Ch. 152 🔒 The Saintess and Her Guardian (30)
by Afuhfuihgs
Chapter 152 – The Saintess and Her Guardian (30)
Cecilia felt like she was sinking into a lonely, lightless ocean.
Her neck ached.
Just like in her dream, Gray had bitten her nape. Ever since then, she had been drowning in this abyss.
A crushing helplessness dominated her, and unseen hands dragged her deeper into the depths.
Her small, delicate wings, the ones that had always protected her, glowed faintly in protest, but the hands only laughed at their efforts before swallowing her whole.
‘Mister…’
Even as she sank past the point of no return, Cecilia’s thoughts were filled with nothing but him.
She couldn’t perform a miracle.
She couldn’t save him.
Until the very end, God had ignored her prayers.
Was this her punishment?
For never acting like a proper Saintess, for thinking only of him?
Maybe this was hell.
Too dark, too cold, too terrifying… too lonely to be heaven.
Maybe it’s better this way.
Better to die than to live alone, knowing she’d failed to save him.
Gray must have become witch food by now.
And given how he’d once said he’d killed people as easily as eating meals… he wouldn’t be in heaven either.
Hell it is, then.
Cecilia slowly closed her eyes. Her fragile wings flickered weakly, trying in vain to rouse her.
‘Mister…’
If she sank to the very bottom, maybe he’d come to meet her.
A foolish thought.
Did it matter?
What the witch had done, why Gray had bitten her, none of it made sense to Cecilia anyway.
None of it mattered now.
As her eyelids shut, memories flashed before her.
The day Gray had first picked her up.
The times they’d wandered the world together.
The moment the Holy Mark appeared, when priests swarmed her—how he’d held her close as she trembled.
The days after becoming Saintess, when she struggled to adjust—how he’d stayed by her side.
In every memory, without fail, he was there.
And in every one, she was smiling.
‘Mister…’
She missed him.
‘How much deeper do I have to sink before I see him?’
If she could stay with him forever in hell, that would be enough.
Just one regret.
She’d never get to show him how she’d look as an adult.
She would have been beautiful.
So stunning that even the most devout priests would falter. A mature body, curves no nun’s habit could hide.
A Saintess so peerless, rumors of her beauty would spread across the world.
She had to grow up.
Because Gray didn’t care for little girls.
‘Mister, promise me! When I grow up—marry me! If you don’t, I won’t be Saintess!’
A promise.
Forced, maybe, but one she’d sealed with a pinky swear. A wish she’d cherished more than anything.
A promise she couldn’t break, even if a demon devoured her.
And now…
She’d never keep it.
Never grow up.
Never become the woman who could make him see her.
That regret burned sharper than any pain.
“Sigh… Kid. Fine. Just be the Saintess, okay? What the hell do you even see in me…?”
Maybe even regret was a luxury.
After all, Gray had never understood the promise to begin with.
The way he’d sighed, reluctantly linking pinkies with her, like humoring a child’s tantrum.
Something he’d forget in time.
Or maybe… he’d already forgotten.
The fear she’d always pushed down now crushed her.
Even if Gray didn’t remember in hell.
Even if she fell alone.
She’d keep this promise sacred in her heart—untouched by anyone.
[Cecilia. Can you hear me?]
Just as she prepared to fade into the dark forever, a voice echoed around her.
Gentle, mature—like the mother she barely remembered.
Her eyelids fluttered open. A faint light glowed before her.
“Angel…?”
The delicate wings that had been with her since receiving the Holy Mark pulsed softly, wrapping her in warmth.
“Am I… dead? Is this hell?”
[You are not dead. This is not hell.]
“Oh.”
‘Right. An angel wouldn’t be in hell.’
Not that it mattered.
If Cecilia believed this was hell, then hell it was.
A failure who couldn’t perform miracles, who couldn’t save Gray, hell suited her just fine.
She closed her eyes again.
[Do you intend to sleep forever?]
“Leave me alone.”
[Don’t you have a promise to keep with your Guardian?]
A promise.
More precious than life itself.
She wanted to keep it—but how?
“…I know. But what can I do? Without you and Mister, I’m just a fake Saintess. You know I don’t even have faith. I couldn’t perform a miracle. I couldn’t save him. Just… let me be.”
There was no way out.
Somehow, she knew—no matter what she did, she’d never escape this ocean of darkness.
[Will you give up like this?]
“Give up? Mister’s witch food now. There’s nothing left for me to do.”
[Your Guardian hasn’t given up. He’s still fighting to save you.]
“Mister…?”
Impossible.
He was already—
“Hold on, kid. I’m coming.”
As if confirming the angel’s words, Gray’s voice echoed from somewhere far away.
A radiant light pierced the darkness.
A dream? A hallucination?
Too vivid to dismiss.
The glow, fragile but determined, illuminated only her, and within it, she saw him.
Running. Desperately.
His opponent?
Herself.
Her own body, now a monstrous thing, wings stained with blood, reduced to skeletal frames, weeping crimson tears as it attacked him.
Was this her punishment?
For failing as a Saintess?
Or was this the demon’s doing?
When she saw Gray’s arm get torn off, she screamed and thrashed.
“NO…!”
She had to stop herself. Had to break free—
But the deeper she struggled, the harder the hands pulled her down.
No escape.
Gray was getting farther away.
“Angel, save him!”
If anyone could, it was the angel. She had to stop herself from hurting him.
[I’m afraid I cannot help him now.]
Once again, the angel denied her wish.
Instead, its voice softened.
[Cecilia. Even without my power, you are still the Saintess.]
[You have wings, don’t you? Wings meant only for you.]
“Wings?”
As if finally acknowledged, her small wings shone brighter.
This light wasn’t holy power, not like Gray’s, not like what she’d used before.
Clumsy, rough, unrefined… but warm.
She understood.
This light was her promise.
Her feelings for him.
Hers alone.
The moment she realized—
Her wings erupted with radiance.
The hands melting away at its touch.
“Angel, thank you!”
With gratitude, Cecilia spread her wings.
Small and frail, yet they obeyed her will, slicing through the shackle as though it were air.
There was still time.
To save Gray.
To keep her promise.
That hope alone dissolved the despair that had weighed her down.
[You dare resist me? Stay still. If you do, I’ll grant the love you crave with your Guardian.]
Her neck burned.
Not the angel’s voice—something darker whispered to her.
The thing inside her, the one attacking Gray.
Dozens of new hands seized her, dragging her deeper.
No escape this time.
“Ghk…! Don’t get in my way! I made a promise to Mister!”
A promise.
So she couldn’t stay here.
She had to reach him.
As she fought against the crushing grip—
“I PROMISED HER! At least until she grows up—I have to protect her!”
Gray’s voice rang out, and a searing light engulfed her.
He remembered.
He hadn’t forgotten.
Relief flooded her, she hadn’t been alone in cherishing it.
[YOU THINK THIS CAN—GYAAAAH?!]
The hands disintegrated.
He’d saved her again.
Now, it was her turn to save him.
Cecilia hurled herself toward the light—
To keep her promise.
To bring him back.
“M-Mister?”
Her voice trembled.
His skin was melting in places, muscle exposed beneath. His left arm—gone. His lower half—severed.
Yet when he heard her call, his face softened into something peaceful.
As if to say, This is enough.
And then—
He bid her farewell.
Lucent
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