Chapter 60: The Meeting Between the Duke and the Saintess (2)

The Meeting Between the Duke and the Saintess (2)

Left alone in the sewer, Yuria sat with her knees drawn to her chest, a somber expression on her face.

Lifting her gaze, she surveyed her surroundings.

A gust of wind blew from somewhere, carrying a foul stench with it.

Yuria slightly furrowed her brows at the unbearable odor but soon relaxed her expression.

The overwhelming stench, the revolting scenery—these things suited her well.

How could she, of all people, dare to frown?

Perhaps this underground sewer, where the gaze of the Divine did not reach and where the pursuit of the Holy Church could not follow, was her final destination.

There was no food, no water, and nowhere to rest, yet oddly, she felt at peace.

It was as if she had arrived at the place she was always meant to be.

Yes, a person who had ruined another’s life with a lie deserved no better than this.

Though the sewer was wretched, though she should feel shame for finding solace here, it was a fitting place for a traitor and a wretch like her.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips.

She had been so happy on her way to announce the depletion of her divine power.

It had been right after the Demon King’s defeat, and she had felt a sense of pride, as if she had successfully completed her duty.

Who would have thought that the end of that road would lead to this—a place of filth and decay?

It was absurd.

Unbelievable.

But in the end, this was the path she had chosen.

Even if she had been under pressure, she had once been a holy saintess, the Divine’s representative.

This punishment wasn’t enough to atone for her sins.

No, it wasn’t enough.

Even the act of finding solace here was sinful.

Sir Duvel had chosen death as his form of atonement and had found peace in that decision.

Though his guilt over Emilia might have mingled with his self-reproach, at least he had never spoken falsehoods.

And yet, his death had paved the way for the kingdom to breathe again.

What a noble end.

She envied him, but she lacked both the courage and the resolve to follow his path.

She had considered it once.

Perhaps her own atonement should be to drive a blade into Briccal’s throat, to finish what Duvel had started.

When she had stood over his unconscious form, she had often thought of grabbing a knight’s sword and bringing it down on his neck.

But that was all.

She had never had the courage to act.

For someone as weak as her, that task was far too great.

A bitter laugh turned into a sigh, fading into the foul air.

The stench that once made her stomach churn no longer affected her.

“Yes… The Divine led me here… Otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense.”

Yuria muttered to herself.

Meeting Lapellon had not been a coincidence.

It had been the Divine’s way of guiding her to realization.

She had reached the end of that path and gained the enlightenment she was meant to.

This must be the last lesson the Divine had for her.

Yes, she must return to the Holy Church.

She must face judgment there.

That was the best atonement a cowardly human like her could choose.

Having made up her mind, Yuria rose to her feet.

But as she turned in the direction of the wind, a sense of unease crept over her.

Something was moving along with the wind.

And that presence was growing clearer.

Plop… step… plop… step…

“…What… is that?”

Footsteps echoed from a distance.

A slow, unhurried pace, carrying a strange, sickly scent.

It was not the sound of something in pursuit.

It was the sound of something approaching, without rush or hesitation.

Yuria instinctively took a step backward.

A foreboding presence.

No—how could it not be?

No ordinary human ventured into the sewers.

“No… No…”

She frantically looked around, but there was nowhere to hide.

The sewer was a straight passage with no alcoves, no shadows deep enough to conceal her.

There was only one path—to flee.

This was the truth of a place where those who had fled the surface gathered.

There was only one option—to keep running.

Her backward steps turned into a sprint.

Scavengers.

Lapellon had said the area was clear.

He had assured her there were no scavengers here, that the prosperity of Rosel’s lands meant they rarely appeared.

Was this too part of the Divine’s will?

That she would run into scavengers at this very moment?

Perhaps.

Perhaps the Divine had sent these sewer dwellers to punish her for abandoning her faith.

And so, she stopped running.

She would not flee any longer.

If this was fate, she would accept it.

Yuria turned to face the approaching scavengers.

Their breath was heavy, unnatural, and beastlike.

Their eyes glowed in the darkness of the sewer—menacing, predatory.

A fitting gaze for those sent to exact divine retribution.

The sound of their ragged breathing drew closer, and Yuria, trembling with fear, met them head-on.

“Aahhh!”

She had wanted to remain silent, but when she was thrown to the ground, a scream tore from her lips.

“Grrrr… What a lucky find.”

Five scavengers.

Their faces, caked with filth, were unrecognizable.

When they grinned, their yellowed, broken teeth made them look more beast than man.

Their clothing—if it could even be called that—was tattered, and they each wore unsettling smiles.

“Heh heh heh… Never thought we’d see a woman in the sewers.”

“Khrrrk, krrrk, tonight will be a feast.”

