Without paying any mind to his confusion, the saint’s voice continued.

“You’re not drawing your holy sword. Since you have no intention of resisting pointlessly, the god will look favorably upon you. ‘Strict Order and Good’ is merciful, after all.”

“......Merciful, huh.”

“Yes. Always merciful.”

The saint deliberately closed her eyes briefly and pretended to pray to the sky.

“Even now, the god has told me this: grant the excommunicated heretic mercy and give him time to repent.”

“The meaning of that is.......”

“Kneel down and prostrate yourself, and offer a prayer of repentance to ‘Strict Order and Good.’”

Praying in a posture low enough to be the most humble servant in the world was a common act even at the Shrine of the Sacred Spirit.

Whether facing death or any other situation, there was no reason to feel humiliated anew. After all, life had no value to an infinite returner.

Still, Tesilid felt a strange alien feeling rising deep inside him.

A prayer of repentance to ‘Strict Order and Good.’

He hated it.

He wanted to reject it with all his might.

Wasn’t his last prayer the one scratched into the floor with broken fingernails in the 99th cycle?

“......Again, please stop.”

Frowning, he pressed his palm to his forehead. Maybe his patience had broken from the headache. The urge to tear the skin off his face kept rising.

“Repent.”

“......I will repent with death, not prayer. Just kill me.”

“Are you defying the will of god? I don’t think you should be allowed to leave in this condition. Do you need to lose something else to come to your senses?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Tesilid felt a strange foreboding.

By now, the heretic inquisitors had lined up behind the saint. Their number was like an army, forming a perfect encirclement combined with a cliff.

“Sir Tesilid.”

The saint looked at him with a pitying gaze.

“We already know you deliberately lured the pursuit squad this far. Surely there was an accomplice near the place where you were first discovered. Now that I think of it, I think I saw a pink-haired woman.”

“......!”

“Oh dear, she must be quite precious to you.”

He was filled with disgust and self-loathing for honestly reacting to the threat. The heretic inquisitors pressed him harder, shouting one after another.

“Aiding an excommunicated heretic is punishable.”

“We will arrest all suspicious individuals near the discovery point.”

“Stop it!”

He was cornered.

“If I die, isn’t it enough that I die?”

He immediately dropped to his knees on the ground.

“I will repent. Right now.”

He even felt the will to do so. Repenting for his foolish self. Reviewing how it should not have happened, he bowed to the ground. But his joined hands felt more like they were handcuffed than praying.

“It seems too late already.”

The saint ordered coldly with a gesture. Some of the inquisitors turned away from their posts. They were heading to capture Ayleth Rodeline.

What they would do under the pretext of heresy interrogation was obvious. Thinking about the cruel means permitted in the name of god directed at her made his mind go blank.

That had to be stopped. So he shouted.

“She is the sacred scripture! You have no right to touch her!”

The inquisitors who were about to leave to find Ayleth stopped in their tracks. The saint’s expression turned cold as she spoke.

“Sacred scripture?”

A harsh dissonance filled the air with discomfort.

“Do you mean the saint who can wield the divine descent?”

“Yes. She is an important person even within the order......”

Don’t harm her.

Don’t treat her carelessly.

He thought such demands would be naturally accepted. But.

“She has great value to be used.”

“......!”

Things were not going the way he wanted. Rather......

“Thank you, Sir Tesilid. You’ve given us a perfect excuse.”

“.......”

It was heading toward the worst.

“The crime of aiding a heretic is grave. The sacred scripture will serve and devote herself for life as the lowest servant to all members of the order.”

“.......”

His heart froze.

“Oh, right. Divine descent has side effects, doesn’t it?”

“.......”

The chill growing from his chest spread slowly to the tips of his limbs.

“Fortunately, the Shrine of the Sacred Spirit has many excellent restraints. We can wait for the moment she’s defenseless to bind her with shackles.”

“.......”

It felt as if ice water flowed through all the veins of his body instead of blood.

“.......”

