The prosthetic leg arrived.
It was my fifth day in the Cathedral, and my long-awaited savior had finally descended. This dependable ally would put an end to my pathetic life of being constantly nursed and allow me to reclaim my dignity as a man. While it looked almost identical to my previous one, the materials had been upgraded. The faint, nagging anxiety that it might snap at any moment was gone. That said, it lacked the stability required for running or jumping; it was still strictly a prosthetic for daily use.
Still, it would suffice as a stopgap until Claesta’s custom model was finished. I immediately took a walk around the courtyard to test the fit, meeting with Shiarie and Ruerie along the way. I didn't find any particularly concerning issues.
And so, as noon approached, I was scheduled to be discharged.
"Master, it’s about time to get ready—"
"Gmuuuu..."
When I called toward the window, Master—buried under a mountain of magic books—let out a thin groan. She had been like this since yesterday. She had been staring at the single page of formulas she’d borrowed from Claesta’s blueprints, groaning day and night. Judging by the numerous crumpled pieces of paper scattered around, work wasn't progressing smoothly.
"Master—"
"Ugaaaaaah!!"
Master erupted. She flung her favorite hat aside and scratched at her head hysterically.
"Ah—seriously, these formulas are infuriating! Why would anyone assemble them like this?! Sure, they activate properly and the mana efficiency is high! From a purely results-oriented perspective, they might be ideal! But even if you built this thing, nobody would ever be able to maintain it!!"
After screaming her heart out, she flopped onto the floor, powerless. Her expression went beyond mere irritation; there was a hint of genuine dread in her eyes, as if her very instincts were recoiling.
"I-I can’t stand it...! The mere thought of such formulas being unleashed upon the world is a nightmare...!"
I thought she was being a bit hyperbolic, but for a Great Mage whose creed was 'Magic should be efficient and beautiful,' these formulas were utterly intolerable. I’d caught a glimpse of them myself, and from beginning to end, they were a parade of incomprehensible nonsense. It wasn’t just that they were difficult or messy; it was as if they operated on a completely different dimension of theory, fundamentally removed from anything found in standard magic books.
As they began packing up my personal belongings, Yulitia and Atri nodded in agreement.
"I took a look too, but I couldn't understand them at all..."
"Total gibberish."
"Right? Right? Honestly, it’s almost impressive that anything actually functions with such a nonsensical formula."
Praising it with a tone that suggested she wasn't impressed in the slightest, Master began tossing her books into her Storage. As I gathered the scattered scraps of paper, I mused aloud.
"I wonder what kind of person came up with that logic."
No matter how much the Magisterica was involved, it was hard to believe some run-of-the-mill scholar had devised a formula that would make Master groan like this. It was also strange that they would just teach it to Claesta’s grandfather and let him take it back to the Holy City without a second thought. Since it was a formula that could revolutionize the field, you’d think they would have chased him down until it was commercialized.
It was as if the author felt they could just toss away a formula of this caliber and not care.
That arrogant confidence and audacity... knowing the Original Work, the image of Elfiette kept flickering in my mind. But no, that was impossible. There was no reason for the Second Seat of the Sevens to go out of her way to contact a craftsman who was a complete outsider.
"Hmph. I bet it’s some stuck-up, self-centered, wicked, twisted brat anyway!"
"Is that so?"
"It is! Wolka, remember this well: anyone who thinks up such a self-serving formula is definitely up to no good! You mustn't let a woman like that trick you!"
Master was huffing, her pride as a mage wounded. Apparently, a Great Mage of her caliber could discern not just a person's personality, but even their gender just by looking at their math. A stuck-up, self-centered, wicked, twisted female scholar, huh... I guess there are people like Elfiette out there.
Just then, a sharp tap-tap sounded against the window.
Drawn by the noise, we all looked toward the glass and fell silent at once.
There was a girl sitting in a wheelchair.
She wore a characteristic eyepatch covering both eyes. Her hair possessed a mysterious, starry glow even under the midday sun. Beyond the largest window of the room stood a phantom-like girl I knew only from reputation—someone who, no matter how hard you tried, could not be mistaken for anyone else.
"......Fueh..."
Yulitia let out a small, strangled sound. I understood the feeling. Who could have predicted this?
If I was being generous, I could wrap my head around Dia’s visit. She was a strange Saint whose sense of personal space was broken. But this person was different. Even if she looked like a little girl the same size as Master, she was supposed to be a strict, thoughtful figure who had judged countless criminals in the world of law.
