The Revealed Heart - (1)
The black stake tore mercilessly through his body. The sacred pattern rejected the creature of darkness.
“Uwaaaaagh—!”
Cardinal Albert transformed before the gathered crowd. The “pattern that reveals evil,” prepared for the hero’s test, ruthlessly stripped away his disguise.
Crack. Crunch.
“Ugh—!”
His body swelled, darkness pouring out. To anyone watching, he was the very image of a demon worshiper from the scriptures. To anyone watching, he was a creature of darkness exposed beneath the sun’s light.
That was why the crowd fell silent.
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
They were confused. Nobles and commoners. The Theocracy and the Republic. The noble faction and the reformists. Students and outsiders alike.
“…”
Every mouth hung open in shock. The merciless revelation struck that deeply. A highly respected clergyman of the Theocracy had touched the sacred pattern and revealed his corrupted true form.
All the petty conflicts of the human world became meaningless before the servant of evil standing there.
“…”
Those who had lived their entire lives under the teachings of the One God Church felt a hollow despair. Those who had received religious instruction from Cardinal Albert only days ago felt it even more keenly.
“What… what is this?”
“Cardinal… sir?”
“What in the world…?”
“How can this be…?”
A quiet fury began to rise. Thick, heavy rage.
“Have you been deceiving us all this time?”
“!”
“You filthy apostate!”
“?!”
Like this? Caught like a complete idiot?
Albert thrashed desperately. The delicate web of politics, authority, and influence he had built over ten years was shattering into pieces. In a final struggle, he pointed at Béatrice.
“N-no! This is a curse! That woman—that filthy whore—placed a curse of the dark realm on me—!”
“Cough. Enough. How unsightly.”
“E-Edrian…?”
The people in the square began to murmur. The students of the Holy Department sobbed and pleaded.
“Albert…”
Edrian entered the square supported by the black knight Jacques. He had received emergency treatment and looked deathly pale. With a devastated expression, he quietly shook his head.
“Cough…! Stop it, Albert. You have no right to call that woman filthy. No—in fact, no one in this world has the right to call her filthy.”
“What?! Edrian! Listen to me—!”
“Enough! Cough, say no more… You have no right. That pattern is genuine…”
After catching his breath, the prayer priest ground his teeth. Boiling with rage, he shouted.
“This—!! Is this the true reality of the Theocracy—!! Inquisitors! Cardinals! Every last one of you has abandoned your will and sold your souls to filthy demons—!!”
“!”
“!”
“!”
The crowd instinctively turned toward the cardinal. One single truth had risen to the surface.
Albert is a traitor.
The academy students drew their swords, holy relics, and magic catalysts. The overwhelming confusion and terror transformed into fury.
Irreversible fury slowly closed in on Albert.
“…”
Albert, on the contrary, grew calm. His porcupine-like body sent the shredded remnants of his sacred robes fluttering in the wind.
…I have failed. As a bishop of the Black Temple, I accomplished nothing.
The research on the Black Stake, the plan to turn the hero into a puppet, even the Archbishop’s orders.
Disguise your faith and seize the academy.
“…Hmph. A failure.”
Where exactly had it gone wrong?
The moment the thought crossed his mind, a golden light flashed at the edge of his vision. Albert lifted his head.
“!”
In the distance, the students who had finished subjugating the Skeleton Rider were charging forward with swords drawn. They had clearly witnessed his transformation from afar.
And before them stood the princess, wearing a cold smile.
She walked forward with a sword held quietly in one hand, like a judge descended from the sun itself. Albert muttered.
“Lydia… de Gallia…?”
Yes. When he thought about it, everything had gone wrong from the moment of her enrollment.
The plan to manipulate the hero boy who had been nothing but a commoner, the scheme to use the Skeleton Rider’s rampage to remove Jacques from power—everything had fallen apart the instant the princess intervened.
She was not the fragile girl the rumors described. She was neither the Forgotten Gold nor the Golden Princess. She was a proud swordswoman.
“!”
C-could it be…?!
Albert’s instincts screamed at him—instincts sharpened by decades of political warfare. This board… Arjen Academy had never been the Black Temple’s chessboard.
