A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The greatest heretic born from the cult. Veronica bore a languid expression.

Should I call it languor, or perhaps ennui? A complexity of feelings that was hard to express in simple terms settled upon her face.

Her demeanor stood in stark contrast to the taut tension brought about by an imminent battle.

That infinitely peaceful attitude not only defied everyone’s expectations and dispelled their concerns, but also evoked a slight sense of futility.

“… Ha.”

Breaking through the suffocating silence, a sigh escaped her lips.

The revolver skated along her temple. With the hammer cocked and the weapon ready to fire at a moment’s notice, Veronica casually brought it to her head.

“Freeze. Everyone, don’t move. I’m in a real pickle right now.”

The saint casually swept aside her disheveled bangs. Her flippant attitude, for some reason, belied the sharpness of her voice.

At Veronica’s sudden demand, Camila and Francesca’s eyes began to roll around like marbles. For a brief moment, silent exchanges took place. The embarrassment that could not be hidden flickered across their blue and purple eyes.

I felt equally flustered.

Where had she been hiding all this time, just to appear and threaten us to stop fighting?

“… Why is the saint suddenly acting like this?”

“… I don’t know that either.”

Behind the figure of Francesca, who was silently staring at Veronica, Camila cast a glance. It was a silent question of “What do we do now?”

“…….”

The knight, wielding a hammer, was staring intently at the marksman. Despite being a difficult opponent to gauge, I could vaguely discern that he had shifted his attention away from us and had no intention of fighting.

As I alternated between observing the knight and our party, I cautiously turned back to Veronica.

“Veronica, what on earth is…”

“Step back for now, Colonel.”

“Is that really okay?”

In response to my continued questioning, she nodded with a calm look in her eyes.

A moment of silence passed, and countless conversations followed. No one opened their mouths, yet in a single glance exchanged, we communicated a multitude of things.

She was urging me to step back. With a gaze imploring me to trust her just this once.

As I gazed into her earnest eyes, I quietly signaled to the others. Camila, who had sheathed her runeblade, and Francesca, who had dispersed her flames, took a few steps back while keeping their focus on the knight.

Thus, the battle fell into a lull.

As Camila and Francesca retreated, the knight also took a step back. Thud! The heavy hammer thudded down onto the ground, causing dust and soot to billow up. The knight, who had lowered his hammer, dropped his arms in a gesture precluding any further violence.

And then—

“… I received a message.”

The saint spoke up.

“I received two instructions. First, cease hostilities and withdraw; second, treat the ‘Knight of the Cedar Coffin’ with respect.”

Clack! As she pressed her thumb against the hammer, the cocked hammer clicked back into place. Stowing the decocked revolver in her thigh holster, Veronica crossed her arms with a gruff demeanor.

Her obsidian-like eyes lowered. Angling her posture, she gazed at the knight.

Somewhat dissatisfied, Veronica suggested in a languid voice.

“Then, I suggest you disarm and follow me while we’re still on good terms.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

Veronica led us into a conference room somewhere in the facility.

The research facility where we had just been seemed unsuitable for conversation, as it lay utterly dismantled in the aftermath of the battle, particularly from explosives and Camila’s magic. The command to cease hostilities and treat us with politeness was also in play.

The knight followed Veronica without a word. Leading the way was the saint, followed by the armored knight. Camila, Francesca, and I closely followed behind, step by step.

Camila and Francesca watched the knight’s back intently. The hammer and greatsword had vanished by this time.

Despite the opponent disarming, it wasn’t a reason to relax our guard. In the deafening silence, we stayed prepared to subdue the knight at any moment, moving alongside Veronica and the knight.

“Shall we step inside?”

Finally reaching our destination, Veronica surveyed the conference room before gesturing inside.

She urged us to enter, and the knight, bowing slightly, walked in.

– Clang, clang.

As the last glimpse of the knight in plate armor disappeared, the conference room door slammed shut. Veronica was behind it.

After closing the door, the saint swept her bangs back once more.

“Uf.”

A monotone sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the hallway’s wall.

Her delinquent demeanor was no different from usual, yet traces of her emotions vividly seeped through her actions.

Her nervous fingers brushing her forehead, a countenance heavy with boredom and lassitude, and a complex sigh ensnared within.

With a weary voice, Veronica spoke up.

“Is everyone all right?”

“Yes. Thankfully, we’re unharmed.”

