After slipping away from the rear of the dais in the Cathedral’s tribunal, one arrived at an elegant parlor reserved for the Saintesses just a short walk down the hall. Normally, this was where Yulirius, the Saint of Star Eyes, would rest before or after a trial, but currently, Dia was using it to comfort the emotionally fragile Anze.
“Alright, alright, I get it. Stop crying already. You really are a crybaby, aren’t you?”
“B-But…! Because…!”
Anze’s usual aura of radiant blessing had vanished. She kept her face buried in Dia’s shoulder, showing no intention of letting go. Dia felt as if she might be tackled onto the sofa the moment she relaxed her guard. Bracing her back, Dia tried a different approach.
“Look, the old man brewed some tea for us. There are even sweets. They look good, right?”
On the table, the steward’s special tea and snacks were standing by as if ready for duty, but Anze hadn't spared them a single glance. While Anze was normally the most dignified of the Saintesses, she simply couldn't control the overwhelming weight of her emotions whenever Wolka was involved.
Well, it was hardly surprising. Thanks to that vixen Alphana, the judgment had been an utterly intolerable affair. In the face of Yulirius’s Star Eyes—which permitted no excuses or deceptions—it wasn't uncommon for people to fall into despair and drop their pretenses as she had.
“Good grief.”
As Dia continued to rub Anze's back, the door handle turned and Rosche returned. He was clad in his Holy Knight armor, the Star Silver polished to a flawless shine and accented with noble red and gold filigree. Though he usually wandered about in the simple attire of a common knight, today he carried the high-minded aura befitting his title.
“Welcome back. How did things end?”
That aura, however, only lasted until he stepped fully into the room. Returning to his usual relaxed, soft-spoken self in front of Dia and Anze, he sighed.
“Lady Arka has put that woman to sleep. Apparently, she decided the woman should experience the exact same thing Wolka and the others did—to a lethal degree.”
“...Wait, does that mean she’s forcing her to fight the Life Reaper in a dream?”
“Most likely.”
Dia winced, a wry smile touching her lips. “That’s terrifying. I’d bet over half of that is a personal grudge. Arka was clearly fuming.”
“The Cathedral did have to expend a massive amount of effort and coin on this matter, after all,” Rosche added.
In this judgment, the one who found Flamberge most unforgivable was undoubtedly Anze. However, even the lazy princess Arka had been harborning a quiet fury of her own, albeit based on her own set of values. Specifically, her anger stemmed from the sheer amount of extra work the Holy City had been forced to deal with because of them.
The damage caused by the Clear Approval Accident at Gouzel wasn't limited to Wolka’s permanent injuries.
Dungeons were often frequented by a steady stream of people even after a boss was slain—adventurers looking for overlooked treasures, rookie parties using the upper floors for training, or even tourists if the scenery was particularly rare. However, all of that was built upon the trust provided by a Clear Approval.
When the truth of this accident came to light, the Guild was flooded with accusations and demands for accountability from countless adventurers. It was a natural reaction; they could no longer be certain that the dungeons they used were actually safe. The terrifying possibility that a boss monster might suddenly appear and kill them could no longer be ignored.
To settle the unrest, the Holy City had to conduct a comprehensive re-investigation of every major "cleared" dungeon in the region. While the situation was finally under control, it had grown beyond the Guild’s capacity, eventually forcing the Cathedral to mobilize the Knight Corps on a massive scale.
And naturally, moving that many people cost a fortune.
Furthermore, the scandal had eventually reached the Royal Capital, causing all sorts of political headaches.
In short, that was why Arka held such disdain for Flamberge. For a peaceful, uneventful daily life to continue undisturbed, allowing her to simply sleep in her cradle—that was the highest priority for the Saint of Fortune and Woe. While she might sound self-centered—and she was—from another perspective, she was a pacifist who desired the tranquility of the Holy City more than anyone. Dia suspected that Arka’s "whim" to help capture the fugitives had been born from that desire.
“See, Anze? Arka is punishing that wretched woman. She’s going through hell right now.”
“...”
Anze finally pulled away from Dia. Her eyes were red, and pearl-like tears continued to fall down her cheeks.
“...I intended to respect Wolka-sama’s feelings.”
Wolka had stated that he held no hatred for Flamberge and only wished for them to be judged fairly by the law. He viewed it as a stroke of bad luck—since the boss was the Life Reaper, sacrifice had been inevitable. He considered himself lucky that only an eye and a leg were taken, as those could not compare to the loss of a life.
Those words now weighed on their hearts with unfathomable gravity.
“But this is just too much...! Why did Wolka-sama have to lose so much...?! For such a pathetic reason... why him?!”
“...”
To be blunt, it would have been easier to swallow if Flamberge’s negligence had been born from some unavoidable circumstance or a tragic mistake. At least then, Anze might have found a way to come to terms with it. No matter how much she grieved for Wolka, if there were no one to blame, she could have eventually moved forward.
