Chapter 76
Chapter 76
Chapter 76.
Yuriel's eyes captured every moment with perfect clarity.
From the instant the Aein woman resurrected, to the moment Aiden held her in his arms and disappeared beyond the lake.
Yuriel remembered every single scene with vivid clarity.
The way they looked at each other, their gazes intertwining in the air, the whispers of love.
And the kiss.
Something inside Yuriel's mind snapped. Not her reason, nor her emotions—it was the conscience that had upheld her all this time.
Yuriel realized that the gods were not omnipotent beings.
She had discovered the contradictions hidden within divine teachings and had abandoned her blind faith.
Yet, she was still the Saintess.
An apostle who borrowed divine power, a believer who spread the will of the gods.
Even now, Yuriel served Vacheksar.
Her enduring faith might have stemmed from a lifetime lived as a religious figure.
Or perhaps it had sprouted from the indoctrination around her, or the miracles Vacheksar granted.
Even if the gods weren't perfect beings, their teachings held many beautiful values, and Yuriel found fulfillment in spreading the gospel.
In fact, ever since realizing Vacheksar's true nature, she had begun to harbor hope.
This world was not created by an omnipotent being. That meant there was still room to pursue ideals.
Help the weak, show mercy, and stand against malice.
Yuriel embraced only these three virtues.
They were the roots of the values she found beautiful.
All other teachings, she discarded.
In other words, the Vacheksar Yuriel served was no longer Vacheksar.
This process could be seen as the starting point of all heresy and apostasy.
And it was undeniable that her fall had been most influenced by Aiden.
Help the weak, show mercy, and stand against malice.
If one were to name someone who embodied these teachings, every citizen of the Empire would point to Aiden.
Yuriel's new faith was unmistakably fixated on Aiden.
Of course, she wasn't aware of it.
She merely believed she had developed a rational affection for Aiden—one she intended to suppress slowly.
After all, she was still the god's woman. Historically, many Saintesses had struggled with such dilemmas.
Many had overcome them, and she believed she could too.
But.
She had just realized it was all nonsense.
Watching their communion, she was overwhelmed by emotions she couldn't control.
Despair, jealousy, rage, hatred.
Yuriel no longer held any awareness of being the god's woman.
She was no longer the Saintess.
She was just an ordinary woman, suffering in the throes of base emotions, robbed of the one she loved.
She hated Aiden so much.
The man who had taken everything from her. He had held another woman in his arms, relieved and unrepentant.
Yuriel couldn't bear the sight.
It was wretched. Despairing.
Even the fact that she felt these emotions tormented her.
The conscience that had upheld her, the last remnants of her faith—none of it remained.
Yuriel was hollow.
The feelings she had nurtured unconsciously for Aiden would never be reciprocated.
It felt as though her reason for existing had vanished.
Yuriel sobbed violently, then confessed every sin in meticulous detail to a bewildered Siron.
She was asking to be executed.
Ironically, Holy Executioner Siron couldn't bring himself to kill Yuriel.
A Saintess loving someone other than the god? Once the Holy Executioner knew, immediate execution was the natural course.
Yet Siron stood frozen in place, conflicted.
Yuriel could only marvel at the influence Aiden wielded.
So she threatened him.
I don't know what I might do in this state.
When she declared she would report his master to the Church, Siron finally moved.
Under the watchful moon, Siron drew a halberd.
The blade flashed coldly in the moonlight.
Siron spoke in a low voice.
"I will not accept your confession. Therefore, you cannot be absolved even in death, and your sins will be recorded differently."
A confession was a plea for divine forgiveness, written by those condemned to die.
Atonement through death. Siron couldn't even grant her that right.
If Yuriel's confession was submitted to the Church, the fallout would fall squarely on Aiden.
Yuriel didn't want that outcome either.
Despite her resentment, she didn't blame Aiden for any of this.
She believed it was her own fault—misinterpreting his unintentional actions and losing herself in delusion.
So she didn't want to harm him.
Aiden was her only hope for making this world brighter and more beautiful.
Her desire to die stemmed solely from self-loathing and atonement—not resentment over unrequited feelings, the loss of the man she loved, or any desire for revenge.
Yuriel knelt.
Looking up at Siron, she said:
"...I hope he never knows how I felt. Please."
A final shred of pride. Or perhaps she didn't want to burden Aiden with even a hint of guilt.
Siron replied:
"I'm sorry. I cannot lie to my master."
Yuriel smiled bitterly.
How would Aiden react to the report? The expression that stoic man would make—it was painfully predictable, and the thought shamed her.
But she had to accept it.
She closed her eyes.
Siron clenched his teeth and strode forward.
Truthfully, she didn't want to kill Yuriel either, but she had no choice.
The Saintess was a liability.
If Yuriel lived and revealed everything to the Church, even Aiden wouldn't escape unscathed.