I lifted my intact limbs as evidence. Veronica stifled a chuckle.

“No need to emphasize it. I do have eyes, you know.”

Veronica gave a half-hearted laugh and quenched her thirst at a water dispenser in the hallway.

Delighted to find a functioning water fountain after feeling thirsty, the flustered Camila and Francesca gathered around to chat.

“Is there a paper cup?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Guess we’ll just have to drink straight from it.”

Bending down, Camila turned her head. She looked like a high school boy rushing to the water fountain after a soccer match.

Although she came from an upper-class background, her experience from providing medical aid in war zones seemed to have stuck with her. Disregarding the need for a cup, she filled her mouth with water and gulped it down.

However, Francesca, raised in a noble and prestigious family, seemed to think otherwise. Placing her hand on the dispenser, she was searching for courage with a distressed expression.

“Please accept this.”

“Oh, thank you.”

I detached a canteen from my gear and offered it to Francesca.

Confirming the fresh water filling the canteen’s spout, she carefully tilted it to moisten her lips, avoiding where others had sipped.

Having taken a sip from the canteen, I too finally felt my thirst quenched.

Only after alleviating my thirst did my mind start racing. Veronica, having glanced at our states, opened a conversation.

“You must have many questions, but let’s take them one at a time. Do you have anything you’d like to ask?”

What to ask? Naturally, there was so much.

“First, I’d like you to explain the situation. Sure, tell us to cease combat, but what on Earth do you mean by treating us with courtesy?”

Wiping off the soot and dust on my head with the remaining water, I raised my gaze.

As if scratching that itchy spot, the inquisitive stares of Camila and Francesca naturally followed mine. All three pairs of eyes converged.

Veronica shrugged, as if implying she meant no more than her words stated.

“Just that. It means to not fight and to treat you with respect.”

“Respect the vampires?”

The implication was that the cult never treated the undead in a humanitarian and gentlemanly manner, yet there was no change in the saint’s attitude.

“Yes. However, one thing must be corrected.”

Leaning back against the wall, Veronica spoke with a weary tone.

“That knight. He isn’t a vampire.”

Her gaze turned toward the door to the conference room. The firmly shut door sat at the end of her sight.

As the two turned their heads, Camila and Francesca exchanged looks with me. I could mostly guess, but their dubious expressions lingered.

I nodded, pretending to understand.

“He hardly took any attacks at all. Holy Water, blessed bullets, magic… none had any effect. Even the armor-piercing rounds barely left a mark.”

We may have accolades for our devil-hunting exploits, but they were only true when properly prepared with the military at our backs.

Even the scholars and priests selected specifically by the cult and Al-Yabd could not hold him back, and the Holy Knights who specialized in the undead were equally helpless against him. Camila, Francesca, and I had cornered the knight through combined assaults, yet we lacked the final blow to finish the fight.

That lacked logic from my perspective. Disciples of magic weapons infused with demon energy, seals, and barriers; Camila’s magic, Francesca’s runes—all failing to land a blow brought up a plethora of questions.

While it was true we couldn’t subdue him due to a vast gap in strength, considering Camila’s and Francesca’s capabilities, they should have achieved at least a better result than we did.

Thus, the conclusion could be narrowed down to two possibilities.

First, the opponent was an entity far stronger than the demons we had encountered in the northern regions.

Second, the opponent wasn’t fundamentally negative or evil to begin with.

To me, it seemed more likely that the latter was correct. And Veronica’s response only solidified that suspicion.

“He apparently wasn’t a vampire. We had started from the wrong premise.”

That meant everyone’s assumptions had been incorrect. Having received a message from the cult, Veronica explained that the identity of the knight was not a vampire.

So, what on earth was it? Exhausted from the twenty questions, I asked, but she had no definitive answer to provide.

Shaking her head, she muttered with a sigh.

“Even the letter I received didn’t specify his identity. It’s questionable whether I can even call him human…”

“Isn’t it natural for the Holy See to have unearthed something to issue such commands? They mentioned collecting and interpreting the ancient texts. If they found anything significant, that should have led to a conclusion.”

“The letter wasn’t sent by the Holy See.”

The source of the unexpected order left everyone’s face flushed with confusion.

Wait, aside from the Holy See, what other organization could issue such orders? The saints themselves are rarely disrespected, even by cardinals and bishops.

If it wasn’t the Pope, who would have sent such a letter?

“…Then where did it come from?”

