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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The prospective saintesses of the Holy Kingdom, who had clashed with the Calamity of Death at Driwaine Castle, were safely transported to the healing center. All of the saintesses rescued from the front lines were suffering from extreme exhaustion.
This was due to wielding divine power far beyond their limits.
It was similar to how excessive physical exertion could lead to nerve pain.
“Suddenly, there was a bright light, and I felt a surge of power through my body… The One True God had entered me!”
A girl with flowing violet hair spoke with a smile, her eyes filled with awe. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled the moment she had channeled the One True God’s divine power to confront the wicked Calamity.
The other prospective saintesses shared similar experiences.
They had faced an unprecedented crisis, confronting the Second Saintess possessed by the Calamity of Death. They had even fought against the Saintess Party, who had fallen to Death’s influence.
They could have easily died on the front lines.
Their safe return was nothing short of a miracle.
Yet, despite the harrowing ordeal, the prospective saintesses praised the Earth Mother’s grace. None of them questioned the One True God’s divine will. Instead, they felt a sense of elation, grateful for having been of service, even in a small way.
“Sister! Do you think I helped God too? I should have trained harder…!”
“Of course the One True God is pleased. She’s probably looking down on us from the Celestial Realm right now, proud of our efforts.”
“I’m so happy. It feels like God has acknowledged me.”
“We’ll become true saintesses someday. Just like the First Saintess…”
Two prospective saintesses, identical twins with shimmering golden hair, sat side by side on a bed, chattering excitedly.
They were barely thirteen years old.
Chosen at a young age to serve as prospective saintesses, the twin girls were remarkably young.
However, all prospective saintesses served as vessels for the One True God. They were sent to the front lines like sacrificial lambs, their bodies prepared to channel the Earth Mother’s divine power against the Calamity of Death. If Edanant had witnessed the scene of these young girls being deployed to such a dangerous battlefield, he would have been furious.
“What do you think happened to the Second Saintess?”
“I don’t know. To think that Lady Beatrice would accept the Calamity of Death…”
The Second Saintess, once loved and revered by all for her beauty and benevolent nature, had fallen, becoming a witch wielding the power of Death.
Witch.
A sinister being, diametrically opposed to the saintess, a symbol of purity and sanctity.
The prospective saintesses were bewildered and heartbroken. They had fought against Beatrice, a beloved senior who had always cared for them like an older sister.
One of the twins, Adreinne, trembled, her small shoulders shaking.
Seeing her sister’s fear, Iris smiled sadly and embraced her.
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The Witch of Death, having exhausted her power, decided to retreat.
Gael, concerned for the safety of the prospective saintesses whose bodies she had possessed, also withdrew.
A draw.
The clash between the Creator God and the Calamity God had ended in a stalemate.
The news that the Earth Mother, the all-knowing and all-powerful One True God, had fought to a draw filled the cardinals with dread. The fear was amplified by the recent destruction of the Sanctuary at the hands of War and Famine.
“…”
The room was decorated in the opulent style of the Holy Kingdom, its beauty intended to evoke a sense of reverence.
Dozens of lamps illuminated the space.
Brilliant light and soft shadows danced across the room, highlighting the magnificent throne at its center. The throne, adorned with gold and jewels, was a symbol of unparalleled glory, reserved solely for the One True God.
A young girl sat upon the throne.
With vibrant, ruby-red hair, she was the Earth Mother, Gael, inhabiting the body of a prospective saintess.
“How long do you intend to remain silent?”
“…”
A middle-aged man approached with measured steps, his voice gentle yet firm, as if reprimanding a child.
It was Pontiff Boern.
Gael didn’t answer Boern’s question. She simply frowned, a sullen expression on her face. Seeing this, Boern let out a sad, weary sigh.
“So, the worst has come to pass.”
“I failed to stop her… I should have stopped Beatrice…”
The One True God, worshipped as the symbol of omniscience and omnipotence.
Yet, in truth, she was just a heartbroken girl.
Her gloomy expression and despondent voice revealed her fragile inner self. Overwhelmed by the disastrous outcome, Gael withdrew into herself, as if seeking refuge from the harsh reality.
“…She was slowly dying.”
“What?”
