The Saint Descends
The inside of the cave erupted into commotion.
"The Saintess will be arriving shortly!"
"Get ready!"
Agents dashed about in a flurry of preparation. Hearing the report, Simon stared at the teleportation circle with a somewhat dazed expression.
She's actually... coming to Roke Island?
"This is no time to stand there gaping, Simon."
Kazhan approached and placed a hand on Simon's shoulder.
"Priests cannot be trusted one hundred percent. There's no telling what might happen, so stay sharp."
"Ah—yes, sir."
Truthfully, Kazhan's words weren't reaching him at all. What was he supposed to say when they met? What expression should he wear? The situation was so sudden that his mind had gone completely white.
"The teleportation circle has activated on the opposite end!"
"Transfer authorization!"
The Crow agent Aleister gave a nod. "Authorized."
The teleportation circle, constructed purely of mana, came to life, bathed in blue radiance. Simon forced down his nerves and looked ahead.
Whoosh—!
Light flooded the cave. Once the brilliance—dazzling as a rising sun—had settled, Simon lowered the arm shielding his face and stared ahead.
Oh.
And then he could scarcely believe his eyes at the scene unfolding before him.
Tens of thousands of threads of light shattered in brilliant sprays, and starlight like fireflies embroidered the world as though it were the night sky itself. And at its center, hovering just above the ground, was a beautiful girl with her eyes closed and hands clasped together.
Her hair was not pure white but a darker shade of gray, and the intoxicating starlight wrapped around her protectively, as if she were the very pinnacle of mystery. Her two legs, which had floated in the air, slowly touched down, and the arms she had held as if in prayer gently lowered as well. Finally, when her closed eyes opened, brilliant golden pupils like molten gold shone forth.
"..."
The entire gathering was overwhelmed. No one could move; no one could find their voice. Only the occasional sound of someone swallowing hard echoed through the cave.
And then—
She really... came.
Simon had thought it far too unrealistic. He and she had once joked lightheartedly—what if you came to Kizen, what if I went to Efnel? And now that hypothetical had actually come true.
Without even realizing it, Simon extended his hand and spoke.
"Le—"
Whooooosh!
A gust of wind swept through. In an instant, the girl standing on the teleportation circle appeared right in front of Simon's nose. Her flung-up gray hair settled slowly down onto her shoulders a beat late.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Her lips parted, and a quiet yet frigid voice flowed out.
"I am the guardian of the blessed sanctuary."
Each word. Each and every word.
"One of the seven daughters closest to the great Goddess—"
echoed clearly and deliberately.
"—the Saintess of the Stars."
And then, cutting herself off decisively, she extended a hand with an expressionless face.
"I am called Lethe Shardena."
A coldly frozen expression. Eyes that suggested not the slightest interest in anyone else. It was only after seeing those frigid eyes that Simon regained his composure, realizing he had almost treated her as someone he knew. They were supposed to be strangers. They were supposed to be meeting for the first time here.
"Ah—a pleasure to meet you."
Simon extended his hand as well. "I am Simon Polentia, Student Council President of Kizen."
Swish!
But just before their hands could touch, Lethe wrinkled her brow and lowered her hand as if disgusted.
"Ugh, geez. Let's keep this strictly polite. Strictly. Don't actually touch me."
"...Ah. Yes."
She coolly turned her head toward the necromancer agents.
"Also, I'd like to speak with whoever is actually in charge here, not some student trinket calling himself council president."
Simon was smiling, but a vein bulged on his forehead. She's a student herself!
The Crow agent Aleister stepped forward. "That would be me. You may call me Aleister, Saintess."
While Lethe and Aleister exchanged words, further teleports proceeded, and the four paladins who had arrived as her escort joined them as well.
"More to the point."
Lethe got straight to business. "Where is that woman?"
"This way."
Aleister guided her. After a short walk, they came upon the Saintess of the Harvest, seated in a chair with a third of her face blown away, her gums and teeth fully exposed.
"Oh my, how pathetic."
Lethe clicked her tongue.
"What on earth has become of you, Senior? Have some shame, please. How about handing over the Essence of the Saintess to another priest when we get back?"
Speaking as though the woman could actually hear her, Lethe strode over and took hold of the head resting in the Saintess of the Harvest's lap with both hands. Several necromancer agents reacted with alarm.
"What are you—!"
"Stand down."
Aleister raised an arm to hold them back. Lethe lifted the Saintess's head and set it into place against the split section of her face.
"People of Kizen, have you treated this wound at all?"
