To take part in a coming-of-age ceremony, one must first submit an application to the hosting church. Once Felix handed in his request, approval came quickly. At twenty years old, with no record of his birthday and having spent most of the year working outside Laterano, the church had no grounds to refuse him.

On the eve of the ceremony, Mostima left Felix’s home. At the doorway she waved, lingered for a brief, warm moment, and then hurried off. Tomorrow was her day as well—she needed to prepare.

Felix, by contrast, had little to ready. All he required was formal suit… and his guardian guns, which were already waiting in their case.

He stood silently before the weapons crate, eyes fixed on the black-and-white pistols that would soon fulfill their purpose.

What exactly defined a guardian gun? Felix had never found a clear answer. Even the Grand Library offered no reliable texts. All he knew was that these weapons were said to bind to their wielder for life—”as long as the gun lives, so does the bearer; when the gun dies, so too does its master.” In practice, the truth was far less dramatic.

Still, rumors persisted. Some claimed a guardian gun could never fire a sixth shot of Arts ammunition. Whether true or not, Felix had noticed a quirk: after a burst of continuous fire, his pair would indeed drain his strength. Perhaps that was the kernel of truth behind the legend.

Laterano’s coming-of-age ceremonies were public. Family and friends were welcome to attend. Felix had already invited Degenbrecher, Carnelian, and Muelsyse—they promised to be there.

So. Adulthood.

It meant stepping into more responsibility, more freedom, and facing the world recognized as a full-fledged adult. His decision to postpone his trip to Lungmen until next year was deliberate. By then, he could stand before others not as a boy, but as a man, launching Tomorrow’s Development on the right footing.

For now, the practical advantages seemed modest—stronger credibility in academia and beyond, easier access to loans. Still, it was something.

He lifted the Lumen pistol from its case, rolling it lightly in his hand to get used to its weight. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he barely drew his weapons in battle anymore. With Degenbrecher and Carnelian at his side, they solved nearly every threat before he even needed to act. And in sudden crises, it was his drones, outfitted with modular weapons and tools, that carried him through.

When Ferdinand eventually completed development of the portable combat frames, Felix could one day march into battle unharmed, firing without fear of damage.

That night passed in silence. For the first time since returning to Laterano, he slept alone. No Mostima’s breathing, no warmth beside him—only her faint fragrance remained in the sheets.

The next morning, Felix stood before the mirror, carefully straightening his formal attire. A prototype drone hovered at his side, carrying the weapon case. After breakfast, he set out toward the hotel where Degenbrecher and the others were staying.

In the lobby, he found them finishing breakfast. Ruffling Rafaela and Senomi’s hair in greeting, he took a seat and turned toward Avdotya.

“Settling in these past few days?” he asked.

“Ah… yes.” Avdotya nodded quickly. Noticing his gaze, she sheepishly lowered the book in her hands—The History of Laterano and This Land, borrowed from the public library. “I was just curious about Laterano’s history.”

“Is that so? If you need books, I can buy you some,” Felix replied, tapping his forehead as if remembering something. Aside from the initial payment he’d given her for joining him, he hadn’t provided Avdotya with any salary or funds. True, she had little to spend on—meals and lodging were already covered—but a girl should have her own means, a little freedom to buy things she liked.

Senomi, Mandragora, even Susie took part-time jobs not only to train themselves but for the satisfaction of spending their own earnings.

He slid a card across the table. “Your stipend and wages. Consider this yours.”

She hesitated, uneasy, but eventually accepted it. Their relationship wasn’t close enough yet for her to feel otherwise—her nervousness was only natural.

Afterward, Felix soothed a pouting Mandragora, who had pushed herself close, clearly jealous of the lack of head pats. Then, taking a newspaper from Degenbrecher, he idly flipped it open.