Veronica produced a case from her pocket and pulled out a cigar. Placing the slender cigar between her lips, she lit it with a lighter and raised her gaze.

Her obsidian-like eyes were tinged with annoyance. After exhaling smoke repeatedly, Veronica began to scratch her head.

And finally, the saint spoke up.

“The High Priest.”

Veronica, exhaling smoke, glanced upwards toward the ceiling.

“It was a letter sent by the oldest member of our cult.”

—

The era when the power of religion pierced the heavens has long passed, yet religious institutions remain one of the ruling factions in this town.

Demons, undead, dark magicians—the existence of actual threats and the legends surrounding demons became counterparts in faith.

The entities standing against faith paradoxically fueled people’s belief in the divine.

Faced with suffering and adversity, humans crave salvation, while priests bestow their divine powers to make the world better. Thus, the strength of religious power became a destiny and inevitability.

Though I did not hold deep faith, I nearly possessed endless knowledge regarding major religious organizations. The clash between political power and religious power is a long-standing battle proven throughout human history.

It is only natural for the government to restrain the overwhelming influence of religion, and it is inevitable that the scrutiny of the state would fall onto the clergy. And in modern states, this scrutiny often travels through intelligence agencies; thus, it would be no different than saying that I, an intelligence officer from the Military Intelligence Agency, was ignorant of the communists.

“…The High Priest.”

My vague mutter stumbled from my lips.

Even those not in the intel field, few could claim ignorance of the High Priest’s identity. Merely existing for several hundred years elevates such a figure into the realm of mystery.

The most renowned Inquisition officer and Exorcist in history, combined with his title of High Priest, has ensured the longevity of his fame.

So much so that the cult’s priests refer to him as “father of both the Inquisition and Exorcist.”

The greatest interrogator as well as Exorcist the cult boasts of.

If there are “Archmages” like Duke Alexandra Petrovna and priests of Al-Yabd in the magical society, in contrast, the cult has the High Priest, referred to as “the father of both the Inquisition and Exorcist.”

“The High Priest contacted us?”

“Yes.”

Veronica took a puff from her cigar and nodded. In her delicate hands lay an elegant letter.

High-ranking priests of the Lateran Church wear a seal, just as Roman Catholics did. In simpler terms, it is a coat of arms. Like symbols used by noble families in medieval Europe to signify themselves, such emblems are a means of self-expression among the high priests.

Each priest has a different format and appearance for their coat of arms, and the most representative examples are the ones possessed by Veronica and Lucia. Despite both being saints of equal standing, they owned distinctly different emblems.

Even bishops and cardinals, stereotypically treated as “old fogies” by Veronica, are in similar boats. Since these emblems serve as a means of proving ownership, detailed distinctions must inevitably arise, even among those of the same standing.

“Hmm….”

The coat of arms printed on the letter took a form I had never seen before. Specifically, I had never encountered that emblem in real life.

Only logical, considering the last time it had been publicly revealed was decades ago. The rigid emblem, only viewable in museums or history books, signified something direct.

The sender of this letter must be none other than the cult’s High Priest.

I lifted my gaze from the letter to speak.

“This is indeed a letter sent by the High Priest. I’ve only seen things like this in history books.”

“I haven’t seen it in real life for years. No, has it been well over ten years since I laid eyes on one?”

“When did you last see one?”

“When Lucia began serving me.”

It seemed Veronica had some past experiences of receiving letters from the High Priest.

Though I found myself curious why the High Priest would send a letter concerning Lucia, it wasn’t the time to dwell on such matters.

The pressing question was something else entirely.

“It’s puzzling enough that the High Priest, shrouded in affairs, would send a letter, but the content is equally significant.”

The instructions were simple yet profound: cease the battle and treat us with respect. The meaning behind that letter was exceedingly clear.

The elegant and flowing script strongly hinted at a message concerning the knight. Perhaps being ancient, the structure of the letter bore a quaint charm, yet one could hardly overlook the gravity of its contents.

The timing alone of when the letter was dispatched stood out.

“As far as I know, the High Priest disappeared dozens of years ago. How did that man send you a letter?”

The illustrious interrogator and Exorcist is famously known to have vanished decades ago.

He went on a pilgrimage, took up a rigorous journey to protect the weak and perform good deeds, perhaps falling ill, or even tired of church life. Countless speculations trailed behind, yet none were verified.