That supposedly dignified person—the Saint of the Starry Eyes, Yulirius.
"Hehe. I’ve arrived."
She wore a mischievous smile and waved a small hand with elegant amusement.
A wild Saint had appeared.
"I'm sorry for startling you. I thought this would be more impactful than a normal visit."
"I... I see..."
It really was just a prank intended to surprise us. Entering the room while her wheelchair was pushed by an old butler, Yulirius looked immensely satisfied, an expression obvious even through her eyepatch.
"I actually have a very strong sense of curiosity," she said, looking quite proud of herself.
It was a bit too strong. Why were the Saints, who lived in a sanctuary far removed from the secular world, making unannounced raids on my hospital room two days in a row? Weren't they supposed to be sacred, unreachable beings that an ordinary commoner couldn't hope to meet?
"So, what do you want all of a sudden?"
Master took a position next to me, already glaring at Yulirius in outsider-alert mode. Yulirius gracefully brushed off the aura, which felt like a cat with its fur standing on end.
"I intended to visit much sooner, but my schedule was quite full..."
"You're busy, then."
"Yes. Just now, I met with a certain thief and had them explain the location of their base in great detail."
She spoke as if they'd had a peaceful chat, but in reality, she must have used those Starry Eyes to strip away every shred of his privacy. What a terrifying Saint. My circumstances as a reincarnator might be laid bare like that one day. The thought made me shiver.
Master’s alert level went up another notch.
"I’m asking what you want!"
"I just wanted to say hello before you all left. Other than for my duties, I have no opportunities to speak with those from the outside."
When she said that so wistfully, even Master had no choice but to back down with a quiet mutter.
I realized I hadn't paid much attention because her atmosphere was so mature, but both her eyes and legs were disabled. Compared to her, someone like me who had only lost one eye and one leg had it easy. She couldn't live without an attendant, she couldn't even leave the Cathedral of her own will, and her only 'duty' that allowed her contact with the outside world was to pass judgment day after day in a world filled with malice.
I changed my mind. This wasn't a time to cower just because she was a Saint. Someone who could hardly interact with the world had come to us because she trusted us. I could certainly keep her company for some small talk.
"It's fine. We're not in a hurry."
"Is that so? Thank you."
As Yulirius’s expression brightened, the old butler behind her made a modest suggestion.
"Then, Lady Yulirius, shall I prepare drinks for everyone?"
"Yes, please. Oh, let me introduce him. He is the one who looks after our personal needs—"
The old butler gave us a refined bow.
"It is an honor to meet you. I am the butler, Weinrich."
He was exactly what you'd expect of a high-class attendant. He possessed an elegant bearing polished through a long life and a mellow voice. A silver-haired old butler—sharp, stoic, and dignified—the kind you usually only see in fiction was undeniably standing right in front of me. He looked incredibly cool.
"Would black tea suit your preferences?"
"I want juice. Something sweet," Master demanded.
"Me too," Atri added.
"As you wish."
He responded graciously to their blunt requests, his movements crystal-clear as he began the preparations. This man felt similar to Bell, the female knight who had visited earlier. It was the aura he wore—a veteran's dignity that set him apart from ordinary people. As expected of a Saint, even her personal staff was on another level.
However, while he had a top-tier presence when I looked at him directly, the moment I looked away, his presence blurred. I couldn't tell where he was. This old butler was no ordinary man. His gaze wasn't that of a civilian, and I could tell even through his tailcoat that his body was incredibly well-trained. He was definitely the type of butler whose name was synonymous with 'battle.'
He was probably a knight originally. A knight who had pledged loyalty to the Church in his youth and transitioned to service after retirement—it seemed like a plausible story.
The conversation returned to Yulirius.
"Please, do not be so formal. Forget that I am a Saint. It would make me happy if you would just treat me as an old lady to chat with."
"Calling yourself an old lady is a bit much."
I almost laughed it off, but then my expression turned serious. Right. Yulirius was the same as Master—the type whose appearance and age didn't match. The visual impact of her eyepatch and starry hair was so strong that her actual age had slipped my mind.
Master and the others didn't seem surprised; they just nodded as if it made sense. Yulirius looked a bit disappointed.
"Muu, you didn't seem very surprised... I'm actually almost a hundred years old, you know."
