Adam stayed in that night.
His strength was still too weak, and he knew far too little about the supernatural. He decided he would visit the church first and learn more about the different kinds of otherworldly creatures before making any moves of his own. In truth, Adam was far more familiar with the Church's methods than he was with the creatures themselves.
Early the next morning, Adam got what he was hoping for—Brother Fra was waiting for him at the door.
The young cleric gave a somewhat strained smile. "I spoke with Master Alva, the painter. Come with me, and he'll take you in as his apprentice."
"Thank you, Brother Fra!" Adam replied cheerfully. Seeing the joy on Adam's face, Fra let out a soft sigh of relief. Maybe he had been too inflexible before?
Setting aside that thought for now, Fra led Adam through the streets toward the southern district church.
"You seem pretty busy lately, Brother Fra," Adam commented casually, adjusting his hair as they walked—clearly trying to make a good first impression on his soon-to-be mentor.
In the end, he let his bangs fall over the scar beneath his left eye. Fra might be too young to recognize its significance, but the other clerics in the southern church might not be as clueless.
"Yeah... been handling some trouble," Fra muttered.
"Those monsters, right?" Adam nudged the conversation along. "That night, I saw you take one down with a single strike. You must've cleared them all out by now."
Fra gave a modest, slightly embarrassed smile—nothing like the decisive warrior he'd been during that deadly encounter.
"It's not that easy," he said. "Those things don't go down so quickly. If you see anyone suspicious, Adam, be careful. These creatures are incredibly dangerous."
He raised his hand and looked at his palm. "There are a few types we see most often: werewolves, ghouls, wendigos, and banshees. Near the coast, you'll also find sirens. And of course, there are others… like vampires."
Fra didn't go too deep into the details—just shared a few basic traits of each so Adam would know what to look out for.
Vampires were the ones that caught Adam's attention most. In the legends from his previous world, vampires and werewolves were age-old enemies. That seemed to be true here as well.
In fact, vampires hadn't originally existed in this world. They were the byproduct of human sorcerers who sought eternal life and used werewolves as their experimental foundation. Every time a pureblood vampire was born, a werewolf was sacrificed. Naturally, the two species weren't exactly on good terms.
Ghouls and wendigos shared many similarities, but neither could stay hidden in human society for long. Once they reached a certain stage of maturity, their monstrous nature became too obvious—they were forced to retreat into isolation. Banshees, on the other hand, lived in forests and mountains.
That left werewolves as the most common and dangerous infiltrators among humans.
Fra wrapped up his brief overview and didn't say much else. By then, they'd reached the southern cathedral.
They entered through a side door, and Fra immediately felt every pair of eyes in the room turn toward him, their gazes laced with curiosity and surprise. For a moment, he wanted to duck his head and hide his face.
Too young, Adam thought as he glanced around the cathedral, studying the layout. Then, noticing Fra's discomfort, he felt a faint pang of guilt.
Maybe Fra's moral boundaries will erode over time, but that's his choice. If I'm the one pushing him over the edge... then I really am just a piece of shit.
"Seems like most Sanctum of Harmonia churches are built the same way," he murmured to himself, committing the structure to memory.
Though people simply called it "the Church," there were actually several distinct branches. All the formal churches worshiped a single god—Nohr, the Creator, the divine being described in the Scripture of God's Word.
But depending on the aspect of the divine each church focused on, their beliefs, practices, and even the god's appearance could vary wildly.
Some churches got along well with each other. Others were bitter rivals.
In the Kingdom of Saint Harmonia, nearly all churches belonged to the Sanctum of Harmonia branch. Among the various sects on the continent, they were considered one of the more approachable, and their numbers were substantial.
For Adam, the goal was simple: stay away from the Sanctum of Harmonia. At least, once he got what he needed from them.
From a distance, Adam spotted a middle-aged man squatting in a corner, running his fingers over the carvings on the wall.
The man's beard was unkempt, and his long, dry hair had been pulled into a rough ponytail. His once-white robe had turned a dusty brown, though it didn't smell bad. His hands were covered in various colors of paint.
"That's Alva Latu," Fra whispered. "A famous master painter who settled in Roya a few years ago."
"Master Alva, this is Adam," Fra said as they approached.
"Go on and leave him here," Alva said without even turning around. He kept tracing the wall with his fingers, occasionally tapping the stone to listen to the echoes.
"I'll leave him to you, then. Adam, study hard. If you need anything, come find me," Fra said, patting Adam on the shoulder before disappearing into the deeper parts of the church. He had plenty of his own work to do.
With Fra gone, the corner felt even quieter. Alva made no move to greet Adam—he just kept inspecting the mural in front of him.
Adam didn't mind. He joined in, examining the wall with curiosity.
The mural depicted the events described in the Scripture of God's Word: the god creating the world and saving all of creation. Time had not been kind to the piece—many sections had faded or chipped away.
That wasn't surprising. Though the Sanctum of Harmonia hadn't actively hunted mages or herbalists in recent years, they still looked down on such "gray" professions. As a result, their artifacts—while finely made—rarely contained any supernatural power.
The Church valued communion with the divine above all. As long as that communication remained strong, more divine spells could be granted.
Adam followed Alva around as he continued to inspect various parts of the building, using an array of peculiar methods: touching, staring, listening, even sniffing.
"Hey, uh... go tell what's-his-face to order another bottle of hard liquor with the materials," Alva muttered, completely out of the blue.
Adam glanced around. No one else was nearby, so it was clear who Alva was talking to. Without complaint, he walked off to find someone who could help.
He tracked down one of the passing clerics and asked who was responsible for ordering supplies. Once he had a name, he went straight to find them.
Apprentices were, more often than not, unpaid labor. What the teacher actually taught—if anything—was a matter of luck.
But Adam didn't mind. It gave him the perfect excuse to explore the church more freely and listen in on whispers not meant for outsiders.
The Church's quartermaster was a middle-aged, portly man. When Adam requested an additional bottle of liquor be added to the order list, the man looked extremely annoyed. His expression carried a distinct contempt for Adam.
"Liquor? For painting? Let me guess—some nonsense that filthy painter mumbled, and you didn't hear it right. Go back and ask him again."
"I heard him clearly," Adam said calmly. Then, glancing at the stack of documents on the table, he added, "Please add it to the list, Brother Jim. If you have any questions, you're welcome to ask my teacher directly."
"Brother Jim! Sir Rupert just arrived!" someone called from the door, drawing the portly man's attention—and souring his mood even further.
"Fine, fine. Just go. I'll add it," he said with a wave of his hand, clearly wanting Adam gone. But Adam didn't move.
Brother Jim finally looked up and studied Adam's face more closely. With a frown, he grabbed a form from the pile and scribbled down: 1 bottle of strong liquor.
"Appreciate it, Brother Jim," Adam said with a polite smile before turning and leaving.
Back in the corner, Alva was still inspecting the walls. Adam spent the entire day shadowing him as he measured various parts of the church.
"Hey, uh... you. Be here earlier tomorrow," Alva finally said as evening fell. Still didn't bother remembering Adam's name.
Adam didn't mind. He turned to leave through the side corridor—but someone called out to him.
It was the white-bearded cleric who had declared the sentence at the fire-pit execution.
Now, though, the man looked warm and kind. Smiling with narrowed eyes, he waved Adam over.
"Adam, right? Come here, I've got a few things I'd like to ask you."