But the reality was far uglier.
They got tired, bored, and disgusted with the work, so they went home.
They thought cutting corners was normal because everyone else did it.
They felt inconvenienced because Wolka survived and made them look bad. They wished Silvery Grey had simply died.
Could there be a more senseless reason for a tragedy? Anze wept, her body trembling with grief.
“Why must Wolka-sama be the one to suffer like this?!”
Rather than providing closure, the trial had deepened Anze’s indignation to a dangerous level. Her emotions were so volatile that the power of the Heavenly Sword had nearly manifested in the courtroom.
Knowing how much Anze cared for him, Dia understood her pain all too well. Wolka was a young man who carried a dark past and a despair so deep he claimed to hate God. Yet, even his heroic act of protecting his comrades was now tainted by the fact that it was caused by nothing more than "boredom."
The path of the sword, the very thing that supported his soul, was now lost to him.
“...I think Wolka wanted to believe in Flamberge, in some way,” Rosche said quietly.
His voice was calm, but his gaze was as sharp as a blade.
“He told himself that even if there was negligence, it must have been for some unavoidable reason. Perhaps he didn't want to hate them. It seems his grace never reached that woman, however.”
“...”
Dia let out a long, weary sigh and sank into the sofa.
“How am I supposed to explain this to him?”
A heavy weight sat in her chest. Punishing them according to the rules was easy. But would Wolka truly be able to accept this truth? A dark thought crossed her mind—once he learned the reality, would his disappointment in the world become truly irreversible? He already spoke of hating God as naturally as breathing.
“We have no choice but to tell him the truth and support him,” Rosche declared.
“Yes!” Anze wiped her tears, her voice gaining a sudden, fierce resolve. “I will support him! I will give everything—my body and my soul—to heal his heart!”
“...”
Dia couldn't bring herself to tease Anze for her overwhelming intensity. The atmosphere wasn't right for it, and Dia was feeling the same pull.
Why can't things ever just end cleanly?
Initially, her interest in Wolka had been half-calculated. She felt that building a relationship with him was good for Anze and the City. Supporting his recovery was a logical investment for the Church’s future.
Yes—it had started as a calculation.
Dia wasn't exactly the most feminine or soft-hearted person, but she possessed the compassion expected of her station. She wanted to help her friends, and she wanted someone who had lived a life of misery to find salvation. Now, setting aside the political benefits, a personal desire to look after Wolka was taking root.
Next time I see him, I should try to get even closer to him.
Unaware that her sense of personal boundaries was already skewed, Dia let the thought drift.
A knight caught Alphana’s collapsing body and laid her on the floor with a somewhat dismissive touch. All light had faded from her hollow eyes; Frixell thought she looked like a discarded husk.
“She is...” Rex began, his voice thin and trailing off.
“Just sleeping. Though she’s likely trapped in a nightmare of her own death,” Arcasiel replied.
Pale phosphorescence drifted from Arcasiel’s long hair as she slumped back into her floating cradle, her motivation completely spent. She had returned to her usual, lethargic self.
“Haa... I’m exhausted.”
“Good work, Alka,” Yulirius said, offering her colleague a soft word of thanks.
Rex finally seemed to grasp just how extraordinary this floating Saintess was. Yulirius’s power was reality-bending enough, but Arcasiel was her equal—perhaps even more terrifying.
“I understand now. The pendant Fyuji-san used on us...”
“Yeah, I made it,” Arcasiel muttered. “I poured a prayer into it that said, ‘Hurry up and get back to the Holy City.’”
Manipulating people with a word, weaving inescapable illusions at will. It was absolute mental control that made Alphana’s charms look like a child’s parlor trick. This was the Divine Authority granted by the heavens to the Saint of Fortune and Woe. If she wished, she could likely turn Frixell and the others into mindless puppets in an instant.
Rex gave a weak, bitter smile. “With that power, couldn’t you have forced a confession from the start?”
“Too much work... Judgments are Yuri’s job. Besides, this is tiring. I have to sleep for hours after using it just a little. Yawn...” Arcasiel rubbed her eyes. “Once, I slept for over ten years straight.”
“Ten...”
“That’s why I want people who will let me take it easy... so I only have to use this power when there’s no other choice. Zzz.”
With the "noisy one" silenced, a solemn quiet returned to the tribunal. Frixell leaned against the witness stand, barely suppressing the urge to scream. Anger, grief, and regret swirled inside her like a muddy torrent.
It was the worst. It was so much worse than she had imagined.
Alphana’s vampire blood. Her teammates being charmed and used. And because Frixell had been sulking and acting on her own, a critical investigation had been abandoned because they "got bored." Wolka had been crippled for a reason that pathetic. No words were enough. If she could have traded her own eye and leg to undo it, she would have cut them off herself right then and there.
