Chapter 55

Fielbar examined the sword gently emitting light and spoke.

“I’ve heard many tales, but I never thought I’d see the birth of a sacred relic with my own two eyes.”

The blade was shattered, only half remaining.

Yet, there was something distinctly different about it, something extraordinary hidden within.

Ordinarily, one cannot know.

However, Holy Maiden Alesia could discern this better than anyone.

“Truly….”

Just moments ago.

But it felt like an eternity.

Even when Ruel revealed himself as Carriel, it wasn’t that surprising.

Not even when Grandeous’ name was mentioned—though it sounded somewhat familiar.

But when he said they were from the same school as Fortress Carriel, she began to wonder what was going on.

She was prepared to stop any nonsense in its tracks.

After all, she had the ability to do so.

But what stopped her…?

– That’s enough.

– This is his prepared battlefield, and his trial.

– It’s not for outsiders to interfere.

Outsiders?

And so, she watched carefully.

It became clear through their attitudes that they shouldn’t have been here, nor should they have witnessed Fortress Carriel’s memories.

That is to say…

Because Carriel was here…

We stumbled upon Fortress Carriel’s memories.

We discovered his footsteps and followed them.

Is that what this means?

Perhaps we were lucky.

The open-heartedness of the baron’s family toward strangers, and even Alesia herself, who took a liking to Carriel—these coincidences seemed almost inevitable in bringing us here.

No, it wasn’t forcing us here—it was inviting us in.

“Come to think of it, didn’t that old woman in His memory make a prophecy?”

Baron Raia recalled offhandedly.

“One among countless stars will come to you.”

“Countless stars refer to the many children named after Fortress Carriel.”

Alesia remembered this clearly too.

If that’s the case, then one of those countless stars must be…

The great warrior Ruelde and Holy Maiden Hermine themselves.

They chose “Carriel” as the baptismal name for their firstborn son.

Thus, the old woman’s prophecy has come true today.

“Father. Come to think of it…”

Ludhi cautiously spoke, as if just realizing something.

“Though the name Carriel has become common, someone so young with such remarkable skill and character isn’t exactly commonplace.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“And during my time at the academy, I vaguely remember seeing him.”

A handsome boy with black hair.

Eyes like golden coins.

“I wasn’t sure back then, but could that guy possibly be…the child of Lord Ruelde and Lady Hermine?”

“…”

Baron Raia suddenly remembered.

He had been invited to their wedding along with their young children.

The moment he vowed to raise his children well after losing his wife.

The moment peace returned after the Demon King’s invasion ended.

The union of the Hero Emperor and the Magic Empress.

And the marriage of the Knights of Glory and the Holy Maiden.

When everyone truly accepted peace was when they publicly announced they were stepping down from their duties.

Luke grumbled, unable to grasp the situation.

“So, are you saying Ruel is the offspring of those heroes?”

“It’s too early to confirm, but probably.”

Though Ludhi couldn’t nail it down, he was already halfway convinced.

“…”

Alesia owes everything to becoming a Holy Maiden to Lady Hermine.

Had it not been for her, Alesia would have been thrown to the Demon King’s army or used in some other despicable way by the false pope.

It was thanks to Lord Ruelde and Lady Hermine—and others—that she uncovered and thwarted the conspiracy beforehand, exposing the false pope.

Even Alesia herself was among the many children holding flower baskets at their wedding celebration.

That memory lingers faintly, like a dream.

Occasionally surfacing in her mind as a distant recollection.

“Wow! Amazing! Look over there!”

The boy fights against warriors twice his size.

With his frail, scrawny body.

He cleverly knocks them down one by one.

“…His movements are like art.”

“I’ve seen him briefly before, but now it’s even more impressive.”

Baron Raia nodded in agreement as Luke added a comment.

“…Yeah. That was how it was back then too.”

Indeed. During the fight Alesia joined by chance, the boy’s movements stood out remarkably.

Watching him scale the church walls confirmed it further.

‘That’s the movement of elves.’

Humans can’t move like that, even with mana.

It’s fluid, like water flowing or wind sweeping.

Graceful, like a dance, smooth and flowing.

The dance of fairies.

The breeze of wind spirits.

Steps defying the storm.

She noticed because she’d seen it before.

It’s said that such movements are possible through a natural affinity and adaptability rather than technique or skill—closer to a racial trait.

An elf from the Tribe of the Forest once explained it willingly.

And now.

Far away.

There stands a small boy using all these skills expertly against overwhelming foes.

He looks like a butterfly caught in a storm.

Or a moth swept away by strong winds.

Seemingly precarious.

Yet, somehow, he doesn’t fall.

He doesn’t break.

Instead, he takes down enemies one by one.

It’s not an overwhelming spectacle, but there’s something profound about it.

Continuously breaking the enemy’s encirclement.

Finding advantageous positions to exploit weaknesses.

At first glance, it seems relentless.

His dodges are natural, his defenses seamless.

Even being hit becomes another opportunity for counterattacks.

Using his small stature to mock his enemies.

What a lamentable sight!

It’s self-evident that the weak cannot defeat the strong.

