The morning came.
A pale gray light slowly spread across the town, revealing what the darkness had hidden.
The destruction was clearer now.
Collapsed walls.
Shattered stone.
Cracked streets carved by impossible force.
Bodies lay where they had fallen, no longer shapes in the night but silent truths beneath the cold dawn.
Then the rain began.
Soft at first.
Then steady.
It fell over broken armor and ruined temple steps.
It ran through the carved trenches in the earth.
It mixed with blood on the stone and carried it slowly into the drains below.
As if the sky was trying to wash the town clean.
But it could not wash away what had happened.
The townspeople stood in silence beneath the rain.
No more screaming.
No more confusion.
Only the heavy weight of reality.
The temple, once sacred, now stood as a monument to something no one fully understood.
And somewhere beyond the town's borders—
Shin Yato walked beneath the same rain.
Unharmed.
Unhurried.
Untouched by grief.
The rain continued to fall.
By the time the town guards and local officers arrived at the temple grounds, dawn had fully broken.
They pushed through the gathered crowd—
And stopped.
Even seasoned men turned pale.
The courtyard looked as if the earth itself had been split open. Deep scars ran across the stone. The temple pillars were fractured. The steps were dark despite the steady rain.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Knights in shattered armor.
Weapons broken.
Formations completely erased.
One officer slowly removed his helmet.
"…What happened here?" he muttered under his breath.
No one answered.
They recognized the insignia on the fallen armor.
These were not ordinary soldiers.
These were royal knights.
And there were so many of them.
The guards understood immediately—
They hadn't arrived to stop a disaster.
They had arrived to witness the aftermath.
Too late to protect.
Too late to fight.
Too late to matter.
A senior officer swallowed hard and forced his voice steady.
"Secure the area," he ordered quietly.
"No one is to enter the temple. Send word to the Mayor immediately."
His eyes swept over the devastation once more.
"And tell him… this is beyond us."
The rain fell harder.
And the town realized—
This was no longer just their tragedy.
Some of the bodies were barely recognizable.
Armor crushed inward.
Forms twisted unnaturally.
Faces beyond recognition.
Even those who tried to identify the fallen had to look away.
The rain fell steadily, running over lifeless shapes, pooling in broken stone, washing through the cracks of a courtyard that had once been sacred.
This town—
Once peaceful.
Once cheerful.
Once filled with morning vendors and children's laughter—
Now stood silent.
Not the calm silence of dawn.
But the suffocating silence after something irreversible.
Doors remained half-open.
Lanterns still hung where they had been lit in panic during the night.
No one spoke loudly anymore.
Only whispers.
Sadness.
Horror.
Fear.
And beneath it all—
Murmurs of doubt.
"Was it really a demon…?"
"Why would the Saintess attempt such a thing?"
"Why were so many knights here?"
Questions began to spread quietly among the people.
Because destruction that large…
Doesn't feel like an accident.
And deep inside, even if they didn't say it aloud—
Some of them knew.
Something about the story didn't sit right.
Meanwhile—
Rain tapped steadily against the tall windows of the Mayor's office.
A firm knock broke the silence.
"Come in," the Mayor said.
His voice was heavy.
The door opened, and a soaked officer stepped inside. Water dripped from his cloak onto the wooden floor. He removed his helmet slowly.
The Mayor looked up.
His face already carried exhaustion.
"What is the situation?" he asked quietly.
The officer swallowed.
"Sir… the temple is completely devastated."
The Mayor's jaw tightened.
"How many?"
"…Almost all of them."
Silence.
"Royal knights included," the officer continued. "The courtyard is destroyed. Bodies are still being identified."
The Mayor closed his eyes briefly.
"And the Saintess Kyria?"
The officer hesitated.
"…She's not there, sir."
The Mayor opened his eyes immediately.
"What do you mean, not there?"
"We searched the entire temple. The chambers. The lower halls. The courtyard."
A pause.
"There is no sign of her."
The rain seemed louder now.
"Dead?" the Mayor asked.
"We found no body that could be confirmed as hers."
Silence filled the room.
Missing.
Not dead.
Missing.
The Mayor slowly leaned back in his chair.
"And the cause?" he asked.
"The surviving child claims it was a failed demon summoning."
The Mayor stared at the officer.
"A demon," he repeated softly.
But now the word carried a different weight.
Because a massacre was one thing.
