Recollection 5

That morning was like any other.

I woke up like usual, happy and carefree. I helped my dad in the forge. Then, we had a lunch. After that I went to the neighbor's house and played there. They had two kids—a girl who was my age, and a boy four years older than me.

Yes, it was all like usual up until that point. But then, something unexpected occurred. 

A boy from our village was gifted a Goddess's Blessing.

***

When a Goddess's Blessing manifested in someone, it always happened suddenly. A pillar of light surrounded the new hero candidate and reached until the very heavens. As long as there were witnesses, you could never mistake the Blessing for something else.

Everybody celebrated the news. And of course, I celebrated with them. After all, we were talking about a hero candidate. This was the kind of stuff that boys my age only ever dream about. And what's more, that hero candidate was someone who was like an older brother to me.

"I can't believe you are a hero candidate, Marcus!" I exclaimed to him. "And you have such cool powers... Wow!"

His Blessing was called Golden Fortress. It allowed him to create a golden armor of light that changed according to his wishes. Usually, it surrounded him on all sides, automatically protecting him from any attacks and making him nigh invincible, but he could also separate it from himself and manipulate it at range.

It was a power of protection. Somehow, that felt just right for Marcus.

"Now... I can't even control them properly, you know?" Marcus said with a wry smile on his face. "I don't deserve to be called a hero candidate yet, Alan."

For someone who just received the strongest power a human could get, he was shockingly calm. I always chalked up his maturity to the fact that he was three years older than me, but looking back at it now, Marcus was always incredibly mature for his age. In fact, maybe too mature.

His reaction was a steep contrast to everyone else's. Even the adults around us were dizzy with excitement.

"A hero candidate!? From our village!? This must be fate! I will forge you the greatest blade in existence! And then I will become famous!" my dad, Albert, exclaimed. His eyes were practically shining.

"You idiot!" This time it was Marcus's father, Johnathan. "A hero candidate like him would never wield the blade of a blacksmith from boonies like you. At best, you can make his ride some good horseshoes—that would be more up your valley."

"What?! Marcus, tell your father he's wrong! You will use a sword made by me, right?!"

"Don't pressure my child into promoting your stupid swords, you hammer-thwacking baboon!"

"What did you say, you damn broke farmer?!"

And so they went on. 

Despite the worrying contents of their words, it was only business as usual for them. After all, Marcus's dad and mine were long-time friends. My father used to be an aspiring blacksmith, but he failed to make it in the city. Back then, when was left on the streets without a single penny, it was Johnathan who offered to take him in. At the time, he was visiting the city to sell some of his crops when he stumbled upon Albert. 

Johnathan said that he only did that because he needed some strong hands to help out in the fields, and my dad (the baboon) was a perfect fit. But that seemed to be a poor excuse, as later on, he helped Albert open up a small smithy in the village. My dad couldn't fulfill his dream of making swords, but he was able to become a blacksmith just like he always wanted to.

Since then, dad paid back all the money that he owed, but deep inside he was still grateful for everything Johnathan had done for him.

"Who cares about your opinion? You should stick to tinkering with dirt!"

...Or at least, I thought so... Honestly, the more I remembered their interactions, the less confident I became in my assessment.

Johnathan sighed, seemingly tired of the debate.

"Whatever, who even cares about that. More importantly, I hope Milord will also be happy about this... And I would definitely be happy if he lowered our dues as well."

At the time, I didn't understand it, but things weren't going very well for Marcus's family. They the harvests were growing worse year by year and yet the dues and the tithes—the payment they owed to the Church and the lord of our lands—remained the same or even increased.

Frankly, Marcus's family was struggling. Maybe that was precisely why Marcus was so mature for his age.

"Don't worry!" I said with a wide smile on my face. "I'm sure that Milord will celebrate with us!"

Those were naive words of an eight-year-old child. Despite that, no one present argued against me. They just directed lukewarm smiles at me.

"That's right," dad said as he patted my head. "And then, when Marcus becomes a Hero with the help of my blades, Milord will hire me as his personal blacksmith!"

"Yeah! And then I could become a knight in his service!" I replied with a wide grin.

An exasperated sigh interrupted our silly dreams.

"Honestly... all of you are only thinking about what you'll gain... You are all bad and greedy!"

