Jeanne d'Arc.
A nineteen-year-old girl from the countryside of France.
Her short life was a tragedy written in divine fire:
She heard the voice of God, took up arms for her country, led armies to victory, turned the tide of war—
And then was betrayed, branded a heretic, and burned alive in Rouen's square.
Now, those memories replayed like a flickering reel behind her eyes—the searing flames, the mysterious black letter, the quiet garden, the man before her, and the strange contract that had bound them moments ago.
--
At that moment, in Lucas's bedroom—
Jeanne followed his instructions in a daze, like her body moved on autopilot. When she came to her senses, she realized she was lying face-down on his bed, her upper clothes removed, her heart racing.
The instant Lucas's cool fingertip brushed against the smooth skin of her back, she jolted like a startled deer. A flush spread from her ears to the base of her neck, and her bare feet tensed, curling unconsciously together.
"D-does the ritual really require this?" Her muffled protest came from the pillow she'd buried her face into. "This feels… indecent!"
Lucas's expression was all calm professionalism—though his gaze was far from saintly. "This is the standard method for granting a Falna, the same ritual used by every Familia," he said seriously. "It's not personal."
His tone carried a quiet authority that brooked no argument.
"Please, bear with it for a moment."
Jeanne was petite but stunningly proportioned, the faint tremor of her back beneath his hand radiating both grace and strength. Even Lucas—trying very hard to stay composed—felt the whisper of temptation stir somewhere deep in his chest.
He forced himself to focus. Enough distractions.
Taking a silver needle, he pricked his finger and let a single drop of blood fall onto the pale curve of her back.
"Heaven and Earth: Blessed Bestowal, activate."
The droplet rippled like water on contact, glowing faintly.
Then, using his finger as a quill and his blood as ink, Lucas began to write—delicate, fluid strokes forming intricate holy characters across Jeanne's skin.
Lines of light spread outward, gold and radiant, merging into a single geometric seal—the emblem of divine grace itself.
When he lifted his hand from her back, the glow slowly faded, sinking beneath her skin like starlight into still water.
Lucas's voice came soft but solemn.
"From this moment, Jeanne d'Arc, you are a member of the Lucas Familia. We are family now."
Jeanne's breath caught. She quickly sat up, face crimson, clutching a pillow to her chest like a shield.
"The… ceremony's done?" she whispered.
"It's done," Lucas confirmed, his eyes flicking briefly over her back before turning to grab a parchment. He swiped his hand across it—and lines of gold appeared, mirroring the inscription he'd just drawn.
He studied the data on her newly formed Status Panel, and a faint, knowing smile curved his lips.
"As expected," he murmured. "Exceptional."
He handed the parchment to her. Jeanne accepted it, eyes darting nervously away.
"I… I'm sorry," she stammered.
Lucas blinked. "Sorry? For what?"
Her blue eyes flicked to the paper again, full of confusion and embarrassment. Then it clicked.
"Ah," he said, realizing. "You can't read this script."
Her cheeks burned deeper.
"That's alright," he assured her gently. "Most people in Orario can't. The holy text is usually copied onto parchment in the common tongue for reference. I'll teach you how to read it later."
He turned the parchment toward her, pointing at each section as he explained.
[Name]: Jeanne d'Arc
[Age]: 19
[Title]: Holy Maiden
[Race]: Human
[Occupation]: Cleric / Adventurer
[Affiliation]: Lucas Familia (Demeter Familia)
[Level]: 1
Floor Reached: xx
[Status]:
Strength: I0 | Endurance: I0 | Dexterity: I0 | Agility: I0 | Magic: I0
Magic:
Luminosité Éternelle
· Expands a wide-area barrier that nullifies damage, heals allies, and increases defense.
· Chant: "O' Flag, protect my people! Luminosité Eternelle!!"
La Pucelle
· A large-scale annihilation Magic. Power scales with all parameters and potential; can only be cast once every twenty-four hours.
· Chant: "O' Lord, I entrust this body to you—La Pucelle."
[Skills]:
Crest of Affection – Conceals Status, deceives gods' appraisal; accelerates growth and increases potential.
Revelation – Grants wide-range enemy detection and divine insight to make correct decisions in critical moments.
Ruler – Greatly boosts resistance to magic and negative effects, strengthening Strength and Endurance when resisting. Slightly debuffs hostile targets.
Heart of a Saint – Reduces all damage taken; grants continuous health and mind regeneration.
Holy Maiden – Massively increases all Stats; allies within range gain a small resistance boost to mental attacks.
Lucas leaned back with a quiet whistle. "Yeah. This is… absurd."
He met her gaze.
"Jeanne, listen carefully. Ninety-nine point nine percent of adventurers who receive a Falna start with nothing—no Magic, no Skill. Maybe a handful of elves get a minor spell at the beginning, but that's it."
He gestured at the parchment. "You have two Magics and five Skills right out of the gate. That's rarer than a miracle."
She blinked, still processing.
He continued, his tone turning more serious.
"I've locked your Falna—no one can read it but me. But there are exceptions. Some contraband items, like Unlocking Potions, can forcibly break the seal. So, no matter what, never reveal your Status Panel to anyone."
Her fingers tightened around the parchment. A sharp glint of steel flashed behind her sapphire eyes.
"Such vile tactics exist here?" she said coldly.
Lucas placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a reassuring smile.
"They're rare, but yes. Gods can be just as scheming as mortals. Take Apollo, for example. He's notorious for using tricks and manipulation to steal talented adventurers from other Familias—sometimes even waging War Games just to claim people he fancies."
He sighed. "So don't underestimate how ugly things can get in Orario. Keep your cards close. Always."
Jeanne's expression hardened, a quiet fire flickering in her eyes. "Understood."
Then, after a pause, her gaze sharpened on him, almost playfully dangerous.
"So… in your mind, I'm just some naïve, defenseless girl who needs protecting?"
Lucas froze, hands up in surrender. "No! Of course not. This is just me giving you the survival briefing."
He chuckled, tone softening. "You're new here. You don't know this world's rules yet. And" he hesitated, meeting her eyes earnestly, "you're… well, you're beautiful. It'd be a damn shame if some creep tried to trick you while I wasn't around."
For a second, Jeanne's lips parted—but no words came out. Her cheeks turned faintly pink.
"Hmph," she muttered, looking away, twisting the hem of her dress between her fingers. "You do have a way with words…"
Lucas watched her from the corner of his eye, hiding a small smile. He could practically see the gears turning in her head.
Yeah. She was already overthinking everything.
And for once, he didn't mind.