The next morning, as soon as we were ready, we headed straight for the Cathedral.
A night had passed since the sudden, tragic news. In the Holy Court District, there were even more knights patrolling than the day before. Most were likely just city guards, but once, I caught sight of a unit of dozens of men moving with grim intensity... perhaps they were a rescue party assigned to search for survivors in Luther.
I could only pray that they would find someone—anyone. I also needed to settle my own affairs quickly.
Still, I couldn't help but wonder how Rosche intended to let me swing my sword with all my might.
To grant that wish, my left leg's problem had to be solved immediately. As far as I knew, there was no way to fix such a thing in an instant. If there were, the time I was spending having Claesta build me a prosthetic would be meaningless.
Rosche hadn't given me a single clue, just telling me that I’d understand once I arrived. He was certainly fond of his theatrics.
While I pondered this, we arrived at the plaza in front of the Cathedral. I expected Rosche to be there to meet us, but he was nowhere to be found. Just as we began looking around, a voice called out.
"I have been waiting for you, members of Silvery Grey."
Before I knew it, a refined, silver-haired old butler stood amidst the crowd flowing in and out of the Chapel. Where had he come from? He definitely hadn't been there a second ago.
Regardless, I recognized his face. Back when I was hospitalized in the Cathedral, he had been the one pushing the wheelchair of Yulirius, the Saint of the Starry Eyes.
"Ah... um, Mr. Weinrich?"
"Oh, I am honored that you remember these old bones, Lady Yulitia."
"N-no, please, there's no need for such formality...!"
It was impossible to forget him. Facing him now, I was struck again by how massive he was—easily six foot three. Even his sharp tailcoat couldn't hide a physique that overflowed with power.
Honestly, how could an old man look like that?
Even my Gramps had seen his frame wither in his final years, yet this man looked as though he were still in his prime. I prided myself on my training, but compared to him, I felt like a mere chick. I clearly needed more muscle.
A smile touched his aged cheeks, carrying the enlightened air of a man who had seen it all.
"I shall be your guide today."
"I see. Where is Rosche?"
"He has gone ahead and awaits you, Master Wolka, at the appropriate place."
I had no idea what that meant. Where exactly was I being taken?
"This way, if you please."
Though I felt a flicker of suspicion, I shook it off. I was here to swing my sword; surely nothing too bizarre would happen. I should have realized then. I should have known what it meant for the man who served as the Saint’s personal attendant to come greet us personally.
In the end, this is what happened:
"—I’m sorry, Wolka. I... I promised you. You finally decided to trust us, and I betrayed that trust...!"
I was currently standing in the Holy Sanctum, a place where commoners were strictly forbidden to set foot.
And there, the Saint of Hakua, Restardia, was offering me a trembling, fragile apology.
The "Saint" was nowhere to be seen. She looked more like a grieving schoolgirl, clutching the front of my shirt with both hands, her forehead pressed against me as she shook.
"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...!!"
I screamed in my head. Rosche! What the hell is going on here?!
I needed to get a handle on the situation.
First, Weinrich had guided us to Alnas Tower. It was the structure closest to the heavens in the Holy City, rising straight from the center of the Cathedral. The upper floors housed the Holy Sanctum where the Saints lived—a sanctuary that even most Church officials couldn't enter. Every citizen of the Holy City knew that.
I had a bad feeling from the start.
When I asked him bluntly, Weinrich had stroked his goatee and replied:
"Master Wolka, you are to meet with Lady Arcasiel."
Why?! This made no sense. Between Dia and Yuli, why did a mere commoner like me keep having audiences with Saints?
However, I easily succumbed to the promise of being allowed to swing my sword at full power. I was a simple man. I figured that with that lethargic, lazy Saint, I wouldn't have to worry about her taking a weird interest in me.
The inside of the tower was a vast, semi-circular space without a single staircase. The ceiling was a magnificent religious mural, but the structure made it physically impossible to climb.
In the center was a Teleportation Magic Circle, the only means of ascent. Led by Weinrich, we stepped into the light—never dreaming it might be a trap.