"Of course, we've done what we could, but she was struck by an ability that manipulates reality itself..."
"And that's exactly why you people are the problem."
Lethe soon brought both hands before the Saintess's head and closed her eyes.
Whoooooosh—!
A colossal divinity exploded outward through the narrow cave like a detonation. The necromancers watching around them recoiled in terror.
"What the hell is this!"
"Fall back!"
The entire cave was dyed pure white. Simon, who had been standing frozen in place, was yanked back by the collar by one of the agents and pulled out of harm's way.
Rrrrumble—!
Before long, the divinity subsided, and Lethe—hands still clasped—tilted her head.
"Huh. It really doesn't work."
"Is that woman insane?!"
"What kind of trickery is this!"
The necromancer agents, who had nearly been caught in the divinity, reacted with extreme hostility and raised their curse magic circles.
Hum! Hum!
The paladins, too, drew their swords and guarded Lethe's front, runes of divinity blazing along their blades as holy magic spread out.
The situation stood at a hair trigger. But Lethe lowered her arms with complete composure, a frigid sneer playing on her lips.
"Having fun, you cowards?"
Her unfiltered wording twisted the necromancer agents' expressions into something grotesque.
"I thought the order to cooperate with necromancers was nonsense from the very start. My orders were to recover the Saintess of the Harvest and to annihilate Ever Kire."
Lethe loosened the seal on the choker around her neck a little further and summoned the power of a Saintess. Starlight bloomed up around her.
"Honestly, it might be faster to just kill every single person here and go searching on my own."
An overwhelming presence, radiated alone in the heart of enemy territory. Even Simon, who knew her, felt his stomach lurch. It was as though he were seeing another side of Lethe that had been hidden all this time.
"That's quite enough of that."
As the atmosphere threatened to boil over, Aleister finally stepped in.
"This is no time for us to fight among ourselves. We have gathered here to prevent a war. For that purpose, we must join hands, however unpleasant we may find each other."
Aleister turned to his subordinates. "Lower your hands."
Only then did the necromancer agents reluctantly dismantle their magic circles, and the paladins moved to sheathe their swords as well—
"You lot can keep your swords drawn for all I care. I couldn't trust those disgusting necromancer vermin even if I beat them to death myself."
Lethe delivered that frigid rebuke to both sides, then strode up to Aleister.
"I'll decide what I'm willing to do after I hear the plan."
The core of the plan was the night.
Once night fell, Lethe would be able to use a Saintess's authority called Star Weaving to sense every trace of divinity across all of Roke Island. But it was still too early in the day for that, and the possibility that Ever Kire would make her move in the meantime could not be ruled out.
Therefore—
"Here is your identification."
During the day, Lethe would disguise herself as a noblewoman and sweep through the most heavily populated areas. Star Weaving was the surest method, but even with a simple Saintess's power she could sense divinity around her.
The necromancer agents would follow along as her noble bodyguards. Since numerous high-ranking nobles visited during the Dark Festival, they calculated they would not stand out much.
"Well, I never."
Lethe emerged wearing a flowing dress with an expression of utter displeasure. She pulled on white gloves, hung a gold-trimmed bag on her arm, and pressed a wide-brimmed hat down onto her head.
"Fine. Let's go."
Lethe stalked forward irritably. The paladins bowed their heads.
"Please take care of yourself, Your Holiness!"
"Yes, yes, don't worry."
Naturally, the paladins—unable to conceal their divinity the way she could—could not accompany them onto Roke Island itself.
"Get ready, Simon."
Kazhan approached dressed as a coachman, straw hat and leather vest in place. Simon hurriedly spoke up.
"What's my role?"
"No need to prepare anything for you. Just follow along at a distance with the other necromancer agents."
Lethe in her noblewoman disguise, four bodyguards, and one coachman. The remaining agents would trail behind at a set distance.
Simon spoke urgently. "Kazhan! I have one request!"
"?"
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
The patrol began. The wheels of the carriage carrying Lethe rolled along, kicking up clouds of dust.
"Ah—don't come too close. The smell of corpses is contagious."
Lethe made no effort whatsoever to hide her resentment toward necromancers. With both legs sprawled insolently over the opposite seat and an elbow propped on the window, she grumbled away—the very picture of a delinquent passenger.
And then—
...Well, I did manage to tag along.
In the end, Simon had taken on the coachman's role. He wore a leather vest, a straw hat pulled low, and even a fake beard.
"Hey, up there! Are you planning to drive this thing properly or not?"
