Crumbling Faith
Whooosh!
“What the hell!”
“Battle formation!”
Suddenly, something flew in and struck, followed by a dull thud as it burst open right in front of them. The knight who had been standing guard collapsed, his head gone. Only after a beat did Capia realize what had happened, her face twisting in horror.
This… this thing is way too big!
Even at a glance, it easily topped two meters. Three? She’d have to measure to be sure.
Capia stared blankly at the Lycanslope King that had appeared out of nowhere. The creature stood motionless, and reality felt distant.
A sickening stench rode the night wind from the monster that had just killed a knight with a single thrown stone.
“Fall back!”
Slash!
The beast swung its massive hand. The knights who had been forming ranks were sent flying. Metal groaned as breastplates crumpled.
Were they dead or alive?
Instead of freezing in terror, Capia raised her silver rosary and shouted.
“Gather your holy power and fire!”
She clasped her own hands, forcing her depleted divine power to activate.
The holy knights drew their swords at her command, white light flaring as they tried to engage. The Lycanslope King showed no sign of retreating.
“Ah!”
Whoosh.
The enormous body vanished from sight with a single leap. Left? Right? There was no time to tell. It reappeared and struck the left flank of the group with terrifying speed.
Knights who collided with it or were struck by its hind legs sprawled across the ground, gasping. Blood slowly seeped from beneath their armor, making it impossible to tell who still lived.
O God… O God, return my strength to me!
The beam of holy power Capia managed to fire struck the Lycanslope King. The monster remained unharmed and leaped again, sowing chaos among the rear guard.
Only after it had scattered the clustered knights did Sir Slot finally roar.
“Stay calm! Its hide can be pierced with steel. Watch the claws and strike!”
Whoosh!
Before he finished speaking, the Lycanslope King leaped once more. Its foreleg flashed past Capia’s head and stabbed downward like a jab before retracting with unnatural grace. The motion burned itself into her vision.
It had touched her.
“Aah…!”
“Over there!”
“Don’t lose sight of it—we can handle this!”
The knights encouraged one another and reformed their defensive line, sparing no glance for fallen comrades who twitched or lay still.
It hurts… it hurts, hah, it hurts so much. It hurts…!
Capia had been wounded. The beast had struck beneath her coat, just below her right ribs. She could still breathe, so no pneumothorax, but the pain grew sharper with every passing moment.
Had its claws been poisoned? The wound burned with unbearable agony.
“It’s coming again!”
“Aaaagh!”
The Lycanslope’s body, far larger than it had any right to be, crashed down on them before the warning even finished.
Was it trying to crush them all?
Staring up at the massive belly and four legs hurtling toward them, they heard a clear, ringing voice.
“Flame Bolt!”
A sphere of fire struck the Lycanslope King squarely in the side. The beast let out a shrill screech and landed hard, its left hind leg trembling before it touched down.
“Ah!”
“Blizzard!”
The monster, already bearing severe burns, vanished inside a sudden storm of white and blue. When the blizzard cleared, it lay motionless on the ground.
Capia stared, eyes wide. Every part of the Lycanslope King—flanks, limbs, head—was encased in thick ice. Only its neck remained partially unfrozen, though countless tiny hailstones clung to its fur.
It was over? That quickly…?
Oh, thank the heavens. God had sent her a savior!
Capia gasped for breath, unable to steady herself.
Once the magic fully dissipated, Sir Slot and the highest-ranking imperial knight approached to confirm the kill. Even though they knew it was dead, they severed its frozen neck with their swords. Some monsters feigned death and revived when the situation turned against them.
Sir Slot addressed the mage who had intervened with unusual politeness.
“I don’t know who you are, but thank you for your help in the subjugation.”
“Baroa.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s my name.”
Without another word, Baroa walked among the wounded. He cast healing magic on the living and ignored the dead entirely. His discernment was absolute.
“……”
After finishing emergency treatment, he looked over the gathered knights and finally turned his gaze to Capia, who stood alone in the middle of them.
He smiled.
Smiled…?
“Teleport.”
He vanished in an instant.
The knights had failed to fell the monster with their own strength, yet this mage had slain it with two spells and healed the survivors besides.
Three dead. All wounded treated.
Sir Slot shouldered the Lycanslope King’s corpse for transport to the imperial palace and straightened his back. Two holy knights and one imperial knight had died, but he himself was unharmed. The Saintess and the remaining holy knights had only minor damage to their equipment. By any measure, this was a decisive victory.
“…Sir?”
“Yes, Saintess.”
Though there was no moonlight, Capia’s face looked deathly pale.
“Do… do you have any holy water left? I still have some, but I worry it might not be enough.”
Thanks to that mage today, I didn’t have to use much divine magic. I can refine more with what remains.
