The two Holy Knights didn’t stay at an inn in the city. Instead, they lodged at a nearby church.

Though Shel had inflicted severe wounds, both possessed numerous life-saving tricks and carried healing potions prepared by clerics. Within a day, their injuries had mostly healed.

Except for Talia’s front teeth. Those wouldn’t grow back.

Perry twisted his neck—the one Shel had nearly snapped yesterday—and addressed the priest: "Enough. Spare us the excuses… Your ‘friend’ Shel has quite the heavy hand. What was his profession before this?"

The priest, still shaken by Shel’s explosive combat prowess from the day prior, could only stammer: "I truly didn’t know Mr. Shel would act like that… He’s usually so gentle. This… ah… you two—"

"Just answer honestly!" Talia snapped, her words whistling through the gap where her teeth had been. "Cut the crap!"

"Mr. Shel’s background is mysterious. He claims to be from an ordinary family, without even a surname. He traveled across half the continent to settle in Ipoli, learning some magic along the way. He’s skilled in literature and arithmetic. He’s lived in Ipoli for nearly nine years—barely an adult when he arrived, so he’s only in his twenties now. He taught at a church school, then was entrusted by Prince Noren to care for Miss Hilna. He earns his living through odd jobs and has an impeccable reputation. He’s never done anything wrong…"

"We get it. That’s enough," Perry interrupted, piecing it together. "A common-born teenager with advanced literary education, crossing half the continent to reach Ipoli? Doesn’t that story reek of holes?"

The priest gave a bitter smile. "Others have speculated too—that Mr. Shel might be from a fallen noble house, displaced by disaster. Or perhaps an illegitimate child of some great lord? But he always denies it."

Perry fell silent, frustration mounting.

That Shel had withstood two of Talia’s elemental-infused sword strikes. He’d matched her strength blade-for-blade.

True, victory came partly through ambush—but surviving that long was terrifying enough.

Remembering how Shel had flipped his hand and locked his throat in an instant, Perry still felt a chill. That moment had been the closest he’d ever come to death.

Yet as a Holy Knight, being beaten so badly by some nobody due to carelessness? Utterly humiliating. "Let’s drop him for now…" Perry shifted focus. "His student Hilna—didn’t she cast a Zhenhun Curse on Shel yesterday? That’s high-tier Fate magic, isn’t it? How old is she?"

"About fifteen, I think?" The priest counted on his fingers. "Fourteen winters ago, her parents brought her to the church for baptism on her first birthday."

"Fifteen… and already casting high-tier Fate magic?" Talia froze. "That talent rivals Divine Academy prodigies. Ipoli has someone like that?"

Perry’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "It wasn’t just the Zhenhun Curse. When that girl spoke to us yesterday, I felt… pity. Looking back, she must have woven mind-affecting spells into her words. Hilna likely knows multiple high-tier Fate spells.

"And if she hadn’t cast that Zhenhun Curse on Shel? That madman might have killed us. We owe it to ourselves—and to her—to find Miss Hilna and get answers. If she truly mastered so many high-tier spells at such a young age…"

He paused, the weight of realization settling. "We might have just stumbled upon a Saintess."

The next day, determined to avoid another brutal defeat, they prepared thoroughly before approaching Shel’s cottage.

At the door, they found Shel polishing and enchanting an iron hammer and axe.

Bruises and scars still marred his face. A gloomy aura clung to him, making him look unsettling.

"Oh. You’re back," he greeted them, unsurprised. "Knew you’d return. Here to arrest me? Don’t worry—I sent the two girls home already. If you want a fight, I’ll resist arrest. Go ahead. Start swinging."

Talia glared at the provocateur, tongue flicking against her toothless gums. Fury surged anew.

Her Holy Knight pride demanded she draw her sword and reclaim her honor.

But Perry held her back.

He saw it—the real reason behind Shel’s taunts. He was deliberately drawing their anger onto himself, shielding his students from fallout.

This wasn’t the rabid beast from yesterday. This man still had reason. Negotiation was possible.

"Mr. Shel," Perry began carefully, "we *could* settle this with blades. But first, I’d prefer peace. I’ll lay down my weapon and speak with you inside. I swear—I bear no grudge for nearly dying yesterday. Not if you mean me no harm."

He unbuckled his sword, letting it clatter onto the snow. Hands raised high.

To any knight, discarding arms mid-patrol was shameful.

The gesture struck Shel. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he dropped his hammer—but kept the axe gripped tight. "...If you speak true, we can talk."

Perry nodded to the still-fuming Talia, signaling her to stand down. Then he stepped into Shel’s home.

Passing through a yard stacked with frozen vegetables and meat, Perry pushed open the sturdy wooden door. Inside, he blinked in surprise.

Not from luxury—but from the warmth.

Furniture filled every inch of space, compact yet uncluttered.

Vibrant murals covered the walls. Hand-carved trinkets and chess pieces sat neatly on windowsills and tables, ready for play.

The bookshelf held not just religious texts and spellbooks, but colorful children’s picture books.

This thoughtful, lived-in comfort was rare in the remote Great Darksend Region.

The poor couldn’t afford such things. The wealthy here preferred gaudy, ostentatious displays to impress guests.

"You clearly value a well-lived life," Perry remarked smoothly, taking the seat Shel offered after complimenting the space. He drank the tea Shel handed him without hesitation.

Seeing Perry’s trust, Shel finally set aside his axe.

"So," Shel asked warily, "what’s your plan? Arrest me for injuring you two? Put me on trial as a criminal?"

Perry waved a hand. "It needn’t come to that. This whole mess started over Miss Hilna’s portrait—a misunderstanding. My partner *did* strike your student first. Your actions yesterday? They could be called resisting Holy Knights, breaking duel rules… or simply losing control in the heat of the moment.

"Words shape outcomes. Whether you’re a criminal depends on how we tell this story. I’m here to understand your student Hilna."

Shel’s guard snapped up. "Why ask about her?"

"That young lady cast high-tier Fate magic on us yesterday. I wear protective runes—yet she still affected me…" Perry leaned closer. "You know what that implies, don’t you?"

Shel’s voice stayed flat. "I don’t. Please answer my question directly."

Perry cleared his throat, undeterred. "A fifteen-year-old mastering high-tier Fate magic? That’s elite talent. The Eternal Church’s Saintess selection requires mastering three distinct high-tier spells by age twenty. If your student achieves that? She’d be a shoo-in for the Divine Academy in the City of Glory."

"*City of Glory*…"

The HolySee’s seat. The Radiant Capital—the so-called Holy Nation on Earth.

Heart of Western Continent’s theocracy. Home to the richest archives of arcane lore, the wisest ancient mages, the purest magical lineage. The pinnacle of magical education.

"Mr. Shel," Perry continued earnestly, "one duty of Holy Knights is to vet mages—to confirm their devotion to orthodox doctrine, and to find gifted, faithful youths for the Church’s guidance. These children gain glorious futures. The Church gains worthy successors.

"The priest told me you raised Hilna like your own daughter. That you’ve shaped her brilliantly.

"If she truly becomes a Saintess, formally consecrated by the HolySee? Hanging her portrait in Ipoli’s church would be no overreach. It could hang in *every* church worldwide. Even in the HolySee’s grand hall."