episode_0045

The time was midday—when the sun hung highest in the sky, casting its scorching heat upon the earth. Travelers sought refuge in the shade to rest, while farmers, having finished their morning tasks, hurried back home.

Insects cried out in search of mates before their brief lives came to an end, and people engaged in conversation over lunch. Devout followers offered prayers to the sacred statues of the goddess they believed in. It was an ordinary, peaceful scene in the Holy Kingdom.

Yet, a shadow fell over that ordinary day.

The radiant sun, floating high in the sky, was swallowed by an enormous moon, vanishing from sight.

The cold, blue-tinged dark moon engulfed the heavens, bringing an untimely night.

No one had anticipated the sun losing its light in broad daylight, and so, the Holy Kingdom was plunged into utter darkness.

Chaos spread among the people. A solar eclipse was nothing more than a phenomenon where the moon briefly passed before the sun during its orbit—but this was different.

The moon, filling the sky and emitting a faint blue radiance, remained unmoving, stealing the light from the earth.

Panic erupted as doomsayers proclaimed the end of the world, while others trembled in fear, mistaking it for the descent of the Demon King.

Yet, contrary to the philosopher’s claim that fear stems from ignorance, those who knew the cause of the darkness felt an even greater terror.

If there was anything they still did not know, it was not when or by whose hand they would die—but how they would meet their end in this very moment.

The holy knights stirred.

This was high-tier magic—so awe-inspiring that even that term fell short of describing the phenomenon before them. And the crushing despair came from knowing that this unfathomable power was directed at them.

Darkness nurtures weakness in the hearts of men. To the people of the Peria Continent, light was a blessing bestowed by the deities, proof that they were watching over them.

Whether that was true or not, the suffocating darkness that had come at midday now fractured the spirits of the holy knights, who had endured Arina’s magic time and again.

Someone dropped their weapon.

Another collapsed to their knees.

And then, finally, someone screamed and stumbled backward.

“Th-This… This can’t be! Aaaaaaah!”

They threw down their weapon and fled, scrambling desperately to escape the plaza.

One defection was all it took for terror to spread like wildfire.

Thud. Thud. Knights whose resolve had shattered dropped their weapons one after another, darting about wildly like moths to flame.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?!”

“Move!”

Those attempting to flee clashed with those standing their ground. By the Pope’s orders, knights who retained their willpower tried to stop the deserters.

A skirmish broke out among the holy knights. One deserter managed to break through the encirclement and escape the plaza—but it was a futile effort.

The knights desperately fighting, the Pope shouting himself hoarse in an attempt to restore order, the hero’s party and Grace’s efforts to detect Arina’s mana—

None of it mattered under the towering moon.

Crunch. The farthest deserter’s foot punched through the stone floor, sinking into the earth. And they were not the only one. A massive gravitational field enveloped the entire city.

Crash! The holy knights crumpled under the oppressive force, writhing on the ground. The stronger ones held out longer, but the increasing pressure pressed them down one by one.

Groan. Even buildings cracked, pillars supporting the ceilings snapping under the strain.

Eventually, structures surrendered, collapsing in heaps, their debris raining down upon the fallen knights.

Every knight was flattened onto the ground. The Pope, the Knight Commander, even the hero’s party—all were slowly crushed under the escalating force.

Whoosh! Leonora wreathed her sword in flame. Her fire, typically a fearsome weapon, now also served as a torch against the darkness.

The brilliant flames illuminated the area. With their superior vision, the elves swiftly locked onto their enemy.

“Liel!”

Whoooooosh! A tempest whirled around Erwin.

All of Erwin’s remaining mana and the divine power bestowed by the Saintess concentrated into a single arrow. There was no time to delay—if she hesitated, even she would fall victim.

This one shot would end it.

It had to.

Twang. Erwin released the bowstring, drawn to its absolute limit.

The arrow shot forth.

The sound of it tearing through the air never reached her ears—

Because her arrow had already surpassed the speed of sound.