A small girl, only eight years of age, gave us a lecture. Seeing that, both of the fathers deflated in embarrassment. Meanwhile, the mothers, who were mostly on the sidelines smiled warmly at their husbands' silly reactions.

But the one who was probably most offended was me.

"No! I'm not bad! You are bad! What else should we do then?"

"Hmph! You are dumb. Obviously, what you should do is congratulate him! Like this—" she said and turned towards Marcus. "Congratulations, Big Brother Marcus!"

He smiled wryly in response and patted her head.

"Thank you, Emily."

And in return, she gave him a big hug and a wide smile.

The girl's name was Emily. She was Marcus's sister and my childhood friend. Together, the three of us grew up together and were practically inseparable.

Embarrassingly enough, she was also my first crush. But that was a secret I was likely never going to share with anyone.

*** 

Soon after that, Marcus's training begun. My dad who had some familiarity with swordsmanship took it upon himself to train up the new hero candidate. Seeing that, I said that I wanted to join them since I wanted to become a knight. But after I joined, I was never all that serious about it and hardly made any progress. I was closer to playing pretend than actually training.

I was happy during those days. It was fun for me. I felt like the stories about Heroes and adventurers that I grew up hearing about were now closer than ever. As If I could actually touch them if I stretched my hand just a bit.

But Marcus didn't share my happiness. Despite my young age, I could tell that something was wrong with him. 

"Hey, Marcus..." I started asking but hesitated. Or maybe it was more like I wasn't sure what I even wanted to say in the first place.

He smiled warmly and asked me in a kind a voice.

"What is it, Alan? Did you do something bad again?"

When I was a kid, I was a real trickster. And whenever I did something wrong, I never had the courage to tell my parents; instead, I always came to Marcus, and he apologized together with me. Looking back, I relied on him so much that it was embarrassing.

"...No," I shook my head in denial. "It's just... you don't look too happy recently..."

I trailed off again, but Marcus still understood my intent. His smile became somewhat sad, and he spoke even more gently as if he was consoling me.

"Don't worry. I was just a bit worried about the future. It's not a big deal, you know?"

But his words didn't bring me much relief, and my face twisted in a grimace.

"Do you... do you not like being a hero?"

His mouth opened slightly in surprise. Then, he laughed a bit.

"...Ha, you're a sharp, aren't you, Alan? Honestly, yes being a hero candidate is a bit worrying to me."

I tilted my head in confusion.

"But why? Aren't they really cool? I'm jealous—I want to be a Hero as well!"

Marcus's expression didn't change, but his gaze traveled to his house.

"Well... you see, Alan, not everything is that simple. Sure, hero candidates might be strong and cool, but it's also a difficult job, you know?"

That confused me. I remembered all the adults in our village and their jobs. And then, I replied after a bit of thought.

"Are there jobs that are easy?"

"Haha! You might be right about that," Alan said as he laughed. "But this one is maybe a bit more difficult than the rest. For one, I will have to leave the village."

I didn't understand what he meant.

"...Are you planning to leave?" I asked him sadly.

"No," Marcus shook his head. "But a hero candidate does not belong to a village—he belongs to everyone. In a few years, I will have to leave so I can attend the Royal Academy in the capital. The Church might even take me earlier than that."

I scrunched my face as I thought hard about what he mean, but I couldn't quite wrap my head around it.

"...If you don't want to go... then don't go?"

He smiled sadly.

"It's not that easy. I already have the Blessing, it is now my duty to go and become stronger. I cannot not do it. If I do so and people lose their lives to a Calamity, their deaths will be on me."

His words were much too heavy and too difficult for me to understand back then. And so, I replied in a way that seemed obvious to me.

"But you didn't do anything wrong... Why do you get blame?"

"Because I have responsibility as someone who has powers. Just like how Milord has responsibility before us, I have responsibility before others."

His words suddenly clicked in my childish mind, and I nodded. I knew that our lord was responsible for our well-being. That was why aunt and auntie were always so down. Then, after thinking a bit, I asked him.

"...Then... If I don't do anything and bad things happen... Am I also bad? "

Marcus was surprised. He was stunned for a few seconds.

"Huh...? No, no you're not...," he said, but his words didn't sound very confident to me.

"Why?"

"Why..." he echoed my question. "Because you don't have the powers I have..."

"I don't get it," I replied, slightly frustrated. "But I'm gonna become a really strong knight. If I stay here... If I don't save people that means I'm also bad, right?"

