Chapter 633
The young Saint and the daughter of the Witch of Death.
They faced each other in the arena.
“……”
“……”
The two of them stared at one another without saying a word.
A silence like the calm before a storm. Watching their tension, Simon quickly jumped forward.
“R–Rena! This is Loraine Arkbold, my classmate from the Department of Summonology! And Loraine, this is Rena, my childhood friend from back home. I ran into her by chance at the Dark Emperor Festival and was showing her around Roke Island!”
Simon spoke quickly, almost as if making excuses, worried that the two might suddenly clash.
“…Uh, hello.”
The first to speak was Loraine. She gave a somewhat awkward laugh and stiffly waved her hand side to side.
“…Yes, hello. Nice to meet you.”
Lete smiled too, but the corners of her mouth twitched restlessly.
“Th–the weather’s nice.”
“The sunlight is bright today.”
They exchanged awkward small talk, the kind that made even the bystanders feel suffocated.
It was the first time Lete—normally so spirited—looked like this, and likewise the first time Loraine looked so timid.
Both reached their hands out, as if to shake hands, only to quickly tuck them back to their sides or behind their backs.
“…Enjoy the Dark Emperor Festival.”
“…Yes, thank you for your concern.”
Both clearly found each other’s presence extremely uncomfortable. But because Simon had introduced them, they forced themselves to show at least a minimum of politeness.
“…Then, I’ll be going first. See you at the next match, Simon.”
“Y–yeah.”
“…Goodbye.”
Loraine soon grew more and more distant.
Lete, who couldn’t take her eyes off Loraine’s retreating back, finally placed a hand on her chest and let out a sigh once Loraine had disappeared completely.
“What’s with that woman.”
Her voice turned cynical again. The faint smile was long gone.
“What’s wrong?”
“I could tell just from meeting her eyes.”
Her gaze narrowed, half-lidded.
“She’s completely incompatible with me. A dangerously extreme woman.”
Simon had never thought of Loraine that way, but from the standpoint of a priest of the Holy Federation, he could see why Lete might think so.
“…And that name sounds familiar.”
Simon blinked.
“She introduced herself as Arkbold. You don’t know?”
“I don’t.”
“She’s the daughter of Lady Neftis Arkbold.”
Lete’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped in shock.
“No wonder!”
She clenched both fists tightly.
“I knew it was ominous! Arkbold is the surname of that ‘Witch of Death’! I was confused since we always just call her that!”
So that’s what it was.
In the Dark Alliance, everyone immediately thought of Neftis at the mention of “Arkbold”, so Simon had assumed Lete would know as well.
Her gaze sharpened as she took a long breath.
“What a shame. I should have killed her here.”
“…Lete.”
“Kidding.”
Lete gave a small laugh, shoving her hands into the pockets of her robe.
“Because she’s your friend.”
At that, Simon finally let out a sigh of relief.
“I’d rather not have to arrest you for being a fanatic.”
“Of course.”
Lete stepped lightly forward.
“If I could help it, I’d rather never cross paths with that woman again in my entire life. If we ever fought, no matter who won or lost, the end would be bloody for both of us.”
Watching her walk ahead, Simon silently resolved to avoid introducing Lete to any of his necromancer friends.
Especially—
‘I can’t let her meet Serne!’
If those two fiery tempers clashed, disaster would be inevitable. Thankfully, Serne had little interest in the Dark Emperor Festival.
“What are you doing? We don’t have time to dawdle.”
Lete glanced back. Simon hurried after her.
“Coming!”
* * *
The two of them thoroughly explored Roke Island.
Though Lete had already said there was no way ‘Ever Kire’ would be here, she still took the investigation seriously.
At the same time, she made sure to buy food that Kamibarez had recommended, or stop by places that suited her tastes.
“Even Dark Alliance food isn’t bad at all.”
Lete twirled noodles in a paper cup with her fork as she spoke. It was street food—no broth, just noodles stir-fried with meat and vegetables in a spicy soy-based sauce.
“Want some?”
“I’m fine.”
Simon answered while biting into the sandwich in his hand. Lete neatly rolled some noodles with her fork, placed a piece of meat on top, and then held it out to him modestly.
“Let’s exchange a bite.”
‘!’
With food suddenly so close to his lips, Simon stumbled back in surprise.
“W–wait a second…!”
Her brows furrowed into a pout.
“You don’t want what I give you?”
“No! It’s not like that.”
“Then say ‘ah~’.”
Lete brought the food closer to his mouth. Startled by the unexpected situation, Simon hesitated, twitching nervously, then awkwardly opened his mouth.
But then—
Chomp!
Someone darted in between and snatched the bite right out of Lete’s fork.
Nom nom—
The girl who had stolen it chewed the noodles happily, then even grabbed the tissue in Lete’s hand to wipe her mouth with infuriating nonchalance.
“Thanks for the meal.”
Then she turned with a bright smile toward Simon.
“Oh my~ what a coincidence to meet you here, Simon.”
Simon’s face fell into despair. He forced a smile, but his lips trembled.
“S–Serne.”
Of all people, this was the one he had least wanted Lete to meet.