“Now then... since the room is quiet, there is one more thing I wish to tell you,” Yulirius said.
She kept her eyes closed, her expression unreadable.
“Wolka of Silvery Grey spoke of this accident. He stated that regardless of whether there was negligence or not, he has no intention of blaming any of you.”
“—What?”
A sudden breathlessness gripped Frixell’s chest. The blood drained from her face as she gasped, “Why? Why would he say that?”
Fyuji had mentioned that Wolka was working hard to return to society and didn't seem depressed. But Frixell had assumed that was separate from his feelings toward those responsible. He was the victim; it was only natural for him to be furious.
And yet...
“He believed that because the monster was the Life Reaper, a sacrifice was inevitable. Thus, he felt fortunate that no one died, and that it only cost him an eye and a leg.”
Yulirius’s voice was soft, delivering words that didn't seem possible for a seventeen-year-old.
“He lost his parents young and spent his life training. He himself admitted he can only live by the sword. To lose an eye and a leg is to have his entire past and future crumble. Yet, he called it 'fortunate.' A boy of only seventeen said that.”
“...”
At that moment, Frixell’s guilt reached a breaking point. It bypassed sorrow and circled back into a white-hot rage.
“What is wrong with him?”
Is he trying to protect us, too? she wondered. He saved his friends, and now he’s trying to shield us? He’s going to carry all of it alone?
“I cannot begin to imagine what he was feeling when he uttered those words,” Yulirius continued.
If Frixell were in his position, could she have said the same? To be robbed of her future, to taste the agony of death, and still claim she hated no one? To say it was "good" that it was her and not someone else? How much pain did he have to suppress to force those words out?
Stop trying to be a martyr! she screamed internally. Are you an idiot? You did enough! You saved everyone! Just blame the adults! Take it out on us!
She realized then that she had one more reason why she had to meet him.
“Do you have any final statements?” Yulirius asked. “If not, we shall move to the ruling.”
“—Wait.”
Dino, who had been silent and broken, finally spoke. The dazed, love-struck expression he had worn around Alphana was gone. His gaze was sharp, almost fierce.
“Give me the same dream as Alphana. You can do that, can’t you, Saintess?”
Arcasiel frowned sleepily. “What? Why would you want that?”
Frixell’s heart sank. “Dino, if you’re thinking of trying to save her—”
“That’s not it!” he barked. His clenched fists were visibly shaking. “It’s not about her! If I see the same dream, I’ll understand, won't I? I’ll know exactly what that party went through because of us!”
He wasn't glaring at the Saintess—he was furious with himself for being a puppet for so long.
“I have to know! If I don't at least know that terror, how am I supposed to face anyone ever again?!”
Among the many lies Alphana had spat, there was one thing Frixell couldn't entirely deny: adventurers could be idiots. While some were brilliant enough to join the Magisterica, the majority were people who valued brawn over brains. Dino was the poster child for that group. He was crude, rough, and lacked any sense of manners. Frixell could list his faults all night.
By any objective measure, Dino was a fool.
But the one thing she could say for him was that he had always lived an honest life. He had never been a criminal. That was the man Dino truly was.
“I see.” Yulirius opened her eyes, her starlike gaze falling on Dino. “I should warn you, reflecting on your actions won't lighten your sentence. The law will be followed strictly.”
“I don't care about that! ...I mean, I am not asking for that.”
“Fufu. You don't need to use formal speech with me.”
“Lady Arcasiel, give me the dream as well,” Rex added, stepping forward. “Dino is right. We can't even imagine the horror of facing the Life Reaper. We need to see it.”
Rex was a man who was easily swayed, but that also meant he was a good-natured person who cared too much. That was why he had been so easily manipulated. He was a different kind of fool than Dino, but a fool nonetheless. Flamberge was full of them.
But because of that...
“Good grief. Fine, I’m going too.”
Finally, Frixell felt as if the Flamberge she knew was back. Rex and Dino stared at her in shock.
“Wait, Frixell! You don't have to do this! This is our responsibility!”
“It’s a nightmare about the Life Reaper, you know?!”
“I know that,” she snapped.
She realized that they also needed to suffer as Silvery Grey had. They needed to feel the pain and the terror. Only then would she feel permitted to stand before Wolka. She gave them a sharp, predatory smile.
“I liked those kids in Silvery Grey. I won't be satisfied until I’ve landed a blow on that reaper bastard for what he did to them.”
“...”
Rex and Dino suddenly calmed down, exchanging a very awkward look.
“Uh, Frixell,” Dino muttered. “I know you like younger guys, but a ten-year age gap is a bit much, isn't it?”
“It’s not our place to judge,” Rex added, “but please don't do anything to make it weird for him, okay?”