A missing Saintess—
Was a crisis.
The Mayor stood still for a moment.
Then he asked,
"And the surviving child?"
The officer hesitated.
"…We can't find her, sir."
The Mayor frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"She disappeared shortly after telling the townspeople about the demon."
The Mayor's expression darkened.
"Disappeared?"
"Yes, sir. We searched the nearby streets and houses this morning. No sign of her."
A brief silence passed.
"However…" the officer continued carefully, "a woman from the town was found dead near the lower district at dawn."
The Mayor's eyes sharpened.
"Related?"
"We don't know, sir. There were no witnesses. No clear signs of struggle. Just… sudden death."
The room grew heavy.
The Mayor slowly sat back down.
"So," he said quietly,
"A massacre at the temple. The Saintess missing. The only witness gone. And now a dead civilian."
The officer remained silent.
The rain tapped steadily against the window.
The Mayor stared at his desk.
"This is no longer a simple incident," he murmured.
The Mayor remained silent for a long moment.
Then he asked,
"What about the Red Tiger Captain… Lochagos Tychon… and his knights?"
The officer lowered his gaze.
"They were found among the dead, sir. Captain Lochagos Tychon… as well."
The Mayor exhaled slowly.
A deep, tired sigh.
So even the Red Tigers were wiped out.
That alone was enough to shake kingdoms.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the rain-streaked window.
"Inform the Holy Kingdom," he said calmly.
"And send word to the Drakontigeras Kingdom as well."
The officer stiffened slightly.
"Yes, sir."
The Mayor's voice remained controlled, but the exhaustion beneath it was clear.
"Report everything as it is. The temple massacre. The death of Captain Lochagos Tychon and his knights. The disappearance of Saintess Kyria."
He paused.
"And begin a full search for the Saintess immediately."
Another brief silence.
Then, more quietly:
"This incident will uproar the entire continent."
The officer swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
He saluted and turned to leave.
The door closed softly behind him.
The Mayor remained alone.
Listening to the rain.
Knowing that by the time the sun fully rose—
This town would no longer belong only to itself.
Slow footsteps echoed along the wet stone path.
Unsteady.
Dragging.
A lone figure moved through the rain, climbing the narrow trail that led toward the hill's edge.
Her white robes were torn and soaked.
One sleeve hung empty.
Blood had long since stopped flowing — washed away by the storm.
It was Saintess Kyria.
Dark, burned scars traced over her mouth
Her breathing was uneven.
Her eyes unfocused.
Not from physical pain.
But from something far heavier.
The town lay below her — silent beneath the gray sky.
The temple ruins barely visible through the mist.
She stopped near the cliff's edge.
The wind pulled at her hair.
Her remaining hand trembled slightly.
Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry…" she murmured.
Her voice was small.
"I'm sorry…"
She closed her eyes.
"I'm coming to you all… just a minute… please wait for me…"
There was no fear in her voice.
Only guilt.
Only exhaustion.
As if she had already judged herself.
As if she believed this was justice.
The rain continued to fall.
And the cliff stood waiting.
As she reached the edge of the hill, Saintess Kyria stopped.
The wind brushed against her torn robes.
Below her, the town stretched out in silence.
Small.
Fragile.
Gray beneath the morning sky.
She stepped closer to the edge and looked down.
Far below, the earth waited.
For a moment, the rain softened.
And memories rose instead.
Voices.
Laughter echoing through the temple halls.
Children singing prayers off-key.
Knights arguing over trivial matters.
Villagers bringing bread and flowers.
Helping one another.
Smiling.
Living.
Her lips curved into a small, fragile smile.
But her eyes—
Her eyes were empty.
Guilt filled them completely.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
The wind carried the words away.
"I failed you…"
She remembered their faith in her.
Their trust.
The way they looked at her as if she were light itself.
And now—
They were gone.
Her remaining hand trembled faintly at her side.
"I'm coming," she murmured softly.
Not in panic.
Not in fear.
But as if she had already decided her judgment.
The cliff stood silent beneath her.
The world below waiting.
And the rain continued to fall around the Saintess who had already condemned herself.
She inhaled slowly.
The wind pressed against her back, as if urging her forward.
Saintess Kyria lifted her foot.
She tried to step.
But—
It wouldn't move.
Her body refused.
Her toes curled against the wet stone.
Her breath trembled.
She tried again.
Forward.
Just one step.
But her legs stiffened.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Her heart was pounding.
Loud.
Unsteady.
Because beneath the guilt…
Beneath the sorrow…
There was something she could not silence.
Fear.
She was afraid.
Afraid of the fall.
Afraid of the impact.
Afraid of the nothingness after.
Tears welled in her empty eyes.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered again.
But this time—
Her voice shook.
Not from guilt.
From terror.
She had condemned herself.
But she was still human.
And humans fear death.
The cliff did not move.
The wind did not speak.
Only her trembling breath broke the silence.
She stood frozen at the edge.
Her breath uneven.
Her heart still pounding in her ears.
Then—
A voice came from behind her.
"Saintess Kyria."
Calm.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
Kyria's body stiffened.
Slowly… very slowly… she turned.
Through the mist and light rain, she saw a small figure standing a few steps away.
It was Kore.
Dry.
Composed.
Her face carried no panic.
No tears.
Only quiet stillness.
Kyria's lips trembled.
"Ko… re?" she whispered, the name breaking apart as it left her mouth.
Disbelief filled her eyes.
Kore walked closer, her footsteps steady.
She stopped a short distance away from the cliff's edge.
Her gaze met Kyria's.
"Thank you," Kore said calmly.
"For your hospitality."
There was no warmth in her voice.
No gratitude.
Just a statement.
Then—
She turned.
And began walking away.
Slow.
Unhurried.
As if this meeting had only been courtesy.
Kyria's eyes widened.
"Wait—!" she shouted.
Her voice cracked violently.
"Kore, stop!"
She stumbled forward, away from the cliff this time.
But Kore did not turn around.
She did not slow down.
Her small figure gradually disappearing into the mist.
Leaving behind only the rain…
And the echo of Kyria's desperate scream.
"Kore— stop!"
Her voice cracked against the wind.
She tried to move after her.
But her footing slipped on the wet stone.
With only one arm to steady herself, her balance failed.
Saintess Kyria stumbled—
And fell hard onto her knees.
Pain shot through her body, but she barely felt it.
Her remaining hand pressed into the mud, fingers trembling as she struggled to hold herself upright.
Her empty sleeve clung to her side, soaked and heavy in the rain.
She couldn't even catch herself properly.
She looked smaller now.
Fragile.
Broken.
And then—
She collapsed forward slightly, her forehead nearly touching the ground.
The tears came without restraint.
They streamed down her face endlessly, mixing with the rain that poured from the sky.
It was impossible to tell where the rain ended—
And where her grief began.
"Kore…" she whispered weakly.
Her voice no longer carried authority.
No holiness.
Just a wounded woman calling into emptiness.
The wind swept across the cliff.
The town below remained distant and silent.
And the Saintess who once stood tall before thousands now knelt in the mud—
With one arm.
And nothing left to hold onto.
The rain came to an end, and with it, the tears of Saintess Kyria.
From the wounded sky above, a golden ray slipped through the dark clouds and touched her — quiet, warm, and unjudging.
But she did not lift her head. It no longer mattered.
Saintess Kyria stood in silence for hours, her eyes locked on the mist-covered path where Kore had vanished.
She did not blink.
She did not breathe deeply.
She simply watched — as if the world might reverse itself.
As she remained on the ground, she looked at the rainwater gathered beneath her.
Her reflection wavered in its surface — distorted, fragile.
And in that wavering image, she saw not herself…
but Kore.
The same empty eyes.
The same quiet defeat.
An unbearable heaviness settled in her heart — sorrow, guilt, regret intertwined.
If this despair was tearing her apart now…
what must it have done to Kore?
A small child forced to bear a burden even she, a Saintess, could not withstand.
The truth crashed into her without mercy.
She had been powerless.
Useless.
Unable to protect or save a single soul in the temple.
Guilt wrapped around her throat as she stood frozen, trapped within her own failure.
Before she even became aware of it, her trembling lips parted.
"Kore…"
The name escaped her like a fragile confession.
"Kore…" she said, her voice clear despite the weight in her chest.
"I couldn't protect anyone… but I'm going to protect you."
The grief in her heart remained —
but now it burned with purpose.
Struggling, trembling, she forced herself to rise.
Her body was already broken, every movement heavy with pain.
Still, she began to walk.
After a few steps, she stopped and looked once more toward the path where Kore had disappeared.
Her lips parted softly.
"Thank you…"