Chapter 62: The Duke and the Saintess’ Meeting (E)

Year 1025 of the Continental Calendar, July.

Yuria descended the spiral stone staircase of the Holy Tower with light steps.

Since receiving her ordination, she had never once allowed a smile to grace her lips.

As a saintess responsible for the fate of the kingdom, she feared that such a trivial emotion might become a blemish on her immense duty.

However, as she swiftly made her way down the staircase, a smile was now present on her face.

She was overjoyed.

At last, her divine power had been depleted.

Now, she could return to her homeland beneath the World Tree and spend the remainder of her days in freedom and abundance.

She could not contain her joy, and with her fingers lightly lifting the hem of her holy robe, she quickened her pace.

While the liberation from her duty as a saintess was exhilarating, she also desperately wished to leave this Elond Royal Capital behind.

Ever since Brical’s reign, the kingdom had entered what could only be described as an era of darkness, where the air was constantly filled with the scent of blood.

Though she had been spared from the carnage, hearing the cries of those who fell victim to the storm of violence was never a pleasant experience.

At times, she had covered her ears.

Other times, she had closed her eyes.

She had tried to block out the atrocities committed by the tyrant Brical, pretending not to see nor hear, so she could fulfill her duty to this kingdom.

Now, after ten long years of being stationed in Elond, her divine power had finally run dry.

The depletion of divine power varied by individual, as the vessel within each person differed.

On average, it took twelve years for divine power to fully deplete.

In that sense, Yuria’s depletion had come rather early.

Among the saintesses, she was considered to have been blessed.

After all, she had been released from her duty three years earlier than average.

Moreover, with the Demon King having been vanquished and the Hero’s Party set to return the very next day, it felt as though she had perfectly fulfilled her duty.

Tomorrow, the Hero’s Party would return.

She would be able to bid them farewell and express her gratitude for their service.

For Yuria, the timing could not have been more ideal.

Thus, with a light heart, she made her way toward the royal office, escorted by a knight.

“You seem to be in a good mood, Saintess.”

At the knight’s comment, Yuria suppressed her smile and responded.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

Though she was personally delighted, the retirement of a saintess was meant to be a solemn affair.

She tried her best to hide her smile.

Yet, her lips kept twitching involuntarily.

Before long, she arrived at Brical’s office.

Her smile faded away, and her excitement cooled like ice.

Knock, knock.

She knocked, and Brical’s voice called out from inside.

Yuria politely entered the office.

“What brings you here, Yuria?”

“I have something to report.”

“Did you receive a prophecy?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

Yuria inhaled deeply as she took in the office’s atmosphere.

A strange scent crept into her nostrils.

Was it the smell of alcohol? Tobacco? No.

It was something else—an unpleasant, rancid odor.

Still, she quickly dismissed her curiosity.

What mattered now was not some odd smell.

“I have come to announce my retirement as a saintess.”

“…Your divine power has run out, then.”

Brical turned his head as he spoke.

There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.

The premature retirement of a saintess would leave a vacancy, something no king would be pleased about.

Still, instead of acknowledging her service, he suddenly smirked—a crude, twisted grin.

He turned back to face her, his eyes gleaming like those of a predator gazing at its prey.

Yuria instinctively recoiled.

“W-Why are you looking at me like that?”

“A brilliant idea just came to mind. And what a perfect coincidence—it seems the Saintess’s divine power has run out at just the right time.”

“What…?”

His sinister smile spread wider.

Brical slowly approached her.

Yuria instinctively stepped backward—only to find herself pressed against the wall.

“There is no need to be afraid.”

Now, they were mere inches apart.

The stench of alcohol and something far fouler emanated from Brical’s breath, but Yuria could only stare up at him in terror.

His sudden change in demeanor left her trembling in fear.

“W-Why are you doing this?”

“There is something I’d like to ask you.”

“…What is it?”

“Since you are retiring, I hope you’ll answer me honestly.”

Her trembling seemed to amuse him.

Brical was savoring her fear.

Like an addict inhaling a fragrant spice, he took in a deep breath and shuddered with pleasure.

“Ahhh, delightful.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Heh… It’s delightful. I wonder how much better the Hero’s fear will taste.”

“What are you talking about…?”

Yuria could not comprehend his words.

She had no desire to try.

Brical’s presence had become unbearably unsettling.

It was as if something else had taken hold of him.

And then, with a mocking grin, he looked straight into her eyes.

“Tell me something, Saintess.”

“…Yes?”

“In your eyes, do I look like a wise and just king… or a tyrant?”

