The second Holy War swept across the lands, steel clashing with steel, fire against fortification. The Empire of Elmark, long thought untouchable, fell under the coordinated assault of the Southern Front and the armies of the Seven Elohims—but the true danger lay not in armies, but in the Churches allied with Elysilam.
Only three churches had thrown their weight behind the Empire of Elysilam: the Church of Eena, the Church of War (Elohim Anvil), and the Church of Abundance (Elohim Euthenia). In secret, they conspired to harvest Euphemia's divine power using a sacred artifact, planning to crush their rival churches and consolidate power across the world.
Amid the chaos, Noah had risen. From a wandering mercenary, he had been elevated to Lower Grade Holy Knight, a reward after he saved the Archbishop of Eena from an ambush during the war. Yet even this recognition did little to calm his fury at the abuse of divine power.
It was during a reconnaissance along the coast of the fallen Empire of Elmark that Noah stumbled upon a hidden ruin. The ruins spoke of ancient rites and etched stones carried the instructions for a ritual—his unique baptismal blessing could negate divinity. But the penalty was severe:
"The user shall negate divine power at the expense of their soul. Upon success, the soul shall be imprisoned in Gehenna, forever marked as heretic against the divine."
Noah's jaw clenched. Euphemia had endured five long years of imprisonment, abuse, and stolen freedom. No penalty—no matter how eternal—was worth more than her life, her liberty, her joy.
That night, under a moonless sky, Noah infiltrated the Church's southern stronghold. Holy knights barred his path, recognizing him as a heretic, striking him with steel and divine magic alike. Blood and bruises marked his body, but nothing could deter him. Every strike, every wound, brought him closer to the girl he loved.
At last, he found her. Euphemia, radiant and golden in the glow of the artifact's prison, looked at him with exhaustion and something more: vulnerability he had never seen before.
"Have I… been good?" she asked, voice trembling, tears tracking down her face. "Even though you… you were beaten just for approaching me?"
Noah knelt beside her, brushing her hair from her dampened face. "You've been more than good," he said softly, voice low but unwavering. "You've endured far more than any mortal should, and you've held your courage through it all. That… is more than enough."
Euphemia clung to him for a moment, letting herself feel what she had denied for so long. "I… I don't want to be separated again," she whispered.
"You won't be," he replied, though his chest ached at the thought of what he would soon have to do. "We will escape. You will be free, and I will carry whatever cost comes for that freedom."
Their escape was precise and desperate. Guards searched frantically as they slipped through hidden corridors and forested paths. By dawn, they were far from the Church's reach. Euphemia sank to her knees, exhaling deeply. "I… I can finally breathe again," she said, voice shaking. "All those years… it's like I've woken from a nightmare."
Noah knelt beside her, placing a hand over hers. "You'll heal. Day by day. And when the time comes, I will use my blessing… even if it costs me everything, to break the chains the Church has bound you with."
For a month, they lived as ordinary couple. Euphemia tended a small garden, prepared meals, and laughed without fear. The divine glow that had once marked her now receded, letting her simply be herself again. Noah studied the ritual, preparing to negate the divinity that bound her, understanding the cost to his soul but trying to bypass the sacrifice he has to give.
The ruins along the coast of Elmark had been quiet, forgotten by time, but etched into the ancient stones were secrets powerful enough to shake the world. Noah had discovered them after weeks of reconnaissance—rituals, celestial inscriptions, and warnings in a language older than the Empire itself.
The script spoke of negating divinity, of breaking the bonds placed upon one chosen by the Elohims. But what caught Noah's attention were the exceptions—the clauses, the terms, and the conditions that could nullify the penalty:
"Negate divinity at cost of soul unless preparatory rites of purification and sacrifice are observed. The ritual must be performed in sequence, and all bindings of allegiance severed by will of the user. Failure to follow protocol results in eternal imprisonment in Gehenna."
Noah's jaw tightened. Every word of the ritual carried both risk and hope. It demanded precision, patience, and preparation—but it also offered the chance that Euphemia could be freed without condemning him entirely, if he could master it.
For a month, they lived far from prying eyes. Euphemia laughed freely, teasing him constantly.
"Do you think the foxes will ever teach me to hunt?" she asked one morning, kneeling in the forest.
"I think the foxes would find you too slow," Noah said, adjusting her stance as he taught her to move quietly. "But you'll learn if you focus."
She smirked, brushing her golden hair out of her face. "I think you secretly like teaching me. You always get serious when I mess up."
"No," he replied quietly. "I get serious because I want you safe. Not just from the world, but from yourself sometimes. And one day… you'll need these skills when I can't be there."
Euphemia's eyes softened. "I suppose that's fair… though I still think you're a little dramatic."
Evenings were spent by the fire. Euphemia leaned against him, playful as ever, brushing her lips against his cheek in teasing kisses.
Noah froze each time, holding himself back. "Euphemia… if we… if we get too close," he murmured, voice tight, "there are consequences you don't understand. You could be hurt if I falter."
She tilted her head, golden eyes bright. "I just wanted to feel… real. Not orders, not lessons, just… you."
He placed his hand over hers, warm and protective. "You are safe. Every moment, I'll make sure of that."
Meanwhile, in secret, he studied the ritual every night by candlelight, tracing the inscriptions and cross-referencing the ancient notes. He had learned:
There were preparatory rites to reduce the risk of soul imprisonment. Specific conditions could sever the divine bindings safely. Timing and willpower were crucial—the ritual was not a blind sacrifice but a calculated act of precision.
Noah smiled faintly to himself. He had a plan, one that could save Euphemia and potentially spare his soul if he executed it flawlessly. But Euphemia would never know. She only knew the world felt safe, bright, and free—her laughter returning, her mischievous glimmer shining like it had before the Church had stolen her life.
Days were filled with small joys: gardening, berry picking, forest walks, and playful training. Euphemia's spirit blossomed once more, golden eyes sparkling with life and trust. And even when she teased him, initiated playful gestures, or whispered tender words, Noah remained steady, patient, and vigilant, preparing in secret for the ritual that could finally undo the Church's control over her.
The month was a stolen paradise—innocent, beautiful, and fragile—with Noah carrying both the knowledge of the heresy ritual and the burden of its risk, while Euphemia lived completely unaware, rediscovering her heart, her joy, and her spirit.