A crow cawed sharply as the carriage rolled through the forest path. Its cry echoed against the thick trees, their branches heavy with fog and shadow. The carriage's white and gold paint gleamed like misplaced sunlight amid the gloom, each wheel crack crunching against the gravel path as if to challenge the forest's silence.

Inside, the mood wasn't much brighter.

"I should reintroduce myself," Eldric said with a grin that looked too forced to be genuine. "Eldric von Blain. A scholar, traveler, and humble seeker of knowledge. I've ventured far and wide for the sake of discovery."

"Blain?" Aithur's brow lifted. His tone carried mild suspicion, like someone casually interrogating a thief who'd just introduced himself as a merchant. "Never heard of such a noble house."

Eldric chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, that would be because I hail from another empire. My family name wouldn't be known here."

Luther, lounging beside the window, rested his cheek on his hand, watching the trees pass. His gaze flicked toward Eldric briefly, then back outside. Another empire? Convenient. He'd heard enough liars in the last few months to recognize the twitch of someone spinning a story.

Aithur smirked. "And why would a noble from another empire wander into ours? Did your gold run out or your title lose its shine?"

That earned a chuckle from the demonic sword lying on the floor between them. "Oh, I like this one," it said in Luther's head. "He's sharp. Bet he's the type that collects skulls for fun."

Luther didn't respond aloud. He just thought back, Behave.

Eldric looked ready to sweat through his shirt. "N-No, not at all. I—I simply longed for adventure. Back home, my life was… constrained. As a noble, freedom is a luxury. I came to the Aoriphian Empire to learn about its famed magical crystals. I hear your empire has the strongest concentration of them in the world."

That part at least wasn't a lie, and both Liliana and Alina straightened slightly, pride flickering in their eyes.

"Of course," Liliana said, her voice a little soft but firm. "Our crystals aren't mere stones—they're the Empire's lifeblood."

Aithur groaned under his breath. "There she goes again with her patriotic speeches."

The sword snickered. "Oh look, a royal sermon. Should I kneel?"

Luther's lips twitched, but he kept silent. He wasn't in the mood to humor the sword's sarcasm—though admittedly, it was the only thing stopping him from falling asleep.

Eldric laughed a little too loudly. "Indeed, indeed! I'm thrilled to see them firsthand."

But Luther noticed it—the slight flicker in the man's eyes, the way his fingers fidgeted as if his nerves were trying to escape his body. He wasn't just thrilled. He was nervous.

Luther leaned back, fingers drumming against the carriage window. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced at the sword.

You sense that?

The sword hummed, voice echoing in his mind. Oh, I sense something. Familiar, too. I just can't place where… yet.

"Tell me when you do," Luther murmured quietly. Alina turned at his voice, but he waved it off. "Just thinking out loud."

The carriage jolted as it passed a cracked patch of road. Luther steadied himself against the wall while outside, Jio snapped the reins to keep the horses steady. From up front, one of the knights shouted back, "We're approaching the village, my lord!"

Luther turned toward the window. Through the forest gap, a hill came into view, dotted with smoke trails and rooftops. Then he saw the signboard—its paint chipped but legible.

Olona Village.

"Finally," Luther muttered, rubbing his temple. "Maybe now we can get this over with."

Liliana smiled lightly beside him. "Don't sound so tired already. After this, we'll return to the capital for the Dethroned Sun Festival."

Luther groaned. "Oh, right. The festival of endless chatter and fake smiles. Can't wait."

From across, Eldric perked up. "A festival? Might I accompany you? I've never seen one."

That caught Alina's attention. "Never?" she asked, tilting her head innocently. "But you're a noble. Surely, your city hosts festivals."

Eldric froze. "Ah, well—I was… ill as a child. Didn't get out much." His laugh came too quick, too nervous.

Luther's gaze sharpened. He didn't buy it. Neither did Liliana or Aithur, who exchanged a knowing glance. Only Alina seemed to take his excuse at face value.

"Oh, then you must come!" Alina said kindly. "It'll be your first real celebration."

Luther frowned slightly, watching her bright smile. She's too trusting. His hand brushed the sword absentmindedly. And that's how people end up dead.

The sword chuckled faintly in his head. Jealous?

Of what? Luther thought.

Of her making puppy eyes at mister mysterious noble.

Luther rolled his eyes. I don't get jealous. I get migraines.

