The meeting among Kree and the others showed no signs of ending.
That was only natural. After all, the issues they needed to address spanned a wide range...
To be fair, they had made some progress — finding points of compromise on their general policy framework. But that didn't mean they could expect answers to the mountain of problems piled before them.
Just when everyone was showing signs of exhaustion under the oppressive atmosphere and accumulated fatigue, a shadow fell across the entrance to the tent.
"Um... h-hello?"
"...Nerim."
"Oh, the Diary Saint!"
Appearing before them was Ritrain Nerim Quorts, the Diary Saint. Whether she had nothing to do or had come with some purpose, she stood there looking somewhat at a loss.
Sensing the heavy atmosphere among those conducting the meeting, her expression showed even more anxiety and fear than usual.
But rather than simply welcoming her visit, the Holy Knight made an unusual proposal.
"How about it, Inquisitor Imreis? Why not step out with the Saint and get a change of scenery? We'll take the opportunity to review our information for any gaps."
"That would be splendid. You must be exhausted from the succession of difficult matters, Inquisitor. Please, take your time."
"...Very well. I'll take you up on your kind offer. Shall we go, Nerim?"
"Y-yes!"
The somewhat stifling atmosphere eased with the visit of the young saint.
It was a sentiment honestly shared by all of them that this would be a good time for a change of pace.
Nerim herself didn't seem to have any particular business — she had simply been at loose ends — and she readily agreed to Kree's suggestion.
So they accepted the others' kind offer and decided to take a brief rest.
"Then, if you'll excuse us."
Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't have had time for such a break.
But in this moment, by some coincidence, they all shared the same thought as they saw the two off.
Watching the backs of the two as they walked away hand in hand, like sisters separated by a gap in age, the Holy Knights steeled themselves with a renewed sense of resolve.
………
……
…
"We don't have anywhere in particular to go, but shall we take a walk? Is there anywhere you'd like to visit, Nerim?"
"Ah, um... I'm fine, Inquisitor Imreis."
Nodding at her words, the two slowly made their way through the streets of Amrita.
The state of the people was, unfortunately, far from good.
With severe cases being prioritized, many of the lightly wounded were suffering, and without proper ecclesiastical authority in place, small scuffles were breaking out here and there.
That said, things were still better than in the initial aftermath.
The people showed a will to move forward, and amid their confusion, there were signs of adaptation to their new environment.
What Kree and the others had done was truly saving this land.
But the road was still only halfway, and the destination they aimed for lay far in the distance, with dark clouds gathering beyond.
"Everyone seems to be getting a little better. That's wonderful."
"Yes. That's all thanks to your hard work, Nerim."
At Kree's words, Saint Ritrain hugged her large diary tightly to her chest and let out a soft sigh of relief.
She seemed to feel joy in knowing that her efforts were saving people.
If she saved people, she would surely meet her father again. That was why she offered her memories day after day, devoting herself so completely to serving the people.
Even this brief moment was no exception.
Though it sounded nice to call it a casual stroll during a break, Kree well understood that the real purpose was to carve memories into her that she could then sacrifice.
Every day, walking the same path. Every day, buying bread from the same bakery. Every day, eating at the same square. Every day, letting conversations bloom over the same topics.
And in exchange for those freshly forged, precious memories, she used the miracles granted by God to heal the people.
There was no miracle in this world that came without sacrifice.
The act of saving someone always imposed some burden on the savior.
And yet, she still held compassion and a spirit of service toward others. That precious, radiant devotion polished the soul until it was permitted to ascend to the presence of the great God.
That was the teaching of the God they believed in — their common sense.
Therefore, this was the right thing to do.
It was a divine law ordained by God Himself, and it was in this sacrifice and devotion that meaning truly existed.
"...How many more people do I need to save?"
"Let me see. Most of the seriously ill have already been treated. The rest should recover on their own. The number of times this city will need to rely on your power, Nerim, will be fewer than before."
"Is that so..."
Kree's words met with only a faint response, likely because Nerim had little sense of accomplishment from saving people.
Unnecessary memories were consumed first. Information about the progress of reconstruction and the condition of the populace had especially high priority.
The gratitude of the people, the sense of fulfillment from saving lives — all of it had long since vanished as the price of some miracle.
She — the Diary Saint — what state of mind must she be in as she carried out these tasks?
Her diary contained only the memories of a few precious people who remained, and records of countless events she had no recollection of at all.
It was as if she were locked in a prison, completely cut off from all information.
How far could her heart endure?
"As for preaching God's teachings to the people, while it hasn't gone entirely smoothly, it is progressing. The day when everyone can live their normal lives again is just around the corner."
At those words, Ritrain let out a breath of relief and managed an awkward smile.
Kree, drawn by the small saint's smile, returned one just as awkward.
The clumsy exchange and budding relationship between the two.
The content was exactly the same as the day before.
(Her memory consumption is severe. — She's reading the diary more frequently, and there are parts where her memory of me has become hazy. Judging by her attitude when she arrived at the tent, the Holy Knights' memories are likely almost gone as well...)
