She didn’t answer him right away.
Instead, the Saintess turned back toward the cathedral, letting her gaze rest on its soaring arches and radiant spires. The light spilling from its stained glass washed over her face, softening her features, catching in her eyes like distant stars.
When she spoke, her voice was calm.
Not defensive.
Not bitter.
Just... honest.
"I didn’t lose my power because I lost faith," she said gently.
Her fingers brushed over the edge of her cloak, a small, grounding motion. The smile on her lips didn’t fade, but it changed—less bright now, more serene.
"I lost it because the Goddess lost faith in ."
Luca stiffened slightly, but she continued before he could interrupt.
"That doesn’t an I hate her," she said. "And it doesn’t an I regret believing."
She turned her head toward him again, eyes steady.
"When I was growing up in the orphanage," she went on, "there were many children like . No parents. No nas worth rembering. We called each other brothers and sisters, even when we didn’t share blood."
A faint chuckle escaped her, quiet and fond.
"They used to call ’big sister.’ Not because I was strong," she added, shaking her head lightly, "but because I listened. Because I stayed with them when they cried at night."
Her gaze drifted downward, unfocused now, as mories surfaced.
"Professor Aldric was there too. He tried to be strong for all of us. Tried to be a father where none of us had one."
Her voice softened. "But even then... there were monts I felt alone."
Luca felt sothing tighten in his chest.
She clasped her hands together gently, as if holding onto sothing invisible.
"Sotis, late at night, when everyone was asleep," she said quietly, "I would lie awake and think... There’s no one in this world who is truly mine."
Not angry.
Not resentful.
Just a child’s quiet truth.
"And in those monts," she continued, lifting her eyes again, "there was always that one light."
She smiled—small, unwavering.
"My belief in the Goddess."
Her gaze t Luca’s fully now.
"I believed that for those who have no one," she said, "there is still the Goddess. That even if the world turns away, even if families disappear, even if you are left behind... you are not alone."
Her fingers curled slightly, pressing together.
"That belief saved more tis than I can count," she said softly. "It gave warmth when I had none. Direction when I was lost."
A pause.
"So even if she turned away from ," she finished, voice steady, "that doesn’t erase what that belief once ant. Or what it gave ."
Silence settled between them.
Luca didn’t speak.
He just listened.
Crimson eyes fixed on her, jaw tight, breathing slow and controlled. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to correct her.
Because for the first ti, he wasn’t hearing the words of a Saintess.
He was hearing the voice of a girl who had grown up with nothing—and had clung to faith because it was the only thing that had ever stayed.
And as he stood there beside her, surrounded by a holy city that had broken her—
Luca wondered, quietly, painfully—
How soone so gentle could have survived a world so cruel.
She stayed quiet for a few more steps.
Their footsteps made no sound as they passed through the living crowd—through faith spoken aloud, through ordinary lives unfolding without knowing they were being watched by two souls standing outside of ti.
Then she spoke again.
Slowly.
As if choosing each word with care.
"You know," she said softly, eyes still on the cathedral ahead, "people often misunderstand what faith really is."
Luca glanced at her, but she didn’t look back.
"They think it’s obedience," she continued. "Or blind devotion. Or punishnt and reward."
Her lips curved faintly. "But for people like ... faith was never about that."
She lifted her hand, fingers catching the light, watching how it filtered through her skin.
"For those who grow up with parents, with hos, with sothing that belongs to them," she said, "faith might be a choice."
Her hand slowly closed.
"But for people who are alone," she went on quietly, "faith is often the only thing that doesn’t abandon you."
Luca felt it then.
Not mana.
Not ti.
Sothing heavier.
"As I said , I grew up surrounded by people," she said, voice gentle, "yet still felt alone. That’s why when I beca a saintess, I tried to be as approachable as possible for everyone, so they won’t feel alone, that was the reason my faith was never to harm any being in this world, because I thought, perhaps...if they only knew there is soone out there who will never harm them...they might give up on there wrong ways."
She lowered her gaze.
"There was always this question in my heart," she admitted.
Who will stay?
Who is truly mine?
Her fingers pressed lightly against her chest.
