After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

To become a professional soldier, one must first understand the operating model of the entire regime, much like learning about a company's corporate culture before joining the workforce.

Once again, I returned to the capital. The former prosperity had been replaced by magnificent military buildings, with steel bars and cement crudely filling most of the city area.

Various armies moved about, including cavalry, infantry, militia, dwarven troops, and the newly formed artillery. They all gathered together, and everything seemed to be in good order.

"This is the garrison of our Second Division. It has everything: supply depot, field hospital, training grounds, and mess hall. However, our patrol guards rarely return to the garrison; they spend most of their time on operations outside."

The veteran led Lucas to the front of the supply depot, greeted the quartermaster familiarly, offered him a few cigarettes, and then quickly signed his name.

Lucas glanced at it and noticed that the veteran hadn't written his name, and the item request form only had a strange string of numbers: 200006-4.

"The first string of numbers represents that I am the sixth soldier in the Second Division. The numbers following that, from one to six, represent ordinary soldiers, squad leaders, company-level officers, battalion-level officers, regimental-level officers, and division-level officers, respectively. I belong to the battalion-level officer category, so the number is 4."

Lucas listened attentively to the veteran's explanation, then looked enlightened. He carefully counted the zeros and said, "You mean... you're in a large army of tens of thousands of people, and your number is a single digit?"

I knew the veterans were highly experienced, but I didn't expect them to have such a prestigious presence!

"Armor, backpack, uniform, dress uniform, crossbow, steel spear, Molotov cocktail strap, warhorse, and you can use your own short weapons. Judging from your sword, it's not a consumable item."

The enthusiastic veterans offered to help him calculate the supplies. The Northern Army was a professional army, and the cost of arming a Northern Army soldier was even more expensive than the Kingdom's elite royal guards back then.

Therefore, more important than training, the most important thing for new recruits is not to lose their equipment.

"There's a family quarters behind here, so don't worry about letting your sister stay there. The cafeteria will take care of her three meals a day."

Having followed her teacher through many twists and turns, Monet, now a mysterious member of the Northern Army's family, stood silently to the side. Only when Lucas turned to look at her did Monet nod with difficulty.

It's better than wandering outside or crammed into a tent with refugees. Besides, she didn't want to cause trouble for her teacher, and her teacher clearly had other purposes for coming to the capital.

After seeing Monet off, Lucas, now dressed in full Northern Army gear, received his own unique number, 257948-1.

Compared to veterans, his serial number clearly indicates he's just an ordinary soldier; aside from himself, probably only written documents would remember it.

"While we still have some time, I'll take you to visit the Catholic Sanctuary. Perhaps we can even gain the Duke's power."

As Lucas struggled to adapt to his new identity, he loosened his grip on the armor, and the image of the Northern soldier with a halo shining on the back of his head involuntarily flashed through his mind.

The Catholic Church, the most mysterious organization in the Northern Territory, describes the aura of faith as a simple, unskilled trick, but these nuns have never received any selfless power from their masters.

It's important to know that even the rebels of the Elven Kingdom had once received the favor of the gods...

"The High Nun said that Saint Jane is researching the Duke's other powers. If we can distribute the Duke's natural power to the soldiers, our combat strength can be raised to another level."

"Actually, we should test Lady Elene first, because Lady Elene's power can directly strengthen the soldiers' bodies. Once this foundation is laid, the soldiers will be very safe to bear other forces."

"However, Lady Elene is pregnant. Sigh, in the past, when the Duke was not around, Lady Elene would definitely have gone to the front lines."

On the way to the sanctuary, the veteran was less of a science educator and more of a whistleblower.

Lucas silently processed this information. First, he could confirm that Duke Oswald was indeed not in the Northern Territory, and with Lady Elene pregnant, the entire Northern Territory was actually managed by Lady Luna.

Lucas wasn't a spy; he was genuinely determined to join the army. Besides, these secrets were just readily available information to the goddess.

The sanctuary looks like an ordinary old house from the outside. But once you step inside, there are no idols, only burning candles and a senior nun repairing the floor with a hammer.

Upon seeing the newcomers, and especially noticing the veteran's medal of loyalty on his shoulder armor, the elder sister gritted her teeth and said, "From now on, either don't kneel, or kneel with smaller movements. If anyone tears the floor again, I'll strip their armor to patch the holes!"

The trembling veteran quickly moved aside. "Yes, High Nun, I'm here to lead the new recruits..."

"Go and pray, give the recruits to me."

Spitting out the nail she had bitten into her lip, Sister Arabella held the hammer with devout hands and quickly approached Lucas, a serene smile on her face.

"High Sister Arabella of the Temporary Catholic Division greets you."

For some reason, Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. His gaze slowly settled on the iron hammer in the high nun's hand, and he didn't dare to breathe loudly.

"It's perfectly reasonable for a senior nun like me to carry a hammer with me," Arabella continued with a smile, leading Lucas to the candlestick and explaining, "Faith is not worship or spiritual sustenance; it's our willingness to believe in the beauty of the past and the hope for the future, thereby strengthening our hearts."

"The veterans like to come here to pray for their fallen comrades. They often cause me trouble, but if everyone could live a little easier, our Catholic ideals would be realized."

Lucas looked at the old soldier praying with his eyes closed not far away and asked doubtfully, "What does living an easy life have to do with ideals?"

The elder nun shook her head, placed the hammer on the candlestick, and took a candle from the cupboard, handing it to Lucas.

She didn't explain much, or perhaps there was no need to explain. Her calloused hands picked up a nearly extinguished candle and lit the flame in Lucas's palm.

Lucas only remembered that her voice was warm, like that of a kind old grandmother.

"Because life cannot be relieved by death alone... Hmm, it seems you and the Saintess are quite compatible; it's a very strong life magic."

A halo had appeared on her back without her noticing. Lucas could see the halo's translucent emerald green color in the reflection of the high nun's calm eyes, as tender and tenacious as newly sprouted wild grass.

Faith, he doesn't remember himself...

Some memories, even Lucas himself had long forgotten.

That year, a plague ravaged his hometown, and despair and helplessness trapped the suffering villagers, with people dying every day from the distorted effects of the disease.

It wasn't until Saint Jane saved everything that Lucas's mindset underwent a significant transformation after experiencing this catastrophe.

He wanted to work hard, to make his life more exciting, and also to meet that saint.

So he enrolled in the World Tree Academy, came to the royal city, entered the papacy to pray to the saintess, and finally encountered the miraculous girl on the street.

If he hadn't met Isolde, where would he be now?