Homecoming and a Looming Shadow
Ssshaaaaa—
An emerald sea rolling in beautiful waves. Gentle weather with just a hint of warmth in the air. This was what Kula was meant to look like.
And against the backdrop of that green sea, Simon and Israfil stood.
"Here you are."
Clack.
What she handed over was something like a bridle crafted from platinum. Holy power shimmered faintly across its surface.
"I heard the report from Lethe."
Israfil, eyes closed as always, smiled. "Sacred Beast Materialization—and the Chariot of Light and Lightning. I prepared a divine artifact worthy of them."
Simon accepted the artifact with a look of gratitude. It made a soft metallic jingling sound but wasn't heavy at all. It had the comfortable texture of fabric, with a stubborn resilience that seemed like it would never tear.
"I thought long and hard over which artifact to gift you. It will help you control the swift movements of your sacred beasts."
"Thank you so much, Lady Israfil!"
Simon bowed deeply.
"You completed your mission safely, so the thanks are mine to give."
"It was a meaningful trip for me, too! I learned so much coming to the Holy Federation."
"Hohoho! I'm glad to hear it."
While the two exchanged pleasantries in this warm atmosphere, Lethe—shoved out of the spotlight—was staring out at the sea with a distinctly sulky expression. Then she sprang up from her seat and stomped down hard on Simon's foot.
"Lady Israfil, if you don't mind, I was wondering—AAAGH!"
Sparks popped off the top of Simon's foot. Lethe passed by behind him, pretending not to notice, and stretched.
"Lethe!"
"Is something the matter?"
Israfil covered her mouth and laughed elegantly. "You two have grown even closer while I wasn't looking."
Lethe whirled around, flaring up. "Closer my foot! And Lady Israfil! I will never forget what you pulled with the lodging this time!"
"Oh my, whatever could you mean?"
"Don't play innocent!"
Israfil simply brushed it all aside with an airy smile. Then she promised Simon that the reward of 10,000 gold would be sent to Leshill through the broker—apparently a currency exchange procedure would be required.
"Now, we'll leave the rest of the cleanup to the priests."
Israfil lightly patted Simon's shoulder.
"Our nephew will return to the Dark Alliance tomorrow."
Lethe's face went slack with shock. "A-already?!"
"Oh my~ Lethe. Are you sad to see him go?"
"Stop saying weird things!"
Lethe shrieked. "Sister Anna said she wants to see Simon's face at the New Year, at the very least. The New Year is a time for family. And above all—"
Israfil turned to Lethe.
"You need to resume your duties as Saintess as well, Lethe."
Lethe staggered back with a strangled ugh.
"The most important period in a Saintess's life is the first year after her awakening."
Israfil began her lecture with a smiling face. "Divine Saintess or not, you've already been away for half a month. The higher-ups at Efnel are in an uproar. Starting tomorrow evening, you will don your Saintess robes and attend every function. Spreading your name and face among the people and building your influence—that is what matters."
Lethe answered with a deflated face. "...Yes, ma'am." Simon grinned and offered his encouragement.
"Hang in there, Saintess."
An instant roundhouse kick of pure fury came flying at his face.
"Farewell, Saintess! And Priest Sean!"
"Thank you for saving our village!"
After saying goodbye to the Kula villagers who had become like old friends, Simon traveled by teleportation magic circle. At the border, he exchanged farewells with Lethe and Israfil, and the three parted ways.
And a short while later, in the secret warehouse before the border.
"...This again."
Simon smiled bitterly as he prepared to climb into the wooden crate of the cargo wagon.
"We depart for the Dark Alliance in ten minutes!"
declared the broker disguised as a merchant.
It was familiar now. No—maybe he had simply resigned himself to it. He was loosening up with some vigorous stretching, giving his soon-to-be-abused lower back time to brace itself, when—
Tapatapat!
A suspicious figure in a black robe came dashing into the warehouse.
"Wh-who goes there!"
The broker spread his arms to block the way. "No one may just barge in here—!"
But the figure slipped beneath the broker's arms with ghostly swiftness and lunged straight at Simon.
"Who are— oof!"
Simon's face was seized in one motion, and he was shoved, crumpled like laundry, into the wooden crate.
"Move over, quickly!"
As the wind lifted the hem of the robe, a girl's face was revealed—snow-white hair and golden eyes.