Lethe's irritated shout rang out from inside.
"The ride is terrible! It shakes like crazy!"
"S-sorry!"
Sweat beading on his forehead, Simon shouted back and shook the reins.
I'll get you back for this later!
And so, with Lethe in tow, they made the rounds of the busiest places: the beach, the ruins, the market stalls, the campus outskirts, all the way to the stadium.
Her divinity-detection ability was the real deal. Aleister, intending to test her, had an assistant from Parahan's side stationed nearby, and Lethe identified the presence instantly with her extraordinary perception.
Ugh.
Meanwhile, Simon's mood was in turmoil.
There were times when they dismounted and walked around on foot, so opportunities for the two of them to be alone were hardly scarce. But whenever the agents' eyes were elsewhere, no matter how many signals Simon sent with his gaze or his gestures, she showed no reaction whatsoever. Or else—
"Necromancers. So annoying."
she simply glared at him with contempt. At this point, Simon was the one getting wounded. With people around or without, she treated him with unvarying mercilessness.
"Hot. Go buy me something to drink."
Lethe, for her part, exploited Simon freely. Duty-bound to play the coachman, Simon sprinted off and bought a drink—only for her to take a single sip, scrunch up her face, and lower the glass from her hand.
"What is this supposed to taste like?"
Crash!
The glass struck the carriage floor and shattered, staining the boards with the drink. She jerked her chin toward Simon with a scowl.
"Aren't you going to clean that up?"
Simon scrubbed the floor furiously with a rag from the back of the carriage, all the while stealing glances at Lethe's expression.
Why is she doing this to ME?
Legs crossed, without even looking his way, she tossed out a single line.
"What, do you have a complaint?"
"No, ma'am!"
He couldn't understand why she seemed so determined to torment him. And after all that, when he finally dragged himself back from scrubbing the carriage floor—
"The Saintess has requested that the Student Council President be relieved of coachman duty."
He was dismissed.
Kazhan took over as coachman once more, and Simon had no choice but to watch her from far away.
The frantic rounds went on until the sky began to darken. This time, too, they had turned up nothing significant, and the whole party returned to their base camp in the cave. Their one remaining hope was Lethe's authority, Star Weaving, at midnight tonight. While she performed it, the necromancer agents would guard her surroundings.
"Good work today, Simon."
Kazhan said.
"See you tomorrow, Student Council President. Let us know the moment the results of the Star Weaving come in."
Aleister bade him farewell as well.
"Thank you both. See you tomorrow."
Simon exchanged farewells with the two men and started walking out of the cave. Off to the side, he could see Lethe sitting alone on a rock, reading scripture with a face still radiating cold fury.
As Simon passed by, their eyes met briefly—
"..."
She showed no reaction at all.
A gaze like one looking at a lifeless object. Feeling as though he had turned invisible, Simon trudged away.
He stopped by the Student Council Room to finish the day's work, then returned to the dormitory.
Snore. Snore.
Toto, after evening training, was completely worn out and passed out cold. Simon flopped onto his own bed, still in his uniform.
...
His mood was sour. He lifted his head and stared up at the dormitory ceiling.
Is that really the Lethe I know?
At first he'd assumed she was putting on a cold front because they couldn't afford to have it known that they knew each other. But even when they were alone, she went beyond ignoring him—she acted like a person who didn't remember him at all. She looked at the necromancers with eyes full of revulsion. And she looked at Simon with those very same eyes.
Recalling her icy stare, Simon shook his head as if to clear the tangle of thoughts from his mind.
...Just sleep.
Simon tossed and turned in bed, then rolled over onto his side. What had he even been hoping for? He'd gotten to see her face; that was enough. They were on a mission right now—she just had to play the Saintess, and he just had to play the Student Council President. If that led to catching Ever Kire, then it was a success.
Right. Ever Kire.
They had to catch her.
Just as Simon's eyes were slowly beginning to close—
Clack.
Whoosh—
The window of his dormitory room burst open and a breeze rushed in. Simon's eyes snapped open in surprise.
"What on earth do you think you're doing, looking so miserable like that."
At the sudden voice, Simon's head turned.
Backed by a cascade of moonlight, the gray-haired girl sat on the windowsill with her legs stretched out before her, like something out of a painting.
"Le—"
Simon's eyes went wide.
"Lethe? How did you get in here—!"
She smiled softly.
Unlike her frigid manner all day, it was a gentle smile, like spring flowers in full bloom.
"I had a feeling you'd be sitting here like this. So I came to see."