The next thing I knew, I was alone.
The Master, the others, and Weinrich had vanished. Apparently, I alone had been sent elsewhere. I was standing in a windowless white corridor, feeling utterly lost, when I heard footsteps.
"Yahoo! Sorry to keep you waiting. How have you been?"
I hadn't been waiting...
Dia appeared with the casual energy of a classmate meeting up after school.
Look, Dia... your sense of distance is still broken. We were in a restricted tower, yet a Saint was meeting a man without a single guard. Why had our relationship accelerated to this level of trust so quickly?
Whether she noticed my headache or not, she kept going.
"Anyway, this way! I'll take you to Alka's room!"
To be honest, I’d noticed she wasn't quite herself.
She was acting cheerful, but her smile was stiff and lacked its usual spark. I could guess why. She’d likely been run ragged by the Vampire incident and hadn't slept a wink.
So, once she’d led me to what looked like a living room in the Holy Sanctum, I asked her if she was okay.
That was when she broke down—leading to the current scene.
"Haha... 'How have you been?' I sound like an idiot. After what happened, there’s no way I’m doing well... but I felt like if I didn't act like that, everything would just fall apart—"
The living room of the Holy Sanctum was more refined than any luxury penthouse I’d seen in my previous life in Japan. It was vast, with pristine walls and flooring that looked brand new. The southern wall was entirely glass, offering an staggering view that stretched to the horizon. I couldn't even imagine how much money had been poured into this place.
But this was no time for escapism. Dia was acting strangely. I supported her by the shoulders as she clung to me.
"Dia, calm down. What happened?"
She raised her face from my chest and took a step back. She wore a hollow smile.
"You heard about that shitty woman from Rosche, didn't you?"
Shitty woman? Ah, she meant Alphana. She was certainly a piece of work.
"And you know about Luther..."
"I do."
"A shitty woman kidnapped by Vampires. A 'test subject' used by Vampires to destroy Luther. You don't think those are just separate coincidences, do you?"
I see. So that was it.
I had been so focused on the lives lost that I hadn't even considered the identity of the "test subject." Now that she mentioned it, the connection was obvious.
I felt a slight wave of nausea.
"We were supposed to handle her punishment. You trusted us with that. And this is the result. So—"
"Wait. Why is any of that your fault?"
I could see why she was spiraling, but still.
"Alphana was kidnapped after she was handed over to the neighboring country. We had nothing to do with that."
I’d heard the details from Rosche. Alphana's deportation had been carried out successfully by the elite Chrys Knights. The Vampires had struck later, within another country’s borders. There was no reason for Dia to feel responsible.
Dia’s smile remained fragile.
"Suppose you took an escort job and delivered a merchant to their destination. Right after the job was done and you parted ways, the merchant was snatched by a monster. Could you really say it’s none of your business just because you fulfilled the contract?"
When she put it like that... no, wait. I couldn't let her trap me with that logic. That analogy was too extreme.
"It’s the same thing."
"No, it isn't. Your example is about a personal job, but Alphana was a matter of state."
Dia was deliberately narrowing the scope of the problem to make her guilt seem logical. Alphana’s deportation was a settled matter regardless of the severity of her punishment.
In this world, international law dictated that crimes were judged by the land where they were committed.
It was the same in my old life. It made sense; standards of crime varied by culture and religion. If a criminal could just flee to a country with lighter laws, global order would collapse. Handing Alphana over to the neighboring country's authorities was a legal obligation. It wasn't as simple as her being given a "light" sentence.
"You didn't go easy on her, did you?"
"Of course not! You entrusted her to us...!"
The crimes Alphana committed here were merely failing her Clear Approval duties and mental interference with her party. Given that, making her experience being killed by the Life Reaper dozens of times was a severe sentence. Her mind had reportedly broken.
It’s easy to look back after a disaster and say we should have done more. But in reality, no one could have predicted this. You can't assign a Holy Knight-level guard to every single prisoner just in case a Vampire shows up. If you did, every knight in the world would have to be an elite.