Someone had been sitting on the opposing side from the very beginning. Laughing at him from the shadows, secretly sweeping the pieces off the board one by one.
The true enemy of the Black Temple was never the hero—it was the princess!
It was only the faintest intuition, yet the realization alone shook the entire game. Albert shuddered.
“I must report this—!”
“Die, you traitor—!”
“!”
Dozens of swords, dozens of spells, dozens of holy incantations closed in from every direction.
Even if I burn every ounce of my power…! For the Black Temple…!
Albert screamed like a beast and drew forth everything he had. The Black Stakes covering his body trembled violently, spewing thick black smoke.
Goooooo—!
“Kyaaaaagh—!”
“Uwaah?!”
“What is this black fog?!”
Endless darkness swallowed the sky. The square seemed plunged into sudden eclipse. The students covered their noses and mouths, desperately searching for the traitor.
“Where are you?! Show yourself—!”
“I’ll kill you, apostate!”
But…
When the fog finally cleared, the filthy demon worshiper was nowhere to be seen.
The gathered crowd looked around in confusion, then sank to the ground with hollow expressions.
“Damn it…!”
“We lost him…”
“We were nothing but toys for the demon worshipers from the start.”
The Holy Department students who had trusted Albert most fell to their knees in prayer. Their teeth chattered with fear as tears of betrayal and self-loathing streamed down their faces.
The women sobbed. The men clutched their heads.
Was our faith false?
In this world, divine punishment was real. That was why they trembled with bone-deep terror.
And around them, the others watched with icy eyes.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Are you traitors as well? Even though you carry the name of the Holy Theocracy?
That was the suspicion burning in every gaze.
“…”
Lucian and the other Gallia nobles quietly rested their hands on their sword hilts. The mages of the Republic narrowed their eyes and observed with cold precision.
If you try anything, we will not stand by.
Beneath those stares, the Holy Department students shrank even smaller.
Are we truly traitors?
Then a clear voice rang out. It was Lydia.
“Enough.”
“Your Highness?”
“Do not suspect one another.”
All eyes turned toward her. The golden princess Lydia walked among the despairing students of the Holy Department. In her hand she now held the sacred pattern Béatrice had carried.
She raised it before the broken students.
“This lady shall give you all an opportunity.”
“Wh-what kind…?”
“An opportunity to forgive yourselves.”
“!”
Lydia placed her hand gently atop the head of a sobbing girl. The Sun God’s pattern glowed with a soft, distant light. It was not rage or divine punishment, but a single thread of compassion.
Lydia spoke.
“Behold. The Sun God does not punish you. Though you were deceived by the tongue of the wicked, your faith was never false. Not one person here has transformed into a hideous demon.”
“…!”
“Do not hide your true hearts behind fear.”
“Th-then… what should we do?”
“Look forward to tomorrow.”
“Pardon?”
“Look forward to the dawn of freedom—when you break free from the wicked and establish your own will.”
“!”
The next words came from the side.
“And.”
“!”
Aria, still battered and bloodied, walked into the square hand-in-hand with the limping Arty. She quietly finished Lydia’s sentence.
“And… reflect.”
“Saintess!”
“So that you are never deceived by the wicked again, so that you are never blinded by the lies that cover your eyes—reflect beneath the setting sun. Otherwise you will only repeat the mistakes of yesterday.”
“…”
“Reflect. Look forward. And pray.”
Pray. Let it be a prayer for tomorrow.
“…”
The people of the Theocracy, the students of the Holy Department, clasped their hands together.
“…We will pray.”
“We pray.”
“We hope…”
“We will reflect and move forward.”
“…”
The servants of the sun prayed beneath the light that bathed the square. Dozens, hundreds of believers knelt in the ruined plaza, seeking to cut away the rotten flesh and embrace their cruel wounds.
“…”
Within the silence, the tension slowly unraveled. The sharp blades of suspicion softened.
And the people turned reverent eyes toward the two girls who had saved the followers of the Theocracy.
She truly is… a saintess.
So this is what a divine representative looks like.
Is evil truly approaching…?