Siron spoke in her calmest voice:
"Holy Vacheksar, the Saintess of Mercy has strayed from the path. Though her blasphemy is unforgivable, she has spent her life spreading the gospel and performing good deeds. Grant her but a shred of mercy."
Siron raised the halberd.
"I send this sinner to the seat of judgment."
The massive blade descended vertically.
The moment it touched the slender neck, Siron heard Aiden's shout.
She turned her head—only after feeling the blade bite into flesh.
Aiden wasn't there.
The sensation in her grip felt off. It wasn't the clean severing of a delicate neck...
"Siron."
A voice from below. When Siron shifted her gaze, she finally saw Aiden.
He was shielding Yuriel, pointing at the halberd embedded in his shoulder.
A silent command to pull it out.
Startled, Siron immediately withdrew the weapon.
Crunch. Blood gushed from the half-torn wound.
Without a flicker of emotion, Aiden asked:
"What were you doing?"
Siron was too stunned to respond properly. The shock of having stabbed her master was overwhelming.
Aiden frowned and looked down at Yuriel.
The trembling Saintess. Her eyes darted helplessly as she looked at Aiden.
Absurdly, her hand was reaching toward Aiden's wound.
He caught her wrist.
"Why are you like this?"
He had overheard fragments of Siron's execution decree.
What crime could possibly warrant beheading without due process?
The Yuriel he knew wasn't capable of such sins.
He demanded an explanation from both, but neither gave a proper answer.
Aiden's expression twisted further.
"At least bring her confession."
Siron hesitated before speaking.
"I... refused to accept it."
"What?"
"...I'm sorry."
Aiden grew frustrated. He tried to lift the kneeling Saintess, but Yuriel jerked her hand away.
"Don't touch me. And I was going to report you. For communing with that Aein woman."
Why? Aiden couldn't fathom her motive.
He looked at her, perplexed.
"As promised, I won't use Insight on you, Saintess."
Then he turned to Siron.
"Answer me. Is what she said true?"
Siron already knew of his authority. And she had no intention of lying.
"...It's false."
"Then?"
As her lips trembled, Aiden's expression hardened.
"Valkyrie Siron. Report the execution process."
Siron stood at attention. Finally, she spoke.
Her calm report began, and with each passing moment, Aiden's face grew more stunned.
Yuriel kept her head bowed, her expression hidden.
When Siron finally fell silent, Aiden felt dizzy.
Not just because he had confirmed Yuriel's feelings.
Aiden hadn't been able to alter the Saintess's downfall—only the reason for it.
In the original story, it was due to Insight and lost faith. This time, Aiden had taken their place.
He immediately looked at Yuriel.
She should have lost all her divine power and authority.
That's how it was supposed to go.
The moment a Saintess abandoned her faith completely, she became an ordinary person.
An outcome that should never have happened. Despite his relentless efforts, Aiden had failed to prevent it.
He knelt to meet Yuriel's tearful gaze.
He wanted to demand she manifest her divine power—but the words wouldn't come.
Her crying face was too sorrowful. Too much like Saya.
He had no idea what to do.
So Aiden simply patted her back as she wept, lost in thought.
To him, Yuriel had lost all value.
A Saintess without divine power was just an ordinary woman.
An enormous loss. Shadows crossed Aiden's face.
But it wasn't just the loss of an asset.
For some reason, his chest ached bitterly.
He couldn't pinpoint the source of this feeling.
Whatever it was, he didn't want to treat her like a useless object.
Perhaps it was the memory of her unwavering kindness and consideration.
Loyalty and duty. The friendship they'd built, human to human. Even if it wasn't love, Aiden felt responsible for her.
He looked at Yuriel.
Wiping her tears, he said:
"If the Saintess dies, I won't be able to bear it. I've always been selfish, and I'll make a selfish request now too. Stay by my side, just as you have."
She would have lost her divine power, so she couldn't remain Saintess.
He vowed to find another role for her.
Steeling himself, Aiden continued:
"Forget the gods. Just follow me from now on. I swear to you here and now—I'll make this world into the one you've always longed for."
He meant it.
Yuriel reached for his wound without answering.
Aiden smiled bitterly.
"Saintess, right now—"
Then he saw it.
A pure white light.
The divine radiance flickering from Yuriel's fingertip burned brighter and loftier than ever before.
Both their expressions changed.
Aiden's to shock, Yuriel's to bewilderment.
Her vision was flooded with countless messages.
Yuriel murmured:
"'Humans are beautiful because they can be hypocrites...' What is this?"
Aiden's face twisted in horror.
That moment, the metallic scent of blood seeped into Saya's nostrils, carried by the northern winds.
Aiden's blood. Her blue pupils shimmered with cold fury.
Saya turned on her heel.
A blue shadow streaked across the night sky.