Mer tried her best to wrap herself within the folds of the cloak and block all the sounds coming from the outside. The world was falling apart outside, and she did not want to hear it.

Screams and sobbing filled the air, all sounds that Mer did not want to hear. The aura and emotions radiating from Eugene made her feel uneasy, so she also squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that she could not try to calm Eugene down; his anger felt more than justified at the moment.

‘...He’s not using magic,’ Mer thought.

If Eugene used magic, it would give way for Mer to intervene. If Eugene chose to rampage with magic, Mer would happily take on a supporting role. She could calculate the trajectory of his attacks and make them more precise and merciless, slicing through hearts and heads without mercy.

If Eugene’s mana was about to be depleted, Mer would willingly forego her own form and provide him with mana. But....

‘He’s... looking after me,’ Mer realized.

The knowledge only made Mer feel more distressed. He chose not to use magic at all, knowing that it would cause her to intervene. As such, Mer huddled in the deep darkness within the cloak, doing nothing. She only hoped that the storm outside would pass sooner rather than later.

“Ugh...” Hemoria sat up with a groan, her body shaking. She could not understand what had happened.

She had arrived a bit late since she had been too far from the location of the battle. On the way to the battle with her subordinates, she had seen the light coming from the Gospel of Punishing Evil.

The Gospel of Punishing Evil was a Sacred Formation of the Blood Cross Knights created to oppose count-ranked demons and give Paladins the power to fight such demons head-on. Had they truly deployed even the Gospel of Punishing Evil to suppress one young man, Eugene Lionheart?

Her question lingered as she continued running, but then she saw the wings of light being consumed by flames. She saw a dark blue flame collide with the Sword of Judgement — and that was the last she remembered.

‘Where did my memories go?’ Hemoria thought to herself as she removed the mask from her mouth. She had just been caught in the midst of a fierce storm, and now her memories were scattered.

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She groaned as she felt a warm, sticky liquid oozing out of her mouth. It wasn’t as if she had been hit directly, but the aftermath of the storm had nonetheless caused damage to some of her organs. Hemoria took deep breaths and surveyed her surroundings. None of the other Inquisitors remained standing. In fact, some of them were nowhere to be seen.

Hemoria wrapped her disheveled coat around herself as confusion washed over her. She took a few steps forward before coming to a stop.

What lay in front of her was incomprehensible. This had clearly been flat land, or so her memory told her, yet there was no ground in sight. It was as if a deep pit had been there for ages.

Below, Hemoria saw the bodies of more than a hundred knights and Inquisitors lying in a tangled mess. It was a gruesome scene. Some of the corpses were no longer recognizable as human, and even those barely clinging to life looked seriously injured.

Hemoria could not believe what she was seeing was real. The Knights of Blood Cross were considered one of the greatest knightly orders on the continent. The knights belonging to the order were known across Yuras to be both skilled and devout in their faith.

Maleficarum — these Inquisitors had dedicated themselves to the religion of Light for hundreds of years. In the past, they had fought against demons and wicked wizards, and in the current age, they hunted down traitorous heretics and apostates.

The two groups were known as the dual pillars of power in Yuras. Even if there weren’t any high-ranking figures among them right now, for more than a hundred Paladins and Inquisitors to fail to stop a single man.... Was this really happening?

“...” Hemoria was at a loss for words. She just closed her mouth, feeling the taste of blood inside, and held her breath. She could feel the tips of her fingers quivering, and the gloves couldn’t hide the shaking. She clenched her fists to try and suppress it in a futile effort.

She did not want to avoid his gaze, but she was afraid to look him in the face. She could feel her crimson eyes slowly, ever so slowly, descending.

She heard the approaching footsteps.

Eugene Lionheart was climbing up from the pit below. He was holding the Holy Sword, which flickered with flames, and slowly walked up the steep slope. His expression was... blank. Clearly, he felt absolutely nothing about what he had done.

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Hemoria could not do anything. She just stood there, watching as Eugene approached.