A speed impossible for normal human eyes to follow—

Even Arina’s eyes could not track it.

But she had no need to.

Whoom. In an instant, the direction of the force inverted. Fallen weapons, scattered debris, and the groaning bodies of knights—all rose into the air.

The dark moon, which had crushed everything under its immense mass, now began pulling them upward instead.

“W-What?! No way—!”

Erwin’s eyes widened as if they would pop out.

The gravitational force was so overwhelming that even the hero’s party could barely resist it.

For an arrow to reach its target against such gravity, its force would naturally need to propel it upward.

But what happens when the very force pressing it downward suddenly reverses?

The arrow, already ascending at tremendous speed, now shot even farther into the sky.

Erwin’s arrow streaked upward, grazing past the top of Arina’s head before vanishing.

All her strength poured into that desperate strike—only to sever a single stray strand of Arina’s hair before disappearing.

“How… How can this be…?”

Despair flashed across Erwin’s face—one that, except when beside her beloved, always remained composed and unshaken.

She had lost to Arina countless times in mock battles, so defeat itself wasn’t surprising. But this time, the frustration cut deeper.

This had been her all-out attack. And it had missed entirely, without even grazing its target.

“Grk—!”

Before the helplessness could fade, Erwin collapsed again as the gravity reversed directions.

With her mana depleted, she could no longer resist the pressure.

“Gaaaah!!!”

Her bones and organs were squeezed mercilessly. Ribs cracked, her spine bent.

“AAAAAAAAH!!!”

Blood gushed from Erwin’s screaming mouth. Her head jerked violently before her pupils went slack, collapsing into unconsciousness.

“Erwin!”

To save her comrade, Leonora summoned a blade of flame.

Her judgment aligned with Erwin’s—this was no time for half-measures. She mustered every ounce of her remaining strength into a single, decisive strike.

Fwoooosh!

The flaming slash engulfed Arina, exploding into a pillar of fire that scorched everything it touched.

Thick smoke billowed, obscuring their vision.

Just then, a gust of wind swept through, dispersing the haze.

As the smoke cleared, where Arina had stood, only piled rubble remained—

The remnants of collapsed walls shielding her in a protective circle.

“You… You’ve got to be— Gaaah?!”

Leonora’s blade never reached Arina before she, too, succumbed to the gravity’s force, collapsing to her knees.

“Liel, please stop! At this rate, Erwin’s going to die!”

Her bones were fracturing, organs compressed, spine bending. Erwin’s body was already crippled—she wouldn’t even be able to move on a sickbed.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Let’s end this, our tedious history.”

The debris shielding Arina now hurtled toward Leonora.

Massive chunks of stone slammed into her, one after another, burying her completely beneath a crushing avalanche. Before long, she was entombed within a towering mound of rubble.

Under the moon dominating the sky, Arina wielded power akin to a god’s.

At this point, Arina must have poured everything into sustaining this spell.

Meaning, if they disabled it, victory would be theirs. That was Marika’s judgment as she wrapped herself in divine energy.

Sacred Arts—Magic Disruption. The very technique that had felled Arina once before.

If Arina was exhausting all her mana now, nullifying the spell would make capturing her effortless.

They could heal Erwin afterward—something the Saintess’s power could achieve.

That was how it should have gone.

“Huh?”

Golden divine light shimmered around her, refusing to answer her prayers. The Sacred Arts would not activate.

“Wh-Why…?”

“I expected as much.”

Arina’s gaze now locked onto Marika.

“Disrupt my magic at the critical moment, incapacitate me, then subdue me. A straightforward strategy. One that’s hard to counter precisely because it’s so obvious. But Fernandez, in this world of darkness where even light is extinguished, your prayers won’t reach the goddess.”

The agent of miracles—Sacred Arts—was always the goddess herself. Even the most gifted priestess, even the Saintess, was no different.

“So now, it’s your turn. Saintess.”