I sighed at the notion that a man who had vanished would send a letter. How did the letter reach a saint holed up in the confined underground?

“Do you have a means to contact him?”

Veronica replied with two distinct words in response.

“Yes.”

Indicating that she brought in ‘the messenger’ to deliver the High Priest’s letter.

The identity of this messenger turned out to be….

– Hooou!

A falcon.

“… You’re saying that this falcon is the messenger?”

Veronica nodded without a hint of hesitation. I stared incredulously at the bird confined within a cage.

In this day and age, who still uses a falcon to deliver letters? Could he be one of those old folks who are unfamiliar with modern conveniences like smartphones?

An image of Duke Alexandra using an owl to send letters to Francesca resurfaced in my mind. It’s becoming the accepted norm for the elderly around here to send letters like this.

With a hefty falcon nestled under her arm, Veronica pointed to the creature, stating, “Don’t underestimate him. He ensures delivery well. He’s not your average bird; he’s a divine beast. He knows the way well. It seems he flew through cracks in the rocks to get here.”

“Is that so?”

Without realizing it, I frowned slightly. The sharp-eyed falcon met my gaze, boldly ruffling its feathers as if to say, “What’s the matter? Are you staring at me like you’ve never met a falcon before?” It began pecking the cage.

Only Camila seemed to be giving the bird her undivided attention.

“It’s a falcon….”

Advancing closer to the cage, she began to observe the falcon with sparkling eyes, her curiosity leading her to explore every inch of its body, making the bird scuttle back in distress.

Well, to say that that falcon delivered the letter was trivial. I continued to survey the letter carefully, wanting to raise another question.

“The contents are quite worrying. ‘Do not fight, treat us with courtesy.’ Especially pinpointing ‘the Knight of the Cedar Coffin.'”

As if hinting at some knowledge about the knight.

The fact that the Inquisition officer and Exorcist had instructed us to treat the knight with courtesy left me puzzled. Did they perhaps have some connection?

“It certainly doesn’t sound like a vampire, but if the High Priest is demanding we shouldn’t fight, it seems he understands something.”

“There’s no elaboration, leaving me in profound frustration. Would it kill them to provide us with some context?!”

The urgency of the old man’s warning echoed through—do as I say, but of course, without explaining why.

The contents on that letter encompassed, for the most part, those few lines. Not a vampire. Do not fight. Treat with respect.

Rather than issuing commands, it felt more like a polite request. But who among the cult would dare disregard the High Priest’s request?

Even Veronica, who had previously dismissed the Pope with utmost contempt, would find it hard to decline the High Priest’s requests. That much was indeed true.

“Oh, come on. Old man… what do you think asking for such things without explanation achieves?”

The fact that Veronica called him “old man” was astounding. Considering how she treated the Pope—was it not remarkable to see her like this? It were almost a surprise to find her capable of respect for her elders.

Indeed, she wasn’t someone who lacked decorum. She was a long-tenured saint and a noblewoman. It wasn’t ignorance; she just found manners burdensome. She had been omitting them far too frequently.

At any rate.

“What should we do? It’s impossible to refuse an elder’s request.”

“I never thought I’d witness you respecting an old person. I only ever saw you attacking them.”

“Are you planning to keep babbling nonsense? Now hurry up and answer me.”

“Do you think I’m just some machine that spits out answers with a button press?”

“So, there’s no method?”

…Not completely.

I rolled up the High Priest’s letter again to speak.

“Get ready, Veronica.”

—

The High Priest’s explanation was unhelpful. Therefore, the information gleaned from the elegant letter was scarce.

The lack of information made it difficult to conceive the High Priest’s intentions, yet there were other means to obtain information besides merely relying on him.

I decided to seek out Veronica and the Knight of the Cedar Coffin.

“……”

The instant I opened the door to the conference room, I caught sight of the knight, who stood within the fully armored confines.

The knight was surveying the room. Much like a tourist admiring an architectural marvel of a travel destination, he was examining the surroundings.

The moment he reacted was precisely after we stepped inside the room. His helm slowly turned in our direction as if flipping through pages, and while I took my seat, Veronica closed the door.

“Please take a seat.”

I gestured to point at the opposite chair to welcome him.

I wondered if it was even feasible to sit in plate armor, yet the knight managed to do so without struggle. Perhaps encountering a wheeled chair was a first for him as his gaze lingered there momentarily.

As I faced the knight while Veronica kept him company, Camila and Francesca had opted to wait outside. To be precise, I’d made that suggestion.

