Jumping from the bridge onto the promenade, Fyuji arrived just in time to see Ramsey secure a clean, effortless victory over the thief. Having silenced the rogue with a single knee to the gut, Ramsey stood over the man sprawled on the pavement, retrieving the dropped case with a look of profound annoyance.
"I owe you one, Ramsey."
When Fyuji called out to him, Ramsey responded with a curt, "Hah?" Though Fyuji had heard the man had become quite mellow since retiring as an adventurer and quitting his tavern habits, his face and attitude remained as surly as ever. He glared at Fyuji, thinking for a few seconds.
"Aren't you that lazy bum from the guild? Kuji? Peji?"
"It’s Fyuji. Might as well learn it now."
People often told him his name was unusual—which was to be expected, given it was a pseudonym he used for his public-facing duties as a clerk—but being called something as bizarre as "Peji" was a first.
Whether Ramsey actually processed the correction was unclear. He simply grunted.
"Tch. I almost got hurt back there. Do your job and protect the citizens properly."
"You say that even though you handled him with one hand tied behind your back. You really are a veteran through and through."
It was a sincere compliment. Despite the fishing rod slung over his shoulder, the skill Ramsey displayed in suppressing an armed thief using only one hand and his feet was impressive. Regardless of rank, there weren't many adventurers who could calmly neutralize a thug who suddenly drew a weapon in the heart of the city.
"That 'through and through' part was unnecessary... but I suppose you're right."
Ramsey snorted with a hint of self-deprecation and inspected the silver case as if it were a rare curiosity.
"Was something this expensive stolen? Who’s the sheltered brat who owns this?"
The case was clearly a luxury item. Despite its age, its solid silver exterior gleamed with an ornate finish, and the latch featured a sturdy keyhole. There was no doubt it contained something of immense value, explaining why it had become a target.
"Well, it was all very sudden—"
Just as Fyuji was about to explain the situation, a familiar, far-too-valiant roar thundered through the air.
"Found you, you filthy thieeeef!"
Here she comes.
Fyuji looked toward the source of the battle cry to see the young woman who owned the case charging toward them like a bloodshot bull. She thundered down the stairs leading from the bridge with terrifying momentum. Hammer in hand and eyes wild with demonic fury, she made a beeline straight for Ramsey.
"Take thiiiis! ...Is what I say!"
"Whoa—watch it!"
Ramsey barely managed to dodge the merciless flying kick by leaping backward. Landing nimbly, the young woman immediately put distance between them.
"Tch, you've got some moves for a common thief! But prepare yourself! My hammer crushes iron and humans alike—"
"Now, now, calm down. This guy is on our side."
Interrupting a speech that would have gotten her arrested on the spot if a guard had been nearby, Fyuji pointed out that the man groaning on the ground was the actual thief. Snapping back to her senses, the young woman looked at the thief, then timidly at Ramsey, finally noticing the fishing rod. She turned pale.
"M-m-m-my sincerest apologies! You were just a fisherman!? Since you looked like a career criminal from head to toe, I was certain...!"
"Are you apologizing or looking for a fight, brat? Make up your mind."
Ramsey, with veins throbbing at his temples, did indeed look like a perfect villain. If a passerby had stumbled upon this scene without context, they wouldn't have been blamed for thinking a thuggish middle-aged man was harassing a young girl.
As Fyuji began to bind the thief, he spoke up. "Come on, don't get worked up at a girl. You really need to smile more."
"Mind your own business!"
Perhaps he was somewhat self-aware, as Ramsey let out a rough sigh before holding out the case.
"Tch... here." He handed it back to the girl with his usual bluntness. "Are you sheltered or just stupid? Even in the Holy City, there are thieves. Don't take your eyes off your valuables."
"Th-thank you very much. I have no excuse for my carelessness..." Glaring at the thief, the girl gritted her teeth in frustration. "While I was resting at a cafe, someone asked me for directions. Then, before I knew it..."
"Hah? ...Ah, that’s the standard play for these types," Ramsey muttered.
"Exactly," Fyuji added. "One draws your attention, and their partner lifts the goods while you're distracted."
Just as Ramsey said, it was a classic tactic. This young lady had likely been resting with the case placed at her feet. When she was called out from a direction where the case was no longer in her field of vision, she had been completely fooled.