Once again, he remained silent for just a moment before answering.

"...And what if you don't become a strong knight?"

"But I will" I shouted, angry at him doubting me. "I will, you'll see! I know! if you don't want to leave the village, then I can do it! I will save those people. And you can stay here!"

I was annoyed at Marcus. In my childish mind, I thought he looked down on me because I was a kid. That he didn't believe I could become strong. And because of that, I decided I would prove him wrong. If I saved everyone instead of him, if I could do his job, then I could prove that I was strong enough.

I expected him to either tell me I couldn't do it or poke fun at me, but to my surprise, after staying silent for a few seconds, he smiled.

"Haha... Yeah... Maybe you are right again... But I don't know if the world would agree with you."

I didn't understand what he meant so I only got angrier at his words.

"What?! So you think I can't do it!? I'll show you, you meanie!"

By the end of that conversation, the smile had returned to his face.

"I'm looking forward to that."

***

And then, everything came to an end.

It all started when my dad found a single wounded person by the roadside, near the village. The man was terribly wounded and his left hand was missing; he was on the verge of death. Our family took care of him and nursed him back to health. 

His name was Kyle. He was an awkward man who always had a dopey smile on his face. He said that he was originally a guard. But he lost his arm when he was fighting against a monster and had had to retire. After that, he apparently became an adventurer who traveled all around Rauford Kingdom and its neighbors, trying to do all the quests he could.

The adults had complicated expressions when they heard that; they were sympathetic and also slightly saddened by it. But I didn't understand why they reacted like that. Unlike them, I was excited to see someone who was not only a former soldier, but also an adventurer. When I asked him, he shared with me tales of his travels and told me all sorts of things about the outside world.

While Kyle was recovering, I constantly found myself listening to his stories. Marcus and even Emily Joined me. Although, the later kept insisting that she didn't care about all of this stuff, but somehow, wound up listening with us anyway.

Soon, Marcus was going to leave for the capital. A Church official came to the village and brought us the news. He wasn't going permanently; he would just stay there for a few months so that the Church could greet the new hero candidate and put him into their records.

Despite the news, Marcus's melancholic mood from before was nowhere to be seen. I didn't know what made his attitude change, but somehow, he wasn't as sad as he used to be. If anything, he smiled more than he ever did. Even back then I could tell that something about him changed. Maybe he was finally ready to live as a hero candidate.

A few days before his departure, the village was burnt to the ground.

***

Screams, the smell of burnt wood mixed with blood, and redness that filled the vision to the brim. That memory was still stuck in my mind.

"Glory to the Demon Lord!" Fanatic screams resounded all around the village.

As we watched the chaos unfold, my family prepared to run.

"Quick! We have to find Johnathan!" my father shouted to my mom as he took a sword out of his stash.

My mom nodded and took me in her hands. We ran towards Marcus's house. Violent screams continued filling my ears, and my eyes were blinded by the red flames. I couldn't bear it any longer and so I shut my eyes and closed my ears with my hands.

I could feel my mother's chest tremble as her breathing became ragged. Everything was moving up and down. I felt sick. I was terrified, and simultaneously, I couldn't accept what was happening. None of it felt real.

Finally, we entered Marcus's house. When I felt that we came to a sudden stop, I involuntarily removed my hands from my ears.

"—! Oh, Goddess..."

Then, I heard my father's gasp and opened my eyes.

Red. Vivid red. That was the first thing I witnessed. That redness terrified me for reasons I didn't even understand, and I tore my gaze away from it. The next thing I saw was their eyes. Two pairs of eyes. Their stares were empty, almost like all life was sucked out of them. And finally, I saw two daggers, stuck in their bodies.

Only then did I realize I was looking at Marcus's parents.

I shrieked. And then my eyes closed. It was my father. He put his hand in front of my eyes, preventing them from being able to see. As if reminding me that I could still keep them closed. 

But he couldn't afford to keep his arm occupied during this chaos, and shortly after, my mother put her hand in front of me in his stead.

"We...we have to find Emily and Marcus," my dad said, and we immediately headed outside.

I could tell that, because the sounds of chaos became closer. But surprisingly, there were no longer screams filling my ears. Instead, they were replaced with sounds of battle; metal clashing against metal; incantations and spells flying every which way.

"Marcus?!" my father shouted in disbelief. Despite his shock, he had enough presence of mind left to not shout too loudly so that cultists wouldn't hear him.

