The night stood still.
Wind drifted quietly across the empty road where the woman knelt beneath the moon, her small knife trembling in her hand. The stars above shone faintly through drifting clouds, their pale light spilling across the silent land.
Behind her—
Sothing changed.
The Saintess’ body trembled.
Light began to gather around her slowly, like the first glow of dawn after endless darkness. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t explosive.
It was gentle.
But unstoppable.
Divine energy flowed through her veins again, rising from sowhere deeper than power—deeper than faith.
Her broken belief had transford.
Not the faith the church demanded.
Not obedience.
Not blind devotion.
But belief born from sacrifice... from truth... from the pain she had just witnessed.
Silver light poured softly from her eyes.
Mana stirred around her like a quiet storm.
Luca noticed it imdiately.
His fists clenched slowly.
So... it happened.
Just as I expected.
His crimson eyes moved toward the woman kneeling beneath the moon.
Then dimd.
But... at what cost?
The woman exhaled softly.
Her tears had slowed.
Her face had grown calm.
Almost peaceful.
She looked up at the sky again, moonlight reflecting in her eyes.
"My only regret..." she whispered.
Her voice was softer now.
"...is that I couldn’t see my daughter grow up."
Her fingers tightened around the knife.
"I couldn’t see her laugh..."
"I couldn’t see her happy... with a man she loves."
Her lips trembled faintly.
"I couldn’t hear her call ..."
Her breath caught.
"...mother."
Then—
Her hand moved.
The blade slid across her wrist.
A thin line opened instantly.
Blood spilled quietly into the earth beneath her.
Luca’s jaw tightened.
He looked away instinctively.
The sound of blood dripping into dirt felt unbearably loud in the silent night.
But before he could step forward—
His hand was grabbed.
Firmly.
Warmly.
He turned.
The Saintess stood beside him.
Her entire body glowed faintly with divine radiance. Silver light surrounded her like a halo of dawn, wind stirring gently around her robes.
Her eyes t his.
There was pain there.
But also sothing resolute.
Then—
The world tore.
A soft distortion rippled through ti and space itself.
Luca felt it instantly.
His pupils shrank.
"...What—"
The air bent.
Reality folded.
The invisible barrier separating past and present shattered for just a mont.
Before he could react—
They moved.
In the blink of an eye—
They stood beside the dying woman.
The woman’s breathing had already grown faint.
Her vision blurred.
Her body grew colder by the second.
Then—
A voice reached her.
"...Mother."
The word echoed softly in the quiet night.
The woman’s eyes widened.
Her fading vision sharpened suddenly.
Before her—
Two figures stood beneath the moon.
A young woman with silver-lavender hair glowing softly in the night.
And beside her—
A crimson-eyed young man.
The woman raised her trembling hand weakly.
"Y-you...?"
The Saintess collapsed to her knees beside her.
"M-mother!"
Her voice broke instantly.
"It’s ... it’s !"
Tears poured down her face uncontrollably as she reached forward, grabbing the woman’s hand with both of hers.
"I’m here!"
The woman stared at her.
Her fading eyes studied the face before her.
The silver hair.
The familiar eyes.
Recognition flickered.
Then—
A gentle smile appeared on her lips.
"...I see..."
Her voice was barely a whisper now.
"I forgive... this world... for what it did to ."
Her gaze softened as she looked at the young woman crying beside her.
"I don’t know... if this is the afterlife..."
"...or an illusion..."
"...or simply a miracle from the Goddess..."
Tears rolled down her temples into her hair.
But she smiled.
"...thank you."
Her fingers trembled weakly around the Saintess’ hand.
"Thank you... for letting see her."
Her voice cracked softly.
"For letting hear..."
"...the word mother."
The Saintess shook violently.
"M-mother...!"
She pressed her forehead against the woman’s hand like a child begging the mont not to end.
The woman slowly turned her gaze toward Luca.
He stood frozen.
Unsure.
Out of place in such a sacred mont.
He hesitated before kneeling quietly beside them.
The woman studied him.
Her eyes softened.
"...You."
Her voice barely carried through the air.
"Take care..."
Her breathing slowed.
"...of my daughter."
Luca lowered his head slightly.
"...I will."
A faint breath escaped the woman’s lips.
Relief.
Peace.
Then—
Her hand loosened.
Her chest rose once.
Fell.
And stilled.
The life left her body quietly beneath the moon.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Endless.
The Saintess remained frozen beside her.
Then suddenly—
The dam inside her shattered.
"Mother..."
Her voice broke completely.
She grabbed the woman’s lifeless hand desperately.
"Mother...!"
Her cries echoed through the empty night.
"Mother...!"
Again.
And again.
And again.
The word she had waited her entire life to say spilled endlessly into the darkness.
