Saint Natida.
Rania’s first encounter with her was a year ago. Rania still vividly remembered that first meeting. It was such a shocking scene.
Hooouu…
The main church of the Deloheim Church.
The prayer room dedicated to the God was stained red with splattered blood. In the place where the blood trailed, a girl was perched on the corpse of a priest, breathing heavily as she gazed up at the sky blocked by the ceiling.
A cracked breath.
Gray smoke wafted up with every exhale.
It was later revealed that the girl was holding a substance known as a relaxant, a treatment used by those addicted to drugs to ease their withdrawal.
…
With her hollow eyes, the girl looked at Rania.
Locking eyes with Rania, the girl let out a laugh. It was a hollow laugh, one that suggested resignation. After taking a long drag, the girl exhaled deeply.
Ashen smoke.
Amid the rising smoke, Rania glanced at the priests sprawled beneath the girl. They were gripped by tools used to inject drugs. Colorful vials of drugs rolled on the floor, and when Rania looked up at the girl…
Marks of needles punctured her arms and neck. The girl’s hollow eyes were not those of a normal person.
That was enough to assess the situation.
The horrendous actions that came to light and the fall of the Deloheim Church due to the retirement of the saint, Sara. Knowing that such a church was hiding the birth of a new saint, Rania had come here.
Rania wiped her eyes.
Had they realized that brainwashing through Sara wasn’t sufficient? It seemed the church educated the new saint through even more sinister means than before. This girl was the product of that education.
Ah. Ah. Ahem.
The girl opened her mouth, looking at Rania.
Struggling with her words, she kept fidgeting her lips and touching her chin as she continued speaking.
I don’t think you’re with the church.
If you came to pray… You’ve chosen the wrong prayer room. It’s not here, so go somewhere else.
Before things get ugly, hurry up.
Not asking for help, but urging her to run away before getting dragged into trouble.
Despite her drugged state and slurred speech, each syllable carried weight. As she spoke, she grinned, a characteristically dry laugh of those who have no expectations from life.
Saint Natida.
The current saint that the church had hidden away. That was Rania’s first encounter with Natida. Remembering Natida’s hollow eyes from that time, Rania let out a long sigh.
It’s better now, much better.
A year had already passed since she had identified Natida and placed her as an aide. Even if Natida still lit mana cigarettes from time to time, at least she no longer sought drugs. That alone was remarkable progress.
…Still, there was one thing that worried her.
What? What’s happening?
Are you really calling that work? Don’t joke around. Wow, seriously. Wow…
A ridiculously low ignition point.
During a previous dispatch, the noble who was targeting work had made a somewhat troublesome incident by smashing a wine bottle over his head. The fact that he was unpredictable was a bit concerning.
…Hmm.
While sitting in her office reading reports, Rania pinched her brow. After sending them to the North, sudden anxiety washed over her. Surely nothing would happen? She thought it wouldn’t, but…
Rania, as your master and father, I have just one request. Please don’t cause trouble. I mean it, don’t come back if you do. Handle it quietly, quietly.
As she pondered this worry, she could almost hear her master’s voice in her ear.
So this is what it felt like for you, Master.
But wait, I handled things cleanly.
I haven’t caused trouble much at all.
Whenever an incident arose, it was dealt with without any backlash, so it’s fine.
Ugh, it’s a different situation altogether.
Thinking it over, it was indeed different.
Rania shook her head and got to work. After all, what could possibly happen? She was a child who could discern a situation.
As long as she doesn’t get entangled with the church, she’s a good girl.
—
Huh? Getting angry?
Natida chuckled.
With a cigarette pinched in her fingers, Natida grabbed a priest by the collar and slammed him against the wall. As the priest groaned from hitting his head on the wall, Natida leaned closer to him, nearly touching foreheads.
Then, Hoo.
As she exhaled a plume of thick smoke, the priest coughed, Cough, cough! The priest’s face, turning funny, made Natida grin mischievously as she muttered quietly.
Is this great? Once you smoke, everything is so dazzling. The sparks fly! It’s such an amazing experience; I feel it’s a waste to enjoy it alone.
With the burning cigarette still in her fingers, Natida aimed the burning tip toward the priest’s eyes.
The priest’s eyes widened in alarm.
—
Lac’s day began early in the morning.
After spending several days investigating the problematic snowy mountains with the visiting Belnoa and Chloe, they returned to the Knights’ base to report and discuss future actions. Back in his routine, Lac started his day lightly.
Routine meant training, after all.
With two axes strapped to his waist, Lac headed deeper into the snow-capped mountains. After walking for a while, the sanctum of the Grace family, battered by storms, came into view. That was Lac’s training ground.
He didn’t even need to catch his breath.
As if going for a walk, Lac walked lightly toward the sanctum. Even amidst the raging snowstorm, Lac’s breathing remained steady. In an instant, Lac arrived at the center of the sanctum.
The core, lined with shattered statues.
Listening to the sound of flowing water between the statues, Lac exhaled sharply. In the past, he had relied on the power of the founding head, Grace, to endure the harsh environment, but… he no longer needed that.
Lac had also grown over the past three years.
The massive flow of mana pressed against Lac’s body, but for him now, it was just right. Depositing the weights he had brought one by one on the ground, Lac commenced his daily training.