Drawn by the sound of the familiar name, I tore my mother's hand away from my eyes. There, where the family's fields used to be, I saw Marcus. Behind him, Emily was shaking like a newborn lamb. And surrounding them on all sides, were men dressed in black robes as well as creatures that I didn't know the name of. But somehow, I instinctually understood that they were demons.

They assaulted Marcus on all sides. As they did, they shouted: "Glory to the Demon Lord!" But no matter how many times they slashed, stabbed, and struck, no matter how many spells they launched—they couldn't deal a single wound to him. A golden glow stood between Marcus and the assailants. The armor, more reminiscent of a fortress in human shape than a piece of human equipment, took on the form of a giant humanoid. Inside of it, were Marcus and Emily, safe from all the attacks. The armor didn't just block the cultists blows. Whenever they struck at it, it counterattacked. And with every blow, it took down multiple cultists

Despite that, its movements were somewhat clumsy and stiff. It was a powerful Blessing, but its agility was limited by the skill of its user.

But the image still brought some relief to me. Marcus was fighting against the world's evil like a true hero candidate. In that moment, my heart that was shut from the shock regained just a little bit of hope.

My father, however, looked practically torn apart. He bit his lip and clenched his hand so hard that blood started coming out. He was shaking and looked like he was on the verge of crying. His gaze continued travelling between Marcus's lonely figure, us, and the blade in his hand. 

Back and forth. Back and forth.

And then, he turned his back towards Marcus. He took a single step away from all of this chaos and towards safety. But after taking that step, he froze.

"Damn it!" he spat and then turned to face Marcus once more. "Dear, please, take Alan and run. The cultists' goal must be Marcus's life. As the battle intensifies, all of them should gather here so there shouldn't be anyone out there. Still, be careful."

I could feel the movement of my mother's head behind me. It was a slight nod.

"I'm sorry... I'm not sure if I will be back but..." my father apologized.

"But you can't abandon those kids, right? I know. Don't worry, I will protect Alan. Please, take care of yourself," My mother smiled warmly.

My dad also smiled. It was a shaky smile as if he was just putting up a brave front, but it was a smile nonetheless. In that moment, I was proud of that he was my dad. Then, my mother put me down and hugged my dad.

And after their finished their farewells, we left. Or we were meant to.

"No!" I shouted and started running. "I... I will also... I will also fight the bad guys!"

"Alan?!"

Why did I do it back then? Of course, I didn't want to abandon Marcus who was like an older brother for me. I wanted to be a knight so it was only natural I would fight against the bad guys with him. But if I had to choose only one reason, it would probably be something much simpler.

I didn't want to run away while the girl I liked was in danger.

Immediately, my parents chased after me. My father grabbed me and dragged me away from the battlefield. Away from Marcus and Emily.

"No! Let me go!" I screamed. "Let me go to them! I'll help them!"

"No, Alan! You will only get in Marcus's way! You'll get them killed!"

Those words shook me, and I stopped struggling. The realization that I couldn't do anything settled in. Tears appeared in my eyes.

"It's okay, Alan. Your daddy is going to help them. I'm not going to let them die—Agh!"

A swishing sound resounded, followed by a squelching noise, and my father's words were cut short. He dropped to his knee as he screamed in pain. When I looked downwards, there was a knife, embedded in his leg. A throwing knife.

My dad pulled out the knife, and his gaze travelled in the direction where the knife came from. There, slowly, a man in black robes was walking towards us.

He had a medium build, and he wearing dark robes. In his hand, he held a single dagger. He slowly approached us, taking his time. As if he knew we couldn't get away from him anyway. There was nothing special that made this cultist different from any other cultist. Except for a single thing: one of his sleeves was flopping freely in the wind.

The man only had one arm.

"Glory to the Demon Lord... Phew. Thanks god that the brat was so noisy. Who knows what would have happened if I didn't catch you in time?" the man said as he continued walking. Something about his voice sounded oddly familiar.

Through a gap, I caught an eye of his features.

"...Mr... Kyle?" I muttered in shock.

He smiled sadly.

"Yes. Yes, it is me. You folk really ought to be more suspicious of strangers. Thanks to your hospitality, I was able to plan out this attack in precise detail. I'm sorry, but I will not let you go anywhere, Albert. I've noticed that you're somewhat capable with a sword. It shouldn't be a big problem, but I want to minimize the risks as much as I can."

