Lucien was stunned.

The light of the projection reflected across his face, but his attention was no longer only on Clara and Seravelle.

His mind had stopped on one sentence.

The first man who could wield the energy of the universe.

Lucien slowly leaned back.

Does that mean that before the Human Ancestor, no one could wield the energy of the universe?

Did that mean mana itself had not always been available to ordinary people?

Or perhaps the energy had existed, but no mortal body could safely contain it. Perhaps the world had been filled with power no one knew how to touch without dying. Perhaps practicing Laws, as people now understood it, had not been a natural gift at all.

Perhaps someone had opened the road.

Lucien’s gaze moved toward the Human Ancestor’s echo.

Then another thought struck him.

The Origin Core.

The Human Ancestor had once been the first owner of the Origin Core.

If the Origin Core was the authority that governed the world’s foundation, then perhaps the Human Ancestor had used it to rewrite the conditions of mortality itself.

Lucien fell silent.

He stared at the projection for a long time.

Then his thoughts shifted again.

How did the Silent Monastery of the Ninth Bell know this?

Arctyx’s Tri-Sage Clan had been destroyed because they carried ancient records. The False Incarnates had hunted them down precisely because their knowledge threatened hidden truths.

Yet the Silent Monastery still existed.

Its records were incomplete, yes.

But some truths had survived.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed.

"Why were they spared?"

The answer did not come.

Then one possibility slowly rose.

The Silent Monastery worshipped the friendly Primordial Incarnations.

What if the Abbess could, in some limited way, communicate with the friendly Primordials in Primordial Space?

If so, then the Monastery’s roots were much deeper than he had assumed.

The False Incarnates might have avoided them not because the Monastery was ignorant, but because touching them risked alerting something beyond the world.

Lucien’s expression grew solemn.

The South was no longer merely a continent with difficult faith.

It might be a continent guarded by old echoes that even hidden monsters hesitated to disturb.

He exhaled slowly.

"That explains too much."

And that made it worse.

Lucien turned his gaze back to the projection.

The Human Ancestor stood on the plain.

Clara stood before him.

Seravelle knelt.

And Lucien realized the trial had become more important than even Clara knew.

•••

Inside the highest floor, Clara was still silent.

Seravelle remained kneeling before the Human Ancestor’s echo.

After several breaths, she spoke again.

"That is all I know."

Clara slowly recovered.

She looked from Seravelle to the Human Ancestor.

Clara hesitated.

Then asked, very carefully, "Sister Seravelle."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to try fighting him?"

Seravelle froze.

She slowly lifted her head.

"I would not dare."

The answer came so quickly and so sincerely that Clara almost looked guilty.

Clara folded her hands before her.

Her expression became gentle, reverent, and somehow completely unreasonable.

"I do not mean it as disrespect."

Seravelle did not speak.

Clara continued softly, "If he truly opened the path that allowed mortals to wield the energy of the universe, then I believe he would not wish for that path to be admired only from a distance."

Seravelle’s fingers loosened slightly.

Clara’s voice carried no mockery.

Only faith.

"He gave the living a road. A road is honored by walking it."

Seravelle’s expression shifted behind her blindfold.

Clara looked toward the Human Ancestor’s echo.

"We cannot defeat him. I am certain of that."

That was not humble exaggeration.

That was simple survival awareness.

"But perhaps losing to him is also a lesson."

Clara extended her hand.

"Let us lose together and learn."

Seravelle went still.

Then, for the first time since entering the highest floor, she chuckled.

Seravelle accepted her hand and stood.

Then she turned toward the Human Ancestor and bowed deeply.

"Ancestor, forgive this impudent junior."

The Human Ancestor’s echo remained still.

The message appeared again.

[Combat condition: inactive.]

[The echo will not attack unless challenged.]

Clara inhaled.

Then gathered divine light around her hands.

Seravelle raised her prayer cord.

A faint bell resonance spread across the plain.

The challenge was accepted.

The Human Ancestor opened his eyes.

•••

Thirty seconds later, Clara and Seravelle lost.

That was already impressive.

