Chapter 418: Remembrance

"You’re the one who got your ass kicked! I’m always the one kicking others’, okay?"

Muen got up with a twisted expression, rubbing his backside.

The dizziness in his head gradually faded, but the pain in his rear still lingered. From the force that remained, Muen could almost picture the other person’s gritted-teeth face at the moment of the crime.

Damn it, who did this.

Could it be that hateful old loli hiding somewhere, laughing at me again?

Or maybe...

The image of that iconic golden door flashed in his mind, and Muen, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt, decided not to think further.

Stealing crops like that... best to stay quiet. Quiet. Otherwise, getting beaten is easy.

Especially since he was still inside the farmer’s yard—if they decided to close the gate and slaughter the pig, not even Jesus could save him.

With that thought, Muen swallowed back the curse on his lips, straightened his clothes, and once again restored the elegance and composure befitting a noble. As if his earlier humiliation had never happened, he turned his head and casually glanced around.

Inside the wide church, the lights blazed bright. The statue of the Goddess stood at the highest point, gazing upon them with compassion.

On the rows of pews, people were already waiting. There weren’t many, but every face was familiar to him.

Margarita and Paul.

Anne and Reta.

Phil and Raygun.

And... Liya, who had just stepped out from the door, curiously peeking around.

And himself.

Except for Freya and Brian, who had perished in Kanteville, all the Saintess candidates and their knight attendants were gathered once more.

There were no outsiders this time. The solemn atmosphere alone made Muen realize what this meeting was about, and his expression turned serious.

He exchanged a glance with Liya; she shook her head lightly, showing a reassuring smile that said not to worry.

"You’re late..."

Margarita, who had apparently been praying, rose gracefully before the statue of the Goddess. She gave Muen a sidelong glance, her narrow eyes narrowing further.

"It’s a bit rude of me, but can I ask what exactly you two were doing for so long inside that tower?"

"Wha—what were we doing?"

Muen stiffened. "We didn’t do anything!"

"Mm!"

Liya’s pretty face flushed, and she nodded hard. "We didn’t do anything!"

"What kind of reaction is that?"

Margarita looked at Liya strangely.

"Nothing..."

"Heh heh, smells fishy to me."

Phil, who was lying lazily across a pew, yawned and smiled slyly.

Muen ignored Phil and looked at Margarita’s faintly furrowed brows. He had already guessed the reason for her blunt question.

"What do you want to ask?"

"Naturally, what exactly you did in that tower. Do I really need to repeat it several times?"

"I already answered, didn’t I? We didn’t do anything."

Muen spread his hands, innocent.

Like hell he could casually mention sending a whole million souls to meet the Goddess.

Even if they had been sinners, both morally and legally, that kind of thing would never be tolerated by the world.

It could only remain a secret understanding between him and the Church—otherwise, if that got out, he’d be dragged to the tribunal and sentenced to death a few hundred times over.

"Then the Evil God’s sun that rose that day, and the falling moon afterward—none of that was your doing?"

Margarita’s eyes were filled with suspicion.

That blazing red sun of the Evil God, and the moon that had suddenly fallen later—she still shuddered at the memory.

If they hadn’t fled in time, they’d have been reduced to dust in the collision’s aftermath.

"You think we’re in league with Evil Gods?"

Muen still looked utterly innocent.

"No. It’s just that the Evil God’s sun... it should’ve come from that one. But that one should have no relation to Kanteville. It could only have been brought in by an outsider. And at the time, the only two outsiders in the tower were—"

"That kind of reasoning is way too arbitrary, don’t you think?"

Muen showed no panic at all. Fully displaying the finest quality of a nobleman, he placed a hand over his chest and declared with pure sincerity, "Heaven and earth as my witness, I am an upstanding and honorable noble heir—how could I possibly use the power of an Evil God to destroy my own future? Much less consort with one! Miss Margarita, you’re overthinking it."

Of course, he didn’t have any dealings with Evil Gods.

He had merely fleeced quite a few of them. And one of them—whose name he’d rather not mention—had been so thoroughly milked that calling him “the wilted brother” would be putting it mildly.

"Is that so..."

Margarita stared into Muen’s eyes. Finding no trace of deceit, she sighed and rubbed her temples, apologetic.

"Forgive me. As a Saintess candidate, I can’t help being wary and curious about such things. After all..."

Freya and Elazer.

Judging by their identities alone, they’d had no motive to consort with Evil Gods.

But people—no matter their status—were complex.

The reason one might make a deal with an Evil God could be to save someone precious, even at the cost of one’s soul. Or it could come from nothing more than a small, twisted desire deep in the heart.