"And when there was no answer," she said, "I believed this instead—"
She finally turned to look at Luca.
"That for those who truly have no one... there is still soone."
Her eyes shone—not with tears, but with conviction.
"Maybe not a parent. Maybe not a friend. Maybe not even a god in the way people imagine."
She smiled softly. "But soone."
Soone who watches when no one else does.
Soone who listens when your voice doesn’t co out.
Soone who stands beside you when the world has already turned away.
"When you feel like you’re at the very bottom," she continued, voice steady but warm,
"when you think you’re truly alone... that’s often when soone appears."
Her steps slowed.
"Not always in the form you expect," she said.
"Not always gentle. Not always holy."
A quiet breath.
"But they co."
She looked ahead again, eyes reflecting the towering cathedral, the light, the past.
"They co as a hand reaching out when you’ve stopped asking.
As a voice that calls your na when you’ve forgotten it.
As a presence that reminds you—you still matter."
Her smile deepened, just a little.
"That’s what faith was to ," she said.
"Not believing that everything would be fine... but believing that even if everything fell apart—"
She paused.
"—I wouldn’t be abandoned."
The words hung in the air.
Luca didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe for a mont.
Because sothing inside him—sothing old, sothing scarred, sothing he rarely let surface—had been struck cleanly, painfully.
She wasn’t talking about a Goddess anymore.
She was talking about survival.
About the quiet hope people cling to when there’s nothing else left.
About that impossible mont when you think you’ve reached the end—
—and soone still finds you.
Luca swallowed.
His gaze dropped briefly, fists tightening at his sides.
Is that what she’ll think... when she sees the truth?
When she learns how cruel this faith beca?
He didn’t know.
But as he looked at her—walking calmly through a past that would one day betray her—
Luca understood one thing with frightening clarity.
For soone who had spent her entire life believing that soone would co...
He couldn’t let that belief be proven wrong.
Not now.
Not ever.
But...She’s right.
Luca kept walking, his steps steady, his expression calm—but inside, sothing long buried stirred.
In my past life... I was an orphan too.
No parents.
No one to call ho.
No one waiting.
No direction.
Days bled into each other without aning. Wake up. Survive. Sleep. Repeat. There was no future to look forward to—only the quiet question of why he was still going.
I didn’t have faith in a god either.
His gaze unfocused slightly as mory layered itself over the present.
What I believed in... was a ga.
Every night, before sleeping, he would lie there staring at the ceiling, mind racing—not with dreams, but with calculations.
What build should I try next?
What route did I miss?
If I change this one decision... can I finally clear it?
A bitter, almost self-mocking thought surfaced.
Pathetic, right?
But he didn’t deny it.
That ga gave sothing real.
A reason to wake up.
A reason to endure one more day.
It gave a tomorrow.
And maybe... that was enough.
So faith isn’t about gods.
It’s not about prayers or temples or divine judgnt.
It’s about whatever gives you a reason to keep going when you otherwise wouldn’t.
A belief.
A goal.
A promise.
A person.
Luca’s eyes drifted to the Saintess walking beside him.
Silver-lavender hair catching the light.
That calm smile that had endured betrayal, chains, and a death sentence.
If she loses that belief today...
If her faith is shattered right in front of her...
His jaw tightened.
Then I’ll beco it.
Not a god.
Not a savior.
Her reason.
The thought settled with frightening certainty.
Even if the Goddess turns away from her... I won’t.
Just then—
A ripple passed through the air.
Not mana.
Voices.
Low. Disdainful. Close.
"Tch... what is she doing here?"
Luca’s steps slowed imperceptibly.
"Hmph... how can soone like that be allowed inside the holy cathedral?"
A mocking laugh followed.
"Hahaha, what are you saying? Haven’t you heard?"
"She’s given up her body for the Holy Kingdom."
"The Goddess never turns those people away."
The words slithered through the space between them—poisonous, casual, cruel.
The Saintess stiffened.
Just a fraction.
But Luca felt it.
His eyes snapped to the source of the voices.
Crimson light flickered, sharp and cold.
And for the first ti since arriving in the past—
The cathedral no longer looked divine to him at all.
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