I explained all of this to her.
"So, I don't feel betrayed at all. The thought never even crossed my mind."
I tried to comfort her, but it only seemed to make her more distraught.
"It was the same during the Clear Approval! Why are you... why are you so rational about this?! Your friend died! Yet you're still prioritizing others...! You should be hurting so much more than me...!!"
I wasn't trying to be rational. I just had a very simple reason.
"I’m just fed up with seeing people suffer in front of me. Truly."
In the Original Work, just reading it as a manga was hard enough. The Master and the others had their lives ruined by a script written by some goddamn fate. Ruerie and Shiarie had scars that would never heal. Shannon, Frixell—they were people who shouldn't have had to cry. And Ramsey, and the people of Luther...
They could never get those lives back.
And that really, truly made me want to vomit.
Dia flinched. I’d let too much emotion into my voice and scared her. I relaxed my hands.
"So, I'll never blame you, Dia. Please don't look like that. If you aren't your usual self, I don't know what to do with myself."
Dia looked up at me tentatively. Looking at her now, she really was just a normal girl. She might have been a mysterious albino with snowy hair and ruby eyes, but she wasn't some inhuman being. She put on a front for her status, wanted someone she could talk to casually, and crumbled under the weight of responsibility. She was a slender, delicate "human," just like us.
She tried to speak, hesitated, and then whispered,
"...Then... is it okay? If I keep talking to you... and seeing you?"
I let out a small laugh. So that was what she was worried about.
"Of course. Though a Saint meeting a commoner so casually is probably pushing it. You're the only Saint who would do this."
Dia blinked, her eyes wide. She seemed confused by my remark for a moment, then let out a sigh that was half-amusement and half-affection.
"You really don't notice anything, do you, Wolka?"
"Notice what?"
"Nothing."
She giggled. For a moment, I felt like I’d been judged as a lost cause, but if it made her laugh, I didn't care.
"Thank you, Wolka."
The fear had left her eyes.
"But I won't let my words be lies. It’s okay if you can't believe in God... because we Saints will absolutely take His place for you one day."
"O-oh. Right."
That felt like a rather heavy vow... but then again, she was probably just using the religious equivalent of "I will save the lost lamb." Classic clergy talk. I shouldn't be self-conscious, or I'd just get a "Wow, that's not what I meant, creep" look.
"Sorry for keeping you. About today's business..."
Right. Now that Dia was back to herself, I could focus. I’d been brought here to see Arcasiel. I looked around, but the floating Saint was nowhere to be found. I couldn't imagine her actually working, so...
"Alka is resting in her room."
Figures. I'll wait here, then—
"She’s probably asleep, so I need you to go wake her up."
...Excuse me?
Three minutes later, I was on the second floor of the living room atrium, standing before the door at the end of the hall. My mission: infiltrate the room and wake the sleeping Arcasiel.
This was insane.
The Church really needed to work on the Saints' security awareness. Inviting a man they barely knew into their living room was one thing, but their bedroom? That was a bridge too far. Did they not realize they were women as beautiful as goddesses?
I’d tried to argue this with Dia, but she just waved me off.
"You wouldn't do anything weird, right? I trust you. Anyway, I have something to pick up. Good luck!"
Don't trust me! I'm a man! At least have some basic common sense!
Still, her trust was well-founded. I didn't have a shred of the courage required to do anything inappropriate to a sleeping girl.
I knocked. No answer. I steeled myself.
"E-excuse me..."
I opened the door and crept inside.
Compared to the massive living room, the bedroom was relatively modest. It featured a canopy bed, a pristine desk that looked unused, a grand wardrobe, a full-length mirror, and magnificent curtains. It was exactly what you’d imagine a "noblewoman's bedroom" to look like.
I’d been tense about entering a girl’s private space, but the atmosphere was surprisingly peaceful. I walked over to the bed—and stopped, mesmerized by the scene.
Her impossibly long hair was spread across the bed, glowing with faint phosphorescence in shades of blue, silver, and white. Some strands even trailed down to the floor. Inside the canopy, the girl slept with her long lashes resting on her cheeks. It was a sight that demanded your attention.