Sir Slot found the request distasteful but handed over two bottles of holy water without showing it.
“Thank you. It’s late—get some rest.”
“You as well, Saintess. I must report today’s battle immediately, so I won’t be able to escort you. Please understand.”
Damn him. That insolent fool!
Capia turned away, cursing Sir Slot under her breath. The pain in her wound was worsening. She had considered asking for a healing potion but feared it would only draw attention. Only two bottles of holy water? How oblivious could he be? Would this even work?
Only after returning to her quarters and closing the door did Capia let out a shaky breath.
“Hah, hah, hah…”
Sweat streamed down her forehead and dripped onto the floor.
With trembling hands, she removed her coat, groaned, and poured holy water over the wound. Again and again. Who could she possibly tell? The Saintess, blessed with God’s greatest favor, requiring treatment from others…
She had no choice. At least she hadn’t been asked to perform last rites for the dead—that was something to be grateful for.
Capia gritted her teeth and tried to close the wound as best she could with clumsy hands.
The pain of the flesh was unbearable.
She had always believed the worst suffering came from being despised as a powerless Saintess. That mental anguish was the greatest torment…
But she had never imagined a single wound could hurt this much. Ah… ah… ah…
Until dawn broke, the Saintess’s inexperienced hands continued their desperate, faltering work.
Despite the agony, Capia felt no remorse.
This was misfortune. Pure misfortune.
It was not punishment for her sins. It was an unjust trial. The one who truly deserved judgment was someone else!
In the darkness, Capia’s eyes gleamed with malice.
* * *
What should she do once everything was over?
Pay found herself lost in such daydreams more often lately.
Living happily with Lucius in the space he had created and preserved was wonderful, of course. Yet she had no intention of turning her back on the world completely. Isolation could too easily lead to dangerous extremes.
She needed to make an effort to stay connected, even if only occasionally.
Traveling the continent on Momo’s back sounded fun. Searching for ancient ruins that might still remain was equally exciting.
Lucius had once told her:
“After being sealed for a thousand years, I didn’t have high expectations, but right in front of me was a relic of the ancient empire.”
“What was it?!”
“A fairly large manor near the capital. A headless gargoyle statue with one wing missing was rolling around. It was twelve hundred years old.”
“T-twelve hundred years?!”
“If I searched seriously, I’d probably find more. They’re not particularly useful, though.”
He said the manor’s owners hadn’t even realized the statue was ancient and had simply dug it up while clearing land, then left it abandoned. The thought of unearthing hidden traces of the past made her heart race.
Hmm…
Recalling that conversation brought to mind something more recent.
When she had flown on Momo, she hadn’t found any trace of the Lycanslope King. The knights, however, had located it and departed with the Saintess at their head to subjugate it.
Pay learned of this later through Pine Echo’s report and earnestly asked Lucius for help.
She had no one else to turn to.
It’s shameless of me, but Lucius is the only one who can actually make a difference. Even I can’t do it.
He disguised himself as Baroa, set the coordinates, and left immediately. Still, he couldn’t prevent the deaths and injuries. What was done was done.
That part she could accept. What bothered her was something else.
When Lucius mentioned the dead knights, he said the Saintess’s face had gone deathly pale—yet he looked pleased when he said it. Was he happy that Capia was shaken? Lucius can be such a child sometimes.
He had healed the injured knights but left Capia, whom he knew was wounded, untreated. Pay remained completely unaware of that fact.
Knock, knock.
“Miss Pay, excuse me.”
“Mage Ben!”
“No need for titles. You’ll soon stand at the same level as me. More importantly, do you have a moment to talk?”
“Yes?”
Ben held out a thick sheet of paper. As Pay read it, her face turned ashen.
The Duke of Klein was coming to the Magic Tower?
She instinctively tried to push the paper away, but Ben wore a troubled expression and pleaded earnestly.
“Please. On the day the Duke arrives, both Lady Neia and I will be absent, along with everyone else.”
When high-ranking mages gathered at the Ivory Tower for a meeting, it lasted at least four to ten days.
Why so long?
Mages… were simply that kind of people.
Though she understood the situation, Pay had no desire to deal with anything involving the Duke of Klein.
“I’m sorry.”
“Miss Pay, I’ll teach you how to use the Truth-Reading Statue before we leave for the Ivory Tower. If you have any questions, you can test it yourself before the Duke arrives. I can’t think of anyone more reliable than you, so I’m begging you.”
The Duke of Klein was requesting to use the Magic Tower’s Truth-Reading Statue!
Was Lucius’s prediction correct? Or was the Duke coming for some other, disappointing reason? Either way, she wanted nothing to do with it.
Yet Pay could feel her once-steady heart pounding wildly.
Was this fate?
She had always known this moment would come someday.