“…What?”

Yuria’s eyes widened in shock.

But as she met his gaze, filled with something unfathomable, she quickly lowered her head in fear.

Her uneasy gaze darted around.

A simple question—was he a wise ruler or a tyrant?

Of course, he was a tyrant.

Unlike his father, who had a kind heart, he indulged in ruthless tyranny, spending his days drowned in alcohol and women.

To anyone who looked at him, he was nothing but a tyrant.

However, if she uttered the word “tyrant” here and now, it felt as though his merciless fangs would tear her apart.

She was a citizen of the empire, a representative of the divine.

She knew logically that he could not harm her.

And yet, an ominous thought whispered that perhaps, in this moment, he very well could.

So, in fear, she answered.

“B-Brical, Your Majesty is a wise ruler…”

At that moment, Brical threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

“Hahaha!”

As if something was utterly hilarious, he clutched his stomach, laughing in a way that was painful to watch.

There was not a shred of royal dignity in his laughter.

After a while, he stopped laughing and opened his eyes again—cold and sharp.

One corner of his lips was still curled into a sly smirk.

“Hah… To think that the Saintess would call me a wise ruler. You are quite skilled at lying.”

“W-Well, the Kingdom of Elond is prosperous and strong…”

“The current prosperity and strength of Elond are all thanks to Duke Roselle… So, are you saying Duke Roselle is the wise ruler?”

“No! Th-That’s not what I meant…!”

“Hahaha! Just joking, just joking.”

“Oh… I-I see… Then, I’ll take my leave now…”

Terrified, Yuria bowed her head and attempted to leave.

But before she could even take a step toward the door, Brical slammed a hand against the wall, blocking her path.

“W-Why…?”

“Where are you rushing off to?”

“I have announced my retirement, so I need to make preparations…”

Brical let out a chuckle.

“Who said I was allowing your retirement?”

“…W-What?”

Brical draped an arm over Yuria’s shoulders, forcefully guiding her toward the window.

Staring out toward the distant southwest, where the Demon King’s castle once stood, he spoke.

“There’s still much you need to do. Where do you think you’re going?”

At his words, Yuria realized the truth.

For so long, she had turned a blind eye to the bloodshed in the kingdom.

Now, that very bloodshed had come for her.

“W-Who exactly are you… Duke?”

Yuria gazed at Roselle with awe.

Her eyes were similar to how she had once looked at Brical.

However, this time, there was more astonishment than fear.

“If you ask who I am, I suppose I should answer… No, I almost said something foolish.”

“Huh?”

“It was nothing. Forget it. I am simply Roselle, Duke of Elond.”

“…But how do you know all of this…?”

She couldn’t believe it.

It almost felt as if he was deceiving her.

According to the divine prophecy, Emilia was the hero who would save the kingdom.

And she had indeed defeated the Demon King and saved the kingdom.

After that, as her divine power gradually faded, she could no longer receive prophecies, but there had never been any reason to doubt the validity of the previous ones.

Or… had the prophecy not yet ended?

Had a new prophecy arrived after her divine power had faded?

With confusion clouding her gaze, Yuria lowered her eyes to the table.

Whatever the case, she was now certain—her arrival here was not mere coincidence.

It was the will of the Divine.

Roselle, observing her quietly, finally spoke.

“Seongdo (聖道).”

A short, yet weighty word.

Seongdo.

Just as the Goddess Gaion sent saintesses as her earthly representatives, she also sent men, not as saintesses, but as Seongdo—to walk the land and observe.

Some called them [Watchers] or [Wanderers].

If saintesses resided in the Holy Tower, delivering the words of the Divine, then Seongdo wandered the land, acting as the eyes of the Divine.

Saintesses and Seongdo were similar yet fundamentally different.

And now, that name—Seongdo—had just come from Roselle’s lips.

Even the Grand Saintess of the Empire, the mother of all saintesses, did not know of their existence.

They were that secretive.

Thus, the Seongdo had two names—[Watcher] and [Wanderer].

Yuria’s eyelids shot open, and her already pale complexion stiffened completely.

“Y-You’re a Seongdo…? Duke…?”

Roselle gave a slight nod, then placed his palm face-up on the table.

Slowly, he curled his fingers, as if grasping something, and focused his mind at the point where his fingertips met.

Fwoosh!

A moment later.

In Yuria’s pale gray pupils, the sacred emblem of the Divine was clearly engraved.

A mark that no one could ever replicate.

A perfect, undeniable symbol of the Divine.