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[Translator - Night]
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Chapter 47: Conclusion (2)
Callios had approached this matter with extreme caution and secrecy.
From the moment he sensed something was wrong with the Sealed Vault, all his actions were directed toward uncovering the "enemy within."
He spread the rumor that Verheim was dead.
He spread another that Historia was still unconscious in bed.
Callios himself acted as if he was basking in the glory of a heroic achievement and openly expressed outrage to every noble he met about the Saint’s cruelty.
In short, he never mentioned the Sealed Vault at all and did everything he could to make the enemy drop their guard.
During this process, he tried to track down the enemy's trail.
Yet, the enemy vanished as if mocking him.
The fact that their name wasn't on the personnel list meant they had never been a priest to begin with.
All this effort had only confirmed one thing — the enemy was definitely on the inside.
It was infuriating, but not surprising.
If the enemy had been so easily caught, the situation would never have escalated this far.
So rather than dwell on past frustrations, Callios chose to do something productive.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"I believe they ran away right when you went into battle. I circulated their appearance description around the capital, had patrols search for them… but nothing turned up."
“…I see.”
“All that was taken from the Sealed Vault were the research records. As for the other forbidden tomes, I understand they couldn’t take them since they’re cursed in ways only you can undo.”
“…Yes.”
“I’m desperate, you see. So please, tell me everything you know about them. Even if some of it is distorted, I can verify it with cross-checks.”
Verheim frowned, as if shocked.
Then he began to speak.
"First of all..."
Callios memorized everything he said.
He inserted questions here and there, examining any dubious parts.
He didn’t believe everything — the information was too unreliable.
But once he’d heard it all, he made a judgment:
‘…Thank goodness.’
There was some usable information.
Callios suppressed his simmering anger.
He closed his eyes, steadying his breathing.
Plans — or rather, conclusions — started to surface in his mind.
And then he said:
“…I’ve been pondering how best to make use of you. Now I finally have an answer.”
Verheim looked up.
Callios met his dull golden eyes directly.
He had made Verheim a dead man in the eyes of the public because there was no benefit in keeping him visible.
In fact, making him a hero would’ve brought more harm than good.
Honestly, he’d wanted to cut the man’s head off.
Callios had no particular affection or trust in Verheim.
But now… things were different.
"You will…"
Callios pronounced a sentence.
Not an official execution, but a different kind of judgment.
* * *
It took a week for Historia to wake from her sickbed.
Now, her divine power was fully restored.
No — it had grown beyond what it was before.
‘…Her vessel has grown.’
Whether it was due to the secret arts used or Yuren’s intervention — or both — Historia’s divine power had become significantly stronger.
But it wasn’t just the amount that had increased.
She now emitted it.
Pop-ching—!
Without any flashy glow, her power quietly and swiftly took form.
The time it took to manifest had been dramatically reduced, and the variety of forms it could take now extended into domains she had once deemed impossible.
She now wondered if she could even create new sacred spells from this divine power.
A clear increase in power.
But if there was one drawback to this change—
“Wings suit you well.”
“…Please don’t.”
Historia trembled, lowering her head at Yuren’s words.
Her cheeks flushed.
It was her appearance.
The stronger her divine power became, the more distinct the halo and wings of light appeared behind her.
To outsiders, it might seem divine, sure.
But she feared people would think, “Wow! The Saint grows wings every time she uses divine power! Does she think she’s an angel or something?”
Historia never wanted to be misunderstood that way.
She had tried to find ways to hide them, but it was impossible.
Watching this, Yuren commented:
“Well, at least you didn’t grow an extra leg or anything. Wings are mild by comparison.”
“…Please stop.”
“Wow, an angel.”
“Please…”
Historia covered her face with her hands.
Her shoulders trembled.
She glared at Yuren with resentment, but he only shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed with frustration.
“Seriously…”
“What?”
“…Forget it.”
A sigh slipped from her lips.
What could she say?
Ever since Yuren felt he had gained the upper hand in their relationship, he had been treating her more like a subordinate.
It wasn’t offensive — just annoying.
And yet, if he were to go back to treating her formally, she might feel a little sad.
She was confused by her own feelings.
And then—
“Now that you’re up, let’s go.”
Yuren spoke.
Historia’s shoulders jolted.
She hardened her expression and nodded.
A quiet sadness bloomed in her heart.
“…Yes. It’s time.”
They were going to meet the person responsible for this whole incident — Verheim.
