Nerim was an utterly unremarkable girl.
Having lost her parents to a plague when she was much younger than she was now, the customs of Quolia dictated she be entrusted to the care of the High Holy Knight, Verdel.
Though her father was often away and, if anything, a rather wild and unconventional man, their interactions were warm, despite the various obstacles they presented.
She learned a great deal from Verdel, and he, in turn, learned a great deal from the novel experience of raising a child, and a daughter at that.
There wasn't much to tell, perhaps, but the two were undeniably happy.
The name Nerim was a gift from her father at that time.
When did everything change?
It was around the time Nerim had grown accustomed to her new life and had built a relationship with her lax father to the point she could nag him about his lifestyle.
On an utterly unremarkable day, just like any other, Nerim and her environment changed dramatically.
The awakening of a Saint is recorded by divine revelation.
Shown directly only to the individual, the Saint, and the Three Holy Kings of Quolia, it announced the birth of the seventh Saint on the Idoragia continent.
As soon as the announcement of the Saint's descent reached the central authorities, the country was enveloped in a state of festival-like chaos.
The people offered words of blessing at the appearance of a new guardian of faith, swelling with hope that the world would be filled with more good.
But no matter how happy the people became, no matter how much they praised her, the girl forced to make sacrifices could never be happy.
Separation from her father.
And the countless miracles demanded of her by the people.
Ritrain = Nerim = Quolia.
A twisted name born from the fact that she had somehow managed to cling to the precious name her father gave her, even as her past records were erased by the central authorities and they tried to replace it with a new one.
And memories offered up for someone else's sake.
The only reason her heart hadn't broken, even as cherished memories were worn away and away, was solely because of the teachings she received from her father.
Her father's teachings enable her to stay strong.
She believes that after a good deed, something good will always follow.
She believes that someday, she will be freed from her role as a saint and live again with her father.
That is why she continues to write her diary.
For that day which will come, to at least preserve the memories.
So she can go meet the precious people she has forgotten once more.
Kree was a person she had met in those early days.
Was it difficult to find suitable candidates? Or was she deemed convenient as a fellow woman?
Nerim had no way of knowing, but among the countless memories she inscribed in her diary, Kree was the name that appeared most frequently.
Though her memories of that early period were unfortunately lost, the contents clearly showed how much trust Nerim had placed in her.
At the same time, it revealed how deeply Kree had worried and agonized over her.
She was alive thanks to someone.
Her existence was sustained because someone had desperately protected her.
She never forgot that fact. That one fact, above all.
Due to her poor speaking skills and her unclear memories, she had never clearly expressed her words of gratitude. She had no memory of doing so.
But Nerim had undoubtedly trusted and felt grateful to Kree.
Kree's feelings had, without question, reached Nerim's heart.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
One step. Nerim moves forward.
It is a step she desires for herself, musters her courage to take.
Because she herself willed it—not because someone else wished it or begged her—this step was taken of her own volition.
"Inquisitor Imreis. I have received so many things from you."
Her trembling voice betrayed her tension, yet simultaneously revealed the strong resolve held within.
"I knew you were... always worrying about me. But I was too consumed with my own thoughts, too busy helping others as instructed, to even remember to thank you."
She spoke slowly. Kree quietly shook her head, trying to deny it, to say it wasn't so.
But fearing the decision Nerim was about to make, she couldn't form the words.
"I really wanted to thank you so many times, but I forgot that too. I was forever a child, so I was always the one being protected, always being helped. But—you were suffering too, weren't you?"
Nerim hugged the diary tightly.
As if savoring the countless memories held within it, as if that very thing was the driving force urging her onward.
Drawing courage from the memories of those who had faded.
"But... I won't make mistakes anymore. Now I can say it. My strength, my memories, existed for this very moment. I want to help you more than I want to help everyone. Everything I've always received from you—I will return it here and now. It's alright. My heart is with you."
"Th-this can't be... it's not like that. It's not like that, Nerim."
Whether realizing she couldn't be stopped, or understanding that she *wouldn't* stop...
Kree could only weep.
Hoping for the best and making her choice, she had, in reality, brought about the worst outcome.
No one was truly at fault. There was no evil intent or malice involved.
It was simply because everyone was *too kind* that the tragedy unfolded.
"So don't cry. Don't lose to the darkness."
"Wait, Nerim!"
"I will save you."
An invisible shockwave blew away Kree as he tried to rush over, shouting.
With a roaring rush, a brilliantly white, holy vibration enveloped Nerim, deflecting all interference and guiding a devout prayer toward its fulfillment.
"God. I offer you all of Father's memories—"
Quietly, yet with utter clarity.
That declaration reached every being present.
A prayer to God. The fulfillment of a miracle.
Nerim's sincere prayer, offered with everything she had, was at last heard by the divine.
"—Therefore, please grant me the power to save Kree."
An aurora bright enough to illuminate the world gently enveloped the girl.