57~Teresa’s Divine Awakening

“What… what was that just now?”

Two Elf girls stood by the window, looking up at the sky. No matter how hard they looked, they couldn’t find that dazzling golden sun again.

“A golden sun? But it’s the middle of the night! By the Mother Goddess, what on earth happened?”

“Could it have been… a mistake?”

“No way. One person misseeing something, maybe—but two people… Her Highness saw it too, didn’t she?”

The two Elf girls turned to Astrid, who was staring pensively into her teacup.

She had seen that golden sun—and unlike the others, she noticed a detail they hadn’t.

That wasn’t just a radiant sun. It was covered in script—Elvish script.

She was sure she’d seen it somewhere before. Maybe in…

Could it really be just a coincidence?

***

Divine Awakening Countdown: 00:00

In a freshman’s temporary dorm room at Coleman Academy, golden brilliance erupted, as if a god had descended upon the earth.

Behind the golden-haired girl, a radiant sun and a harp shrouded in golden light rose into the air.

Countless Elvish letters, deep and mysterious, swirled around her like living entities, orbiting her body.

A matching symbol—a golden sun and harp design—appeared on the back of her right hand, delicately outlined in golden threads. On her fair, jade-like skin, it shone with resplendent brilliance.

Elegant, otherworldly music rang softly in her ears—an angelic requiem, a sacred hymn of nature, as if it could purify the soul.

The power that burst forth nourished the girl's body. Her height and secondary characteristics visibly grew; she was no longer a young girl, but now a graceful young woman.

In the mirror, as her body matured, the scar on her face slowly faded.

The power once sealed within it had been fully absorbed, and the mark simply vanished.

At first, placing all her hopes on Divine Awakening had felt more like a gamble—truth be told, a rather foolish one.

Think about it seriously—how could completing a Divine Awakening that required absorbing a Divine Blade be easy?

But none of that mattered anymore. The internal system display surfaced before her eyes.

If this had been a gamble—then she had won everything.

Name: Teresa Galnorin

Status: Awakened

Race: Gold Elf

Divine Princess Domain: [Sanctuary of Sacred Wood]

Divine Authorities:

First Authority: [Blade of Destruction and Creation: Sacred Oblivion]

Second Authority: [Verdant Fragrance]

Third Authority: [Sovereignty of All Forests]

With her legs curled slightly beneath her, her platinum hair spread across the bed like silk, the flawless Elf girl opened her calm, olive-gem eyes—eyes devoid of desire.

Her goal in the Crown Tournament was no longer merely to avoid expulsion—but to claim the championship before everyone’s eyes.

***

“This is nuts. A sun in the middle of the night? Am I seeing things?”

An old man in a white ceremonial robe wiped the sweat from his brow. He passed through the temporary dormitory building and stopped in front of a room.

“This should be the place…”

He knocked politely—three times.

“Sorry to intrude. Is Student Dylin in?”

Nearly thirty seconds passed. No response.

“Already asleep? Makes sense… The Crown Tournament is tomorrow… What a headache.”

Just as he sighed to himself, the door opened.

“Good evening. May I ask what brings you here?”

A black-haired youth opened the door, looking calmly at the old man.

“Ah, sorry—did I wake you?” The old man studied Dylin. There were no signs of drowsiness on his face, and his clothes were perfectly in order. Clearly, he hadn’t gone to bed.

Still…

The old man couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about Dylin felt… off. His expression was overly calm, and his movements a bit too refined. He couldn’t pinpoint the issue, but the unease lingered.

“No. As long as it’s brief.”

“Of course, of course. I’m one of the Academy’s weapon forgers. Since the Crown Tournament is tomorrow, I came to ask what weapon suits you best. The Academy will provide it.”

“A weapon?” Dylin considered for a moment. “Actually, your timing is perfect. I’ve been fretting over not having a proper one.”

“Let’s keep it simple. I need a longbow made of Whitebirch.”

“A longbow?” The old man blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you don’t want a flintlock? The Academy has plenty of good-quality ones.”

“No need. I won’t be fighting.” Dylin shook his head.

“Oh… right… Still, why Whitebirch? Wouldn’t Zinan Wood, with its superb flexibility, be better?”

“A Zinan bow wouldn’t be as durable for my needs.” Dylin gave a slight bow. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“Think nothing of it. This is my job.” The old man didn’t press Dylin further about his odd choice.

His job was just to deliver the weapon. That was all.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll leave it at your door.”

Soon after, the door shut, and the old man left.

But the bow Dylin had made him—There was something odd about the way that kid bowed.

It hit him suddenly.

The reason Dylin’s behavior had felt strange was because it was too delicate. His tone, his posture—Far too refined for a boy.

Why am I even thinking like that…?

***

The next morning, the old man yawned and slung a large, cloth-wrapped bundle over his back.

He stood outside the freshman dormitory.

Normally, the place would be bustling with people. Today, it was empty.

The Crown Tournament was about to begin, and all the freshmen had gotten up extra early to scout the site.

To be honest, the old man was worried Dylin wouldn’t show up on time.

Finally, he spotted a figure walking unhurriedly out of the dorm.

“Good morning, esteemed sir. Sorry to keep you waiting,” said Dylin, his posture upright, bowing in thanks.

“No need, no need for such formality.” The old man waved his hand, still thinking that Dylin’s manners were oddly too proper—his honorifics and etiquette so perfect it felt… overdone.

“Here, your Whitebirch longbow.” He handed over the wrapped bundle.

“Thank you for your generosity.” Dylin unwrapped and examined it.

“I told you, it’s my duty. No need to thank me,” the old man replied. “Just hope it helps you prove yourself in the arena.”

“I know. Words can’t express my gratitude. You’ve worked all night—go get some rest. Oh, and please pass my thanks to Astrid.”

“Uh…” The old man’s face froze. He stammered, “W-what does this have to do with Lady Astrid? This wasn’t her doing—it was just the Academy, I mean…”

“Whitebirch is only found at the border of the Whiteglass Kingdom, and it has average elasticity. For bow making, Zinan Wood—found near Coleman—is far better. There’s no way the Academy would choose the inferior, distant material over a superior, local one.” Dylin glanced at the longbow again.

“That means the Academy didn’t have Whitebirch in stock. If it’s here now, then someone forged it overnight.”

“Your dark circles and exhausted state may be hidden, but the very effort to hide them only makes it more obvious.”

“The Academy wouldn’t assign a master weaponsmith to personally craft a custom weapon just for me.”

“It had to be her.”

“...”

The old man was at a loss. He knew he couldn’t deceive this frighteningly astute boy, and he sighed.

“Her Highness was afraid you’d be too stubborn to accept her help. She didn’t mean to lie to you…”

“Thank her for me. I accept the bow.” Dylin gave a deep bow. “I’ll be going now.”

“W-wait! You forgot your quiver!”

“No need for that.” Dylin walked off, leaving the old man with nothing but his silhouette.

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