"I understand. If you want answers, you can ask the Church. With your status, you should be able to get them."

"Indeed. But somehow, I feel I won’t get the real answers."

Margarita gave a faint smile.

"That’s not for an outsider like me to decide."

Muen’s lips curved slightly. "Besides, Miss Margarita, this isn’t really what you’re curious about, is it?"

"...You’re right. That question was just incidental. Since you and Liya are here, that possibility isn’t very high anyway."

Margarita nodded, not denying it, and turned her gaze to Liya, who had been quiet all this time.

Anne, unable to tolerate Margarita’s roundabout way, put one foot up on a pew, leveling her eyes with Liya’s. Big eyes met small eyes.

The Sanctification Ceremony had reached this stage, yet the suspense remained unresolved.

But with Freya’s death and Phil’s voluntary withdrawal, the final result would fall to the remaining three.

No—now it rested on Liya alone. Because from the perspectives of Margarita and Anne, who had fought alongside her just moments ago, the outcome depended on what Liya had done in that tower.

Had she... as the rumors suggested, truly saved the inhabitants of that nation?

If she had, then no matter how full Margarita and Anne filled their crystals, nothing could shake that result.

But...

"You don’t have ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to be like this."

Facing their gazes, Liya suddenly gave a faint, bitter smile and shook her head.

She didn’t offer much explanation—just quietly took out her own crystal.

The answer revealed itself.

Because although that crystal had just been used as the medium for the Holy Light Baptism, the filth clinging to it hadn’t disappeared.

Like thick black fog, it filled the entire crystal, with only a few dim specks of light flickering weakly inside.

"This is..."

The two looked shocked.

They didn’t know where that corruption came from—but they understood one thing: if the final result was judged based on that crystal, then Liya’s current standing was...

"I wasn’t able to save anyone."

Liya’s eyes reflected the crystal’s dull glow. Her voice carried no clear joy or sorrow.

"So I’ve lost that qualification."

...

...

After getting the answers they wanted, Margarita and Anne offered Liya a few words of comfort but didn’t press further about Kanteville.

Instead, the two who had so recently been comrades now glared at each other coldly. Sparks seemed to flash in the air between their eyes.

The atmosphere grew tense—two top-tier A-types clashing head-on, occasionally throwing sharp jabs at each other, like: “With a chest that small, you’d better give up now,” or “If you become the Saintess, every lingerie shop owner on the continent will cry.”

In short—every strike hurt the enemy by a thousand and themselves by eight hundred.

"When did those two get along so well?"

Muen nudged Paul beside him with his elbow.

Paul looked pale, clearly exhausted. "After what we’ve been through together, you can’t help but get close."

"Oh? Then why do you look like death?"

"What do you think?"

Paul groaned miserably. "I’m a swordsman who swings his blade one strike at a time. Trying to keep up with that slaughter machine... that’s risking your life. But for my lady, I had no choice."

He let out a long sigh.

"I’ve been squeezed dry—down to the last drop."

"I understand, I understand."

Muen patted his shoulder.

Paul turned to study Muen’s face—seeing the same pale, drained look—and sighed as he patted Muen’s shoulder in return.

"We truly share the same pain, brother."

"..."

Muen’s mouth twitched. His expression was strange.

He didn’t really feel that way.

Because while both of them had been “drained,” there’s a world of difference between being drained and being drained—sometimes even greater than the gap between a scumbag and a simp.

...

The clash between the two girls didn’t last long, because as radiant light gathered on its own, the Saintess finally appeared, draped in a pure white sacred gown.

"Your Holiness."

Everyone bowed respectfully.

"Forgive me for being late."

The Saintess nodded to each of them in turn, her gentle gaze as warm as ever, scanning everyone carefully.

Then her eyes paused, as if gazing upon a Saintess candidate who was no longer among them—and her knight.

"Though this may not be the time for mourning, let us still offer our condolences to the one who has returned to the Goddess’s embrace—to the girl who pursued the one she loved."

The Saintess clasped her hands together and prayed softly:

"She was kind. She was noble. She was compassionate. Her deeds will be remembered by the world. She will dwell with the Holy Light, with us, and with the Goddess."

"With the Goddess."

It wasn’t a formal farewell, but everyone present still felt their hearts pulled toward the memory of that Saintess candidate who had gone forever.

Even Muen, who stood watching, felt his mind blur for a moment—as if he had returned to that very beginning, the first time he had met Freya here.

Back then, the girl he had once regarded with caution had smiled gently and stepped up to him.

"Mr. Muen, do you like flowers?"