The burden on Nerim was far too great. The role of "saint," contrary to what one might imagine, had surprisingly few who excelled at healing.
The Vessel Saint currently handling the situation in the central region was reportedly not gifted in such miracles either, and the same was true of the missing Grand Funeral Saint and the Veiled Saint.
The three saints needed by the Elves were more suited to other aspects of the role, but in the current state of El-Na, asking them for cooperation would be foolish — their very lives were uncertain.
In this situation, she was the only one who possessed the means to address it, and on the other side, there were mountains of people waiting to be saved.
As she had said before, it was true that the reconstruction of Amrita had reached a certain milestone.
But the surrounding villages remained untouched, and several other large cities like Seldochi still remained. There was no end in sight...
She was far too powerless...
A sense of futility only continued to mount, but even so, Kree could hardly have devised a plan to turn the situation around.
As dark emotions welled up and faded again and again, Nerim began to show signs of fatigue from walking.
Reflecting that she might have pushed the girl a bit too hard, Kree recalled that there was a small park nearby where citizens gathered to relax, and they decided to rest on one of the benches there.
Dappled sunlight enveloped them gently, momentarily making them forget the tragic fate that surrounded them.
Lately, she had been so swamped with work that she'd barely had time to rest. In fact, she felt she had hardly taken any time to look after herself since being appointed as a Heresy Inquisitor.
Maybe this kind of time wasn't so bad. Just as Kree was letting her guard down—
"So, um, I heard the southern city has been acting a little strange."
"That's..."
An unexpected question came from Nerim, and Kree's relaxed state of mind was instantly pulled back to reality.
She was curious about where Nerim had heard that, but given her position as a saint, she would have no shortage of ways to learn such things.
The real question was whether she should tell her the truth...
Even if she told her, it would inevitably be consumed as fuel for miracles. But even if only for this moment, the thought of burdening this innocent and devoted girl with that knowledge pained her heart.
"Haven't you heard anything, Inquisitor Imreis?"
Pure, tinged with a hint of anxiety, yet carrying a clear and resolute will — Nerim's eyes pierced straight through Kree.
"...I have indeed received that report. But please rest easy, Saint Nerim. We were in the very midst of holding a meeting to address the countermeasures. Do not worry. God's guidance and mercy continue to shine upon this land without fail."
"Bad people... are coming? Is my power needed? Will good deeds..."
"It's all right. There's nothing to worry about, Saint Nerim."
She wondered who those words were truly directed at.
Were they meant for this small saint, or for herself?
After that, the conversation between the two fell silent, with only the dappled sunlight and the chirping of birds gently enveloping them.
And then—
"Help! Help meeee!"
"——!!"
A cry for help faintly reached their ears.
Nerim, through the powerful and peerless ability she possessed as a saint.
Kree, through the physical capabilities honed by relentless training.
They exchanged a brief glance and took off at wind-like speed.
There was some distance between them and the source, but for the two of them, it was hardly an obstacle.
Before long, they came to a stop at a tangled corner of the city.
At the end of a dim alley — that appeared to be the scene.
Unchanged screams and the sounds of something being struck could be heard. It was probably an assault by some vagrant, but there was always the chance of something worse, and Kree wanted to avoid bringing Nerim along as much as possible.
"You there — I'm entrusting Saint Nerim to you! Nerim, it's dangerous, so please wait here!"
"——Ah! Y-yes! Understood!"
"But — Kree!"
Fortunately, patrol soldiers who had heard the same screams appeared, and Kree eagerly handed Nerim over to them.
The girl seemed unhappy about it, but there was no time to listen to her objections.
If there were people suffering, then helping them was a Quolia warrior's duty. As a Heresy Inquisitor, Kree was no different.
She moved quickly but carefully through the dim alley.
Before long, she could see several men surrounding someone.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
She shouted, but kept her sword sheathed. Drawing a blade over a squabble between citizens would be somewhat excessive.
Of course, it depended on the other party's attitude, but Kree was not so fragile that she would be at a disadvantage against ordinary people simply because she hadn't drawn her sword.
But...
"Stop—!?!"
In that moment, she was struck by an overwhelming sense of eeriness and a bizarre situation that put her on high alert.
First: the vagrants, who had turned in response to her warning, all had vacant eyes and were muttering something under their breath while foaming at the mouth.
Second: the appearance of the person who seemed to have been assaulted.
His outfit — a bizarre getup reminiscent of a street performer — was something rarely seen in these parts. His unnaturally thin, elongated body was also conspicuously odd.
And finally—
"Oh! A holy man of Quolia! Thank heavens!"
The man rose to his feet without a sound.
Despite apparently having been assaulted moments ago, he stood there as though nothing had happened, perfectly composed.
His gleaming, shifting eyes raked over Kree.
"Who are you...?"
Before she knew it, her body had moved.
She dropped her center of gravity, her dominant hand finding the hilt of her sword. She drew in a small breath and tensed every muscle in her body.
"I am Vittorio — Vittorio, the Blessed Verbal Calamity."
The man bowed with exaggerated courtesy.
The gesture, somehow theatrical and utterly lacking in sincerity, was unmistakably the bow of a performer.