"Kyle... You traitorous bastard!" my father screamed and tried to lift himself off the ground. But he failed and fell back halfway through.

"It's no use," said Kyle. "The knife was poisoned. Soon, you won't be able to move at all. I'm a coward, you know? I don't like taking uncertain risks."

"Kyle... Why?" my father muttered weakly. Maybe he was trying to buy time or maybe he was just as confused and lost as I was.

"Why?" Kyle echoed. "It's very simple really. I've risked everything to serve this country. Dedicated years of my life. But when I lost my hand in the line of duty, the country threw me away like I was disposable garbage!"

My father's face clouded. Was it the effects of the poison? Kyle's story? Or maybe both?

"The only thing they gave me was a few coins and worthless words of consolation," Kyle said smiled in self-derision. "And then, I wandered aimlessly, trying to make whatever pennies I could. Fighting was the only thing I knew, and even that wasn't an option for me. No one needed an armless guard like me."

Kyle stretched his hand forward, pointing at the burning village.

"And so, this world should burn. This world where dedication and loyalty is rewarded with malice—this world that could never untwist itself... It should all just turn to cinders!"

As he shouted he dashed towards my father and thrust his dagger forward. The dagger pierced flesh and blood splattered. But it wasn't my father's blood. In front of his frozen body, stood my mom. A dagger ran through her stomach, and blood poured from her lips.

I screamed.

My father fell forward. On his face tears were streaming down his cheeks and his features were contorted in fury. Kyle, still stunned from the sudden development, pushed away my mother's body to the side and tried to grab another dagger from beneath his cloak. But before he could do that, my father's blade ran through him.

Albert used up the last of his strength for that single stab, and they fell forward together. The dagger that Kyle pulled from under his robes pierced my father's stomach. Lying on the ground, dad lifted his face to look in my direction.

"...R...Run..." he said in a shaking voice. And then his strength ran out and his face planted on the ground.

But I couldn't run. I couldn't bring my trembling body to move. Me legs were frozen. It was as if they were locked to the ground. I screamed. I couldn't stop screaming. 

Drawn by those screams, cultists all around me started running in my direction. Among the noise, I thought I heard a familiar voice.

"Alan!?"

And then everything was blurry. Golden armor rushed through the battlefield. A cacophony of sounds and lights assaulted my senses. Before the cultists reached me, a golden light appeared in front of me, shielding me from their blows.

Screams and deafening noises resounded. For some time, it was like I was in the middle of a storm. After some time, everything quieted down.

I heard sounds of metal clashing against metal. A shriek resounded on the battlefield. It belonged to a young girl. I recognized that voice—it was Emily. Something inside of me stirred and I finally forced myself to open my eyes.

Just a few meters away from me, Marcus stood. In his hands, he held a blade. That blade was stabbed into a cultist in front of him. Behind him, Emily was shaking in fear. Her face was blank. As if she was so overwhelmed that she couldn't even process what was happening. Her eyes were locked onto Marcus's back.

Or more precisely, a single sword that pierced Marcus's stomach.

In that moment, I realized. He was stabbed. He was stabbed because he didn't have his golden armor to protect him. Because he was protecting me.

Because I was too weak to even run away.

The cultist fell, and Marcus, blade still inside of him, turned towards me. Slowly, he dragged his weakened body to my side while holding Emily's hand. The golden armor disappeared and he put his hand on my cheek.

"Thanks Goddess... You're safe."

Blood was pouring from his mouth, but he didn't pay it any mind.

"Listen, Alan... I'm sorry I couldn't protect anyone..."

His words were filled with sadness and sorrow. I couldn't even bring myself to speak so I merely listened.

"You're a strong boy... So, please... protect Emily in my stead," he said and then put her hand on top of mine.

There were no more cultists around us. But from far away, I could hear the sounds of footsteps. More were coming in our direction. Marcus hugged Emily and I by our shoulders, and a golden armor once again surrounded us on all sides.

As Alan sat there, he was smiling. He was talking to me, but his eyes weren't looking at me. Instead, he slightly tilted his head and directed his gaze upwards.

"Alan... you... gave me hope..." he said as he looked at the night skies. At a beautiful starry night. "This world... if everyone was like you... If everyone did the best they could... to make the world better, then maybe... maybe there's still hope..."