…Hoo.
In the past, he had started training with the military weights and restriction gear given to him by Galahal. With his entire body loaded with restriction gear, Lac began his rigorous training.
Whoosh, Whoosh.
After maintaining a steady posture while swinging the axe for some time, he started sweating, and it was time to raise the intensity of his training. He lightly tapped his heart with the axe’s handle.
Heating.
The arrangement of mana shook in an instant.
But it never faltered. Having completed all of Apuria’s training courses and learned the arrangement of mana from Apuria’s nightmares, Lac steadied the arrhythmia with ease.
Repeating the circulation of mana with his fully heated body.
The tower Lac had built from the foundation upwards was sturdy. Even amidst the harsh swirling currents of mana, Lac’s breath remained steady. Thinking back to when he had first entered Apuria and fainted at the Mana Spring, the progress was astonishing.
Whoosh, Whoosh.
Lac continued to swing the axe.
Every time the axe struck, a crack echoed. Amidst the sounds echoing in his ears, Lac pondered.
A year had passed since graduating from Apuria.
It had been three years since he received that from Professor Rania.
Looking back over the past three years, had he grown? In response to that question, Lac could nod. Although he hadn’t yet become a superhuman, he had stepped into the beginnings of the path. Or perhaps, he was already advancing beyond.
Since passing the trial of the Holy Grail, Lac could no longer see walls. The walls were invisible to him.
He didn’t know what he had to surpass, nor where he stood now. The professor had said he would know when the time came, but Lac had no idea when that would be.
…
Only the piece of the Holy Grail lodged in his heart and the seed the professor had planted that day remained discernible.
…Something feels lacking.
He wasn’t sure exactly what.
Lac just couldn’t bring himself to call himself a superhuman yet. Others evaluated that Lac’s physique and skills had reached the superhuman level, but… Lac himself didn’t feel like a superhuman.
The absence of something decisive.
That was what Lac was searching for.
He had not found the answer, so he diligently continued to train his body. Listening to the continuing crack crack sounds growing louder, Lac slowly exhaled.
Hoo…
As he exhaled and looked ahead, there lay a cracked space. Seeing the cleave in the air, Lac lightly tapped the axes held in both hands together.
CLANG.
The sound created by the collision of axes resonated.
As if responding to that sound, the space twisted and tore apart. It was one of the Grace family’s techniques, the Galahal-type alteration. Lac felt a sense of pride watching the technique improve daily.
It was best to end today’s training here.
Realizing that half of the day had already passed, Lac packed up and stepped outside the sanctum. Sweating in the raging snowstorm as he stepped onto the snowy plains…
Duke, young master!
Sevas, the servant waiting outside the sanctum, rushed toward Lac. Wiping the sweat with the towel Sevas handed him, Lac tilted his head.
What’s the matter, Sevas? Why the hurry…
There’s a disturbance with a guest!
…What?
—
Rushing toward White Night Castle with Sevas, Lac learned the current situation from him.
So…
Lac blinked.
The guest sent by Professor Rania, no, the Hero, is beating the priest senseless?
Yes, yes…
Why are they attacking their party…?
Well, um, it seems a bit complicated.
The story went as follows.
The guest who visited the North was a well-regarded figure associated with the church, and during the journey to the North, a priest had been attached under the pretense of escorting her.
Due to the atrocities committed by the church in the North a few years ago, they couldn’t send anyone to the North, but… it seemed they aimed to take this opportunity to step into the North under the guise of escorting.
The guest apologized for breaking the ‘northern rules’ while explaining the situation, and I thought to myself, ‘what a nice person.’
That sentiment didn’t last long.
They heard screams from the reception room, and when they rushed in, the guest was savagely pummeling the priest.
Given the status of the guest, we find ourselves in a bit of a bind. The Duke concluded, ‘As for the escort, the master’s discretion applies.’ The situation is complicated.
…What kind of person is she?
As Lac raced up to the reception room, he asked.
To which Sevas answered.
…She’s the saint. The saint of the church.
What?
Lac blinked.
Before he knew it, Lac had arrived in front of the reception room. Warriors surrounded the area, whispering in astonishment as they gazed into the room.
Ah, young master.
The warriors stepped aside upon seeing Lac. Stepping past them into the reception room, Lac involuntarily inhaled sharply.
Guh, uhhh…
He saw a priest sprawled out on the floor, groaning, and a woman burning a cigarette with her bare foot resting on the priest’s head. Her light brown hair fluttered in the breeze from the wide-open window.
Huuuu…
A strained breath.
As the woman exhaled long and deeply alongside her disheveled breathing, she locked eyes with Lac, standing by the door. After a moment of blinking, she broke into a bright smile.
Guh!
Rising from her place while stepping on the collapsed priest, she carelessly disposed of the cigarette over his head and approached Lac. Reaching out for a handshake, she paused when noticing the ash and bloodstains on her gloves, embarrassed.
Excuse me.
Removing her gloves and stuffing them into her robe’s pocket, she extended her bare hand to Lac.
I am Natida, the saint and assistant to Hero Rania van Trias.
She smiled brightly.
It’s an honor to meet you, Guardian of the North.
As Lac gazed into Natida’s eyes, he thought within himself.
Certainly, she’s someone that Professor Rania could send as a guest.