But if they can…is it coincidence?

Or a miracle?

‘Anyone…’

Everyone has flaws and shortcomings.

He acknowledges them and turns them into advantages, crushing the weaknesses of his opponents.

It sounds simple, but is it ever easy?

Such relentless fighting, making one clutch their fists in tension, eventually comes to an end.

Suddenly, he gazes somewhere, then slowly walks over and moves his lips.

As if conversing with something unseen.

– The test is over.

– A satisfactory result indeed.

Likewise, the ancient souls of barbarian warriors watching alongside him looked relieved.

As if finally putting down the burdens they carried for so long, their shoulders seemed unusually lighter.

“You all…”

Alesia couldn’t bring herself to ask.

What did she intend to question?

She herself didn’t know.

Looking around, Fielbar was already busy scolding the servants while enthusiastically scribbling away with pen and ink.

The rest of the group focused intently, determined to etch this scene into their memories.

Right now, a miracle descended upon this reality.

As the world glowed with light.

Even the warriors who were once invaders but are now protectors began to dissipate, as if responding to some call.

And so, they gathered again.

And saw.

The sword in Carriel’s hand shattered.

Yet still, the broken blade radiated a purer, softer divine light.

All eyes were drawn to it.

And the boy holding it approached the baron and handed it over.

“Please take it.”

“…”

The baron felt as if he were receiving an impossible divine artifact.

Instinctively accepting it with both hands, he said:

“It’s beyond me.”

Turning his back immediately, he passed it to Alesia.

“This is beyond what I can handle. Holy Maiden, please take charge of it.”

“Me? Are you sure?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We’ll need to report this miracle to the Papacy anyway. This will serve as proof.”

“…”

One might expect greed to creep in here, but the baron remained surprisingly calm and practical—a lesson even the Holy Maiden herself momentarily forgot.

“What is our family motto?”

The baron chuckled softly.

“Before Fortress Carriel, it was ‘Achieve glory.’ After Carriel, it changed.”

To ponder deeply without giving is a sign of cowardice.

“Some interpret it as a warning against greed.”

Giving when you have is common.

But giving when you have nothing—why is that celebrated as noble?

Because not just anyone can do it.

Being able to do something uncommon proves you’re better.

So,

“We strive to improve from our past mistakes. If divine artifacts or treasures tempt us with the sin of greed, then they’re not relics of holiness but bribes from demons.”

“But isn’t this the church’s relic?”

“Then return it next time you visit, won’t you?”

“…”

“Treasures blind everyone’s eyes. I trust you’ll return it to where it belongs without being swayed.”

An unexpectedly clever proposal.

“Hmph.”

Still, no matter how he handles it, the baron won’t blame or criticize Alesia.

He likely phrased it this way to make it easier for her to accept—returning it later would simply be convenient.

Ultimately, treasures often spark disputes.

The Papacy monopolizes holy relics partly to prevent such dangers.

Though criticized for hoarding these items, it’s not entirely unfounded.

It’s also true.

Accepting such dishonor is part of the responsibility of leadership.

Moreover, by taking on this burden, they invite constant trials.

“On my honor, I’ll personally return it to the church. But before that…”

Alesia turned to Carriel and asked.

“The rightful owner of this item is technically you. Is that okay?”

“It’s useless to me.”

He’s already received what he needed.

Expecting more would be greedy.

And if by chance…

If this truly belongs to Carriel himself, it’ll return someday.

Not that he hopes for it.

Meanwhile, the barrier dissolved unnoticed, and though the sky remains dark, the long duration was actually an instant.

“Everyone! Nighttime excursions may suit us, but with the festival approaching, isn’t it time to get some sleep?”

Filbar interjected with his opinion.

“That’s true.”

“There’s much to say, but perhaps a little rest wouldn’t hurt.”

The baron and Luke agreed with his suggestion.

“How about some drinks for the afterparty?”

“…”

Luke tried to add one last comment despite feeling reluctant, only to quickly avert his gaze under the baron’s glare.

“I’ll head to the church and report this matter briefly.”

To which Filbar subtly inquired:

“Do you need any help?”

“…If you assist with the report, that would be great.”

Casually meeting Filbar’s gaze, Carriel noticed something unspoken between them.

Unknown to others.

A shared understanding.

‘Let’s talk later.’

His silent whisper carried that intent.

About Grandeous, no doubt.

Carriel merely nodded nonchalantly.

The night stretches long ahead.

Festival preparations are underway elsewhere, and despite the dark paths, lights still shine brightly.

Boarding Filbar’s sturdy carriage en route to the baron’s mansion, Carriel closed his eyes calmly.

Nothing has ended yet.

But someone’s lifelong wish concludes today.

No need for lamentation.

No need for sighs.

Just to cherish and remember.

Though everyone pretends to be calm, they still carry the afterglow of earlier events.

Even individual fatigue seems amplified within the carriage, now quieter and more peaceful than before.

Even after Alesia disembarked midway.

It continued.

Recalling the starry night sky from earlier.

A cloudless expanse.

Countless stars of varying sizes stretched endlessly.

That radiant yet cozy panorama.

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