Exquisite gilded reliefs decorated the edges of the great hall, while white gauze curtains drifted like soft clouds. From the bronze incense burners, curling threads of fragrance rose in delicate lines before dispersing high above into a thin mist.

This was the central sacrificial sanctuary of the Kingdom, the place closest to the Goddess’s radiance in the entire nation. Under normal circumstances, aside from the Kingdom’s own High Priest and a few worshipers who came to pay devotion, almost no outsiders were allowed to disturb this place at will, lest they profane the Goddess’s holiness.

And yet at this very moment, in the center of the altar where ritual vessels were enshrined, the Goddess’s statue stood tall, holy and immaculate, looking down with merciful compassion upon the countless faithful in the royal capital... and also upon the woman in black standing in the middle of the hall.

The Witch of Repentance opened her eyes and coldly met the Goddess’s gaze.

"How... unpleasant."

After standing there a long while, she let out a somewhat irritated sigh.

Something so unexpected had already been infuriating enough. Yet when she opened her eyes, the first thing she had to see was this fake Goddess putting on her little act.

What was more aggravating than suffering a setback was running into the one you hated most immediately afterward—

or rather, the existence you hated most.

Even if it was only a statue.

"In the name of the Holy Lord, may only the light of purification endure."

She did not linger long on that annoying irritation. After another sigh, the Witch of Repentance casually beckoned.

A black box from the corner flew into her hand and opened on its own. Inside, golden thread was wound around a spindle carved of some crystal-like substance, clear and translucent, while three slender needles wrapped in soft silk gleamed with a light more eye-catching than even the brilliant dome of the sanctuary.

Setting the box on the table, the Witch of Repentance picked up one of the needles with the same hand, gave it a faint shake, and the golden thread slipped ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) neatly through the eye on its own.

Her movements were swift, yet her expression was grave, as though she were about to perform something very important.

Creeeak—

But before she could do anything further, the doors of the sacrificial sanctuary suddenly opened.

The Witch of Repentance paused and looked up.

An old man with hair and beard white as snow strode into the sanctuary. Yet despite his age, his spirit remained strong, and the wind stirring his broad ceremonial robe only added to the force of his presence.

The King of the Kingdom—Saint Peron V.

This ruler of the Kingdom swept his gaze around the sanctuary once, without sparing so much as a glance for the Goddess’s statue, and went straight to the Witch of Repentance in black.

"So the High Priest is here."

As attendants helped Saint Peron V remove the ceremonial robe he had worn for his tour, he waved a hand toward those behind him.

"Leave us."

"Your Majesty, this—"

"This is the sanctuary devoted to the Goddess. We stand beneath the Goddess’s gaze. Do you really think I would face danger here?"

Saint Peron said impatiently, "And besides, the High Priest personally appointed by divine oracle is here. Could you sacks of wine and rice possibly be more reliable than the Goddess’s will?"

"...Yes, Your Majesty."

The attendants and the guarding knights all withdrew. The doors of the sanctuary closed, leaving only endless light.

Under that light, the fact that the High Priest appointed by the Goddess’s own oracle was actually the Salvation Society’s Third Seat somehow no longer seemed quite so absurd.

"What happened, Olive?"

With all idle ears gone, Saint Peron V was finally able to speak the woman’s true name—the one the world had long since forgotten.

But there was more severity than gentleness in his tone, because though he was old, this king who had ruled the Kingdom for decades remained as sharp as ever. At a glance, he had noticed the traces of blood on her dress.

"It’s nothing. Just a minor injury."

The Witch of Repentance shook her head.

"Your Majesty need not worry."

Plop...

But the moment she finished speaking, a small splash of blood dripped down. It was not much, only a few scattered drops, and yet those bloodstains corroded clean through the marble floor.

"...You call that a minor injury?" Saint Peron V looked up expressionlessly.

"..."

After a moment of silence, the Witch of Repentance sighed.

"That is, of course, only a minor injury, Your Majesty."

