The incident with Sister Marta seems to have come to an end, for now.
But it's clear that Bishop Barnett won't simply let Oliver go. Without Sister Marta, he will find others to cause trouble for Oliver.
Over the past couple of days, Oliver has noticed that the new atonement shift supervisor, Brother Brook, has been making his life difficult.
Brook always looked at Oliver with malice and disdain.
He deliberately spat on Oliver's nutritional paste in front of him, even stirring it a few times, showing off his yellowed teeth as he grinned. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Stark, mind if I add a little extra seasoning to your food? Hahaha!"
Oliver had no choice but to throw the food away. In truth, he wasn't eager to eat the subpar food the church provided anyway.
The buttered bread and beef stew from the black market were a million times better than this nutritional paste.
But to Brook, Oliver's action of discarding the food seemed incredibly foolish.
"Not eating? Let's see how long you can last!"
Brook sneered.
Oliver only earned seven silver coins a week, and without the food from the church, he would often go hungry.
"Once he can't hold out anymore, he'll come crawling to you, Bishop, to beg for forgiveness,"
Brook reported to Bishop Barnett.
Barnett was very pleased with his approach.
"A mere trainee priest dares to defy me—being noticed by this bishop is a privilege for him."
Barnett chuckled lightly, as if he were already certain of Oliver's future.
He licked his lips, a glint of greed and anticipation flashing in his eyes.
"Lord Bishop, you seem particularly concerned about this boy…"
Seeing Barnett in a good mood, Brook boldly asked.
"Haha, you don't know? This little brute is not only handsome but also the son of a witch. A man like that can't just be my plaything; his blood can also help me enhance my divine arts."
The son of a witch?
Brook was taken aback, not realizing that Oliver, who seemed like an ordinary guy, had such an origin.
The so-called witches were typically mutants tainted by evil, capable of powerful supernatural abilities without needing to learn spells.
The blood of these witches, or even some of their bodily tissues, contained magic. After special processing, this could enhance the spells of divine magicians.
Barnett discovered that Oliver was the son of a witch by chance.
Although Oliver had not activated any witch-like abilities, his witch's blood still ran through his veins. While weaker than a real witch's magic, it might still enhance divine spells.
...
In addition to making Oliver's meals difficult, Barnett also often assigned him dirty, heavy tasks. Any contaminated evil objects that needed to be dealt with were handed to Oliver.
Oliver had been working tirelessly these past few days.
"Brook, that guy is a level-1 divine magician…"
Oliver sneered to himself. He really wanted to find an opportunity to kill him, just like he did with Sister Marta.
But with one nun already missing, if Brook disappeared too, their shared role as Oliver's watchers would make him a prime suspect.
So, for now, Oliver refrained from taking action.
However, he couldn't let Brook's bullying slide. He'd have to find an opportunity to get some revenge—maybe in a dark place, beat him senseless, and take whatever valuables he had.
Of course, during this time, Oliver didn't waste a moment. Whenever he was off work, he practiced his spells in his apartment to strengthen his combat abilities.
When he returned to his apartment, the dimly lit, shabby room with tightly closed curtains, the first thing Oliver did was check the silver coins he had hidden under his bed.
Over 100 silver coins. He didn't dare carry them with him; if the church found them, the source of the money would be hard to explain.
So, he kept them hidden in his apartment.
He worried about thieves, though. His apartment was old and run-down, and the residents were usually struggling to eat. Thieves wouldn't think to look for a large sum of silver coins hidden there.
After confirming that the silver coins were safe, Oliver carefully hid them before settling into his practice.
He began silently reciting the Spirit Blade incantation.
Incantations also had different levels of proficiency.
There were three stages: Novice, Mastery, and Grandmaster.
Each stage was four times more powerful than the previous one!
Buzz!
Holding the enhancement wand, several sword blades made of spiritual energy appeared in the air as Oliver recited the incantation.
He maneuvered the blades, waving them in the air.
With a thought, he dispersed the blades, summoned them again, and repeated the process. His spiritual power drained rapidly.
Soon, Oliver was drenched in sweat, and a sharp pain surged in his head, as if needles were stabbing his mind.
This indicated excessive consumption of his spiritual energy.
Once, twice, ten times… dozens of times!
He kept repeating the process of releasing, controlling, and retracting, pushing himself to the limit. Whenever he felt his spirit beginning to wane, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to go another round. Each time he managed to sustain the five Spirit Sharp Edges a little longer, his confidence grew.
It was important to note that Oliver had originally only been able to summon four Spirit Sharp Edges. Reaching five was the result of his intense practice over the past few days.
However, even with that progress, Oliver's Spirit Blade spell was still at the beginner level.
But his practice had been paying off, and his skill was improving at an incredible rate.
"Just three more days of practice... Just three more days, and my Spirit Blade will be at the Mastery level."
Once that happened, the power of the spell would quadruple, and the number of Spirit Blades he could summon would increase from five to six.
This would make Oliver's overall strength even greater, giving him a much higher success rate when hunting clerics—without the risk of flipping over or making mistakes.