Laterano papers were infamous for their flare—”explosive news” was no exaggeration. Each issue carried a few decrees from the Papal Office, but the rest brimmed with gossip, sweets, or literal explosions. A perfect example of Laterano’s eccentricity. Entertainment, not enlightenment; take it seriously and you’d already lost.

“Master, master, you look so handsome today.”

Senomi, the closest to Felix, blushed at the sight of him in a suit. She pressed herself against his chest, rubbing lightly as though she wanted to leave her scent on him.

Not to be outdone, Mandragora leaned in from the other side. Her feline tail had already curled around Felix’s waist, and her face rested against his arm as she breathed him in deeply.

“W-whoa…” Susie stared, cheeks flushed red at the sight, while Rafaela simply munched on her food with wide-eyed curiosity. What exactly are Senomi and Mandragora doing to big brother?

Avdotya covered her face with her hands, peeking through her fingers to watch. As a noble daughter, she had read her share of romantic novels—many about brothers and sisters without blood ties. Could it be…? Are these three actually in that kind of relationship?

She had assumed her employer only cared for machines. So Boss Felix… is actually interested in women too?

Degenbrecher and Carnelian, meanwhile, wore the same resigned “what can you do” expression. They weren’t surprised in the least. In fact, the two of them had a private bet running—who would confess first, Senomi or Mandragora? Degenbrecher had money on Senomi, while Carnelian naturally backed her own pupil, Mandragora.

After breakfast, Muelsyse appeared in her water spirit form, settling into a seat with her usual easy grace. Her eyes lit up when she noticed the bracelet she had given Felix gleaming on his wrist, and her smile was radiant.

Once the meal was finished, the group set off toward the church. Along the way, they passed crowds of young Sankta men and women, all scheduled to take part in today’s coming-of-age ceremony. Some walked with family, others with friends. Their faces carried the freshness of youth and a spark of excitement they couldn’t quite hide.

At twenty, Sankta youth were still considered to be in an easygoing stage of life. Few were like Lemuen, Mostima, or Felix—already shouldering heavy responsibilities. Most lived far more ordinary lives. After graduating from church schools, they would spend a year or two exploring hobbies, enjoying leisure for a few more, and only begin working seriously around twenty-six or twenty-seven.

Reincarnating as a Sankta, Felix thought, truly was one of the best openings one could ask for.

Inside the church, those coming of age were ushered into the back hall, while family and guests took seats in the front. The air buzzed with chatter, laughter echoing under the high ceilings.

“…This isn’t quite what I imagined.” Carnelian looked around, frowning at the lively atmosphere.

“The mood?” Degenbrecher asked.

“I thought a coming-of-age ceremony would be more solemn,” Carnelian muttered. “In Sargon, the rite marks a youth’s first step into adulthood. They might even be thrown into combat with beasts—just as noisy as this, but with blood in the air.”

“Perhaps this,” Degenbrecher said dryly, “is simply Laterano.”

Indeed, nearby Sankta girls were excitedly gossiping about which “older brother” among today’s candidates looked the most handsome, and where to hold the explosion contest later in the afternoon. Degenbrecher could only sigh. This was Laterano’s normal.

Backstage, Felix caught sight of Mostima.

She was dressed in formal attire—not a banquet gown, but something more neutral, closer to the official uniforms worn by women of the Papal Office. On her, there was nothing awkward about it. Instead, the outfit only made her appear sharper, more striking.

Felix realized that many of the women around him carried that same cool edge in uniform—Degenbrecher, Carnelian, and now Mostima as well.

“Your tie’s crooked,” Mostima said.

“Is it?”

With a smile, she stepped close, reaching up to adjust his tie with careful fingers.

“…Actually, I lied. Your tie was perfectly fine. I just wanted an excuse to look at you up close.”

Felix hadn’t expected Mostima to be so direct, but after living together for so many days, he couldn’t say he was surprised.

“And? Now that you’ve seen me?”

“Mm… you really do look worn out from the mission.”

