How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 609: Ritual of Light

In the entirety of Lumen Academy, few students ever bothered using the indoor training grounds inside Killian Hall.

Most students preferred the open fields or the modern mana simulation rooms, and even their own private training rooms.

So, the grounds had always been empty.

Until Lucas showed up.

“Haah!”

His voice echoed against the empty walls as his sword cut through the air.

VOOOOSHHHH!!!

A powerful shockwave burst from the blade, slicing a deep arc across the floor. Dust scattered, the air itself rippling as if it feared his frustration.

Lucas lowered his stance, chest heaving, and wiped the sweat dripping down his jaw.

Even here, the silence felt heavy — almost suffocating.

[Master… a little restraint might be needed in your current state.]

The calm, almost gentle voice of his sword rang in his mind — a divine whisper laced with worry.

Lucas exhaled slowly.

“You know I can’t do that…”

He gripped the hilt tighter, staring at the blade’s white sheen reflecting his faintly tired eyes.

It had only been a few hours since he woke up in the infirmary — but it felt like days.

The second time.

This was the second time he’d failed to save someone.

And what gnawed at him most was the reason — or rather, the lack of it.

He remembered being there.

He remembered the chaos, the demon, Princess Snow… Janica unconscious. —

Then nothing.

Just black.

His brows furrowed. “Why can’t I remember what happened after that?”

The divine weapon stayed silent for a long while, its glow faintly flickering like a pulse trying to find its rhythm.

[…….]

[…Forgive my incompetence, Master. But I possess no memory beyond what you recall yourself. It’s as though something has erased the sequence entirely.]

Lucas’s grip loosened.

“I see…”

He stared at the deep gash on the ground before him, the smell of mana and dust thick in the air.

He couldn’t exactly blame his holy sword for the memory loss.

The blade was as bound by whatever happened as he was. Still… something about that moment refused to sit right with him.

It was too familiar.

That same, eerie sense of déjà vu — the strange emptiness after victory.

Just like a month ago, when they cleared that dungeon during the academy hunt.

The sudden completion.

The absence of process.

Like someone hit a “skip” button on reality itself.

Lucas frowned, lowering his gaze.

“In the end… Riley got involved again,” he muttered quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I wonder what he thinks of me now…”

[I am sure he thinks highly of you, Master.]

A faint echo of reassurance came from the sword, but Lucas only let out a dry chuckle.

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

He exhaled. “Sigh… I really shouldn’t have acted on my own.”

[Your decisions were made from my suggestions, Master. The responsibility is not entirely yours.]

Lucas shook his head.

“Yeah, but I’m the one who made the final call. That’s on me.”

[….]

The sword didn’t reply. The silence in the hall thickened — heavy, but familiar.

Lucas raised his weapon again, feeling the familiar warmth gather around him.

Invisible heat danced along the blade’s edge, shimmering faintly like sunlight on glass.

“You know,” he said softly, “all my life, I’ve always felt like I was… meant for something. Like I was someone special.”

He swung.

SWIIISSHHH!

The air split apart with another blinding arc, this time hotter — raw, radiant, almost holy. The wave of force burned through the space in front of him, carving a scorched line across the already battered floor.

The heat faded slowly, leaving behind a warped shimmer in the air.

Lucas stood there, his shoulders rising and falling. He looked at the damage with a dull, lifeless gaze.

“I’ve always felt different,” he murmured. “Stronger, faster… maybe even a bit smarter.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Though Janica would probably argue otherwise haha…”

He let out a quiet laugh — but it didn’t sound real.

For a second, the humor cracked, revealing a glimmer of doubt underneath.

Because deep down, even he wasn’t sure if the strength he carried was really his…

Or something — someone — else’s will bleeding into him.

[…]

He looked at his holy sword and smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried more exhaustion than joy.

The blade’s white surface reflected his expression back at him—tired eyes, a trembling grin, and a shadow of doubt that refused to fade.

“But ever since I met Riley,” he said quietly, “all that specialty I thought I had… it shattered.”

He let out a dry laugh, lowering the sword slightly.

“He made me realize the other side of what I believed in. That strength isn’t just power, or talent, or divine blessing—it’s something deeper. He showed me that even if you have all the talent in the world, it means nothing if you don’t know what you’re fighting for.”

His eyes softened as he stared into the faint glow of the sword.

“And most of all… he made me see that, among all the talented people out there, I wasn’t anything close to special.”

[But you are special, Master. In more ways than one. You are probably the most special person in this world.]

Lucas chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said. “Sure, I’m blessed… maybe more than I deserve. But the most special? That’s debatable.”

He turned his gaze toward the empty ceiling, his tone soft but steady.

“There are still people like Senior Alice, Miss Rose, and the Princess. They shine in their own way. But Riley…” He paused, his grip tightening slightly. “…Riley’s different.”

A small, self-conscious smile tugged at his lips.

“It’s stupid, really. Janica would definitely call me out on it. But… he’s become my goal. I want to reach him—no, stand beside him.”

He exhaled, the sound almost trembling.