Many challengers did not last three breaths. Many failed without understanding how they had failed.

Clara and Seravelle lasted thirty seconds.

It did not feel like thirty seconds.

It felt like being politely dismantled by the concept of martial education.

The Human Ancestor did not use overwhelming force. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

That made it worse.

He did not crush them with pressure. He did not release an apocalyptic technique. He did not wave his hand and erase their resistance.

He simply moved.

A step that cut off three possible retreats. A palm that redirected Clara’s sacred light into the ground. A glance that made Seravelle’s bell resonance ring half a breath late. A turn of the wrist that turned defense into imbalance.

Every failure arrived with perfect timing, as if the Human Ancestor had personally read the manual of their existence and marked the errors in red.

The final exchange happened when Clara created three layers of light shield while Seravelle sent a bell resonance through the space behind them.

The Human Ancestor stepped forward.

Not through the shields.

But between their meanings.

Clara saw him appear before her and felt the sacred light in her hands gently disperse.

Seravelle heard her own bell resonance return to her as a quiet correction.

Then both women found themselves standing at the edge of the plain.

The Human Ancestor’s echo had not harmed them.

He had simply removed their right to continue the fight.

[Defeat.]

[Duration: 30 seconds.]

Clara stared at the message.

Seravelle breathed out slowly.

For several breaths, neither spoke.

Then Clara said, "That was educational."

Seravelle’s lips curved faintly.

"That is one word for it."

Clara and Seravelle had not won anything.

But they had learned.

And strangely, both women looked refreshed.

As if being defeated by a person who understood the road had reminded them that the road still existed.

•••

Clara waited until the silence settled properly.

Then she asked the question she had brought Seravelle here to answer.

"Sister Seravelle, what do you think of Lootwell’s miracles?"

Seravelle did not respond at once.

She turned her covered gaze toward the plain.

Finally, she smiled.

"It would be best if the South could experience the miracles too."

Clara froze.

For a heartbeat, even her breathing stopped.

That was not merely approval. That was recognition and acknowledgment.

Permission, at least from the Holy Maiden’s heart.

If she said the South should experience Lootwell’s miracles, then the door had opened wider than Clara had dared hope.

Clara’s smile slowly became radiant.

"Then let us spread the miracles together."

Seravelle turned toward her.

Her smile was soft.

"I will speak to the Abbess."

Clara bowed her head slightly.

"Thank you."

Seravelle shook her head.

"No. I should thank you."

Clara blinked.

Seravelle’s voice lowered.

"The bells remembered grief. Today, I remembered why grief must not become a wall."

Clara’s eyes softened.

Seravelle continued, "The Silent Guardians saved the world and left so the living could stand. The Human Ancestor taught mortals to stand. If Lootwell’s miracles help people stand now, then rejecting them blindly would be arrogance disguised as faith."

Clara said nothing.

For once, she did not need to.

Seravelle looked toward the plains.

"The bells remember the old saviors."

Then she turned back to Clara.

"But perhaps the South also needs an answer for the living."

Clara’s expression became solemn.

"Then let the bells carry the prayer."

Seravelle listened.

Clara continued softly, "And let Grace carry the answer."

The words entered the highest floor.

The plain remained silent.

But Seravelle’s Ninth Bell True-Sight rang with alignment.

Seravelle bowed her head.

"Yes."

•••

Outside the trial, Lucien stared at the projection.

Then he laughed.

The sound filled the chamber.

The Holy Maiden had agreed.

And in the South, that mattered more than many signatures.

The Abbess still had to be convinced.

The elders still had to debate.

The Monastery still needed terms.

Land still had to be negotiated.

Public doctrine still had to be handled carefully.

Lucien knew all of that.

But the hardest part had shifted.

The Holy Maiden of the Ninth Bell had seen the Remembrance Trial, the Silent Guardians, the blood behind the Origin Core fragments, the Primordial Slime, the departure of the friendly Incarnations, and the Human Ancestor.

And after all of that, she had not rejected Lootwell.

She had asked for the South to experience its miracles.

Lucien smiled.

"Good."

Clara had done it.

The five continents had moved closer again.