Ah, no need to be told.
No need to even ask.
What the man before her was, what that eerie appearance pointed to — there was only one possibility.
"I've come all the way from Mynoghra — Vittorio, at your service!"
——And finally, the third thing.
The overwhelming aura of evil that emanated from his very being.
The natural enemy of all who were holy had appeared, suddenly, right before their very eyes.
"——O God! Grant my sword the power to strike down the wicked!"
The flash of that blade was fast, and sharper than anything else.
The sacred swordsmanship burned into her by Fjord, Commander of the Southern Province Holy Knights Order, sought to cut down the existence of evil without tolerating even a sliver, wielding God's will with merciless precision.
In terms of sheer skill, that strike was on par with that of a senior Holy Knight. Against an ordinary demon, it would have ended everything before the opponent could even register it.
Yes — against an ordinary demon, that is.
Her opponent was something that strode outside the boundaries of that category in every conceivable way.
...It was true that Imreis had been shaken by the sudden enemy.
And it was also true that this tremor had introduced a single, minute flaw into her lightning-fast draw.
And yet—
"Nnnngh!? Emergency evasioooon!"
With movements so bizarre that they seemed inhuman — no, even a genuine inhuman creature would not move in such a grotesquely sinuous way — the man dodged her attack.
She was momentarily stunned that her killing blow had missed. But she had not put everything into a single strike. With the man's posture thrown off, she pressed in with her follow-up swing, pouring in her strength for a decisive finishing blow.
But—
"Stop! Stoooooop! Wait, young lady! Wait! Please waaaaait! Cease your relentless fury, fierce mademoiiiiselle!"
The blade cut through empty air.
It wasn't that she missed — she was prevented from hitting.
Having twice committed her full strength to attacks that failed to land, Kree pulled back to assess the distance. Whether she was gauging the gap in their power or about to call for reinforcements — only she knew.
But what was certain was this: the man — Vittorio — had bought himself enough time to speak.
"Pant... pant... I-I've been had... I've never screamed so loud in my life..."
"Have you any last words?"
Her words were strong, but inwardly, she was struggling with how to handle this situation.
The man had identified himself as being from Mynoghra — the nation ruled by the King of Ruin who had destroyed this very city of Amrita.
Beyond that, the aura of evil seeping from his body was far too intense to dismiss him as merely an advance guard or scout.
It was hard to believe that they had extended their reach as far as this city, but while Kree and the others had been on the back foot, it was undeniable that the enemy may have already seized control of many cities and villages.
In other words, this encounter was inevitable.
But she had never imagined that she would be forced into a life-or-death battle without even steeling her resolve for it.
Worried about Nerim, whom she had left behind, Kree's breathing grew shallow with tension.
But, contrary to her determination, events took an unexpected turn.
"I surrender! I submit! Have mercy! Have overwhelming mercy, pluuuuse!"
The man — Vittorio, who should have been her enemy — suddenly prostrated himself on the ground, begging for mercy.
He rubbed his head desperately against the ground in a posture so defenseless that a single swing of the sword could have taken his head.
Even knowing the man was a servant of darkness, Kree was caught between confusion and fury at such a pathetic display.
"Don't be absurd!"
Her words cut off mid-sentence. She had never encountered such a wildly outlandish maneuver before.
It might be harsh to call it inexperience, however.
After all, the man was the Hero of the Verbal Calamity — someone who specialized in precisely these kinds of underhanded tactics...
"I am surrendering! I won't run, and I won't hide! I'll accept my bindings! And since I'm submitting, I wish to engage in honest, open dialogue, as is only right and proper!"
"...Huh?"
An involuntary, bewildered sound escaped her. It was the only response she could manage.
The blankness in her mind came from the sheer impossibility of ever anticipating such words.
If the man had been putting on this farce to create an opening, then without a doubt, she would have taken his life in that very instant.
But that was not what happened.
Because the worst of it was — the man truly was that Vittorio.
"I am a pacifist, you know!"
He flashed a bright, carefree smile.
Kree stood frozen, still thrown off by Vittorio's innocent, sparkling gaze — for some reason, needlessly dazzling and utterly without guile.
But perhaps accustomed to this kind of reaction, Vittorio pressed on with his demands while she was still rattled.
"You'll grant me an audience, won't you? Your own teachings say that God values dialogue over violennce!"
Her reason screamed to grip her sword.
Her heart howled to cut down the evil before her.
The faith within her whispered that she must not listen to this man's words.
But—
"The teachings of the Holy God Alos, Volume Two, Chapter Four, Verse Four: 'The Holy God gathered the people and declared thus: Turn away from violence, and do not raise your sword against one who has chosen to surrender — even if they be a transgressor.' In other words, the Holy God Alos's decree forbids doing harm to one who has surrendered."
Ah — from the mouth of that very agent of evil came the recitation of God's own divine law.
Could there be anything more despairing than this?
"That's right, isn't it? — Kree Imreis, Chief Inquisitor of the Quolia Bureau of Heresy?"
The dark hand, she realized too late, had already arrived right in front of her.