This wasn't the work of an amateur. The thief's ability to navigate the complex streets of the Holy City and his judgment in switching routes suggested he was 'accustomed' to the trade. If Shannon hadn't been the first to raise the alarm, even Fyuji might have had trouble catching him.
The young lady’s eyes narrowed in anger. "So that’s why that man had such a ridiculous, nonsensical map! Ugh, how humiliating!"
"Well, just calm down. Over there, I think your companions—"
"—Ah, there they are! Hey, is everyone okay!?"
Right on cue, Shannon caught up. Behind her were Roze, carrying a bound "delivery," a bald man who appeared to be the lady’s attendant, and for some reason, the Holy City’s youngest Holy Knight—Roschehart.
Ramsey made a sour face and groaned. Shannon, running down the stairs, blinked in surprise at her acquaintance.
"Oh, Ramsey-san? What are you doing here?"
"Instead of the old man, this guy kicked the thief's butt for us," Fyuji explained.
"A-ha! So you actually have a heart capable of doing good deeds!?"
"Shut it!" Ramsey barked.
It was understandable that Shannon was shocked, but to be fair to Ramsey, he wasn't exactly a bad man. He was just someone who had spent too long dragging around the regrets of an old friend who had died in despair. Now that Wolka had beaten some sense into him, the least he could do was try to crack a smile.
"I'm impressed you caught up, Shannon-chan," Fyuji said.
"You bet." Shannon sidled up to Fyuji and lowered her voice, leaning forward so the young lady wouldn't hear. "Everyone was pointing and staring, saying some crazy woman with a hammer was charging through the streets. There’ll probably be posters put up on the city bulletin boards soon saying 'Phantom Hammer Woman Appears!' or something."
Honestly, Fyuji couldn't deny it. It was ironic that the victim was being treated as more dangerous than the thief.
The "Phantom Hammer Woman" joined up with her attendant.
"Milady, are you alright!"
"Yes, the case is safe. These people took it back for me—wait, WHAT!?" She pointed at the man Roze was carrying and screamed. "You! You're the map guy who tricked me!"
"Here’s your delivery," Roze said, dropping the man.
The map-wielder, tied into a perfect bundle, turned pale as he saw his accomplice already bound. "Ah... dammit..."
"In all the confusion, he tried to slip away," Roze explained with a refined smile. "But I caught him quickly enough."
"It was amazing!" Shannon added. "She caught up in a heartbeat and just... zap-zap-zap!"
Roze’s smile deepened. "It just happened to work out well."
She said that, but catching a single thief was easier than breakfast for someone like her.
"As expected, your skills haven't dulled," Fyuji murmured.
"Indeed, it is a shame I did not witness the moment," Roschehart agreed in a low voice. As former Captain Rozexus of the Chrys Knights, she had once been one of the most prominent martial experts in the order.
Regarding the Holy Knight who had casually joined the group: "So, Rosche-kun, since when were you here?" Fyuji asked.
"I was on my way back from enjoying a graceful interlude with a lady... when I was suddenly called out to by Miss Shannon."
It wasn't unusual to see him in the city. Since the old butler looked after the Saint and the warrior woman handled field missions, this young man’s role was to move around the Holy City with his characteristic footwork.
Walking around under the guise of "graceful interludes" usually meant he was exchanging high-level intelligence with contacts outside the Cathedral—specifically the manager of Patra Port, who was a special investigator like Fyuji.
Because he wore a perception-inhibiting magic tool, most citizens assumed he was an ordinary knight. The young lady didn't even dream a Holy Knight was standing there.
"Ah, you’re a guard, aren't you!? These men are thieves! Please sentence them to the ultimate punishment!"
"Ah, lovely Mademoiselle!" Roschehart immediately knelt before her, a sparkling, elegant smile blooming. "I must apologize on behalf of the knight order for the negligence of allowing such ruffians to run rampant. I promise you that I, personally, will deal with this thoroughly!"
"Hmph... that is acceptable. I'm counting on you!"
And so, the daytime theft was resolved. Once Fyuji finished binding the thieves, Shannon let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Whew, I'm so glad we got it back. The contents are okay, right?"