“You two are the last people on earth who should be judging me!” Frixell vowed to hit them both as soon as they were in the dream.
Arcasiel sighed. “Do what you want. Don't blame me when you regret it.”
“We’re going because we want to regret it,” Rex said, a strange sense of clarity in his voice.
“Stop trying to act cool...”
“Even I know this isn't the time for that line...”
“I-I’m not acting cool!”
“If you’re going to do it, hurry up... I’m sleepy...”
The trio fell silent.
“Fine. Here we go.”
Arcasiel’s hair shimmered with pale light once more. Frixell felt her spirit drift away from her body, and within seconds, she lost consciousness. Her last thought was of Silvery Grey, and her promise to go see them once this was all over.
“...Shall we call it a day?”
“...”
In a quiet field in the Fertility District, Yulitia lay on her back, staring up at the sky and gasping for air. After waiting a moment, Atri leaned down to peer at her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Y-Yes...” Yulitia managed a weak smile.
It was no wonder she was exhausted. They had been training for over six hours with only short breaks. Unless you were a freak of nature like Atri or Wolka, someone Yulitia’s age simply didn't have that kind of stamina yet. Beads of sweat rolled down Yulitia’s forehead.
“Atri-san, you aren't even sweating... it’s amazing.”
Atri puffed out her chest. “I train harder.”
“...Haa. I still have a long way to go.”
It was simply a matter of time. Before her talent was discovered, Yulitia had just swung her sword for fun. Afterward, her foolish brothers had kept her away from the blade. Most people would be shocked to learn that Yulitia had only been training seriously for about three years. In that short time, she had closed the gap with Atri at a terrifying speed. Atri found it genuinely impressive.
“Yulitia, you’re getting stronger. Very fast.”
“W-Wawa...”
Atri sat down and patted Yulitia’s head, making the girl turn red. After a moment, Yulitia asked, “Can I rest just a little longer?”
“Mhm.”
They sat together in the breeze. The scent of the lush grass mingled with the faint salt of the sea from the Holy Court District. Atri wondered if Wolka and Liesel were smelling the same thing. She hoped they were having a good day.
As Yulitia’s breathing slowed, she spoke softly. “Atri-san. The judgment is today, isn't it? For that other party.”
Atri nodded. Anze had told them about it while they were waiting for Wolka’s meeting with the Saint of Hakua. If the other party were found negligent for the accident at Gouzel, the Church would punish them.
“What do you think?” Yulitia asked hesitantly. “If it really was their fault...”
Atri wasn't the brightest, so the technicalities of a "Clear Approval" didn't mean much to her. She just assumed it meant they could have found the trap Yulitia stepped on. She had regretted that moment a thousand times. But even if the other party missed it, or Liesel chose that dungeon, or Yulitia stepped on the trap—none of that changed the fact that Atri had failed to protect them.
“I won't use them as an excuse,” Atri said. “Thinking ‘it wasn't my fault’ just because they made a mistake... that’s wrong.”
To do so would be to turn away from her own failure and from the weight of Wolka’s sacrifice. No matter who else was to blame, the fact remained that Wolka had been hurt on her watch. She wouldn't use another’s sin as a crutch for her own conscience. She had dedicated herself to the only warrior she revered.
“My feelings won't change. My body and soul belong to Wolka forever. Even after I die.”
“...” Yulitia looked up at her and smiled gently. “I feel the same way. We can't look away.”
She sat up, her pink eyes filled with a terrifyingly sharp resolve.
“If that party really was negligent... Senpai is the one who suffers the most. He’ll think about how his friends were almost killed because of them. He’ll ignore his own injuries and keep trying to shoulder everything alone. The Church will judge them, and Senpai won't ask for anything more. That’s why we have to get stronger. We have to support him, forever.”
She gripped her knees. “If I can't even do that, then my life has no meaning.”
Atri didn't find the statement extreme. Instead, she was happy that Yulitia loved him that much. She smiled. “Mhm. We won't ever let him be alone.”
“Yes. All of us, together...”
Atri had already sworn it to her own internal god. Wolka wanted her to be happy, so she would stay by his side. She would be his blade. To die for him was the ultimate honor and happiness for one of the Arsvalem Tribe.
“I hope Senpai and Liesel-san are having fun today.”
“You should go out with him tomorrow, Yulitia. Then the day after that, it's my turn.”
“M-M-M-M-M...!”
The breeze blew again, carrying the scent of grass, the sea, and sweet flowers.
Near dusk in the Holy Court District, well after the trial had likely concluded:
“Hey, hey, Wolka! I heard the rumors! Heh, you really did lose an eye and a leg, didn’t you? Oh, how pitiful! The great A-rank prodigy, reduced to this!”
For some reason, I was being harassed by a drunk.
Wait, Master—no magic. I said no magic!