Becoming The Strongest Angel With A Saintess System

Grace moved through the combat forms Seraph had drilled into her.

Swing, parry, thrust. It was still nighttime. Her Blade of Dawn cut golden arcs through the air of the small forest clearing she’d found for private practice. Sweat trickled down her spine, making her robes stick to her skin in a way that would’ve been uncomfortable if she weren’t so focused.

[One more day. Just one more day until I face The Tide... Just one more day until I try to screw a water spirit into submission. No pressure. No pressure at all. Just the fate of an entire village and one reckless scholar depending on my ability to wield a magical light-dick. Totally normal angel stuff.]

She finished the sequence with a flourish, then paused to catch her breath. Sweat soaked her hair, plastering white strands to her forehead and neck. The training felt good. Familiar and grounding amid all the chaos of the past few days.

Once her breathing steadied, Grace dismissed her blade and focused on her newer skill. Divine energy gathered between her legs, warm and tingly, taking shape way faster than yesterday. The golden light-dick materialized with only a little concentration, solid and bright and, if she was being honest, pretty impressive.

[Progress. Finally. Look at this thing. Diana would be proud. Hell, Eternia would be proud.]

She ran her hand along the length of it, shivering at the sensation.

It was hard to get over how real it felt. Solid, warm, sensitive. The first few times she’d created it, it had been like having a numb appendage. Now she could feel every touch. Every stroke sent little sparks of pleasure up her spine.

[This doesn’t change much, though,] Grace thought, inhaling and exhaling. [All my techniques... I’ll need to put them all to use against the Tide.]

Grace practiced keeping the construct while doing basic combat moves. A lunge. A roll. A defensive stance. Each move threatened her concentration, but the light-dick stayed put, bobbing slightly with her movements.

She tried a more complex maneuver—a spinning attack followed by a low sweep. The light-dick wavered but remained. Grace grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. Maybe she could actually pull this off. Maybe she really could seduce a primordial water entity with her newly acquired equipment.

"Not bad."

Grace whirled around, the construct vanishing instantly like a shy turtle retreating into its shell. Variel stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, face unreadable. Behind her, two more Choir members watched with barely concealed "what the fuck" expressions.

"How long have you been standing there?" Grace asked, her face heating up like an overworked furnace.

"Long enough." Variel stepped forward, her blue wings folded neatly against her back. Her eyes flickered to the space between Grace’s legs where the light-dick had been moments ago. "That’s an... unconventional application of divine light manipulation."

"But effective," Grace countered, straightening her robes and trying to look like she hadn’t just been caught playing with her magical new appendage.

"So I’ve heard."

The other Choir members whispered to each other, then departed with quick, precise movements, leaving Variel alone with Grace. One glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised in a way that suggested this conversation would absolutely be gossip fodder back at their camp.

"Did you need something?" Grace asked, trying to sound casual.

Variel’s eyes traveled over Grace with an intensity that felt almost like being touched. Her gaze lingered on Grace’s chest, her lips, the curve of her hips. There was something hungry in that look—something decidedly un-scholarly.

"Merely observing. The Choir values knowledge above all."

Grace wiped sweat from her brow, suddenly very aware of how her damp robes clung to her body.

"Like Meridian."

"Like Meridian." Variel’s voice softened slightly at the name. "Though her methods are sometimes... unorthodox."

[That’s one way to say she’s prone to getting herself tentacle-captured. "Unorthodox." Sure. Let’s go with that.]

"What’s the deal with the Ascended Choir anyway?" Grace asked, flopping down on a fallen log. She stretched her legs, wincing at the soreness from all the "training" she’d been doing. "I know you’re all about knowledge, but what’s your actual deal?"

Variel hesitated, then joined Grace on the log, maintaining a careful distance between them. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough that Grace could smell her. She smelled like mountain air and old books.

"The Choir was founded during the early days of the Dominion. While the other sects dedicated themselves to aspects of Eternia’s doctrine—bravery, compassion, love—we chose to ask why."

