Having grown up in a monastery since childhood and deeply indoctrinated by the Church’s teachings, she might have sensed sothing was wrong, but couldn’t articulate it. Instead, she resorted to a core thod within religious theory—stubbornness.
Lance didn’t mind at all. Resist. The more you resist, the happier I beco.
The Nun strove to sever the chaotic thoughts in her mind, silently reciting the Holy Canon, which she knew by heart. At the sa ti, she didn’t forget to raise so points to counter Lance’s philosophy.
"The Holy Fla is with us! It is the Church that has maintained the order of the world, the Church..."
Singing praises of the Holy Fla’s greatness, she constantly touted the Church’s accomplishnts, comparing the Church to the only beacon of light in the darkness, as if without the Church, humanity was dood.
Listening to her, Lance couldn’t help feeling sothing was off. This rhetoric... You’re not talking about the Church. You’re talking about the goddamn moldy army, aren’t you?
"Uh... is it possible... I an, just possibly... that people could live just fine without the Church?"
As the Nun was speaking passionately, she abruptly stopped at Lance’s interjection. She opened her mouth instinctively to retort but then froze.
She had wanted to ntion the many places destroyed by evil forces, yet those places all seed to have so connection to the Church, one way or another.
This place, on the contrary, had rid itself of ties with the Church and hadn’t been destroyed. Instead, it flourished, not to ntion she herself had been saved a few tis here.
The bread here is truly fragrant!
"Actually, I don’t deny the Church’s rits in certain areas. Your efforts have indeed played a role in maintaining order. But have you ever considered that perhaps humanity itself achieved this, not that god?"
Lance knew her indoctrination was deep-seated; there was little chance of removing the religious influence from her thought process.
So, what he needed to do was to create a separation: first, to distinguish God from the Church, and then to separate her from the Church.
In simple terms, his goal was to remove the Church as the middleman, preventing it from profiting from the difference.
The Nun wasn’t without counterargunts, but she hadn’t been exposed to society. Her argunts, which just went in circles, were as insipid as those touted by dimwitted public intellectuals praising silly little stories from magazines such as *Readers*, *Youth Digest*, and *Stories Magazine*.
But Lance didn’t mind; on the contrary, it awakened his hunting instinct. Although he’d been a loser in his previous life, his years of experience across the internet gave him ample expertise in dealing with such people.
Resist. The more you resist, the happier I am.
Lance stood firm in reality and materialism, and before him, the Church’s theories, built on lies, crumbled like toilet paper.
She was no match for Lance in argunt. The Nun, whose faith was her very foundation, could only have that seemingly impervious "armor" on her surface dismantled inch by inch. This exposed her soft interior, which he then seized firmly.
Aweso!
Seeing the Nun speechless from his rebuttals, Lance felt a long-absent rush of exhilaration. The pressure accumulated over this period vanished, and he reminisced about the joyful days when he wielded his "keyboard" with pride.
He certainly had his fun, but the Nun completely shut down.
Already gaunt, her face seed to beco even more hollow and shadowed. Her once bright eyes turned dull and lifeless, and her entire deanor was dazed; she looked completely broken.
The Church’s theories she clung to had been thoroughly ruptured by Lance, plunging her into an abyss of emptiness.
Being in a confined room only intensified the pressure.
Fixating on these issues, she fell into a spiral of internal conflict, and her ntal fortitude rapidly dwindled.
Uh... did I go too far?
Lance, observing her silence, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, though it swiftly vanished.
This is for her own good. Yes, that’s it. Better to be swayed by than duped by the Church and sent to her death. At least I won’t send her to die.
Lance could see the strange expression on her face—not a good sign.
He worried he had said too much, perhaps inadvertently crossing a line set by the Church.
Their relationship had just begun; he feared that saying more would only provoke antipathy. So, Lance imdiately changed his tune, affirming the existence of faith to soothe her.
"Faith is a personal freedom, but it should be confined to oneself, a personal act. Once you mix it with religious concepts, it becos corrupted. So, do you understand? You are you; the Church is just using lies to exploit you and your faith."
Lance moved closer, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at her with a gentle smile.
He had expected her to remain stubborn, but her next words stunned him.
"You’re right. I feel the sa."
What! This...?
Even Lance was a bit slow to comprehend.
You’re supposed to be a devout Combat Nun! Surrendering this easily?
It must be said, her admission hit him like a system crash; he was montarily at a loss for words.
But Lance quickly recovered. Had he misunderstood sothing? Perhaps the Nun wasn’t as steadfast as he’d imagined.
There was one peculiar fact. If the Church truly aid to hunt down Wizards, they would have sent a troop of Knights, or at least a small team. They certainly wouldn’t have dispatched a naless Combat Nun without proper supplies, leaving her to starve for days.
Lance began to realize there was sothing amiss with her identity...
"Why do you say that? Share your understanding." Lance couldn’t outright admit his misjudgnt but wanted to clarify her situation first.
The Nun, showing no signs of suspicion, naturally recounted her story to Lance.
Her na was Junia. She had been taken from her parents by the Church when she was very young and grew up with her sisters at Saint Martha’s Monastery.
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