"Mother...!"
Luca stood beside her.
Silent.
Watching the girl who had once been the Saintess of the Holy Kingdom cry like a child who had finally found—and lost—her mother in the sa mont.
And the night carried her grief across the silent land.
The night slowly fell silent again.
The Saintess’ cries gradually faded into broken breaths as she knelt beside the still body of her mother. The moon hung high above them now, pale and distant, its light washing the world in cold silver.
Around them—
The divine radiance that had gathered monts earlier began to fade.
The light that had surrounded the Saintess drifted away slowly, breaking apart into soft particles like silver ash carried by the wind. Each glowing fragnt rose gently into the night sky before dissolving into nothingness.
Ti was reclaiming its place.
Luca noticed it imdiately.
The world around them had begun to blur.
Edges softened.
The air rippled.
Their presence in this mont—this fragile tear in ti—was collapsing.
He reached forward quickly and grabbed the Saintess’ arm.
"...It’s ti," he said quietly.
His voice was firm, but softer than usual.
"...We have to go back."
The Saintess didn’t respond.
Her trembling hands still clung to her mother’s lifeless fingers.
"...Saintess."
Her body shuddered.
Finally, she nodded weakly.
The silver ash around them swirled faster now, gathering into a spiral of fading light.
The ground beneath their feet distorted.
The sky fractured.
And the world spun.
Sound vanished.
Light collapsed inward.
The past dissolved.
Then—
Everything snapped into place.
But not where they had been.
The air that returned around them was colder.
Damp.
Heavy.
The scent of stone and sothing foul lingered in the darkness.
They stood inside a narrow underground chamber.
The walls were rough and damp, carved deep beneath the earth. Flickering torches along the stone pillars cast long shadows across the room, making the darkness feel alive.
At the center of the chamber—
A man knelt.
His back faced them.
Before him floated sothing unnatural.
A spiral.
Black.
Not like smoke.
Not like shadow.
It twisted in the air like a wound carved into reality itself, its center swallowing the torchlight around it.
Luca’s eyes narrowed instantly.
The Saintess slowly lifted her head.
And both of them froze.
Because the man kneeling there—
Was painfully familiar.
Bishop Truce.
Their gazes turned cold instantly.
The bishop’s body trembled as he bowed lower before the spiral.
"Y-your grace..." he stamred.
"Please forgive ..."
His voice shook.
"The woman... she seed to have escaped with her child."
For a mont—
Silence answered him.
Then—
A quiet sigh ca from the spiral.
It was not a human voice.
It echoed strangely, layered and distorted, as though multiple voices whispered together from deep beneath the earth.
"...Hmm."
"The awakening of the Demon Emperor..."
The spiral twisted slowly.
"It seems it will take even more ti now."
The bishop’s shoulders trembled harder.
"S-sir..." he stuttered.
"If I may ask..."
His head lowered even further.
"...what was so special about that child?"
The chamber fell silent again.
Then—
The voice returned.
Cold.
Indifferent.
"That... you do not need to know."
The spiral darkened.
"Leave."
The bishop froze.
"You will not receive what you were promised."
"What—?!"
He looked up in panic.
"Y-your grace wait—!"
But the spiral had already begun collapsing inward.
The black distortion folded into itself, shrinking rapidly until the air snapped shut.
Gone.
The chamber returned to normal.
Torchlight flickered weakly against the stone walls.
Bishop Truce remained frozen for a mont.
Then—
His face twisted.
Fury replaced fear instantly.
"Damn it!" he snarled, slamming his fist into the ground.
Behind him—
Two silent witnesses stood unseen.
Luca’s crimson eyes burned.
Cultists.
The Saintess’ expression hardened into sothing terrifyingly calm.
The Holy Kingdom.
The clergy.
The Bishop.
All of it—
Connected.
Just then—
Footsteps rushed into the chamber.
A Divine Guard stumbled down the stairs, armor clattering as he dropped to one knee before the bishop.
"T-that old witch..." he stamred.
His voice trembled violently.
"She... she has been caught, Sir Bishop."
Bishop Truce slowly turned.
His face twisted with rage.
The guard shrank instinctively beneath his gaze.
"Torture her," the bishop said coldly.
The guard blinked.
"...Sir?"
Bishop Truce’s eyes burned with hatred.
"I said torture that bitch."
His voice rose into a venomous roar.
"Make sure she suffers for eternity!"
The guard flinched.
"Make her beg for death—"
The bishop leaned forward slightly.
"...but don’t grant it to her."
Silence swallowed the chamber.
And in that mont—
Darkness surged around Luca and the Saintess.
Their vision blurred.
Their senses dulled.
The past collapsed again.
Everything vanished into black.
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