As he stared at the unreachable beautiful stars, he said.

"Maybe someday... we could reach the impossible... And our world could be just as beautiful... Thank you... for giving me that hope."

The glow of the armor intensified. It was like all everything was filled with light. For a second, I had a feeling that the light touched the heavens themselves— that it reached the faraway night skies.

And then Marcus breathed his last.

***

The cultists continued to attack the Golden Fortress. But no matter how many times they did, it didn't budge in the slightest. But they couldn't leave before they could confirm Marcus's death so they continued their useless struggle.

My memories from that time were vague. The only thing I could remember were a cacophony of noises and the never-ending screams. "Glory to the Demon Lord", they shouted again and again.

And then, eventually everything quieted down. At  dawn, the Church arrived and apprehended the cultists.

But even after everything was over, Emily was still frozen. She stared at her brother's corpse with an empty gaze. No matter how long I waited, she just continued staring. And then, she muttered.

"...Demon Lord... All of it is Demon Lord's fault..."

"...Emily?" I asked worriedly. Marcus had asked me to protect her before his death. And even before that, she was the only person who was still left in my life.

"...Demon Lord..." she said once again and then turned towards me. "Alan... the Demon Lord... has to die... I... we... we need to kill the Demon Lord!"

On her face, I read an expression of insanity. Her mouth was shaking, tears were streaming down her cheeks, but her eyes were unbearable empty. She grabbed me by the shoulders.

"...Alan... please... please... Kill the Demon Lord."

In that moment, I wanted to cry. I knew that the last person that I was familiar with was gone from this world. Because Emily was broken. But no matter how broken she was, I felt an obligation to answer her.

Because she was the only one left. Because Marcus told me to protect her. Because he left his hopes to me at the very end.

Because I was at fault for killing her brother.

"Emily..."

I answered as I hugged her. Back then, I had a feeling it was the last time I would get to call her name like that. That feeling turned out to be true.

"Don't worry..." I reassured her, knowing that she was likely never going to be the same Emily I knew ever again. But I still clung to the faintest hope.

"I will kill the Demon Lord."

***

"Your Holiness, it is confirmed."

A few days passed. Immediately after the Church took us in, I was separated from Emily. With the Church's procession, I traveled all the way to the Royal Capital. There, I was given meager quarters as the priests watched over me.

Several robbed man were discussing something important. Something that no outsiders should have heard. Maybe, they thought I was too young or too broken to pay attention. Or maybe, they just didn't care. Either way, I listened to them carefully.

"Hmm... So it is true... how peculiar..."

A man muttered. He was in his fifties, and he was dressed in extremely ornate and intricate robes. I didn't know that at the time, but he was none other than the highest authority of the Goddess's Church—Holy Cardinal Ramus. The man who was quite possibly the closest to controlling the entire world.

"Yes, Your Holiness. Apparently, this child has signs of a Goddess' Blessing. Despite that, we cannot sense much holy power inside of his body like it usually is. Our theory is that a small fraction of the hero candidate Marcus's Blessing has seeped into his body. But frankly, we've never seen anything like it."

"Fascinating." The Holy Cardinal smiled. "That means that we can go along with the plan, right? We can pretend that this kid was the hero candidate all along. After all, we can't let the people learn that our newest candidate was slain by a ragtag bunch of crazed adventurers and mercenaries. Especially, when the candidate was so young. Think of people's reactions..."

The Cardinal's subordinate remained quiet for some time. Then, he answered hesitantly.

"Are you sure about this, Your Holiness? The kid himself knows the truth so making him a hero candidate can be dangerous..."

But before His Holiness could reply, I interfered in their conversation.

"Please do it!" I shouted. "Please, make me a hero candidate..."

If I was, I could officially be tasked with slaying the Demon Lord.

The cardinal smiled. It was a twisted smile that didn't belong on a man who was referred to as 'Holy'.

"You said that the sealing circuit should be still active, right?" he said as he glanced at his subordinate. The subordinate answered with a nod and then Holy Cardinal turned to me. "Hey, kid. You know... that hero candidate died because of you... Surely, you won't run from your responsibility after Goddess lent you such a gift?"

When I looked at that twisted smile something inside of me broke. Regardless, I nodded.

"I promise you... I will kill the Demon Lord."

Holy Cardinal replied with a smile. In that moment, he looked more like a demon than demons themselves.