Mostima’s smile was gentle. “At night, you sleep so deeply. No matter what I did, you didn’t stir at all.”

“…Wait. What exactly did you do?”

She laughed, stepping back a few paces, her grin mischievous. “That’s a secret.”

Just then, a priest entered the back hall. Seeing the Sankta youths joking and teasing one another, he chuckled and clapped his hands.

“Children, the time is almost here. Start getting ready.”

“Understood.”

The priest cleared his throat, his voice turning solemn. “During the coming-of-age ceremony, you will receive the one and only Guardian Gun of your life. I trust most of you have already prepared. If not, it’s of no consequence. With your new status as adults, under Laterano’s law, you may visit the Notarial Hall or the Papal Office to commission a Gunwright for one.”

Not every Sankta youth had their weapon prepared. Many hadn’t made arrangements to receive one during the ceremony. But as the priest said, they could still obtain theirs afterward. Even so, the vast majority would spend a fair sum to have a Gunwright craft a custom weapon. After all, this was a gun meant to accompany them for life. Power aside, it had to look good.

Mostima glanced up at Felix. He turned his head at the same moment, their eyes locking. In that brief exchange, each caught the clarity in the other’s gaze. She said nothing, only smiling before turning back toward the front.

Together, the group walked out to rejoin the main hall. Candles now burned along the walls, and sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, scattering colors across the gathered Sankta. Their halos seemed to catch the glow, growing softer and warmer in the light.

The priest smiled faintly. He had presided over this ceremony not for years, but for decades. His words needed no script; they flowed as easily as breath. And as he spoke, the crowd that had been buzzing like a marketplace gradually fell into silence.

“—Today, you stand at a turning point in life. From this moment, you leave behind the days of youth and step forward as independent, responsible adults.”

From his place among the candidates, Felix’s golden eyes swept the audience. To his surprise, he spotted Andoain, along with Lemuen and Fiammetta of Andoain’s squad. Lemuel sat pressed close to her sister, staring at the stage with open admiration. Felix’s own squad was also present—Patia and Plume seated beside Fiammetta. Perhaps because all three were Liberi, they seemed to share a bond, both at work and in private life. Fiammetta and Patia were even senior and junior by rank.

Further along, Spuria and Federico sat together. Felix noticed someone else beside Federico: a young woman, balanced at that delicate age between adolescence and adulthood. Her hair fell in a smooth, inky cascade, a beauty mark accenting the corner of one eye, her smile soft yet enigmatic.

She felt his gaze and met it directly, her smile deepening. Felix immediately turned away.

Great. If I get caught up with Arturia at a moment like this, I’ll probably be roped into giving a full Imperial Parliament speech right here on the spot.

“Next, please step onto the stage and present your Guardian Gun to the person most important to you.”

The priest’s words shifted the mood. Parents, family, and friends rose one after another, holding ornate weapon cases in their arms. Their faces shone with warmth, pride, and just a touch of playful pride as they walked forward to meet the Sankta youths awaiting them.

“Eh… why isn’t Felix making a move?” Lemuen whispered, frowning slightly at his calm, almost smug demeanor. Her heart was unsettled. Her best friend had waited for this day for so long. During the days Felix was away from Laterano, Mostima would check in from time to time, searching for reports on his whereabouts. She would even join them in sampling famous dishes from the countries he passed through, as if trying to chase his shadow through flavors alone.

“Senior Felix won’t disappoint,” Lemuel chimed in confidently, full of faith in him.

As the two exchanged hushed words, a rhythmic buzzing filled the church—the hum of rotor blades. A drone slipped in through the stained-glass window, its metal claws gripping a long weapon case.

The drone descended steadily until Felix reached up and took the case into his own hands. With a quiet click, he opened it.

Inside, revealed to all, were twin guns—born together, yet each the other’s opposite.

One gleamed pure white, as immaculate as a lily.

The other lay in deep black, vast and enveloping as the night.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep