Two worlds. Two Archbishops. Two Witches of Repentance. What exactly was...

"Right..."

Muen thought of something and suddenly sank his consciousness into his mental space, pushing that black sun.

Then he opened his eyes, and his pupils were covered by a profound darkness.

Muen remembered that when he was in the [true royal capital], he had once used all his strength to wound the Witch of Repentance.

Although that injury was nothing to the Witch of Repentance, it had, after all, been mixed with Muen’s black flame power, so it would definitely have left behind a trace belonging to the black flame.

That trace was extremely faint, perhaps so faint that even the Crowned One herself would not notice it, but if Muen used the black flame’s perspective, he would be able to discover it.

Muen looked toward the Witch of Repentance.

Nothing.

On this Witch of Repentance, who could erupt with the terrifying power of a Crowned One and was clearly also real, there was no trace of black flame. That meant she was not the Witch of Repentance he had encountered before, the one who had nearly killed him.

But why was there nothing?

Muen did not think two completely identical people, or two completely identical worlds, would truly exist at the same time.

If the Salvation Society had really reached the level of not merely creating false images, but directly creating reality, why would they still need to skulk around? They could directly create dozens of Witches of Repentance and flatten the Church.

So this difference between whether something was present or absent was the key.

"Difference... present... absent... No, first absent, then present... so... don’t tell me..."

Muen abruptly reacted. As if he had caught the end of a thread, he began frantically rummaging through his storage artifact.

Soon, he pulled out... a newspaper.

An ordinary newspaper.

The newspaper he had bought from some little brat he just so happened to run into when he had first entered this city.

The newspaper was still that same newspaper.

But when Muen finally realized something, he at last crossed over some invisible force and saw what had not only been erased from the newspaper... but from every place in this city, without anyone noticing.

Something so unremarkable...

And yet so important.

"So that’s it... so that was it..."

Muen suddenly understood.

So everything before had truly been wrong from the very beginning.

If even the starting point was wrong, then no matter how hard he tried, how could he possibly reach the correct endpoint?

He had only been sprinting meaninglessly down the wrong road.

"But why did sprinting down it go so smoothly?"

Muen murmured, then suddenly noticed an abnormality hidden even deeper.

This entire path had been so natural, so self-evident. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

A wrong road, yet walking it had been as smooth as walking a broad and correct avenue.

Clearly, the only place where that key information had been specially erased should have been inside Saint Blancfazesiya.

Then why, in the end, were Liya, Celicia, and the Church and Empire behind them all sprinting with him down the wrong road without stopping?

So naturally, as if... there were some force pushing from behind.

"Don’t tell me..."

Strands of chill gradually rose from his back, then ran along his spine and pierced through his entire scalp.

Stiffly, bit by bit, he lowered his head and looked at the dagger in his hand.

That was the sacred weapon called Absolution.

Forged from the Holy Sword’s original blank, symbolizing the Goddess’s judgment.

It was so holy, so majestic.

But at this moment, on that pure white blade, a crack appeared.

A single... pitch-black crack.

"Not good!"

In an instant, as if some switch had been triggered, the terrifying power in his palm began erupting out of control at a horrifying speed. As Muen used all his strength to control it, he shouted at Archbishop Ision:

"Archbishop Ision... run!"

...

...

"Run!"

A scorched black hand shoved Pero through the doorway, but before the hand’s owner could come in, the burning ceiling suddenly collapsed and buried her beneath it.

"Miss... Miss Nun!"

It was one of the nuns who had come to intern here. In ordinary times, she clearly never did any work, and what she liked doing most was hiding in a corner and slacking off. Yet at this moment, from who knew where, courage had erupted within her. She sacrificed herself and pushed Pero to safety.

"Run..."

Only half of the young nun’s still-childish face could still be made out. The other half had already turned into ugly charcoal. But she still braced her shoulder against the burning wreckage and urged him:

"Run!"

"Th... thank you!"

Pero gritted his teeth. Knowing he could not save Miss Nun with his own strength, he could only force himself not to listen to the sound of flames scorching flesh behind him and sprint forward with his head lowered.

"Here!"

Pero felt himself suddenly caught by a large hand. When he looked up, he found it was the head matron, glaring at him furiously.

"You little girl, why are you still running around at a time like this?"

"I... I went to get something..."

"What could be more important than your life? Hurry, go hide in the corner!"

Following the head matron’s instructions, Pero came to the corner of the room. Only then did he realize that he was in the classroom they had agreed on earlier.

This was the largest classroom in the entire orphanage, where the orphanage often held activities.

Pero still remembered that when he first came here, the welcome party had been held in this very place.

And now, this place seemed to have become a cage, locking all the children of the orphanage inside once again.

"Did you find a way out?"

"No! It seems like someone outside is attacking. We can’t get out!"

"What about magic to resist the flames?"

"We’re using it, but... our magic is almost..."

The anxious voices of the head matron... and the other matrons echoed through the classroom. The temperature in the classroom grew higher and higher, and outside the thin door panels, the leaping shadows of flames could already be clearly seen.

Pero found Aviva and discovered that his older sister, who was usually composed no matter what happened, was trembling now.

Of course. His sister was the one most afraid.

Because she had only just been given a new life, yet could only watch helplessly as everything turned into foam.

That feeling of gaining something only to lose it again was even more frightening than death itself.

"It’s okay, Sister."

This time, Pero hugged Aviva, just like when his sister had once pulled him out of that filthy sewer.

"We’ll be okay, because... because someone will come save us."

Pero slipped one hand into his chest and tightly grasped something.

They were two crisp, large-denomination bills.

The bills were thin and could not give anyone any strength.

Yet they seemed to grant Pero endless courage.

"Yes. Just like last time, our savior will come save us again..."

Pero hugged her, curled up, and murmured with firm belief.

...

...

Blood sprayed, mixing with the Holy Light, appearing sacred and grotesque.

The terrifying aftermath dispersed. Nearly half of the Ritual Hall had become ruins, and one could even see the dim sky directly after the Holy Light scattered.

There was no time to feel the severe pain in his hand.

Muen stared blankly ahead, watching Archbishop Ision’s face fill with pain as he collapsed bit by bit to the ground.

It was as if time had slowed, and yet as if it had not.

Muen could only watch the scene before him, like a silent old film advancing frame by frame.

"Ah—"

A scream shattered the dead silence. A graceful figure flew over and knelt beside the Archbishop.

"Your Grace! Your Grace! Arch... Father!"

Fubeka screamed, roared, and shook the Judgment Archbishop’s body, terror and confusion filling her face. Some faint starlight began gathering deep in her eyes, then quickly dispersed.

Then, all at once.

She turned her head and glared with blood-red eyes at the culprit who, in her eyes, had caused all of this.

"Muen Campbell, you... sinner!"

Through clenched teeth, she squeezed out those two words that were far too familiar to Muen.

Muen did not answer. He only lowered his head, letting the dagger that had already turned from pure white to pitch-black slide from his ruined palm.

Dong—

The faint sound of a bell rang out, yet it seemed isolated outside by something, making it difficult to enter Muen’s ears.

The Holy Light gradually faded. Firelight gradually rose in the distant city district.

The rain had stopped.