The evening breeze, carrying a hint of chill, brushed across her cheeks, gradually calming her.
Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through her mind. She began to wonder if her recent actions had been overly aggressive, as her past self would never have behaved this way when confronted with matters concerning the Evil God.
‘Was this also a consequence of her soul being defiled?’
‘…Could it be?’
She couldn’t tell.
Yet, setting that aside, the story performed by the song and dance troupe was riddled with inconsistencies. If the Evil God didn’t love the princess, there would be no reason for them not to strike down the king. Conversely, if they truly loved the princess, then the princess might very well have fallen in love with the Evil God in return.
With mutual affection between them, how could the princess possibly betray the Evil God?
As these thoughts consumed her, she faced the evening breeze and blurted out, “The princess wouldn’t necessarily betray the Evil God, would she?”
Immediately after, she clapped a hand over her mouth, fearing Beacai would discern her true thoughts.
“Huh? What princess are you talking about? Do you mean the song and dance drama from earlier?”
Fiddling with the pinwheel in her hand, Beacai blinked, revealing a rare, somewhat dazed and adorable expression, as if she hadn’t paid any attention to the performance at all.
“No, no, it’s nothing.”
“…Oh.”
For some reason, Beacai guiltily averted her gaze. Isis, however, keenly noticed this, furrowing her brow as she asked, “Did you not watch the performance earlier?”
“…Mmm, I didn’t really pay attention.”
Awkwardly twirling the paper pinwheel twice, Beacai scratched her cheek and confessed.
While seated in the grand performance hall, she had actually spent the entire time staring blankly at the pinwheel in her hands, completely oblivious to the story the troupe was enacting.
In her estimation, no stage performance, however splendid, could compare to the perfect story woven by the pinwheel in her grasp—a memory of the first time a little girl had shown her affection.
“It’s fine that you didn’t watch it. It wasn’t a particularly remarkable story worth appreciating anyway.”
Upon realizing Beacai hadn’t paid close attention to the performance, Isis actually felt a wave of relief. Otherwise, Beacai might have sympathized with the Evil God, just as she had, and her heart would have been wounded by it.
Beacai bore too strong a resemblance to the Evil God, and Isis herself was quite like the princess.
‘If Beacai had watched this play, would she begin to suspect that Isis might betray her just like the princess? That was certainly not a scenario Isis wished to witness.’
A sudden thought made Isis pause.
‘Betray her?’
She had never truly submitted to Beacai, so how could there be any talk of betrayal? Furthermore, why was she suddenly considering Beacai’s feelings? Was it merely because Beacai had cured Philomena’s illness?
Isis realized her recent behavior had grown increasingly peculiar. Beacai, an Evil God, no longer appeared as terrifying or unapproachable as before. On occasion, Isis even found herself treating her like a child.
She constantly tried to rationalize this behavior as a consequence of her defiled soul. Yet, whenever she paused to reflect, she felt that these were her own conscious choices, entirely unrelated to any defilement.
She seemed to be drawing closer to Beacai, little by little…
“It’s getting late. Should we head back to the castle?” Beacai set down her pinwheel, gazing up at the night sky as she asked.
Knowing that Beacai had left the choice to her, Isis crossed her arms, mused for a moment, then replied, “The castle is too cold. Let’s stay in this city. Besides, isn’t there a festival coming up soon? Let’s remain here for a few more days.”
She pointed towards the scenery across the river. Beneath the illuminated night, numerous houses and trees were adorned with red decorations, and even the streetlights were connected by crimson ribbons.
Passersby occasionally glanced up at the ribbons on either side. As they recalled something, their expressions brightened with joy, and their footsteps became noticeably lighter.
Though the festival had yet to arrive, the celebratory atmosphere was already palpable.
****
Boom—!
Several resounding blasts echoed from the forest west of Pad City. Trees toppled, and countless birds and beasts soared into the sky. After dispatching the obstructing magical beasts, Nona and her companions finally emerged from the dense woods.
Compared to when they first entered, they were now considerably more disheveled. Their once neat hair was matted with sweat, their clothes bore streaks of dirt, and Nona’s body, in particular, had acquired several new wounds.
Fortunately, they had at last exited the forest and returned to Pad City.
After a collective sigh of relief, their moods gradually grew heavy once more. Olivia crossed her arms, and after a long period of contemplation, she asked:
“Just who was that woman? Wielding such powerful magic and serving the Evil God, she must be quite renowned.”
Nona and the others nodded, understanding that such a formidable woman could not be an unknown entity. They each began to speculate about the identity of the white-robed figure.
Ped, who possessed the most knowledge of the Evil God’s forces, remained conspicuously silent, not uttering a single word.
In his heart, there was an answer he considered most probable, yet dared not confirm.
‘She is… the “Saintess”?’
‘…If that white-robed woman truly were the Saintess, then they would have virtually no chance of victory.’
For now, he could only pray he was overthinking it.
“Let’s hurry back. Although the stone altar was destroyed, that sword isn’t entirely without clues.”
“Hmm?”
Ped’s words caught the attention of Nona and the others. They thought he had discovered something and were about to ask, only to see him shrug his shoulders.
“The fact that woman could find this place suggests the Evil God has some knowledge of the Hero’s Sword. The Bishop of Pad City must know something; he’s our only lead.”
At present, the only person who might still possess clues about the Hero’s Sword was the Bishop of Pad City, making him their last hope.
By returning to Pad City and formulating a comprehensive plan, they might still have a chance to acquire the Hero’s Sword.
With that thought, he led Nona and the others towards their former secret stronghold. However, before they could even get close, he raised a hand, signaling Nona and the rest to hide.
He sensed something was amiss.
Dawn was approaching. Normally, at this hour, elves would already be moving in and out of the stronghold, yet this time, he saw no one…
Something had changed.
Hiding behind a street corner, Ped cautiously peered around, observing the stronghold’s entrance. After an indeterminate amount of time, elves, each bound by magical shackles, began to emerge from within.
Alongside them were numerous Blood Cultists, acting as their guards.
“As long as your leader hands over the heroes, you will all be released without charge. So do not attempt to resist, nor commit any foolish acts. Regardless, none of you will escape the Church’s grasp.”
An elven maiden, hands on her hips, stepped out from the entrance. Several black-robed Blood Cultists followed respectfully behind her, clearly indicating her esteemed status.
Ped recognized her. She was Sharena, the elf who had betrayed the Church of Life.