The distance between them was slowly diminishing. Hemoria’s gaze kept drifting down toward the deep pit where the disheveled Paladins lay. Several Inquisitor corpses could also be seen nearby, their red cloaks, a symbol of Maleficarum, soaked in blood.

Hemoria’s lips slightly parted as a realization hit her. This couldn’t be happening. Had the Hero just killed a devotee? No... Hemoria didn’t think that was the problem. She forced her head up and looked at Eugene.

Those eyes.

Hemoria could not believe Eugene was the Hero. The Holy Sword in his hand was not radiating its usual divine light. It was just producing a wild bunch of flickering flames.

Eugene had no faith. Those eyes did not feel like the eyes of the Incarnation of Light. No... Hemoria knew exactly what those eyes were. They were the eyes of a heretic who rejected the Light. The eyes of an apostate who denied and hated the Light. The eyes of a fallen one who had plummeted to the pits of hell.

At that moment, Hemoria’s faith overcame her primal instincts. She conquered her fear and stood up. Her lips parted, and red symbols immediately appeared on both of her cheeks.

Hemoria was known as the Guillotine. She had gained this moniker four years ago, when she was just a seventeen-year-old girl.

The Holy Empire had been ruled by a religious government for a long time, and the people knew very well how easy and convenient it was to control those who were overly zealous. Therefore, the Holy Empire was constantly giving birth to new religions — of course, all of them derived from the religion of Light, with only slight modifications to the doctrine. The preachers of these newly born religions would whisper sweet words that catered to the convenience of believers and gradually take away the followers of the Light.

Such had been the case four years ago. A new religion had come to light, with a wizard of the upper circles sitting as the head of the church. The wizard would boast about his magic as being a miracle from God, and under this head of the church were rather suspicious figures, including wizards, mercenaries, and knights involved in crime. At that time, the number of apostates who were fooled had been in the hundreds.

However, the new religion had disappeared from the world in just one night, all because of a young girl who had been brought in by the Punisher Atarax. She had directly hacked off the heads of all those belonging to the cult.

That was how Hemoria had earned her reputation as the Guillotine.

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The symbols on her cheeks started spreading, covering her skin all the way to her ears, and Hemoria felt the heat on her face as she parted her lips. Her eyes were no longer wavering as she glared at Eugene. She was a proud Inquisitor, a punisher of apostates and heretics.

In her eyes, Eugene was no different from a demon. No — in fact, he was simply a demon right now. There was no possible way that the Hero’s eyes could harbor such hatred and hostility. The Hero could not possibly deny the Light.

Eugene paid no attention to Hemoria. She had not even caught his eyes. He planned to cut her down if she blocked his way and to let her leave if she fled.

Something felt strange, however. Eugene’s instinct had been honed through hundreds of battles that put him on the verge of death, and that sharp instinct was currently warning him to move. He obeyed.

Hemoria opened her mouth and tore into the air, and simultaneously, Eugene moved. Not knowing exactly what he was pitted against, he only took a few steps to the side.

Chomp.

Part of the flames wrapped around Eugene’s body disappeared. Though difficult to explain, it was clear what had happened — Hemoria had actually cut through space from afar.

‘Her sight,’ Eugene thought, immediately seeing through her power. Was she capable of causing a tear in the space where her sight was aimed? In that respect, it resembled the Demoneye of Darkness that Iris used, but... to be truthful, there was no comparison in terms of power.

Eugene had battled against Iris in his previous life and also just a few months ago. But even if he had not possessed such experience, it wasn’t difficult for Eugene to fight while taking notice of where the opponent was aiming. He straightened his posture and stared at Hemoria.

“Ah.” Hemoria started to speak. “You. Stop.”

She slowly articulated the words, one syllable at a time. It wasn’t just plain speech, but rather a command containing magical power, similar to the Draconic language.

Kieeeee!

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The mana in the air resonated with her command and rushed toward Eugene. Although her power wasn’t as mighty and elaborate as Draconic, it used a rush of mana to force a simple command on her opponent.