"Please let me check." The young lady unlocked the case. Instead of gold or jewels, she pulled out a stack of papers covered in tiny text and diagrams. She checked the pages. "Yes, they're all here."
To the uninformed, it didn't look like something worth such a magnificent case.
"Those just look like papers..." Shannon noted.
"Yes. Actually, I am a craftsman in the Commercial District... and these are the blueprints my grandfather left behind." The young lady hugged the case tightly and bowed deeply to the group. "Everyone, I truly cannot thank you enough! If I had lost these, I wouldn't have been able to face my grandfather or Wolka-san—ah, Wolka-san is my client."
"Wait... you know Wol-kun?" Shannon blinked.
"Eh?"
The two girls stared at each other.
"Um... I just promised Wolka-san today that I would manufacture a prosthetic leg using these blueprints."
"Does that mean you're the craftsman who’s going to make Wol-kun's leg!?" Shannon’s eyes sparkled. It was a strange convergence of fate: the blueprints for Wolka’s prosthetic had been stolen, and those who knew Wolka had been the ones to stop it.
"We’re all acquaintances of Wol-kun!" Shannon chirped.
"My, is that so!?"
While the two girls seemed ready to hit it off, the man with the map suddenly screamed from the ground.
"Don't screw with me! It wasn't anything valuable!? Why the hell would you put scrap paper in a case like that... damn it, was this a sting operation!?"
From a thief's perspective, it was an impossible outcome. The case was fine metal with delicate engravings—the kind used for priceless treasures. To find it contained nothing but 'scrap paper' was a crushing blow to his professional pride.
But those were words he should never have spoken in front of the Phantom Hammer Woman.
Her voice dropped to a curse. "Hah? Did you just call the masterwork blueprints my grandfather left behind 'scrap paper'?"
"Heh?"
"You just said 'scrap paper,' didn't you, you petty thieeeeef!"
"Hieeeeeeee!"
"Milady, stop!"
The young lady lunged for his throat, her attendant was blown back trying to stop her, and the thief was shaken so violently he began to suffocate.
"It’s kind of mysterious, isn't it?" Shannon giggled. "The blueprints for Wol-kun's leg get stolen, and then everyone who knows Wol-kun just happens to be here."
"Maybe it’s fate. It’s rather lovely, isn't it?" Roze added.
Ramsey grimaced. "Hey, don't include me in your group. It’s gross..."
"You're so dishonest," Shannon teased. "I know all about it. How you were hanging around yesterday trying to visit Wol-kun but didn't have the courage, and then got caught by the knights because you looked so suspicious."
"Uwaaaa! Kill me! Just kill me now!" Ramsey bellowed.
Under the peaceful blue sky of the Holy City, the "Phantom Hammer Woman" continued her rampage.
It was said that later, a certain group of thieves operating in the country vanished without a trace—though the details were known only to a select few at the Cathedral.
/
Unaware of the incident unfolding in the Holy Court District, I was heading back with a heart full of optimism after the meeting with Claesta.
The sunlight felt better than usual. A concrete solution really does wonders for one's outlook. Top-tier materials and magic circuits reconstructed by Master herself... a prosthetic that merged traditional techniques with cutting-edge magic. I couldn't wait to see the finished product.
With Anze's dedicated support, I was enjoying a peaceful time, despite my missing eye and leg.
"Anze," I said.
"Yes, Wolka-sama! What is it? Is there somewhere you would like to go? Just say the word!"
"A-ah, thanks. It doesn't have to be far. You'll get tired..."
"No, it is nothing at all! If you are tired, Wolka-sama, how about a massage? I can perform it with Holy Magic—it has a great reputation at the Cathedral! I can make you feel wonderful at any time! Also, what would you like for dinner? I would help personally, but a friend told me to stay out of the kitchen for now... but I will become useful one day! My apologies, I’ve strayed from the topic. So, about that massage—Wo-Wolka-sama? Are you alright?"
"Hah—I'm fine."
I felt my consciousness starting to drift into the void under the sheer weight of her intensity. It was like asking for a glass of water and having a waterfall appear in front of you. As expected of Anze.
"You don't have to work so hard. Just take it easy."
"Taking it easy? I could never be so disrespectful to you, Wolka-sama!"
Anze was really at full throttle today.