“Beatrice carries the miracle of the Saintess, a symbol of life’s sanctity. She could never accept the divinity of Death, which denies and defiles life. The Calamity of Death is slowly consuming Beatrice’s life force.”
“Th-Then…! You’re saying that the more she uses Death’s divine power, the closer Beatrice is to death?!”
Before she was the Holy Kingdom’s Second Saintess, she was his precious adopted daughter.
No.
I cannot lose her.
Boern’s voice cracked with desperation as he grasped the implications of Gael’s words. The realization that Beatrice was facing imminent death shattered his usual calm facade. His normally gentle demeanor was replaced by a raw, anguished grief.
“I apologize. I lost my composure and raised my voice.”
“It’s alright. You’re a father who loves his daughter. It’s only natural to prioritize her safety.”
Boern cleared his throat, regaining his composure.
Gael offered a weak smile.
“What of Bellatiel? What has become of her?”
“We… we still haven’t found her.”
The Seraphim Bellatiel, who had orchestrated the incident at the Sanctuary alongside the cardinals, had been defeated by the Calamity of War.
If she had perished in battle, she should have been summoned back to the Celestial Realm.
But Bellatiel had not returned.
Countless search parties had been dispatched, but they found no trace of the seraph. She had vanished without a trace, as if she had simply evaporated into thin air.
“Bellatiel…! I knew she would cause trouble someday…!”
“The Master of the Tower, who betrayed humanity and sided with the Calamities, is the most likely suspect. Cardinal Nebiakus is leading the Holy Knights in search of the Magic Tower. We should receive a report soon.”
She had witnessed her mother’s anguish as she foresaw the encroaching apocalypse. Perhaps driven by a misguided sense of filial piety,
Bellatiel had unleashed the Calamity of Famine to halt the world’s end.
‘It was a noble intention.’
‘But her methods were reckless.’
Gael thought of her adopted daughter, once so righteous and loyal, and felt a pang of guilt. She worried about the trials and tribulations Bellatiel must be facing.
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“Your body cannot contain Death’s frigid power.”
“Release me.”
“Or we shall perish together in eternal slumber.”
A chilling frost, threatening to freeze her very soul, washed over her. An icy burden, a heavy weight of fate, pressed down upon her. But the woman, her breath coming in ragged gasps, endured, her resolve unwavering.
Tsk.
A click of the tongue echoed through the icy void.
“I will… never… give up.”
Her hair, once a vibrant shade of pink, like a peony in late spring, had faded to a stark, lifeless white.
Her sky-blue eyes, too, had lost their brilliance, replaced by a dull, lifeless gray, mirroring the encroaching death that threatened to consume her.
The woman, her face pale and her body trembling, summoned her remaining strength and pushed back against the chilling frost that sought to claim her. It was a temporary reprieve, a fleeting moment of respite.
-“I grow weary. You are a stubborn woman indeed.”
A voice echoed through the howling winds and swirling snow.
The Calamity of Death.
The architect of ruin, the one who had led the Demon King’s army and the cult forces in their attempt to destroy the world.
Beatrice glared at the shadowy figure beyond the blizzard, her eyes burning with defiance.
-“You are nothing but a vessel, created to contain the hypocritical whore. If that cheap harlot were to choose your body as her vessel, I would be destroyed along with my sisters. That is why—”
She was the perfect vessel. Her affinity for divine power was unmatched.
That was Beatrice.
However, that compatibility was limited to the Creator Gods, like the Earth Mother. Beatrice, having accepted the Calamity of Death, was now suffering immensely, her body rejecting the destructive power that sought to claim her.
-“I ask you. Why do you fight so desperately?”
“Because… I must save him.”
-“Save whom?”
“The one who saved countless lives… the one who saved others but refused to save himself… the one who so selflessly bears the burden of the world… I must save him.”
There were no lofty pronouncements of justice or righteousness.
No grand pronouncements of a noble cause.
She simply wanted to repay her debt.
To return the favor.
On behalf of the world he had so desperately tried to save.
‘Hundreds of thousands of lives.’
‘He saved them all.’
‘And now, I must save him.’
Beatrice thought of Edanant, his voice echoing in her memories, their last conversation after the defeat of the Demon King of Death. Her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
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