Simon's mouth fell wide open. "L-Lethe?"
"Shh! Shh! Lady Israfil will hear us! Move over, come on!"
Before Simon could even retreat, Lethe roughly wedged herself in after him.
Ugh! How could someone who was supposed to be a Saintess be this pushy?
Because she forcibly crammed her body into the cramped space, the two of them ended up pressed together from head to toe. Simon froze solid, as if turned to stone. Her flushed, breathless face was right in front of his eyes.
"Here's a tip!"
Ting!
Oblivious or not, Lethe frantically flicked a coin at the broker. Receiving it, the broker made a delighted "Ooooh!" face.
"I'll close it up."
Lethe grabbed the lid of the cargo box.
"H-hold on, Lethe! What about your Saintess lessons and your schedule?!"
"What's it to you!"
Lethe was relentless. "Since it's come to this, I'll just cross over to the Dark Alliance with you and see Teacher Anna's—"
Shhhk.
A white line coiled around Lethe's waist, and with a scream she was hauled up into the air.
"You mustn't sulk like a child, Lethe."
Click. Clack.
The crisp sound of heels rang out clearly. The broker instantly dropped flat to the floor, and Simon rose from the cargo wagon.
"Lady Israfil!"
Walking toward them was Israfil—and dangling in the air, Lethe could be seen thrashing about.
"L-let go of me! Lady Israfil!"
"No wonder you gave in so meekly. I told you no, didn't I?"
Israfil pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed deeply. "Whatever am I to do with this wild child."
Lethe screamed, her face crimson. "I said let GO of me!"
Snap!
Israfil snapped her fingers, and the cord binding Lethe vanished. Caught off guard, she failed to land properly and crashed to the floor.
"Lethe."
The sound of Israfil's heels spread across the ground. When Lethe, wincing from her fall on her backside, lifted her head, she found Israfil gazing down at her—black pupils fully revealed.
"...!"
Those eyes showing meant Israfil was truly, deeply angry, and Lethe found herself instinctively shrinking back.
But.
"Do not let a moment's impulse create something you will regret for the rest of your life."
Her voice was soft, coaxing, gentle as a lullaby.
"If you slip away without a word again this time, even your seat as Saintess may be in jeopardy."
"I don't need that flimsy seat—!"
"Without the power of a Saintess—"
Israfil's gaze turned to Simon.
"do you think Lethe could ever beat our nephew?"
"..."
Lethe shut her mouth. Israfil smiled warmly, returned to her usual closed-eyed serenity, and asked the broker:
"How long until departure?"
The broker bowed even lower and called out, "Five minutes remaining!"
"Good."
Israfil gestured the broker back to his feet and continued. "Share your final farewells, then."
Israfil and the broker walked out of the warehouse together. The broker murmured sideways as they went.
"I-it's hardly my place to meddle, but... will you be all right? She doesn't seem to have given up yet..."
"It will be fine."
Israfil's eyes curved into crescent moons. "If I've said this much, she'll have understood. Lethe is a clever girl."
"Haaaah."
The door closed, and Lethe heaved a sigh. Simon climbed out of the crate as well.
"I figured I'd get scolded, honestly."
"...Keep it down, will you."
Lethe grumbled, face burning red. Simon smiled slyly and folded his arms.
"I'd love to take your side, but this time Lady Israfil is right. Vacating your post at the single most crucial period of a Saintess's career—that's pushing it."
"...Whatever."
Lethe lifted her chin haughtily. "I do know that much, y'know."
"Good. As long as you know."
An awkward silence settled between them. The final five minutes they'd been granted were short, yet somehow no words came easily.
"Someday, if a war breaks out between the Holy Federation and the Dark Alliance—"
Her eyes turned to Simon.
"We'll end up fighting each other, won't we?"
"...Probably."
Lethe smiled faintly. "And when that day comes, it'll be my own two hands that strike you down."
"No mercy from my side, either."
The two looked at each other and smiled quietly.
"Well—setting all that aside. As the Saintess who represents the people of the Federation, allow me to thank you for your cooperation in this affair."
"Then next time, you come to the Dark Alliance."
"Pardon?"
Simon continued with a grin. "Next time, I'll be the one making the request. Truth is, we in the Dark Alliance have plenty of problems we suffer through for want of a priest."
