It felt as though the events leading up to this moment had transpired in another world—as if he had been swept into a different reality without even realizing it.
As the familiar landscape of the Clausel territory finally came into view, Ren felt the tension leave his body. Exhaustion crashed over him in a wave, prompting a heavy sigh as he looked toward the center of the town.
I’m finally home.
The long journey had been undertaken by carriage, as Ren was far too drained for a trip on horseback. Exactly three weeks had passed since he had bid Fiona farewell.
The delay was largely due to the arrival of the Magic Ship at the Baldur Mountains. While the ship carried a large contingent of knights from the Imperial Capital, Ren hadn’t been subjected to their questioning. He had left the explanation regarding the collapse of the suspension bridge to Fiona, though he had remained behind while the Clausel knights handled the fallout of the incident.
As for the adventurers who had guarded the examinees, they had been summoned for questioning and had accompanied the knights back to the capital voluntarily. There was little cause for concern, however; surprisingly, the examinees who had made it down the mountain safely had spoken up for their protectors. The adventurers had been somewhat bewildered by the unexpected support, but it had smoothed the way for their departure. There were even rumors that some had been taken a liking to by young noblemen and offered positions within their households.
On the other hand, the Clausel knights had heard the full story from Ren. They knew everything that had happened after the bridge fell—Kai and Maydas’s involvement, the chaos they had caused, and the looming threat of the Demon King Cult.
Fiona, however, had handled the official reporting. Ren suspected she had claimed her adventurer guard had vanished during the turmoil, and he assumed the Clausel knights had coordinated their stories to match hers at her request.
"Lord Ren, we’ve finally arrived," said the knight sharing the carriage as they passed through the city gates.
"Indeed," Ren replied. "One of the two most grueling experiences of my life is finally over."
"And what was the other, if I may ask?"
"The time I spent escorting Lady Licia to Clausel, of course."
It was a bit of light banter, an answer that hardly needed stating. Ren turned his gaze to the window, watching the scenery with an unshakeable sense of nostalgia. He had realized it before, but life in Clausel had truly become his everyday reality. Watching the familiar streets, his mind and body began to settle. An indescribable comfort filled him, as if his very soul were being cleansed.
Man...
He had worked hard. He felt he’d pushed himself in more ways than one. More than that, he felt like praising himself for simply surviving; even now, the fact that he was still breathing felt like a miracle. The lingering ache of the burns on his arms served as a constant reminder that those harrowing days had been real.
As the carriage wheels crunched through the slush on the cobblestones, the sound seemed to carry the recent turmoil away into the distance. Ren closed his eyes. Perhaps because he hadn't been able to truly rest until now, his eyelids felt impossibly heavy.
The knight sensed his fatigue and fell silent. Watching Ren lean against the window frame, his face finally relaxing in the cold winter air, the knight decided the boy should be allowed to rest the moment they reached the manor.
Eventually, the carriage crested the final slope and came to a stop before the gates of the Clausel Manor.
"Lord Ren, we are here."
"Oh... already?"
"You look quite exhausted, my lord. Why not take the rest of the day to recover? We can handle the report to the Baron on your behalf."
For once, Ren almost took the offer. However, he knew he had caused them a great deal of worry. Even if the detailed report could wait until tomorrow, he felt he should at least show his face and let them know he had returned safely. He slapped his cheeks with a sharp thwack to wake himself up and stepped down from the carriage.
It was then that he saw her.
"Ren!"
A lone Saint came rushing toward the carriage. Her expression was a whirlwind of emotions: joy at his return, terror over the reports she had heard, shock at the events in the mountains, and an immediate, desperate need to see him rest.
"When news of the disaster reached us, the Young Lady insisted she would go to the mountains even if she had to go alone," the knight at the gates whispered to Ren.
Ren gave a wry smile, thinking it was just like her, though he couldn't hide his happiness.
"If Lord Weiss hadn't physically stopped her, she would have bolted out of the manor weeks ago," the knight added before stepping back.
Licia finally reached him. Behind her, Lezard and Weiss emerged from the manor doors, making their way toward the carriage. Ignoring everyone else, Licia took Ren’s hand, her breathing ragged.
"Welcome ho—"
She cut herself off. Catching sight of the raw burns on Ren’s hands, she immediately realized the extent of his injuries. Without waiting for an explanation, she took his less-damaged hand and began to lead him inside.
"Father! I’m taking Ren with me!"
Without waiting for Lezard’s reply, she pulled Ren toward the main building. Ren managed a weak "Forgive me" to Lezard and Weiss as they passed, but the two men simply smiled. Seeing the sheer exhaustion etched into the boy’s face, they knew work could wait.
I’m so sleepy...
The thread of tension that had been pulled taut for weeks finally snapped. His strength left him all at once. His senses grew dull, the only thing he could feel being the warmth of Licia’s hand in his.
As they stepped into the entrance hall and passed a large sofa, Ren’s knees finally buckled. He swayed, accidentally pulling Licia down with him as he collapsed onto the cushions.
"R-Ren...?"
Ren had practically fallen over, and Licia followed, settling onto the sofa and guiding his head onto her lap. He lay there, his consciousness slipping away as he rested on the Saint’s lap.
"I’m sorry," he murmured, reflexively trying to push himself up.
"Good work, Ren." Licia’s hand stayed on his shoulder, keeping him down. Warmth spread through him—likely her Holy Magic. He didn't have the strength to resist.
In his haze, the words he had been holding back finally slipped out. "...I really gave it my all out there."
"I know you did," she whispered.
"...And I’m just so tired."
"I know. I know."
Licia placed her hand over his burns, and a soft white light enveloped them. The warmth made his head swim even more.
"What did you have to do, Ren?"
"Mmm... you won't believe me, but..." Licia smiled as he looked up at her with heavy eyes. She knew he was on the verge of sleep, but she selfishly wanted to hear his voice for just a moment longer. He looked so honest and vulnerable resting there; she didn't want the moment to end. "I fought people trying to resurrect the Demon King... and then there was Asval. He came back to life, so I had to fight him too."
"My, how impressive. But you won in the end, didn't you?"
"You don't doubt me?"
"Why would I ever doubt you? Honestly."
Though she maintained her calm exterior, Licia was reeling with shock. However, her focus remained on mending his wounds, and she kept her astonishment from showing. A moment later, Ren’s expression grew peaceful.
"Are you going to sleep just like this?" she asked.
Ren gave a small nod. He was past the point of being able to think clearly; he didn't even realize he was using her lap as a pillow. He simply gave himself over to her care.
"Well then... good night."
Licia smiled tenderly. She expected him to drift off immediately, but Ren suddenly opened his eyes and looked up at her one last time.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
"...I'm finally home."
He had finally managed to answer her earlier greeting. Before she could say another word, his eyes closed, and his breathing became slow and rhythmic. Licia sat there for a long time, stunned, before a wide smile spread across her face. She reached down, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his cheek.
"Yes. Welcome home... my hero."
The hero slept upon the Saint’s lap while she mended his wounds. To those who had watched over the White Saint since her childhood, the scene was as ethereal and sacred as an ancient painting.