Whether in interrogation or inquiry, the more people involved, the more chaotic the minds become. Thus, that had the potential to apply immense psychological pressure on the opponent. As such, institutions like the FBI would limit how many staff came in for interrogation.

Long ago, when our whole company took a trip to see US intelligence agencies, I learned of this technique over drinks with an investigator.

I was the first to speak.

“I have a few questions.”

I broke the ice with a gentle tone while Veronica reclined back in her chair, still working on her cigar.

“First, let’s introduce ourselves briefly. I’m Frederick, an envoy dispatched from the Kingdom of Abas.”

I lightly gestured at Veronica.

“This is Veronica, the 58th Saint of the cult.”

Even though I introduced her as a saint, Veronica did not stray from expectations. She remained obstinately delinquent in her demeanor.

With an irritable expression and skeptical gaze, she still regarded the knight with resentment, despite having received the High Priest’s letter.

After concluding my concise introduction, I was about to ask what the knight was doing there when a resonant voice pierced through the silence flowing from the helm.

“Are you the current owner of the Altiora Cathedral?”

His first words were a question. The helm directed its attention toward Veronica. Frowning slightly at the sound echoing in her head, she answered in a monotone voice.

“That would be correct.”

“If it wouldn’t be a bother, may I ask which number owner you are?”

A remarkably courteous demeanor. A peculiar tone mixed with a dignified delivery exuded from the knight. He inquired Veronica about her ordinal position as the owner of the cathedral.

While today only religious figures and formal occasions employ the title “Owner of Altiora Cathedral,” it has historically been inclusive of all saints regardless of gender.

One saint for each era.

That was the tradition and custom upheld until Lucia’s advent, meaning there could only ever be one person of that title across all eras.

“The 58th owner, I believe.”

“The fifty-eighth owner. A great deal of time has passed, it seems. How many years have passed while I lay asleep?”

Easily 800. Upon hearing my answer, the knight briefly held his tongue. There was no visible shock on his face.

“It seems the passing of time has far exceeded my expectations.”

That resounding voice seeped through the helm. No hint of astonishment lay within the deadpan tone. An odd sense of detachment accompanied his demeanor.

The knight engaging in conversation gave me a chance to view things positively. This meant he was willing to talk.

Seizing the opportunity, I fired off my question.

“Do you have any idea where we are?”

“I do not know. Aside from the fact this place is beneath the ground. With the essence of the earth, I venture to guess this is not beneath the desert.”

“Are you associating ‘essence’ with something related to magic or the supernatural? For instance, like spirits?”

“‘Supernatural,’ you say. I do not know if the supernatural you speak of aligns with what I think of as magic or spirits, but perhaps it is indeed that.”

An oddway of speaking.

What should I call it? It felt as if a being of a superior civilization was lowering itself to converse with those of a lesser civilization.

“You seem to wield some unique powers. What was the nature of those powers?”

“Not mine. Merely a transient talent borrowed.”

“Who exactly did provide you this allowance?”

“…….”

The conversation abruptly halted. I awaited further elaboration from the knight in vain.

Was he cloaking any unfavorable response? Or was he truly unwilling to discuss that? It felt as if the ominous shadows and dark smoke spilling from the Cedar Coffin were what he opted not to share.

After probing into the topics I could conjoin, I shifted to the next subject.

“We have acquired the coffin in which you were entombed and brought it here.”

This segment concerned the vampires.

“After first unearthing the coffin, we concluded your identity to be associated with vampires.”

“Are there still vampires around?”

“The official last known vampire was Count Erzebet, eliminated hundreds of years before. The Holy Knights succeeded in that extermination. Your discovery was also by them.”

“May I inquire where you found me?”

“The formal designation is the Harbor of the Dead Whale. Commonly referred to as ‘Necropolis.’ ”

The knight had never heard of Necropolis.

Only logical; the city had been created after the founding of the Magic Tower.

A mere century-old city. It was quite likely that an individual presumed to have been asleep for 800 years wouldn’t know of it.

That wasn’t my concern.

“You and the Cedar Coffin were under the control of cultists at the time of discovery. Do you know anything about the organization called ‘Al-Kair’?”

The knight replied.

“It is a word derived from the Uvram language. If memory serves me correctly, it symbolizes ‘night.'”

