As soon as the Faith Core formed, Carl understood the true nature of his abilities. He could change fate on a minor scale, overwriting the course of events to suit his own desires.
For example, if he were to get hurt, he could use his power to retroactively prevent the injury from occurring. It was as if he had the ability to edit reality itself, albeit in small ways.
However, he could only change his own fate, not that of others. He couldn't use his abilities to alter the course of events for those around him, like undoing sinkings ship.
But that wasn't all. Carl's Faith Core also granted him the ability to create minor miracles. He could perform feats that would be considered impossible by ordinary standards, such as turning a soft object into a hard one or shooting a small projectile from his finger by imitating a pistol.
As long as the impact was small, Carl's power could accomplish it.
He discovered that his powers were fueled by a finite quantity of Faith Energy, which regenerated over time, albeit at a very slow rate.
"Handgun technique," Carl muttered to himself, focusing his energy to create a small, projectile-like miracle. He raised his hand, and a tiny, glowing bullet shot out of his finger, striking a nearby target with precision.
Carl repeated the process, counting his shots. Ten. That was half of limit for the Handgun technique. His Faith Energy would be depleted with ten other shot, leaving him vulnerable.
However, when he attempted to use his powers to overwrite fate, Carl found that the energy cost was significantly higher. A massive chunk of his Faith Energy would be consumed, leaving him drained.
Lord Harrington watched Carl's experiments with interest, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the implications of Carl's abilities.
"Mr. Carl, it seems your Faith Core powers are indeed formidable." Lord Harrington said.
"Thank you, Lord Harrington. Sir, you must also a fated as well a assume?"
"Yes, I am. That's why I know your name Mr. Carl and some of your personal information, that's why I can trusted you and sure you're not spy from heretics country. My limitation is matter of fated cannot be discern. Well, actually, I already long surpassed fated stage. But it's something Mr. Carl should'nt know right now."
Carl fell his privacy is violated. Considered all human in this world have superpower, I need to leave behind his modern mindset.
"Very well, Mr. Carl. Now, I must prepare you for a visit to the Church of Fate. It is only proper that we inform the clergy of your... unique circumstances."
He turned to his butler, who had been standing discreetly in the corner of the room. "Jenkins, please prepare Mr. Carl for our visit to the church. See that he is dressed in attire befitting his noble station."
Jenkins bowed and gestured to Carl. "If you would follow me, sir, I will ensure that you are properly attired for the occasion."
Carl nodded, feeling a bit out of his depth. He followed Jenkins to a nearby room, where a selection of fine clothes and accessories were laid out.
Jenkins began to help Carl dress, expertly fastening buttons and adjusting cuffs. "This is a formal attire, sir, suitable for a noble of your standing. The Church of Fate is a place of great importance, and we must show the proper respect."
Carl gazed at his reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at him. His black hair was now styled in a sleek, elegant fashion, swept back from his forehead to reveal his sharp features. His black eyes seemed to gleam with a subtle purple glow, as if reflecting the power of the Faith Core within him.
Jenkins had dressed him in a magnificent outfit, fitting for a noble of his supposed station. The costume consisted of a black tailcoat with a subtle sheen, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that seemed to dance across the fabric. A crisp white shirt with a high collar and French cuffs added a touch of elegance, while a black waistcoat with a subtle pattern of interlocking gears provided a hint of sophistication.
A black cravat, perfectly knotted, added a touch of refinement to Carl's neck, while a pair of formal black trousers, complete with a thin stripe of silver braid down the side, completed the outfit. Black leather gloves, adorned with a subtle silver cufflink, covered Carl's hands, while a pair of polished black dress shoes, complete with a subtle silver buckle, adorned his feet.
Around his neck, a delicate silver chain supported a small, ornate pendant in the shape of a stylized wheel with twelve slice.
Meanwhile, Lord Harrington was a tall, slender man in his late fifties, with a gaunt face and sunken eyes. His hair was gray and slicked back, revealing a prominent widow's peak that added to his air of dignified authority.
He had a sharp jawline and a small, pointed beard that was flecked with threads of silver. His eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to bore into those he looked at.
Lord Harrington's attire was impeccable, reflecting his noble status. He wore a black tailcoat with a subtle sheen, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that seemed to dance across the fabric. A crisp white shirt with a high collar and French cuffs added a touch of elegance, while a black waistcoat with a subtle pattern of interlocking gears provided a hint of sophistication.
A silver signet ring adorned his left hand, bearing the crest of his noble family. Lord Harrington exuded an air of refined elegance and authority, commanding respect from those around him.
Few minutes later, Carl shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clinging to the door handle of the horse carriage as it rattled and swayed over the cobblestone streets. He was used to the smooth, quiet ride of modern vehicles, and this antiquated contraption was making him queasy.
Lord Harrington, seated across from him, seemed oblivious to Carl's discomfort, gazing out the window with a look of calm contemplation.
The horse carriage their ride was a majestic, black-lacquered vehicle with intricate gold filigree adorning its doors and roof. The carriage's body was curved and sleek, with a gleaming brass lantern suspended from the roof. The lantern cast a warm, golden glow over the surrounding area.
Four gleaming black horses, their coats polished to a high sheen, were harnessed to the carriage. Their harnesses were adorned with gleaming silver buckles and delicate, engraved metalwork. The horses' eyes were calm and intelligent, and they moved with a smooth, fluid gait as they pulled the carriage through the streets.
A furry coachman, resplendent in a black uniform with gold braid and a top hat, sat at the reins, guiding the horses with a steady hand.
As they rode, Carl took in the sights and sounds of the city. The buildings were a mix of medieval and Renaissance styles, with intricate stone carvings and stained glass windows. The streets were bustling with people, but Carl's eyes widened as he realized that most of them were half-bloods.
He saw elf-human hybrids with pointed ears and angular features, furry people with animal-like traits, and others with more exotic characteristics. But what struck him as odd was the complete absence of pure humans. He didn't see a single one on the entire journey.
As the carriage passed by, people on the street would bow or curtsy, showing respect to Lord Harrington and, by extension, Carl. It was a strange feeling, being treated like nobility, and Carl couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious.
The journey seemed to drag on forever, and Carl found himself glancing at his non-existent watch, wondering when they would finally arrive at the church. Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity in this uncomfortable, jolting carriage.
Finally, the carriage turned a corner, and a grand, Gothic-style cathedral came into view. The sign above the entrance read "Church of Fate", and Carl felt a shiver run down his spine as he realized they had finally arrived.