"I had a feeling you were much older. We have Liesel with us, after all..."
"I'd be more surprised if a Saint who punishes so many bad people was actually a child," Atri added.
It was as they said. I knew through Master that there were long-lived types whose appearance didn't match their age; it was a staple of this fantasy world. Even though both Master and Yulirius looked like ten-year-olds, the fact that they had lived many times longer than me was mystical.
"Do you look like a child because you're a Saint?" I asked.
"Yes. There are individual differences, but it seems physical growth stops once one becomes a Saint. Incidentally, Arka is the oldest 'old lady' in the Cathedral."
Ah, that unique Saint who rode in the crescent moon cradle... I figured she was older, but it turned out she was the oldest elder in the Church. Since they were sometimes called demigods, perhaps a Saint was a hybrid of human and god.
But still, 'once one becomes a Saint,' she had said. That meant she wasn't always one. If her physical growth stopped upon becoming a being close to god, then...
"By any chance, before you became a Saint..."
"Yes." Yulirius nodded. "Originally, I was just a village girl from the frontier with no connection to the Church. I was scouted because I had these 'Eyes.' Even among the successive generations of Saints, such a background is quite rare."
She gently stroked her eyepatch. Master asked, "Is it alright to tell us all that?"
"It's fine; it's not exactly a secret. Besides, you are the people Dia personally vouched for; you wouldn't go around spreading rumors for fun, would you?"
Well, of course not. If I were to shout in the middle of a crowded street that the Saint of the Starry Eyes was just a commoner, I’d probably be branded a heretic and erased from existence. I intended to respect her privacy.
I thought further. Given the flow, maybe I could ask a little more? Since I’d already made contact with a Saint, I figured it wouldn't hurt to gather information. I wondered what kind of scenery was reflected in a field of vision covered by an eyepatch. Yulirius naturally sensed my curiosity.
"Wolka, is there something on your mind? I will answer unless it's truly inappropriate. I enjoy both asking and being asked questions."
"...Then, tell me." It wasn't an impolite question, nor was it a bizarre doubt. It was within the realm of what a newcomer might find strange. "What exactly is the role of a Saint?"
The public image of a Saint was quite vague. Everyone acknowledged they were the most precious beings in the Holy City and the absolute symbols of the Chryscles Holy Church. But if you asked what they specifically did, the answer was mysterious.
Asking this as a conversation starter was a convenience for me. This was one of the settings from the Original Work that I had never managed to learn. What were the 'Saints'? What did they exist for? Since they were the type of faction that made a grand appearance in the latter half of the story, they couldn't just be figureheads.
In the Original Work, I remembered it being hinted that just four of them were equivalent to the entire military force of the Royal Capital. But my memory was hazy. I wanted to hear it from her.
"Ah... indeed, the general public might not have a clear image." Yulirius answered with a finger to her lips. "To put it simply—Saints are beings who protect this world."
"The... the world...?"
"Just kidding."
Yulirius chuckled. It was foul play for a Saint of the law to lie so casually.
"Hehe, 'the world' is an exaggeration. Our role is to protect this land known as the Holy City."
The mischievous Yulirius restarted her explanation. Unexpectedly, the story began with the founding of this country. The Holy City was a city whose foundation was laid long ago by the First Saint. It started when a Messenger of God descended and gave the Saint a divine command to make this a land for the people.
As far as legends go, it felt standard.
Then, that Messenger of God supposedly left this land to the Saint and opened another piece of land on the other side of the sea. That was the foundation of the Royal Capital. They were meant to be two holy lands connected across the sea, a country where people prospered in peace.
"In other words, a Saint is someone commanded by God to protect this land. The fact that the Holy City is somewhat separate from the power of the Royal Capital and governed by the Church is due to this history."
"Then, does 'protecting the Holy City' have a political meaning?"
"Originally, yes. I hear the Saints of old had a very difficult time with every little thing... but now, many excellent subordinates have been raised, and the work has been subdivided." Yulirius looked up at the ceiling as if lost in thought. "However, the fact that a Saint is a protective existence hasn't changed. Developing the city, participating in politics, diplomacy, judging sins, organizing the Knight Corps, creating the Guild, and repelling monsters... it is all to protect this land from the threat of evil. That is our role."
"Repelling monsters... Do Saints fight?" Atri asked.