"Hey..."
"......Mmm."
She reacted to my voice immediately. Her eyes fluttered open, and she rubbed them sleepily.
"...Oh. You’re here. Morning."
"Morning."
She sat up sluggishly and gave a dainty yawn. Even her yawns were elegant. Then, with half-lidded eyes, she looked at me.
"Welcome. Well... let's sleep together."
"What?"
She grabbed my sleeve and tried to pull me into the bed. Wait, wait, wait!
"Hold on! What are you doing?!"
"What? That was the promise."
I was getting tired of trying to understand Saint-logic.
"Are you still dreaming? I was told I could swing my sword at full power..."
"Yeah. That’s why I’m going to give you a dream."
According to her drowsy explanation, Arcasiel possessed the power of Lucid Dreaming. She would pull me into a dream where my right eye and left leg were perfectly whole.
"You can really do that?"
"It’s... Saint Power, I guess?"
She seemed remarkably casual about it. But finally, it made sense. In a dream, I could ignore my injuries, and there was no risk of getting hurt further. I could truly go all out.
The only part I couldn't accept was:
"So, come here..."
"Look, I can just sit on the sofa or something. Sleeping in your bed is—"
"Stop complaining. Show some backbone."
That is not how that phrase is supposed to be used!
"You know how lazy I am... just do it. Before I change my mind."
"Fine, fine! I get it!"
She was surprisingly pushy. I decided to stop overthinking it—though this was hardly a "small" thing—and lay down beside her after removing my boots and prosthetic.
"Now, relax."
Arcasiel leaned over me, her fingers reaching for my cheek. A lock of her hair fell onto my neck, tickling my skin. The blue-white phosphorescence grew brighter.
Lying on a bed, being touched by a beautiful woman—normally, I would have been more than a little shaken. But facing something truly ethereal, those base thoughts simply vanished.
Before I knew it, I was standing in the middle of a vast plain.
"Wow."
I stood there, stunned. Given what had just happened, this had to be the dream world, but the light, the wind, and even the scent of the grass felt completely real. I almost thought I’d been teleported again.
If Arcasiel hadn't been standing there, I might have panicked.
"There. It's done."
It was the first time I’d seen her on her feet. Her hair was so long it pooled around her like a gown of blue and silver, mingling with the green grass. She looked like a masterpiece, whether standing or sleeping.
"How do you feel?"
I realized then that the dull ache in my leg and the blind spot in my vision were gone. I had my left leg back. When I covered my left eye, my right eye could see perfectly.
"Wait a second."
I deactivated my "Accessorize" skill and moved. I could jump. I could pivot. I could feel the ground through my left foot. My depth perception was perfect. This was my body from before the tragedy.
"It’s perfect. It feels exactly right."
"Good."
I felt a surge of emotion, but I suppressed it. Rosche and Arcasiel hadn't done this for my entertainment. I couldn't waste a single second of this time.
"Is there anything else you need?"
"An opponent. Someone I can really fight. Since it's a dream, can you summon a monster—"
"—Hahahaha! My, my, Wolka! It seems you are in need of assistance! Allow me to oblige!"
Strange. We were supposed to be alone in this dream, yet that voice was unmistakable.
I turned to see Rosche, practically sparkling. Arcasiel caught my expression.
"He's in the dream too. I had him sleep earlier. Right now, only the three of us exist in this world."
"Precisely!"
So that was what Weinrich meant. I’d completely forgotten he was waiting.
"How is your body, my friend?"
"It’s great. But why are you here?"
"Oh? Is that even a question? The answer is obvious—"
With a dazzling smile, Rosche reached for his earring. That was the last movement I followed with my eyes.
With an explosive lunge that felt like the earth itself was shattering, Rosche closed the gap in an instant.
"!!"
I read the intent. Even if my eyes couldn't track him, my instincts took over. I parried his strike with my sheathed sword, using the momentum to leap backward.
"Eek!"