“I know he can take me to heights I’ve never seen before. And when that day comes, when I can finally reach him…”

He looked down, voice dropping to a whisper.

“…I want to stand as his equal.”

The words lingered in the air like a quiet prayer.

After a long pause, he added softly, “I guess I’m just… afraid of being left behind. Of being alone again.”

[Master…]

The sword’s voice was quiet now—gentle, almost human.

Its light pulsed faintly, as if it shared his ache but didn’t know how to mend it.

“Haha… was that talk a bit too heavy? Sorry, it’s not really like me to talk like that, huh…”

[It is fine, Master. Sometimes letting your heart speak freely is the best way to ease the mind and soul. And even if you talked for an eternity… I would still be here, listening.]

Lucas froze for a second, the warmth in the sword’s voice catching him off guard.

It wasn’t just words—it felt genuine, almost human.

For a split moment, it was like a girl had just confessed to him.

A faint blush crept onto his face. “W–What’s with that line…?”

He quickly shook his head, scratching his cheek with a sheepish grin.

“…I see. Thanks, I guess.”

The hall fell silent again, only the soft hum of mana filling the air.

His golden eyes glimmered faintly as he exhaled, letting his thoughts settle.

Slowly, he began to focus inward—feeling his mana connect with that familiar warmth inside him.

The divine energy that had always been there, flowing like a second heartbeat.

He tightened his grip on the holy sword.

Outside, the moonlight bled through the high glass windows of Killian Hall. The clock’s hands crept past midnight.

“…Now then,” he muttered, a small grin forming. “Why don’t we heat things up before bed?”

[Understood, Master. I shall begin divine synchronization—if you permit it.]

“Go ahead!”

A pulse of light flared from the sword, and his body answered in kind.

Heat surged through him—pure, clean, radiant. The air trembled as white-gold energy wrapped around him like living flame.

His hair shifted, the usual pale tone brightening into a gleaming platinum gold, catching the glow of his aura.

His eyes turned sharp, almost burning, their glow cutting through the dim hall.

Magic circles formed faintly under his feet—patterns only divine energy could draw.

The ground hummed, the wind rippled outward, and the temperature spiked.

Every time he exhaled, light spilled from his breath.

He stood there, surrounded by the brilliance of his own power, his gaze steady and full of resolve.

“To reach him… to face him properly in three days…” he whispered.

“I have to be ready.”

The sword vibrated faintly in his grasp, its light harmonizing with his.

[Then let us begin, Master. Until your body, soul, and divinity move as one.]

“Yeah…” He smirked, lowering his stance. “Let’s make this count.”

The next second, the empty hall erupted with light—

a silent explosion of will and divinity that shook even the distant night air.

…..

Meanwhile, in a certain first-year dormitory at Killian Hall—

“S-Senior… I-I really can’t do it…! I’m so sorry but it’s too dangerous!”

The small dorm room was nothing extravagant compared to the higher-class quarters above.

But even here, the faint traces of the Church of Light’s influence were visible—softly carved scripture along the window frames, a silver insignia hanging over the bed, and that faint, clean scent of incense lingering in the air.

Emilia stood near her desk, clutching a book filled with runic inscriptions. Her voice trembled as she tried to reason with the young man before her.

“It’s fine,” Riley said calmly. “Just trust me. Nothing will happen.”

“B-but like I told you—it’s too dangerous! One small mistake and you could die! You and the princess both—”

“I trust you.”

Her breath caught. “B-but… you said it involves a demonic entity, right? I-I can’t guarantee a safe ritual just like that—H-Hieeek!”

Her words cut short as Riley suddenly stepped forward, pinning her gently—but firmly—against the wall.

Emilia froze, her eyes widening like a frightened rabbit before a wolf.

His gaze—cold, steady, and impossibly close—made her entire body stiffen. She could feel his breath, steady and warm, brushing against her cheek.

Her heart pounded wildly.

“S-Senior…?” she stammered, trying to push him away, though her soft arms barely made a difference.

His chest was solid—too solid—and the contact made her panic even more.

Then, his hand moved up. Fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, tracing the outline of her face.

“S-senior… w-what are you doing…?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Riley smiled faintly, the tension around him softening just a little.

His eyes glowed like cold blue flame under the dim light as he twirled a few strands of her dark hair between his fingers.

“Saintess—” he paused, his tone lowering, “no, Emilia.”

His voice was serious now.

“If you do this favor for me… I’ll grant you one wish. Anything you want.”

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

(He said anything…?!)

Emilia’s thoughts spun wildly. She knew she should refuse him.

She knew the ritual was forbidden—an unstable summoning connected to demonic interference, something even priests hesitated to touch.

And yet…

Thump!

Thump!

Her young innocent heart betrayed her completely.

Every beat made her face hotter until she couldn’t even look him straight in the eyes.

“I… A-alright…” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ll do it… so please, j-just move away now…”

Her whole face burned crimson.

Riley’s serious expression finally softened into a smile.

He stepped back, then—without warning—pulled her into a warm, brief hug.

“You’re the best, Junior.”

Emilia froze again, her mind short-circuiting.

“Y-yessss…?????” she muttered weakly, practically melting in his arms.