With that, she bent down, picked up her own hand, aligned it again, and this time the severed arm adhered neatly to the cut surface instead of falling away again. She took up the needle from before and, in full view of Saint Peron V, began stitching her arm back on, one stitch at a time.

The fine needle pierced that inhumanly resilient flesh with ease, and the golden thread gradually sealed severed blood and bone back together completely. The process was not long—perhaps three to five minutes in all. Throughout it, the Witch of Repentance remained expressionless, as though she were merely mending some useless broken doll.

Only after finishing did she speak again.

"Since Your Majesty is here, may I trouble you to grant me a little Molten Gold solution?"

"You may."

Saint Peron V nodded.

Before long, palace attendants brought over the costly Molten Gold solution. Yet even the king’s closest servants were not permitted to enter the Goddess’s sacrificial hall; Saint Peron V personally handed the solution to the Witch of Repentance.

"My thanks, Your Majesty."

"If I remember correctly, Molten Gold is an alchemical material. What do you intend to do with it?"

"Nothing much. I simply know a little alchemy as well."

The Witch of Repentance tipped her head back and drank the searing-hot alchemical solution—like molten lava—in one gulp.

Threads of red-gold light traced downward from her throat to her abdomen, then spread with each breath through her limbs and bones.

Thump...

Thump...

Thump...

It sounded like a heartbeat, or perhaps the beating of a heavy drum. One deep, forceful resonance after another rang through the sanctuary. A faint aura of magic lit up around Saint Peron V, for even the sound alone had triggered the magical barrier he wore on his person.

"Mnh... ah..."

As the Molten Gold spread through the Witch of Repentance’s entire body, her temperature shot up instantly. Dense steam rose from her hair and mingled with the incense smoke. The Molten Gold continued refining itself within her, and the process seemed to inflict enormous pain. Even the famed Third Seat of the Salvation Society could not help knitting her brows and letting out a low moan.

Several more minutes passed before all the strange phenomena finally subsided. The Witch of Repentance experimentally flexed her hand a few times, then smiled at Saint Peron V.

"You see, Your Majesty? Just a minor injury."

"But there cannot be many things in this world capable of inflicting that kind of ‘minor injury’ on you."

Saint Peron V took hold of her hand and examined the thread-sealed cut closely. The severed surface was exceedingly smooth, as though it had been cut by some sharp weapon... and yet what sharp weapon in this world could sever the arm of a Crowned one so easily?

"What severed my arm was not a weapon, but space itself."

Seeing the doubt in Saint Peron V’s eyes, the Witch of Repentance explained slowly, "I had only extended a single hand across an immeasurable distance. I did not expect the other side to be so decisive—using two utterly opposing powers in direct collision to create a kind of annihilation reaction. Even space itself was swallowed by that annihilation. If I had not reacted fast enough, I would not even have recovered this arm."

"I see..."

Saint Peron V was not particularly powerful in rank himself, but he was more than intelligent enough to immediately understand the hidden meaning of those words.

"In other words... things failed over there."

"Yes. They failed."

The Witch of Repentance admitted it without hesitation. She lifted her other uninjured hand and gently touched Saint Peron V’s wrinkled face, pity in her expression.

"I’m sorry, Your Majesty. The plan in Belrand was obstructed. So from here on... we can only rely on your good son for the time being."

"I see..."

Saint Peron V drew in a deep breath, then seized the Witch of Repentance’s hand.

"That is not important, Olive. You know that. It is not important."

Were sons important?

Of course they were.

How could a wise ruler such as he not cherish his own sons?

But compared to the future of the entire Kingdom, if the sons he loved truly wished to possess the qualifications to lead the Kingdom forward, then should they not be expected to endure a little tempering?

"Aurier will understand me."

"And I understand you as well, Your Majesty."

The Witch of Repentance’s eyes softened.

"But I am still sorry. After all, I had given Your Majesty such assurances."

"This was only an attempt to begin with. Even if it failed, it does not affect the greater situation. Still, I remain curious..."