As they entered the village, the carriage slowed. Luther peeked out again. The town stretched across a gentle slope, houses made of gray stone and dark timber. But what drew his eye wasn't the architecture—it was the glimmer.

Everyone, from the children playing in the mud to the merchants at their stalls, wore green crystal pendants around their necks.

"Emerald crystals?" Eldric gasped, pressing closer to the window like a scholar spotting treasure. "Those can only be mined from the dense eastern mountains! How could a small village possess so many?"

Luther's brows furrowed. Good question.

The carriage came to a stop at the village's edge, near an open field. Curious villagers gathered, whispering among themselves as they eyed the royal insignia on the carriage. Some murmured. Others simply stared.

Aithur raised his hand to signal the guards. One of them dismounted and stepped forward, announcing clearly, "By order of His Grace, we escort the Saint himself. We request to speak to your village chief!"

The crowd parted nervously. From among them stepped a young woman with brown hair tied loosely at her back, a simple staff in hand. Her clothes were plain, but Luther's eyes caught the faint glow from the crystal embedded in her staff. And like the rest of them, she wore the same green gem at her throat.

"Emeralds again," the sword murmured in his head. "Either they're fashionable or cursed."

"Both," Luther muttered back.

The woman stopped a few paces from the carriage and bowed deeply. "I am Elrin, the chief of Olona Village."

The knight nodded curtly. "You requested the Saint?"

"Yes," she said. "Our people have fallen ill—some struck by a strange fever that drains their mana. No healing spell has worked. When word reached us that the prophecy had come to pass—that the Saint has returned—we sent our plea."

As she spoke, the villagers bowed in unison. A ripple of desperation moved through the crowd.

"Great," the sword said sarcastically. "A dying town. My favorite type of vacation spot."

Luther sighed under his breath. "You and me both."

The knight turned toward the carriage. "They mean no harm, my lord."

Aithur gave a brief nod. "Then we proceed."

He stepped out first, followed by Liliana. The air buzzed faintly as their boots touched the grass—two powerful auras that made the nearest villagers shrink back. Then came Eldric, looking completely lost, and Alina right behind him.

Luther was about to move when Alina turned back, blocking his way. He raised a brow. "What now?"

"Wait," she said softly. From her satchel, she pulled out a cloak—white and gold, embroidered with the sacred dove of the temple—and his holy staff turned crown.

Luther froze, expression unreadable. "You're kidding."

"You don't… look much like a saint," she said, her tone shy but firm. "You should at least look the part."

The sword snickered from the floor. "She's got a point, Saint Grumpy."

Luther sighed, glaring down at the blade. "You shut up."

"See? Already holy," the sword said innocently.

Ignoring it, Luther took the cloak and crown with visible reluctance. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he muttered.

Alina smiled. "A little."

Once she stepped out, Eldric followed, gazing around like a lost puppy. Alina's small laugh made Luther mutter, "Unbelievable."

Finally, Luther stepped down. The demonic sword shimmered, reverting to its necklace form around his neck. The cloak flowed around his shoulders, the dove emblem gleaming faintly. The divine golden crown rested against his silver hair, glinting in the faint sunlight.

The murmurs from the villagers grew louder as they saw him. The saint had arrived.

The woman—Elrin—moved forward cautiously. But before she could take more than three steps, one of the knights drew his sword, blocking her path. The tension was palpable. Yet, instead of anger, she bowed deeply to the ground.

"Welcome, O Saint," she said. "To our humble village."

Luther stood there, silent for a moment, eyes scanning the villagers—their faces pale, eyes weary. His usual sarcastic calm softened slightly, but only for a moment.

Then the sword's voice cut through. "So… when do we start saving the sickly humans, or can I nap till then?"

Luther sighed. "If you don't shut up, I'll bury you in soil."

"Ooh, kinky threat," the sword teased. "Careful, Saint. You might make me blush."

Aithur groaned beside him, muttering, "Can you two not do this in public?"

Liliana sighed. "At least pretend to be holy, Luther."

"I'm wearing the outfit," he said dryly. "That's as holy as it gets."

The villagers didn't hear the exchange, but the knights tried hard not to laugh. Even Alina covered her smile.

Eldric, however, wasn't smiling. He was staring too intently at the villagers—no, at their crystals. His hand twitched once before he masked it with another nervous laugh.

Luther noticed.

His gaze darkened slightly, the humor gone for just a second.

Something about you doesn't sit right.

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