We were in the courtyard of the medical ward. Anze had insisted on taking me for a walk, and now she was pushing my wheelchair on a leisurely stroll.
"Just a loop around the garden is fine, really," I requested, and soon we were back near my room. Through the window, I could see Master already buried in magic books, researching the new circuits.
She noticed me and gave a mischievous little wave. It was a good smile. Master had been worried lately that she wasn't being useful enough. Even if her motivation was partly atonement, seeing her look toward the future made it easier for me to accept her help.
I had to be grateful to the man who left those blueprints behind. Claesta’s grandfather must have had a reason to dedicate his life to prosthetics. In a world still developing, where so many other technologies were needed, he chose this. Perhaps he had someone close to him who needed to return to their feet.
Griffith Workshop... I think I’ve found a good partner.
"Anze."
"Yes!"
"Thank you. For everything."
It was a bit sudden. Anze let out a surprised little noise.
"I mean the prosthetic, and the trial. Everything is going well because you’ve been pulling strings for us."
If Anze hadn't been our intermediary for the Cathedral, our situation would be very different. She understood my desire to return to duty and was looking forward with me.
The wheelchair stopped. "N-no, that’s not true! This is all I can do..."
"There’s no such thing as 'all'. You've been a huge help. I’ll be a burden for a while longer, but I’d be happy if you’d continue to lend me your strength."
"......!!"
Anze suddenly seemed to radiate light. She teleported to my side and seized my hand.
"Yes! Please leave everything to me!! No matter when, no matter what, I will give you my whole body and soul! Everything!!"
"M-moderation. Keep it in moderation."
I hurriedly cut her off. Her voice was as loud as her goodwill was vast. People would start wondering what I was making a sister say in public.
I spent the rest of the evening in a back-and-forth battle with an Anze at full engine capacity. If only her enthusiasm would settle down just a bit, it would be perfect.
Regardless, tomorrow is the day the temporary prosthetic arrives. It’s just a stopgap until the custom model is finished, but it’s still an important step. My nursing life is ending, the upgrade is coming, the trial is over, and the woman responsible is gone. My friends are safe, and my relationships are mending. Everything is finally moving forward.
All I want now is for this peace to last. Given the 'Original Work,' I can't just trust it... but I’ll make it happen. I will never accept anything other than a happy ending.
/
As Wolka looked toward the future, Anze, pushing the wheelchair, was overwhelmed.
(Ah, Wolka-sama... I am so truly glad that I could be of use to you...!!)
A boundless sense of fulfillment and euphoria surged through her heart. It was a torrent of emotion she had never felt in her life as a Saint—an intense feeling of relief that made her want to weep with joy.
For the first time in her life, she had found the person she once failed to save.
The first time, she had turned her back. The second time, she had been helpless against tragic news. She never wanted to be that useless girl again. She wanted to be necessary to him. She would not lose to Liesel, Yulitia, or Atri in her devotion.
Now, having found a place by his side and received his gratitude, she felt she had finally moved past that girl.
But she would not lose herself to this bliss.
She remembered her dream. The dream she was certain would one day come true. Holding Wolka’s bloodstained body, weeping as she finally managed to protect him.
It was a dream shrouded in mystery. The 'enemy' remained a blur. But she knew an enemy he couldn't defeat would appear, and she would be there.
This time, she could be by his side.
It was ironic. The conclusion of the trial and the duel had given her the realization that she was needed. Her determination was now absolute. She wanted him to be saved. That was all.
Any enemy that threatened Wolka’s future would simply have to vanish from this world.
(Wolka-sama. This time... I will be by your side.)
It was a detail from the original work that Wolka never knew. The reason the four Saints could rival the military of an entire kingdom. Each of them harbored a 'Divine Authority' that existed outside human logic.
Anjesheit, the Saint of the Heavenly Sword, was no exception.
She smiled, her heart filled with a pure, fierce resolve.
(I will erase any enemy that dares to hurt you from existence, down to the last speck of dust.)
Anze wasn't the only one. Liesel, Yulitia, and Atri appeared to be recovering, but deep in their hearts, heavy emotions continued to accumulate, unreleased and growing.
Only Wolka remained blissfully optimistic, believing everything was moving forward just as it should.