Yulirius nodded clearly. "Since protecting this land is our role, we do so if necessary."
Atri looked troubled, unable to imagine it. Neither could I.
"In most cases, the Knight Corps handles it, but since Dungeons are prevalent, you never know when something might happen. In fact, in the past, there were instances where a Saint defeated a Stampede."
A Stampede—a classic fantasy phenomenon where monsters from a Dungeon invade human territory. In this world, it specifically referred to an army led by a boss monster that had escaped its floor. It was a mystery shrouded in research by the Magisterica.
A living disaster that had erased towns from the map—if a past Saint had defeated that, then my hazy memories weren't wrong. The Saints were among the strongest beings on the human side. They weren't called 'Incarnations of God' for show.
And yet, it was the Original Work that had shown no mercy in driving even such people to their deaths. After all, the Sevens had been annihilated with three dead and one incapacitated.
"...It seems you have something on your mind."
"No, well... I agree that you never know what might happen."
Even if they were the strongest in the Original Work, that was only within the human side; if you broadened your perspective to monsters, there were horrors even greater. Even though I’d found out the strongest people were protecting the city, why was I feeling anxious instead of relieved? I was starting to hate this world.
My thoughts sank into darkness. I had been relieved because I had overturned the Total Annihilation End of my party... but was this world still moving on the same storyline as the Original Work?
Was there a puppet string moving this world according to a script? If I had overturned the Total Annihilation End, did that mean the world had deviated? Or was the fate awaiting the protagonist unchanged?
Let me be blunt—if I just continue to spend my days peacefully, will the Sevens be annihilated just like in the book? And what then? In the story, the stage would shift to the Holy City. The Saints would appear. And then a disaster would stand before the protagonist again—and more people would be sacrificed. If the story was written by that rotten bastard of an author, it wouldn't matter if the Saints were the strongest or not.
I felt sick.
If the future I changed at the cost of my eye and leg was just a pebble in the ocean. If the story was still moving forward. There was no guarantee that peaceful days would continue. Perhaps I was already mistaken the moment I wished for a peaceful future. Under the strings of that author, the day the Holy City becomes a stage for disaster will surely—
"Wol... Wolka... what's wrong...?"
I was snapped back to my senses when Master grabbed my hand. The room had fallen deathly silent. Master was looking up at me with a strained expression, and Yulitia and Atri looked like they were about to rush to my side.
Dammit, I’d caused another misunderstanding.
"Wolka. From you right now... I feel a very unstable aura," Yulirius said.
"You’re probably just imagining it."
Yulirius, stop sensing things like that! It'll only make Master and the others worry!
"It's nothing, really. I just... remembered something, that's all..."
Master and the others looked down, unsure of what to say. Was I really that easy to read? I thought I was stoic.
"I'm really okay. Sorry for making things awkward."
The air was heavy. I needed a way to break the tension.
"Everyone, I apologize for the wait."
The saving hand was extended by the noble old butler. Weinrich, I respect you.
"It is a modest offering, but I have prepared some baked sweets. If they are to your liking, please enjoy them."
Whether he finished at the right time or his skills had sensed the dark atmosphere, Weinrich elegantly brushed aside the silence and served drinks and cake. It was a luxurious pound cake, filled with nuts and dried fruits. When had he made this?
With the aroma of tea and cake, a smile returned to Yulirius’s lips.
"That's right, this was a place for pleasant conversation. Please, have some. Ji-ya’s baked sweets are exquisite."
"Ah, thank you. Look, Master, let’s eat."
"...Yeah."
The pound cake was truly exquisite, and the atmosphere gradually recovered. After some idle chitchat, we were discharged with a regretful send-off from the 'old lady.'
When we returned to Le Bouquet for the first time in days, we found a surprise.
"Oh, everyone. Welcome back."
"My. It is perfect timing."
For some reason, Roze was entertaining Claesta in the lobby. Why was Claesta here? I hadn't told her the address.
"Mu? Why are you here..." Master asked.
"Yes, various things happened. But first, Wolka-san."
As soon as she answered Master, Claesta scurried over to me. She observed the new prosthetic from every angle.
"Fumu, fumu... well, it's not bad. But Grandfather’s work won't be anything like this!"
She showed a bold, fearless smile—not very lady-like, but incredibly reliable.
"Let us begin immediately. You are ready, yes?"
"Yeah. Of course."