Saint Peron V looked at the Witch of Repentance’s bloodless face, baffled.

"Who exactly was able to stop you and injure you?"

"Probably... some unknown existence."

The Witch of Repentance sighed again.

"Unknown?"

"Yes. An ancient soul. A very formidable one."

"An ancient soul? The Kingdom’s intelligence has no record of such a figure still existing within the Empire."

Saint Peron V frowned.

"I suspect the Empire does not know either. The continent has grown more chaotic lately. It seems certain extraordinary figures can no longer remain still and are beginning to surface."

The Witch of Repentance released Saint Peron V’s hand and turned back to gaze at the Goddess’s compassionate statue.

As though, within those hollow divine eyes, she might find the answer she wanted.

"Light Divine Favor... Dark Divine Favor... faith-born Divine Favors that were long ago suppressed by the Church of Life have reappeared in the world. Everything is exactly as the Holy Lord prophesied... Ariel Bugaard—who are you, really? Why are you able to possess the favor of so many gods at once?"

"Do you need me to continue investigating through the Kingdom’s intelligence apparatus?"

Saint Peron V asked.

"No."

The Witch of Repentance shook her head.

"If matters are truly as I suspect, then there is no need. We need only wait. Time will provide the answer."

"But would a dangerous figure like that not interfere with the plan?" Saint Peron V asked, unable to understand. From his perspective, the Empire should never be allowed to possess such a threatening existence. Such a person ought to be eliminated by every means possible.

"Do not worry, Your Majesty. She will not. Ariel Bugaard will absolutely not interfere with our plan. On that point, I can guarantee it."

The Witch of Repentance curved her lips. Though she spoke of something as vague and intangible as the future, her tone carried complete certainty.

"Because she is just like us... one who follows the will of the world."

...

...

"Is... is it over?"

Holding An tightly, Muen finally lifted his head shakily once he felt those terrifying fluctuations disperse.

That had been horrifying.

Really, really fucking horrifying.

He had known Ariel carried several Divine Favors, but this was the first time he had ever seen her use Divine Favors other than flame on such a large scale.

And to slam two completely opposing Divine Favors together that brutally... now he finally understood where Ariel’s earlier suicidal move in the underground ruins of Gutongs Castle had come from—the one that hurt the enemy for a thousand and herself for eight hundred.

"Relax. This time it wasn’t Ariel using it. It was me."

Ariel’s slender figure drifted down from the sky, though the mature presence on her pale little face was one Muen was far less familiar with.

"I’m far more restrained than Ariel is. This time the power remained completely within controllable limits."

"Is that so?"

Muen let out a long breath of relief... As Ariel’s teacher, she really did seem reliable...

"I just accidentally blew up half your ducal estate. Sorry."

Peles stuck out her tongue playfully.

"But Ariel’s already been handed over to you, so you probably won’t mind a little thing like that, right?"

"..."

Muen’s cheek twitched.

Staring at the empty wasteland around him, he sucked the breath he had just released right back in, as if only that could help him recover from the agony of realizing that every treasured item his father loved most had just vanished from the world.

"Forget it."

Grinding his teeth, Muen said, "Half the ducal estate was already pretty much blown apart just now anyway. At most, Senior Peles, all you did was turn this place from battle-damaged into a full-on wasteland. Not much difference... not much difference at all..."

"My, my. I think I’m starting to understand why Ariel likes you. A generous man really is more lovable."

Peles winked.

"All right, can you open your arms now?"

"Open my arms? Why?"

Muen looked baffled, but even without understanding what she meant, he did as told.

And in the next instant, he watched Peles—no, Ariel—go limp and fall straight into his arms.

"I’ll leave Ariel to you from here."

Back in soul form once more, Peles smiled.

"Don’t say I stole your girl."

"..."

Muen froze, then reached out with one hand and smiled as he smoothed the deep furrow between the brows of the girl in his arms.

"My girl isn’t something anyone can steal."