A thick, dense cloud of mana surrounded Eugene, causing him to stop in his tracks exactly as Hemoria commanded, and she immediately followed up with another attack.

He came to a new realm of understanding. The strange power she used with her words could be activated instantaneously, but it wasn’t as powerful as proper magic. If the opponent possessed outstanding abilities, they could simply shake it off with force.

Hemoria took another bite out of the space around him, but Eugene escaped his bindings and suddenly accelerated. He shook off the mana restraining him and rushed toward Hemoria.

Hemoria was astonished, but her reaction was immediate. “Fall!”

Mana pressed down on him from above, but Eugene’s Ring Flame Formula reacted with an even stronger counterforce.

“Wring!”

Mana spiraled around his body, attempting to tear him to pieces. However, a single step was sufficient to dissipate the mana.

“Die!”

Mana gathered around his throat like a noose, but there was no need for him to even attempt to shake it off. The Holy Sword was already on its trajectory toward Hemoria.

“Di...” Hemoria shouted once more, but she was not given a chance to even utter the full word. The Holy Sword removed her legs in one fell swoop, and before she had even fallen to the ground, the sword moved once more and cleaved her arms off as well.

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Thud!

Hemoria’s limbless torso fell to the ground, and she screamed due to the unbearable pain. However, her pitiful state did not prevent her from glaring at Eugene with contempt.

The tattoos on her cheeks squirmed, and she repeatedly parted her lips, but none of her commands were effective. Moreover, she had lost her fists before she could ever swing at him, and she had lost her legs without having a chance to move.

“Ahhhhh!” She screamed while biting at the air, but it was a pointless struggle. Eugene jumped up, glanced at her with apathetic eyes, then kicked her in the stomach.

Crack!

Hemoria couldn’t do much to resist without any of her limbs, and unfortunately, it had not been a simple kick either. As soon as Eugene’s foot made contact, his mana penetrated her body and crushed all her innards.

Hemoria’s body rolled deep into the pit, and Eugene stared down for a moment. He could see some who were still desperately holding onto life and thought to himself, ‘Should I bury them all?’

He entertained the thought for a moment but did not act on it. Instead, he actually hoped that some of them would narrowly escape death. He wanted them to survive and harbor doubt against their unblemished faith. He wanted the doubts in their hearts to continue growing, he wanted those doubts to make their beliefs rot away. He wanted them to spread their doubts about the existence of God to others.

Eugene turned around and moved forward.

The dense fog and barrier had vanished, swept away by the storm of flames that he had caused earlier. Thanks to that, he could now clearly see the temple in the distance.

He did not encounter any obstacles until he reached the temple. Most of the Paladins and Inquisitors were lying dead or dying in the pit, and the others, like the Inquisitors who had been accompanying Hemoria, had been swept away by the aftermath of the Sword of Judgement.

The temple looked extremely old, at least three hundred years old. No, it had definitely existed for much longer than that. Eugene remembered the girls from before Anise, the Saintess from four hundred years ago, the Fount, and the devices that should not have existed — the ones responsible for filling the Fount.

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What had happened here?

What was a Saintess?

And how was Anise’s Holy Grail connected to the jawbone of the four-hundred-year-old Saintess?

Eugene could barely make a connection in his mind, but he did not want to piece it together. More importantly, he could not infer the answer to the fundamental question.

Why did they have to go so far?

And...what about Kristina?

“Sir Eugene.”

He stopped. Passing through the path laid out by the pillars, he arrived at the center of the temple. Instead of the altar that would have been there normally, he saw a large pool emitting a faint light.

The Fount of Light.

Kristina lay sleeping with her eyes closed in the center of the pool as if she were praying. The calm pool of water seemed to wrap around her body like a warm blanket. The Fount... the golden pool shimmered and shone brightly, befitting its name.

It made it look even more abominable.

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Kristina was bleeding while submerged in the pool. Yet, despite shedding so much blood, her expression was incredibly peaceful.