* * *
On the way to the northern capital, Historia thought nonstop.
What should she say when she saw him?
Would her first feeling be blame?
Or would it be relief that he was alive and conscious?
The turmoil inside her was endless.
In the end, Historia gave up thinking.
She decided she could only find the answer by meeting him directly.
That was the right decision.
“…Ver.”
An old spire, somewhere in the north.
A place no one would visit.
Verheim sat there, behind iron bars, bound.
He looked nothing like his usual self.
His once-neat appearance was now filthy.
His red hair was matted, and his golden eyes had lost their shine.
And yet, Historia felt relief seeing him like that.
Because when he saw her, his eyes widened in shock — and in them, clear reason still glimmered.
Historia parted her lips.
She searched for words.
And in the end, she said this:
“Are you okay?”
Despite the unforgivable sin he had committed,
Despite everything — because they were still family.
Blood, after all, is thicker than water.
She couldn’t bring herself to pour out blame.
“I’m glad. That you came to your senses.”
She smiled through sadness and relief.
Verheim’s face twisted, as though something inside him shattered.
He clenched his teeth, body trembling.
Eventually, he lowered his head and spoke.
“…I’m sorry, Ria.”
His voice was soaked in sorrow.
* * *
Verheim couldn’t even lift his head from shame.
Every time he felt Historia’s presence, guilt and disgrace overwhelmed him.
The more he confirmed her survival and stability, the stronger those feelings grew.
He had wished — hoped — that she would curse him.
If she had shown him scorn, it would have made it easier to bear his remorse.
But that never happened.
Instead, he was reminded once again of the kind of woman she was.
“You’ve suffered a lot. But it’s okay now.”
Historia just smiled and comforted him.
Just as she always had — from their youth, in her naïveté — to everyone around her.
She didn’t accuse him.
She accepted his penance.
She said he wasn’t a bad person.
A hollow laugh slipped out.
How could she forgive what even he couldn’t?
Why was her heart always so warm?
Verheim clenched his fists tightly.
And in that moment, he came to a stark realization.
‘I…’
Now, he would probably never be able to lift his head in front of that smile again.
He would always feel guilty toward her—who had been both sister and mother to him.
And yet, despite it all, there was still something he had to do.
Because he knew what would bring her joy, as much as he knew Historia herself.
Verheim forced a smile and said,
“…Thank you, Ria. For staying alive.”
And so, he protected that smile of hers.
The atmosphere quieted.
After a brief silence, Historia smiled and replied,
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[Translator - Night]
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“I’m thankful too. That you stayed alive.”
What followed was just that—
Verheim and Historia talked a lot.
About their personal situations, the outside world,
Even about their wounds.
Amidst those conversations, Verheim also heard about Historia’s changes.
When she unleashed her divine power, a halo and wings of light had sprung from her back.
Though Historia bowed her head in embarrassment, that alone was enough for Verheim to grasp the basic mechanism.
“…It must be Amir’s influence. A plant I researched.”
“Amir…?”
“A plant from the Outerlands. It grows in the land of doppelgängers… It blurs racial characteristics and induces a state where change becomes easier.”
As he spoke, Verheim’s expression darkened.
Come to think of it, even that story had been told to him by Milly.
He quickly erased his emotions and continued.
“The potion you consumed was a byproduct of research related to evolution. The same as the one I took.”
“Evolution, meaning…”
“Think of it as altering the species to find the most suitable form for maximizing divine power. Of course, it differs for each individual. Personalities and talents vary.”
When Verheim thought about that, a bitter smile formed.
Historia had become an angel, and he a beast.
Perhaps he had never been suited to be something like a divine being.
“…It’s not a bad thing. The species mutation seems resolved, and the divine power merely took on a higher form for the sake of survival. You could even call it a blessing in disguise. You've become stronger.”
“I-I see…”
Only then did Historia let out a sigh of relief.
Verheim smiled faintly at her usual demeanor.
And at the same time, another emotion welled up inside him.
‘This must be the last for a while—seeing her like this.’
He knew what he had to do.
And he had to tell Historia too.
“Ria.”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
For not giving up on a sinner like him.
For being willing to risk her life for him.
That made him feel both sorry and grateful.
So, in order to pay for his sins, Verheim had to fulfill his duty.
He opened his mouth to speak.
“I plan to leave the Empire. Perhaps for a long time—maybe forever.”
At those words, Historia was taken aback.
* * *
Before meeting with Historia, Verheim had received a sentence from Callios.