"Why what?"

"Why everything. Why Eternia created us. Why she left. Why the demons exist." Variel’s blue eyes flashed with a passion that transformed her usually stern face. For a moment, Grace caught a glimpse of what made Variel a good right-hand woman. That burning intensity, that certainty. "The other factions call it blasphemy. We call it wisdom."

Grace nodded, finding herself genuinely interested despite everything else going on. She knew the answer already to some of these questions but she was curious about the Choir’s answers.

"And what have you learned?"

"That Eternia was flawed. That her absence wasn’t divine plan, but abandonment." Variel’s voice stayed neutral, but her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with tension. "The Choir seeks truth beyond faith."

[... Eh, I guess I can see their perspective. A bit hard to counter with "actually, she was gone the whole time because she was busy charging up power to make me". I don’t think many people would buy that.]

"That’s why Meridian was so interested in the pillars," Grace realized. "Evidence of Eternia’s mistakes."

"Precisely." Variel studied Grace with new interest, her eyes tracing the contours of Grace’s face like she was memorizing them. "You understand more than most."

"I’ve had some... insights."

They sat in silence for a moment. A bird called somewhere in the forest. The wind rustled through the leaves. And all the while, Grace became increasingly aware of how Variel’s gaze lingered on various parts of her body. Her lips... her chest (even if there wasn’t much to see there).

[Is she checking me out???]

There was definitely interest there, beyond scholarly curiosity. The kind of interest that usually led to making out in the archives and knocking over carefully organized scrolls.

[Is this the Love attribute? I mean, it is 50. Is it making people attracted to me? Am I turning into some kind of angelic sex magnet? Is this what Venus deals with all the time?]

Diana had mentioned something about divine attraction increasing with her attributes. At the time, Grace had thought it was just another of Diana’s exaggerations, like when she claimed she could make a woman orgasm just by looking at her a certain way. Now she wasn’t so sure.

"I should continue training," Grace said, standing up abruptly before she did something stupid like ask if Variel wanted to try out her light-dick techniques.

Variel rose too, way closer than strictly necessary. So close their robes brushed against each other. So close Grace could see the tiny flecks of silver in Variel’s blue eyes.

"Of course. We’ll secure the perimeter for tomorrow night’s encounter."

"Thanks. Just remember—"

"Stay clear of the beach. Yes, we remember." Variel took a step back, composure returning, though her pupils remained dilated. "Good luck with your... approach, Grace Lightsinger."

As Variel walked away, Grace couldn’t help but notice how the Choir lady’s hips swayed slightly. That could not possibly be standard Choir behavior. That was a Venus-worthy sway.

[... Geez.]

Grace shook her head and returned to her training.

Not just her newest technique, but also her others. She wiggled her tongue the way she’d learned, moved her fingers like they were inside someone. Then, she started practicing her combat, just in case things went wrong. Jump, roll, slash.

Tomorrow night, she wouldn’t just need to perform. She’d need to excel. To please a spirit. To screw The Tide so thoroughly, so completely, that she’d forget all about her grudge and her plans to transform the villagers. And, maybe, to fight off hordes of watery zombies too.

[No pressure or anything.]

Grace took a deep breath and began again. Swing, parry, thrust.

[One way or another, I’m coming for you, Tide. Whether it’s with my sword, my fingers, or... my newly acquired equipment. I’ll destroy the walls around your heart.]

She put on her game face, gritting her teeth at the sky and feeling a... mild surge of determination.

She would be ready. And, well, if she wasn’t, a few more minutes of last-minute practice wouldn’t hurt.

The moons climbed higher as Grace trained, alone in the clearing but for the occasional curious bird. And if her thoughts occasionally drifted to Diana’s lessons, to Petriel’s lips, to Variel’s unexpected interest—well, that was just part of her training too.

Right?

[... If Eternia had told me that running toward the fire would mean later on I’d have to try seducing a water spirit, I probably would have just went back to sleep that night. Oh well.]