Her face overlapped with the face of the little girl who cried out from the pain. Her face overlapped with the smile that he had constantly seen since they had met at the Plaza of the Sun — the saintly smile that she adorned like a mask. Her face overlapped with the smile she unconsciously had on the train when they were exchanging stories.

Kristina had told him that she had been in the pool several times since she was young. When he had asked if she just soaked in the spring normally, she had only replied after a few breaths. She had been wearing a mask to hide her emotions.

Exactly how many times had she worn that mask until now?

“Sir Eugene.”

Now, he understood what Kristina had been afraid of. She was obsessed with being the Saintess. She had spoken about the bond between the Saintess and the Hero and how she would willingly give her life for the Hero.

It was an abnormal way of thinking, something that could easily be mistaken as the path of black magic. Eugene knew very well that Kristina would have never wanted him, the Hero, to see her like this.

Kristina knew that Eugene only had a very vague sense of heroism and absolutely no faith in the God of Light. Her knowledge would have only made her more averse to being seen like this. This was why she had tried to avoid bringing Eugene to Tressia. In fact, she had even prepared an excuse.

However.... However, it would have been fine if she had simply told him not to come. If they had not met at the square or taken the train together, Eugene would not have come to Tressia. In his ignorance, he would have done nothing and simply waited for Kristina to return.

However, Kristina had made a different choice. Although she had been afraid of revealing anything about herself, the Saintess, the Fount, and the way that she had been raised since young as a Saintess candidate by Cardinal Rogeris, she had still boarded the train with Eugene. She had shown her mask, her discomfort, and her fear.

—If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. You know that, right?

Eugene regretted asking the question at that time. He had asked the wrong question. No, rather, he should never even have asked the question.

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—The only thing I should be feeling at this moment is a little pressure.

—I’ve never once thought I didn’t want to do this.

He had seen right through her lie. Nevertheless, he had left it alone, thinking that he was respecting Kristina’s determination.

Wrong.

Showing such consideration did not suit Eugene. What was warranted from him on that day on the train was not a question.

‘Don’t go’ was what he had been supposed to say instead.

Was it already too late? No, it wasn’t. Eugene continued to approach the Fount. Saintess, Hero... such things did not concern Eugene in the slightest.

Even if Kristina wasn’t the Saintess, he would willingly form a relationship with her as long as she wanted to. Instead of the abominable bond formed from blood, he would bond with her as human and human, as two comrades.

—If there was a Hero in this world, he certainly wouldn’t hesitate to do what is just and right.

If Kristina wanted the Hero Eugene, then he was willing to be a Hero at this moment.

“Sir Eugene,” called out Sergio Rogeris one last time. He let out a long sigh and released his hands from prayer. “Do not come any closer. I can overlook this matter if you stop right now.”

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“.....”

Sergio continued. “Sir Eugene... You’ve committed too many sins. Even if you are the Hero chosen by the Light, it is the greatest possible blasphemy to invade a ceremony directly supervised by God. Sir Eugene.... You killed those whom you were supposed to lead. You defiled this sacred ritual with blood and dirt on your feet.”

Sergio clenched his fists.

Giovanni, who was shedding tears of blood at the death of his subordinates, also stood up. Atarax looked back at Eugene with bloodshot eyes.

“Please return, for it might not be too late. There is a confession room in the cathedral, so... please, go back and wait there. I am willing to listen to your confession and—” said Sergio.

“Divine retribution, ” said Eugene.

He raised the Holy Sword to the side, and flames of antipathy completely consumed his eyes.

“I. Will. Kill. You. All.”

His heart pounded as if it were going to burst.

“The Hero is supposed to be the Incarnation of Light, right?” Ominous, ferocious flames enveloped the Holy Sword. “So I will slaughter you with this damned sword, according to the so-called Will of Light that you laud like dogs.”

He didn’t know if it really was the Will of Light for him to slaughter these lunatics, but until now, the light of the Holy Sword had never suppressed Eugene’s intention to kill, not in the slightest.

The Light failed to illuminate.