight ahead at the carved sun on the white pillar, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Noah smiled quietly and looked away, letting her have a moment.
His gaze drifted to the right side of the altar. Set into the wall there was a small wooden compartment, partially sectioned off. Simple and unassuming.
"Hey," he said. "That’s a confession room, isn’t it? Is it currently open?"