The golden princess…
The gold of Gallia was a light like the dawn…
“…”
Morgan heard every murmur clearly. She also saw the trembling gaze of the golden giant—Lucian—as he looked at Lydia.
Your light… the people are beginning to notice it.
But.
Why…
Why does it not make me happy as her friend?
“…”
Morgan quietly lowered her head.
Lydia respectfully handed the sacred pattern to the prayer priest. Edrian took it, stood before the hero, and declared:
“As of today, I recognize Arty, the boy of Gallia, as the Hero. However, this is not the end of the trials. It is a clear omen that we must prepare for another trial that has revealed its face to us.”
“…”
“We do not even know the name of that darkness. But we now know that darkness exists. And the price we paid was devastating.”
“That is correct.”
“Therefore prepare yourselves. Pray… for tomorrow.”
“We shall do so.”
And so the hero’s test came to an end. It was the mythic chapter in which the enemy the hero must fight appeared and the true hero and saintess were born.
Yet the people could not cheer.
“…”
Soon the battle against darkness would begin. They had realized it.
“…”
“…”
“…”
They simply stood in silence, wearing complicated expressions.
“…”
Mave watched them from a distance. Even the confidence she had gained from defeating the Skeleton Rider had frozen solid. The thought that another battle might soon begin weighed heavily on her.
“…Hmph.”
But where did Lady Lydia go?
*
“Huk… huk!”
Cardinal Albert fled with Black Stakes piercing every part of his body. Like a slave dressed in torn rags, he ran through the dark forest. It was a miserable downfall.
Yet it was also another chance.
I must inform His Eminence the Archbishop of this…!
The princess. Lydia de Gallia. She was a tremendous threat to the Black Temple.
“Huk…!”
He ran with only that single purpose.
But he was forced to stop.
The black knight Jacques stood blocking his path.
“Ja-Jacques, instructor?!”
“…”
Within the forest’s darkness, a faint flame burned inside the helmet. Eyes like blazing fire.
“!”
Albert recoiled in horror.
“H-how…?!”
“Ten years.”
“…?”
Jacques spoke.
“It was a long connection.”
“Ja-Jacques…!”
“The fact that I could not kill you recklessly while at the academy was itself your achievement. So be proud of it within the abyss of the dark realm.”
“W-wait—?!”
“Forever.”
Jacques said no more. He charged.
The surrounding earth and stone shattered and flew into the air. A sound like a massive iron ball rolling forward thundered out.
Kwaaaang—!
Even with the power of the dark realm strengthening him, Albert’s limbs were crushed by a single punch and he was sent flying. He truly looked like a wretched porcupine.
He writhed on the ground, crawling like an insect.
“Heuk… heueooook…!”
“We do not miss any remnants of the Black Temple.”
“You really are pathetic~!”
“?!”
Albert’s eyes rolled. Before him, two women stood watching. One wore leather armor, the other a black dress. Their eyes also burned with flame within the forest’s darkness.
Albert muttered blankly.
“…Flames?”
“Oh, the old man’s pretty sharp? Good eye. Keep it up and you might even figure out our organization’s name~! Hang in there!”
“Béatrice.”
“I know, sis. You know I only joke with people who look like they’re about to drop dead.”
Albert could not accept those words.
“…What?”
And then.
A crimson blade was leveled at him.
“!”
“…It was a short connection, Albert.”
“No way.”
Albert’s jaw trembled as he looked up. There stood the princess holding a crimson sword. Clear flames wrapped around the blade as she gazed down with lofty eyes.
It was the very presence of a monarch.
“…Lydia de Gallia.”
“Correct. It is this lady.”
“How is the princess…? Weren’t you abandoned?”
“Correct. I was abandoned.”
Lydia spoke.
“And then I rose again.”
“!”
“Convey this to the dark realm.”
“What…?”
“That the one who killed you was I, Lydia de Gallia.”
The noble sword of dawn rose high.
“Convey that the one who killed you was this flash of dawn.”
“…!”
The blade of dawn descended upon the apostate’s neck.
And so the fate of this world changed.
The hero who would wail over his stolen lover. The villain who would survive through wicked schemes. The holy knight who would toy with the saintess as a plaything… all of them vanished.
The only one who knew was the princess.