Healing the sick, treating wounds, purifying undead—those were fields where priests reigned supreme. And places saturated with curses and miasma, like Deathland, were problems a few priests would have solved ages ago.
Hearing the offer, Lethe lowered her eyes. "...The Dark Alliance."
Back when she had crossed the border carrying Anna's cure, it had felt like crawling into hell of her own free will. But.
"I'll think about it."
Now, she felt a little differently.
"Then."
"Yeah."
Lethe smiled brightly. "Take care, Simon."
The deep freeze had passed and Kula had reclaimed its clear skies, but at the summit of the towering snow mountain, a natural blizzard was howling once more.
And in the cave of the snow mountain—
The entrance to Karissa's dungeon, now vanished, was being examined by paladins and scholars dispatched from the Holy Federation.
"Who would've guessed there was a dungeon in a place like this?"
"You're telling me."
The paladins from the Central, bundled in fur cloaks over their armor, grumbled among themselves. One man's head turned.
"Scholar. Turn anything up?"
"Yes."
The scholar answered, lowering his magnifying monocle. "...I've discovered a most intriguing trace."
"Intriguing how?"
"The barrier on this dungeon—is it true the mages of the Mizzenaci clan created it artificially?"
"It is."
"Then creating that barrier would have been flatly impossible with their power alone."
The paladin whipped around. "What do you mean by that?"
"Astonishing as it sounds, this barrier's structure is a composite magic circle built from both divinity and Jet-Black. Both properties are required to dispel it."
The paladins' mouths hung open.
"Did you just say Jet-Black? A Jet-Black barrier in this northern backwater—!"
"I can hardly believe it myself, but it's the truth."
The paladin fell deep into thought, his face gone pale. "We'll need to re-interrogate the Mizzenaci people taken to the Central. And contact the Saintess of the Stars to learn how she dispelled the barri—"
The paladin who had been quietly listening beside him turned his head. "Commander, why did you stop mid—"
But.
The commander who had been speaking only a moment ago was gone.
"C-Commander?!"
Shhhrrrrk! Shhhk!
The bodies of the paladins guarding the cave swirled as though space itself were warping—and vanished from their spots without a trace. In the blink of an eye, every paladin's existence was deleted.
"H-hek!"
The terrified scholar collapsed where he stood. With the paladins all gone, someone was entering the cave.
Something in a robe.
No—not wearing one. It was, quite literally, draped in robes from head to toe, the hems dragging across the floor behind it.
And in the darkness beyond the robe, only two points of glinting light flickered.
Not human.
The scholar's lips trembled with a vicious, bone-deep fear he had never once known in his life.
"Wh-who are you?!"
"Curious?"
At the voice that suddenly popped up beside him, the scholar jerked his head around in horror. A woman with unkempt hair hanging straight down.
But her face could not be seen. As if a black shadow had fastened itself over her features.
"Wouldn't YOU like to know~"
Thud! Crack-crunch!
Blood sprayed. The scholar's neck and spine twisted in an impossible direction, and he crumpled lifelessly to the floor.
"So what will you do now, Elder?"
She looked back over her shoulder. "The Blood Sky Cult, and now Dungeon Lord Karissa. Everything you've laid out for yourself is being smashed to pieces, one piece at a time."
Eyes glinted within the robe.
Ssssss.
From within the jet-black robe, a single withered arm jutted out.
A deep blue radiance flickered once across that palm—then vanished.
Having promised that Lethe would come over next time, Simon crossed the border. They say humans are creatures of adaptation—and sure enough, Simon calmly dozed off in the cargo wagon with the worst ride imaginable. It was now beyond familiar; he even felt a strange sense of security in it.
And so he crossed the border, arrived at the Neutral Zone, moved by teleportation magic circle into Dark Alliance territory, and rode a carriage all the way to Leshill.
After reaching Leshill, he ran the mountain paths on his own two feet and arrived home before the sun had even begun to set.
"Simon! Welcome home!"
"Good work out there, son! I heard everything from your aunt."
Simon reunited with Anna and Richard in a tight embrace.
Anna immediately reached for her apron. "You must be starving, dear?"
"N-no, not really! I snacked a little on the way..."
"I'll make you something delicious, so just wait a moment."
Naturally, Simon had no right to refuse.
While Anna laid out a meal, Simon went up to his room.
"...Huh."
Something was off.
There were a lot of letters piled up on his desk.