Impact. Rosche’s blade gouged a massive furrow into the ground, shredding the grass. He slowly lowered his guard and laughed again.
"Magnificent! Truly enchanting movement!"
"Don't do that! You scared me."
"Oh? Was that the reaction of a 'scared' man?"
I’d sensed the fighting spirit he was hiding the moment I saw him. He was testing my new body. Cheeky bastard.
"You know, you really should consider becoming a knight."
"What?"
"The way you instinctively moved to protect the Saint even in a sudden crisis... it was the very picture of chivalry."
"...How long are you going to hold me? Let go."
The voice came from right against my chest.
I was currently cradling Arcasiel in my right arm. She was glaring up at me with drowsy annoyance.
"S-sorry."
I quickly released her. My reflexes had worked against me—I’d moved to shield her without even thinking. She stepped away and smoothed her dress.
"Well... it’s fine. You did protect me..."
"Sorry."
"I said it’s fine."
The usually expressionless Arcasiel seemed actually flustered. I was doomed. If I did something like this in the real world, I’d be in a dungeon. I had to focus on the duel so I wouldn't have any regrets.
"So, you're my opponent?"
"Indeed."
Rosche nodded and lightly cut his palm with his sword. Instead of blood, a shower of light like a visual effect appeared, and the wound vanished within seconds.
The emotion in Rosche's smile began to sharpen.
"This is a dream. As you can see, there is no need for the 'Heartless' blade here. We can fight with our true power, without holding back."
I realized then—this wasn't just my wish. It was Rosche’s dream, too.
He had lost a rival when I was injured. The chance for our fiftieth duel had seemingly vanished forever. But in this world, we could have it. We could clash at our absolute peaks once more.
That was why he was smiling so fiercely, unable to hide the thrill in his blood.
"It is my duty to receive your full power, after all."
I didn't quite follow that logic, but whatever. It would be rude to complain after they’d gone to all this trouble.
"I’ll leave you to it, then. Stay as long as you like."
Arcasiel dissolved into light. Now, it was just the two of us.
I regripped my sword and took my stance.
"Let's go, Rosche."
"Yes."
Rosche’s mana surged into his sword. It responded instantly, beginning to glow with a divine, golden light—and then, it erupted.
It wasn't a literal explosion, but a burst of pure energy. High-density Golden Surges radiated from the blade, creating a gale that rivaled a blast wave.
His sword had become something entirely different. The blade was now clad in compressed golden light, radiating enough divine heat to incinerate an undead monster just by being near it.
"You really were holding back in our spars."
"My apologies. It wasn't intentional. This blade is so destructive that the Church places it under strict seals normally."
It was less a sword and more a tactical weapon. The gap in our gear was ridiculous—I just had a regular sword.
But we were both grinning.
"Don't lose focus for even a second, Wolka. Or I’ll take that fiftieth win before you know it."
"Heh. Try it."
That was how it should be. If I was going to give my all, the win had to be as difficult as threading a needle.
I didn't have much. I didn't have a first-class weapon like Rosche, or immense magic like the Master, or the genius of Yulitia, or the elite heritage of Atri. All I had was the ability to pour everything into a single strike.
But god, losing the weight of the eyepatch and the prosthetic changed everything.
The world looked different. The path of the sword was clear. As I sank deeper into the sensation, my mind went quiet, turning into a void of pure white.
For this brief moment, I didn't have to think about anything else. I could cut away every distracting emotion and let the white consume me.
I went even deeper than I had during my duel with Ramsey.
"Ah... you really are—"
I could no longer hear Rosche's ecstatic whisper.
My sword and my consciousness had become one.
"Give Wolka baaaaaaaaaaaack!! Anze, you dummy! Saint, you big dummy-dummy-dummy!! Kidnappers! Criminals! Man-stealers!!"
"L-Lieselalte, please calm down! Just listen to me—hyau?!"
"Ugaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
Meanwhile, Liesel, having been forcibly separated from her beloved disciple, was currently throwing a massive tantrum and making life a living hell for Anze.