Simon struggled to keep calm.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the afternoon match~! I heard you’d be participating too, so I thought I’d warm up a bit.”
That afternoon, a massive group match with over twenty students was scheduled. Serne seemed excited to join in.
Simon sneaked a glance at Lete.
To his surprise, she wasn’t displeased. Instead, she seemed curious, looking Serne up and down. Very different from how she had reacted to Loraine.
“So, she’s your friend too?”
“Y–Yeah! This is Serne Eindark, heir of the Ivory Tower.”
“All of your friends are unusual people, aren’t they?”
Lete took a step closer.
“And unlike that woman we met earlier, this one gives off the exact opposite kind of flow. That makes me suspicious.”
Suspicious.
Simon was startled at her words. That meant Lete was considering the possibility that Serne might be Ever Kire.
Serne, still smiling, turned to Lete.
“And you are?”
“Simon’s childhood friend. Name’s Rena.”
“Aha.”
Serne’s fox-like eyes narrowed.
“A childhood friend, huh. Such a common setup.”
“And another thing.”
Lete reached behind her neck, plucked out a white feather, and with a snap of her fingers flicked it onto the ground.
Crack!
Crushing the feather beneath her heel, Lete revealed a menacing aura. Serne, amused, crossed her arms and laughed.
“So you’re not just a monkey, then?”
“Trying to control me only makes me all the more suspicious.”
…This was getting troublesome.
The fanatic Ever Kire could manipulate people with psychic power. Since Serne had just tried to manipulate Lete, Lete was now mistaking her for a fanatic.
And honestly, it wasn’t an unreasonable misunderstanding.
“Wait! Rena! Serne is…!”
Thud.
Lete carefully set down her cup of soy noodles, then her body shot forward like a storm. She spun, leaving afterimages, before her white leg whipped up viciously toward the sky.
CRAAASH!
A thunderous boom.
Simon’s jaw dropped.
“Hm~”
Serne clicked her tongue. Lete’s toes stopped right beside Serne’s head, blocked effortlessly by the tip of a feather Serne held, her arms crossed in a tilted stance.
Clang!
The feather and her foot rang out as if in a contest of strength. Lete spoke, her voice dripping hostility.
“If you try to strip people of their free will, you’ll pay the price.”
“Amusing.”
Both moved at the same instant. Lete lowered her leg and launched a fist, while Serne swept her hair with her opposite hand, pulling three feathers between her fingers.
Their arms shot forward at the same time.
Grab!
Thud!
Rough hands seized their slender wrists. They were yanked forward, and both girls crashed into the chest of the one who had forced himself between them—Simon.
“??”
Eyes wide, Lete looked up at Simon, her wrist caught.
“Oh my~ how manly.”
Serne curled her lips into a playful smirk.
“Both of you, stop.”
Simon, holding their crossed wrists, said firmly with a grim face.
“If you start fighting in such a crowded place, what do you think will—”
Then he noticed. Even though a fight had broken out, not a single person around them was paying attention.
At some point, Serne had planted feathers in the ground nearby, casting a barrier around them.
“I get that you want to defend your friend.”
Lete muttered with a sulky expression.
“But what if she’s just pretending to be your friend? She blatantly tried to use mind control, I need to confirm it.”
“Wait, Serne has always been a wielder of psychic abilities.”
Simon released their wrists as he explained. Serne rubbed hers with a sly smile, while Lete folded her arms at her waist, unimpressed.
“Then why did she try to control me?”
“Because I’m intrigued by people like you.”
Serne only answered that much, then turned her gaze on Simon.
“And Simon, I knew you could use that power, but I didn’t expect you to have a friend like that.”
The implication was clear—she knew Lete was a priest.
Lete tensed immediately, but Simon, desperate to avert disaster, jumped in with an excuse.
“Serne! That’s—!”
“I already have a rough idea of how things are going.”
Serne licked her lips slowly.
“In fact, Kajan asked me for cooperation as well.”
“Ah.”
Simon froze. He hadn’t expected Kajan’s name to come up here.
“Of course, I don’t care what happens to Keyzen. I refused because I have no interest in helping with something that doesn’t benefit me. But I did agree to provide some information and minor assistance, it doesn’t hurt to maintain a friendly relationship with him.”
Simon let out a sigh of relief.
So, Serne wasn’t working with Kajan, but she did know about the fanatic infiltrating Keyzen.
“The reason I used the feather on you…”
Serne finally looked back at Lete.
“…was because I wanted to ask you something.”
“Yeah, yeah, then just say it already.”
Lete’s expression said she didn’t like her one bit, but since Serne wasn’t Ever Kire and clearly held important information, she didn’t seem intent on making her an enemy.
“Whenever I meet a priest, I always want to ask the same question.”
Serne’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you know who Gafen is?”
Simon’s eyes widened.
-If you want to find your roots, seek out the man called ‘Gafen’ in the Holy Federation.
The hint his future self had once given Serne. She’d claimed she wasn’t very interested, but clearly it had stuck with her.
“Gafen?”
Lete tilted her head.
“How does a necromancer know that name?”
No comments yet. Be the first to leave a review!