Yuria lay sprawled on the ground.

Her hood had been torn off, revealing the rosary around her neck—the symbol of a saintess.

But these creatures, who had forsaken their humanity, would never recognize it.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn’t bear to look at them.

Whatever happened next, she would endure it as the Divine’s judgment.

This must be the atonement befitting a traitor, she thought.

Like a lifeless corpse, she lay motionless on the cold ground.

“That must be the Saintess’s scream.”

“It… it seems so.”

“Hurry.”

“Yes.”

Lapellon was the first to rush toward the source of the scream, and Rosel followed closely behind.

A scream in the sewers—what could have caused it?

It would be ridiculous if she had simply been startled by a rat, but this was surely no trivial matter.

The scream they had heard was different in nature, not just a cry of surprise.

And then, there were the footprints.

Five sets of wet footprints leading straight toward the source of the scream.

Rosel quickened his pace.

Soon, they came upon Yuria sprawled on the ground, surrounded by five scavengers, all of whom were leering at her with ravenous hunger in their eyes.

Lapellon shouted.

“Stop!”

“Grrrk? Quite a lot of visitors today.”

The apparent leader of the five bared his fangs, eyeing Lapellon and Rosel alternately.

“Heh… You two seem like distinguished folks. But this is the sewer. And when someone sets foot in our nest, it’s only right they offer something in return.”

“Keheheh.”

Rosel gazed at the scavengers.

Men who had abandoned their humanity.

He had done everything in his power to create a prosperous land with low taxation but high welfare, ensuring a good life for his people.

And to some extent, he had succeeded.

The defection rate of his citizens was an astonishingly low 0.008 percent.

Every commoner lived in abundance, working diligently for the prosperity of the land.

That was what the Rosel Duchy stood for.

Yet even in such a place, there were those who had forsaken their humanity and descended into the sewers.

There was no need to ask why they had fled here.

Most were running from gambling debts or had committed crimes and refused to take responsibility, escaping underground instead.

These vermin were scavengers.

Rosel took a step forward.

His gaze darkened with hostility.

It was fury—fury toward those who had fled responsibility.

Fury toward those who dared to nest on his land and commit such atrocities.

“Step back, Lapellon.”

“Will you be alright?”

Ignoring Lapellon’s concern, Rosel continued forward.

The scavengers, in turn, brandished crude clubs and makeshift weapons, stepping toward him.

In the sewers, they were kings.

In this lawless wasteland where neither morality nor justice held sway, only their rules applied.

They had survived under such rules, and thus, they showed no fear.

But what they did not realize…

Was that the nest they had built for themselves sat beneath the land of its rightful owner.

And now, the master of that land stood before them.

A dark aura of magic swirled around Rosel’s hand.

“So, you call this your nest? This is my land, you worms.”

There was no need for him to even lift a hand.

The black magic he conjured crushed them effortlessly.

The overwhelming force left them unable to even swing their weapons properly before they fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

A fitting end for those who had foolishly fled responsibility.

For men who had abandoned their humanity, Rosel had no mercy to spare.

Easily subduing them with his magic, he strode toward Yuria, who had now pulled herself into a seated position.

“Saintess.”

“L-Lord Rosel…?”

He had intended to meet her in secrecy, yet fate had brought them together like this.

It was regrettable, but Rosel was not so foolish as to dwell in past misfortunes and let them dictate the future.

No, perhaps this was for the best.

At least this way, Regent Acaron would remain unaware that they had made contact.

They had met in the depths of the sewers, far from the watchful eyes of the kingdom.

Perhaps this was the wisest course of action.

As long as her journey ended here, all was well.

Had she wandered elsewhere and met a meaningless death, it would have been even more difficult to clean up the mess.

After all, ever since Briccal had commanded the false prophecy, he had even dismissed her guards.

If the saintess had died somewhere in the kingdom, the Holy Empire would have held them responsible, and the entire situation would have spiraled into chaos.

Yes, in a way, this was the best outcome.

If she willingly chose atonement now, it would be the best resolution for both Emilia and Yuria herself.

Rosel extended his hand to her.

“You’ve arrived well, Saintess.”

“…What?”

Yuria looked up at him, pale as a ghost.

And in that moment, she understood.

Lapellon’s assessment of him.

Why he had described Rosel in such a way.

Now that she stood before him, she knew.

It was entirely different from when she had seen him in the royal capital from afar.

Was it because he had effortlessly subdued five scavengers like it was nothing?

Just as Lapellon had described, standing before Rosel, she felt entranced.

Without even realizing it, she reached out and took his hand.

The Divine had guided her to Rosel’s estate.

And now, standing before him, she finally understood.

The Divine had not led her to this place.

He had led her to him.

That was how it felt.