I produced several tenets and information regarding Al-Kair that I had acquired within the Necropolis. Though the knight responded he was unaware, there was something unconvincing about it.

It felt as though he knew something but held his tongue, as if there was a hint of speculation or inkling stirring within him.

I pursued further information.

“Originally, a group known as ‘Shamir’ took charge of protecting the Cedar Coffin, yet it seems they were robbed by Al-Kair. Any relationships with ‘Shamir’ and that tribe?”

“…….”

His silence in response.

I covertly glanced at Veronica. The saint, who had been ashore with her cigar, turned her attention as if looking into the distance before she spoke.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to remain silent.”

“Do you still suspect me to be a vampire, after all of this?”

“I’d rather not wish for that to solidify into certainty.”

Veronica, with an inconspicuous expression, decided to play the bluffing game. The implication behind her words was that she bit down on her teeth.

Although the high priest stated the knight wasn’t a vampire, the ones who read that letter were only the four of us. Therefore, Veronica was manuevering for a chance to challenge him on the information gap.

Yet the knight showed no visible reaction.

“Truths reveal themselves to those who desire knowledge. Skeptics will remain skeptical even about the rising sun tomorrow. Even if I guard my words against being thought a vampire, doing so will not diminish the uncertainty. Trust is inherently nebulous.”

“…….”

Veronica’s eyebrows twitched. I was curious, so I asked, but she waved her hand as if to dismiss it.

Dropping a languid stare at the knight, Veronica suddenly interjected.

“The seals are ineffective, and the barriers are disregarded. The blessed ammunition doesn’t even dent you, while holy water and bombs have no effect. Even the bullets crafted from the cathedral’s sacred relics which pierce demons have no effect on your armor.”

“…….”

“Are you really human?”

With her fingers clutching the High Priest’s letter, she brandished it toward the knight.

“It seems someone is aware of your identity. Will you still continue avoiding the truth?”

At that moment.

The knight’s voice shifted slightly.

“…Does someone know me?”

A hint of a peculiar emotion tinged the question. Veronica nodded.

“There is someone who does. A certain elder who favors wandering about.”

He often disappears for long durations; while we can guess what he’s up to, no one knows for certain what it is. A being who comes and goes like the wind, that being is none other than the High Priest.

Sighing deeply, the saint lamented, wishing the elder would make a statement, for it’s nonsense to have the Pope remain unaccounted for as well.

What could that hefty falcon be up to, waddling around from one side to another? Just as I began mumbling about that thought…

The knight’s voice abruptly interrupted Veronica’s musing.

“That falcon, is it perhaps a colossal bird with golden pupils?”

Veronica halted, turning her gaze toward the knight.

“How do you know that?”

“I know him well. He is an old friend of mine.”

Uttering those strange words, the knight began to depict the High Priest’s divine beast in a calm voice.

“Golden pupils and massive wings. When both wings spread wide, he can comfortably carry a grown man. Once he takes off, he’ll stay in the skies until sunset without coming down.”

Not only that.

“Does he still have his nest at the Altiora Cathedral?”

“… In the third-floor room near the spire. Beside the fireplace.”

“That’s his favorite spot. The joy of grooming itself in the sunlight. If you don’t open the window beforehand, he’ll sulkily peck at the glass in mischief.”

“You seem knowledgeable about Casion.”

When Francesca queried, the knight shook his head.

“That was the name of the mountain where he first hatched. His name is….”

“Aquila.”

She responded.

“Upon hatching, resounding thunder shook the earth as he broke free. He soared through the storm on his very first flight. The creature who flies the heavens alongside the sun, a divinely temperamented creature.”

“…….”

“Very few know the mountain where Aquila was born, even among the clergy.”

Before the knight could finish his sentence, the atmosphere morphed.

“Veronica, you do seem to be the true owner of Altiora.”

The knight declared while she confirmed.

“Now seems like the right timing for you to reveal your identity. Knight.”

The saint remarked.

“It’s time for you to disclose who you truly are.”

The helm moved, and the knight shifted his gaze to meet hers.

“The names used to refer to us are many. Created beings, creations of freedom and wisdom, winged creatures forged from fire and light, messengers, subjects, and armies.”

And then,

“When we first encountered you, Paul referred to us as such.”

Light began to illuminate the room.

An ethereal red glow—a gentle flame radiated with a mysterious energy. As dark clouds began to clear, a halo appeared atop the knight’s helm.

An aureole of red light.

“An angel,” he announced.