Under the lead of Griffith Workshop, the Prosthetic Upgrade Plan officially began. Fitting for a milestone, the sky was a clear, refreshing blue.
Beyond the heavy doors guarded by knights, white light filled the room as the teleportation magic from the first floor of Alnas Tower to the top floor was activated. Passing through corridors hidden by multiple layers of perception inhibition and anti-demon formulas, Yuli and Weinrich returned to the living room of the Holy Sanctum.
There was no sign of the other Saints. Anze and Dia were on duty, and Arka was likely floating around somewhere.
"Good work, Ji-ya."
"It was nothing, my lady."
Weinrich picked up Yuli’s small body and sat her on the sofa. Yuli leaned back and let out a sigh filled with exhaustion and satisfaction.
"How was it?"
"Yes, it was fun. When was the last time I spent such a time with an outsider... Hehe, I broke a bit of a sweat."
Removing her eyepatch, Yuli gently wiped her face with a towel Weinrich had prepared. It had been a long time—long enough that she had broken a light sweat under her patch from being so engrossed in conversation.
She had no opportunities to interact with outsiders other than judging criminals. Disabled in both legs and blind, her life had been closed off inside the Cathedral for decades. For her, the moments spent with Wolka and the others were more enjoyable than she had imagined.
It was one of the few advantages of being naturally blind; Yuli could sense a person from the atmosphere without relying on her Starry Eyes. She felt a pleasant warmth from the friendly, and a coldness from the hostile.
The time spent with the members of Silvery Grey had gone by so quickly that she regretted not visiting sooner. They were warm, like a family. Having seen nothing but ugly malice for thousands of years, she felt that if people like them lived in the city, then the history the Saints had built had meaning.
But there was an undeniable sense of wrongness.
"However... Wolka’s reaction earlier was concerning."
"Indeed. What he reacted to was probably—"
"—A Stampede, I presume."
There was no doubt. The moment Yuli had spoken that word, the air from Wolka changed. It was as if a traumatic memory had been triggered. As if he were resentful toward something he could do nothing about.
It was the same dark side she had glimpsed in the records of projection magic. A deep pessimism hidden behind a brilliant soul, enough to easily discard the idea of god.
"It may have a deep connection to his past," Weinrich noted.
"I could have Fyuji look into it, but..."
Yuli immediately shook her head. "That would be a betrayal. If we were to pry into a past he doesn't want anyone to know, we would lose his trust. There is a reason even Anze couldn't get through to him."
For now, she felt they did not have the right to know.
"More importantly, tell the knights to execute Alphana’s deportation tomorrow with the utmost caution. If anything should happen, we would similarly lose their trust."
An international criminal who had used Vampire bloodline magic to annihilate adventurer parties. The source of the disaster that had cost Wolka an eye and a leg would finally disappear tomorrow.
Between her mind being broken by Arka's nightmares and the charges she faced in multiple countries, Alphana would never walk in the sun again.
Yuli sighed. "I will rest until the afternoon Judgement."
"Understood."
Waiting for Weinrich to leave, Yuli lay down on the sofa. She opened her eyes. Except for being able to see souls, they could only sense the outlines of objects and light.
"I might not be a very desirable existence for him," she whispered.
She hadn't felt coldness from Wolka. He hadn't found her visit a nuisance and had responded graciously. For him, Yuli—who could expose the truth of a soul—should have been someone to be wary of.
It was a pity. Precisely because it had been so comfortable, Yuli was now remembering that night when she was loathed as a monster, had both her legs broken, and was abandoned.
If she were not protected by her status as a Saint, she was nothing more than an existence that would have been killed long ago. If only she weren't like this, would there have been a future where she could laugh with them like Anze or Dia?
While harboring such an impossible fantasy, Yuli quietly closed her starry eyes.
The next day, Alphana’s deportation was executed as planned. A unit of the Chrys Knights used a ship to transport her to the west, where she was handed over to the neighboring country's knight order.
Both the Holy City and the neighboring country had left detailed records. There was no negligence. Alphana’s custody was transferred, and an investigation was set to begin.
Reality did not turn out that way.
What happened to that knight order—not a single person survived to tell. It was many days later that an urgent report reached the Holy City.
The unit of knights transporting Alphana had been found dead, annihilated by an unknown force.
Only Alphana’s body was not found. Her status was unknown.
From the traces left at the scene, the involvement of Vampires was strongly feared.