—I’ve made you a dead man. I saw no further use in keeping you alive, and the risks were too great. After all, your survival would only burden us in the eyes of the enemy, wouldn’t it?
—Yes, I understand.
—I don’t plan on announcing that you’re alive now, either. The only ones who know are me, Yuren, my sister, and the saintess. That’s all.
—…I see. Then what should I do?
Verheim had to become someone presumed dead.
There were complex reasons—and a singular purpose for it.
—Go to the Outerlands. I thought of all the suspects involved in this scheme… and no matter how I think about it, it points there. They sacrificed tens of thousands to summon a demon. Yet investigations found no such large-scale disappearances. Then where could it be?
—…The Outerlands. The unexplored lands where even friendly non-humans can't be fully accounted for.
—Exactly.
He had to leave the Empire and head to the Outerlands.
To investigate the group responsible for this mess.
Verheim found the reasoning undeniable.
—They likely sourced their test subjects from there, so it makes sense.
—You understand quickly. Doesn’t it seem odd, too? How did those who helped you know so much about the Outerlands?
—Yes, I agree.
The Outerlands were a mystery.
Its harsh conditions were unfit for humans or any known creatures of this land.
But that didn’t mean there were no natives.
In simple terms, if there were humans or other races “bred” in that place, they could make perfect sacrifices.
It was possible that the three who had aided him had lived as pawns of those entities.
—So, you must go. There is no right to refuse.
Callios said with a cheerful smile.
To Verheim, it was a merciful punishment that relieved some guilt.
And perhaps, a nostalgic one too.
“Now you’re leaving.”
The day of departure came.
Late at night, along the forest path beyond the Empire’s north gate.
Only two had come to see him off: Historia, cloaked in a robe, and Yuren.
Verheim spoke to the sorrowful Historia.
“We’ll meet again someday.”
“Yeah.”
“There’s no need to be too sad. In a different form, we’re keeping our promise.”
Historia gave a weak smile.
Then, forcing it slightly, she lifted the corners of her lips more.
“You’ll explore the Outerlands, and I’ll guard the Papacy.”
“That’s actually a relief.”
“Yeah…”
Parting moments only become sad the longer they last.
And Verheim believed this would not be the end.
“We will meet again.”
With those words, he turned to Yuren.
Yuren wore a disinterested face, impatiently waiting for the melodrama to end.
Verheim thought to himself:
‘…Maybe that’s a good thing.’
He was strong.
And perhaps more caring than he let on.
If he stayed by Historia’s side, he would likely protect her better than Verheim could.
That was enough.
If she could live safely and happily, that was all that mattered.
Verheim bowed his head to Yuren.
Yuren waved him off dismissively.
“Go on already. If I’m late, my sister’ll scold me.”
A strange comment—perhaps an indirect way of urging him to leave, softened for Historia’s sake.
Verheim nodded.
He gave Historia’s shoulder one final pat, then turned away and left.
Only after turning his back did Verheim rub the area around his heart.
He couldn’t help but think of Callios’s face, which made his skin crawl slightly.
—Ah, of course, I’m not just letting you go. What kind of fool just releases a convict into the world? I had to take some precautions.
With a bright smile, Callios had committed something quite cruel.
A curse was planted in Verheim’s heart.
If Callios wished, he could kill Verheim in an instant, even from across the continent.
He knew he wasn’t in a position to complain.
Even Verheim himself would’ve done the same in Callios’s place.
But even so, he couldn’t help but think:
‘What a chilling man.’
Once again, he was thankful.
That the one closest to Historia was Yuren, not Callios.
The shadows of night were deep.
Verheim felt an odd familiarity with them as he moved forward.
He had a long road ahead, and much to uncover.
Everything was cloaked in questions, even himself—
So many mysteries, he didn’t know how far he had strayed from the truth.
Among them, there was one personal mystery Verheim had to unravel:
‘When did the divine protection disappear?’
It might’ve been a pointless thought, but it lingered in his mind.
If it was due to what happened with Rebecca, that meant the divine blessing had been gone for years.
It was understandable he didn’t notice—
But even so, something still didn’t add up.
‘When did the goddess stop calling me to council?’
The divine had stopped responding at some point.
There was said to be distortion in communication,
But the sheer silence, without a single sign, was deeply unsettling.
It could all be baseless speculation.
Yet, Verheim couldn’t shake the feeling.
He lifted his head.
The answers still lay beyond the mist.
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[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
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