Tesilid was unable to do anything for a long time. He just endured, breathing cold and harsh breaths, eyes wide open.

The saint softly approached him and whispered.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

His breathing stopped.

“Now you understand, don’t you? This is what happens when you oppose the will of ‘Strict Order and Good.’ The more you resist god, the worse everything will become.”

“.......”

His sea-colored eyes slowly lost focus under the cunning words like brainwashing. In a wandering voice, he asked.

“Then what must I.......”

“.......”

“What must I do to make them release her?”

As if waiting for this moment, a gentle smile spread across the saint’s face.

“Nothing.”

“.......”

“Don’t try to do anything.”

“.......”

The sly words took root in him.

“You are a puppet, a clown, a mere component. Don’t try to act on your own will. Just stay still, as the strings pull you, as the script is written, as the spring unwinds.”

“Stay still......”

“Yes, stay still.”

“Then......”

“Then god will pity you and take nothing more from you.”

“.......”

The light of will faded from his eyes. From the shadow of the kneeling figure, black heat haze grew and began to coil and climb over his body.

The nightmare, seduced by pure despair, misfortune, and pain, revealed its true form. Like worms drawn to sweet nectar, it sought to taste Tesilid Argent bit by bit.

The saint, a part of the nightmare, continued faithfully playing her role.

“So, do you swear to do nothing?”

“......I......”

Just as he was about to answer as if mesmerized,

“Divine punishment.”

A bolt of lightning pierced the night sky vertically. The precisely aimed iron mace of god struck toward the saint.

The saint hastily reached out and formed a barrier. The shield-like ward shattered like mica, and the lightning was barely deflected.

Tesilid raised his still vacant eyes and looked in one direction. Amid the sparking shattered sights, he saw a °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° pink-haired woman far away.

Ayleth Rodeline.

As his sea-colored eyes slowly regained focus, she ran nonstop, panting heavily, and spat out words as if chewing each one.

“Stay away from Tesilid.”

“What holy power. Ah, you must be the sacred scripture? Just in time. We were negotiating his life in exchange for your treatment.”

“You...”

Before long, Ayleth’s breath was cold and steady. Even her eyes, which always held the freshness of spring, were chilling now.

“You’d better shut your mouth.”

Light gathered in her outstretched hand and transformed into a beautiful battle scythe.

The white scythe, scattering holy energy, was surely the Sacred Scythe. Holding it with both hands, Ayleth stared straight at Muriel and stomped her foot on the ground.

Her leg, charged with tremendous power, shot forward at explosive speed. She swiftly pierced the enemy’s center in a straight line, swinging the scythe.

The massive horizontal blade swept the surroundings in a circular path, collapsing the enemies’ encirclement. Then the vertical blade extended long like a hidden sword, wildly rampaging in a far wider radius than the scythe’s initial swing.

The heretic inquisitors who were knocked down by the insane onslaught dared not approach again.

Having completely taken control of the area, Ayleth proudly began to walk slowly. She stood with her back to Tesilid.

From the beginning, her purpose was to clear the surroundings. As if deciding to be a steadfast wall herself, she stood protecting Tesilid from the enemies and spoke.

“I told you I would find you wherever you are.”

Tesilid’s expression crumbled.

The impassive face he had kept so well broke instantly with just those words, revealing his suffering.

Someone who would find him wherever he is.

That straight back filling his vision reminded him exactly of when he had gained the Holy Sword.

“Ayleth Rodeline.”

“.......”

“Why do you...”

“.......”

“Why do you always show up like this?”

Appearing as salvation.

“Showing up in my miserable moment like this, forcing me to...”

Make her my savior.

“I can’t help it.”

He thought he had become numb enough to the world’s torment, but he wasn’t. He was still afraid of loss and betrayal.

“Why, exactly...”

“Of course.”

She interrupted as if it was now her turn.

“It’s because you keep acting all affectionate.”

She scolded him and stared down the enemies, gripping her battle scythe tighter.

The heretic inquisitors who had drawn weapons were closing in, and the fierce battle was about to begin.