Yet Alvis didn’t buy it; doubt pooled around everyone else like cold fog.

To the townsfolk, the first scene was a girl in the sky, a streak like dawn over stormclouds. Then panic hit like wildfire, and they hid. No one watched the battlefield’s tide turn.

The other Holy Knights and mages were the same. Facing an Evil Entity demanded full focus, like walking a cliff in high wind; they had no spare gaze for other fronts.

Only Alvis held that calm. He fought Ritch like steel against rain, while his eyes skimmed the field like a hawk tracing currents.

So the others had no idea what truly happened, like sailors in fog.

Sure enough, once Ritch spoke, the crowd buzzed like a hive stirred by a stick.

“No way? The Lancelot Family’s a Dark Deity clan?” a voice cracked like dry wood.

“Think about it. I heard they don’t use the Church’s Purification. If it’s not the Church, what god’s left? It’s gotta be a Dark Deity,” another voice hissed like leaking steam.

“Tsk tsk. I used to respect them. I fed that respect to dogs,” someone spat like grit on stone.

“Ahh—give me back my family!” a cry tore like cloth in a storm.

One townsman snapped. He grabbed a wooden stick and rushed Alvis, like a moth charging a torch.

Kaeli, the maid, stepped in like a willow bending to shield. A wave of magic rolled out like thunder, and the man’s courage crumpled like wet paper; he hid behind the Church’s line of Holy Knights and mages.

“Please, sirs of the Church—help us!” he pleaded, voice shaking like reeds.

Alvis watched it all, his brow tight like a drawn bowstring.

Two led the Church’s host now.

One was a burly man in armor, a mountain of iron.

The other was an elder in robes, white-bearded like frost on bark.

The elder stepped forward, voice deep as a temple bell. “Alvis, how do you explain this? Everyone saw it. The Dark Deity in the sky is your daughter, right? We can’t all be seeing mirages. And look.”

He swept his arm around, palm cutting the air like a blade.

“These ruins, these bodies—they’re real as stone and ash. They’re what your daughter’s octopus-thing wrought, aren’t they?”

Alvis drew in a long breath, weariness settling like dusk.

He spoke slowly, a river finding its bed. “If I were colluding with Ritch, why would he say it out loud? Why fight me at all? And my daughter isn’t a Dark Deity. Do you still see the largest octopus? You don’t, because she ended it. Without that, we’d all be in peril.”

“Hm…” The elder looked left, looked right, like searching for a vanished star. No giant octopus, not even a corpse. He had no words, like a drum gone silent.

Then the burly Holy Knight stepped forward, eyes wide as storm moons. He shouted, voice like a warhorn, “Your daughter abducted our Church Enforcer, Desty! Explain that!”

Alvis turned, gaze steady as a blade’s edge. “When Desty fought the big octopus, she was outmatched. Lucimia saved her.”

“Hmph. That’s your story,” the man pressed, his words like stones. “Your family is under grave suspicion already. Your words carry no weight.”

The elder, shaken before, found wind again under the knight’s call. He swelled with authority like a tide.

“Right. Your family stands under grave suspicion. Your claims aren’t credible. By the Church’s authority, I will arrest you now. We need a full investigation. Only when you pass can you wash away doubt. However, Lucimia can’t be cleared; she’s a Dark Deity in truth.”

His tone shifted, softer as a hand stroking a beard. “Alvis, don’t blame us for pressing like summer sun. We only want to verify your identities. Maybe you’re fine, and only Lucimia’s at fault. So please, cooperate.”

“Cooperate!” the crowd chorused, a wave breaking on sand.

Alvis said nothing. His gaze turned cold as winter water, fixing on the two. Under that stare, they felt a chill like shadow under ice. He looked away, and the pressure eased like clouds parting.

He scanned the other Holy Knights and mages, their armor like dull moons. He looked at the remaining townsfolk, faces pale as chalk. He glanced at the bodies on the ground, still as fallen leaves. Then he cut a final look at Ritch, sharp as a knife.

“Hmph.” The sound dropped like a pebble in a well.

At that note, the elder and the knight braced for battle, shoulders lifting like shields; they believed Alvis wouldn’t submit to immediate judgment.

Alvis drew a deep breath, voice calm as an evening lake. “You have suspicions. You have no proof, do you? Without proof, you don’t arrest. I, however, have proof we’re a true Exorcist Family.”

He waited a heartbeat, listening to the hush like snow falling. Then he continued, words measured like steps. “Did our family truly destroy Evil Entities? Did we truly sacrifice many Holy Knights? Did we truly strive to let the Town of Tranquility’s people live better lives? Go look at other towns. See how sharp the line is between commoner and noble, like a cliff cleaving sea and sky. See what those commoners eat, what they use—dust and scraps, not bread and iron.”

Silence settled like ash.

“Hmph.” Alvis didn’t expect their response; he only set the record, like placing a stone.

He walked to Ritch’s side, blade whispering from its sheath like winter wind. One clean thrust, straight as lightning. The heart broke like thin ice.

He returned to Kaeli’s side, voice low as rain. “Get my wife and the others to safety.”

“Yes.” Kaeli nodded, and vanished like a wisp, gone in a blink.

Alvis turned alone toward the edge of town, where the river ran like a silver serpent—where Lucimia had fallen.

“Wait.” The burly Holy Knight called to him, voice like a chain.

“Hm?” Alvis looked back, calm as night. “What else?”

“Alvis, you can’t leave. You must wait for the Church’s Inquisitor. If you walk away now, we’ll convict you outright.”

“Convict? Heh.” Alvis smiled, thin as a knife. “Of what?”

“Colluding with a Dark Deity,” the knight growled, low as thunder. “Or being a follower of Elyssus. The Church will issue a warrant and hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

Alvis listened, silence heavy as a stone in hand. Then he laughed, light as dry leaves.

“Heh-heh. I get it now. I finally do,” he said, clapping softly, like dusting off ash. “So all this time, the only ones truly fighting Dark Deities have been my Lancelot Family?”

“What do you mean?” the elder snapped, stepping forward like a struck spark. “Are you saying the Church hasn’t fought Dark Deities? Our Holy Knights and mages were heroic just now!”

Alvis shook his head with a smile, like wind easing the heat.

“All right, that was unfair. They are brave Holy Knights. I mean this: your Church’s high seat—no, your Purification Deity, Vosh—colludes with Elyssus, laying the board for both to descend.”

The words hit like a lightning strike. The whole crowd froze, shock flashing like white fire.

The elder trembled, his beard quivering like willow fluff. He pointed at Alvis, hand shaking like a reed. “Alvis! You’ll answer for that! The Purification Deity has sheltered the people, like sun over winter fields. You dare slander, saying he colludes with Elyssus? You mean the Purification Deity is a Dark Deity? Bold beyond measure! You’re accusing first to hide guilt. No need to investigate. The Lancelot Family is a Dark Deity clan!”

“Good, good.” Alvis clapped again, soft as rain on slate. “To your Church, we’re a thorn in flesh, a spike in the eye. You can’t wait to cut us out. I’m guessing you’re working with Elyssus to revive him, then turn around to aid the Purification Deity. Two deities of darkness, one ambition—to rule the world.”

“Too bad for you,” he said, smile like a blade’s glint. “My daughter ruined your plans. You’re furious, so you want to erase us this way. If I go meekly to your ‘investigation,’ I doubt I’d ever walk back out of the Church.”