Chapter 18 Part 5
The pitch-black night sky momentarily brightened as if it had become day.
In the surroundings that had brightened like a sun-risen morning, Hyle quickly landed safely on the ground.
But Mattio was nowhere to be seen.
“Ugh…”
As he tried to take a defensive stance, not knowing where an attack might come from, a small groan was heard from behind.
Turning around, there was Mattio, collapsed and moaning.
He, who had been completely black, immersed in darkness, was now wrapped in a pure white light, which was clearly high-intensity divine power even at a glance.
“That’s… not my divine power.”
As Hyle looked around in confusion, he could see several priests in white robes running from the distance.
“Marquis Feros!”
“Gasp, Lady…!”
Among the priests, a woman could be seen rushing urgently. Looking closely, it was a familiar face.
“…Aren’t you the former Holy Maiden candidate? Lady Brissel.”
“I now work as a counseling priest at my hometown temple. Fortunately, thanks to you returning the spirit stones previously, I was able to help with divine power. More importantly, are both of you safe?”
She had rushed so urgently that Hertiana’s pure white cheeks were flushed red.
Even while answering Hyle’s words, her water-colored eyes were fixed solely on Rosiel.
“I am fine. But Rosiel… has lost consciousness.”
“At this rate, you should go to the Grand Temple. Hurry, I’ve already informed them, so immediate treatment should be possible.”
“I understand. Then I’ll leave the rest to you.”
Hyle quickly nodded and pointed at Mattio with fierce eyes as he looked at the priests who had followed.
The priests, immediately understanding that this meant to kill him, quickly ended Mattio’s life without difficulty.
Having lost all his energy in the battle with Rosiel and Hyle, Mattio’s death came to an empty end.
None of the priests mourned Mattio’s death, as he had too much karmic retribution to be pitied as a tragic life.
“Everyone, let’s also drive away the darkness covering Laté. Since the Lady is no longer a Laté, this place can no longer be her sanctuary.”
Hertiana began to purify the magical beasts of the Laté mansion quickly and skillfully.
The priests also began to remove the darkness laid over the mansion following her command.
With the Marquis dead, the Young Marquis absent, and the Lady unconscious, now was the optimal timing to drive away this darkness, so everyone proceeded with the work in unison.
Laté was no longer the mansion of darkness.
Hertiana was determined to do her best so that when Rosiel returned someday, she could rest comfortably.
* * *
“…Mmh.”
As they approached the Grand Temple, a small moan escaped from Rosiel, cradled in Hyle’s arms.
Hyle, whose attention was entirely focused on her, quickly heard the sound and slowed his pace.
“Rosiel, are you conscious?”
“……”
Her closed eyes opened just a tiny crack.
Her pink eyes, having lost their light, had neither vitality nor focus.
Nevertheless, Hyle could tell she was looking at him.
“Let’s go back to the villa, Rosiel. You’ll be fine after receiving treatment at the Grand Temple. So please hold on just a little longer.”
“…You go alone. I’ll join you there later.”
The faint response contained not a trace of will.
When the image of Rosiel once boldly asking him to save her overlapped with her current state, Hyle’s eyebrows quickly furrowed.
“That won’t do. I don’t have a habit of entering empty houses.”
“Pfft… Why would it be empty?”
A faint laugh gently burst between Rosiel’s colorless lips. At this, Hyle’s urgent footsteps abruptly halted.
Soon after, Hyle’s head weakly fell onto Rosiel’s chest.
“Rosiel, I won’t give up on you till the very end.”
Hyle’s black hair tickled the tip of Rosiel’s chin.
At the sight, Rosiel laughed softly and raised her strengthless hand to languidly stroke his hair.
“Hmm… say it more romantically.”
Full of laughter, it was unmistakably a teasing tone.
In truth, Rosiel’s expression suggested she would be pleased with anything he said, but Hyle slowly raised his head with a serious face.
“As long as time permits, I’ll do my best. So don’t let me lose you.”
Their gazes, meeting at a close distance, continued briefly but intensely.
“…Hyle, sometimes I thought my existence was miserable. Whenever I faced those who suffered because of me, that thought always clung to me. Still, I always wanted to live. Solely for myself, for my happiness. Selfish, isn’t it?”
Rosiel’s eyes, which had been smiling gently, closed once more. Not succumbing to pain, but of her own will.
“But after meeting you, I wanted to live differently. At first, the reason was me, but now it’s not.”
It was all for you…
Rosiel’s trailing words crumbled fragilely.
For a moment, despite Rosiel’s closed eyes, Hyle had the illusion that their gazes were meeting through her closed eyelids.
Hyle resumed his halted steps. The Grand Temple was just ahead.
Rosiel’s body, limp in his arms, was so light and slender that it felt as if tears, which had dried up long ago, might wet his vision.
“Rosiel, I smell the fragrance of dawn roses from you…”
But Rosiel’s closed eyes did not open again.
Only the sound of her small breaths silently returned.
“The Holy Maiden is in critical condition. I must see the Pope immediately.”
“Marquis, if you could wait just a moment…!”
“Marquis Feros, you cannot enter that way!”
Having entered the temple, Hyle quickly moved on, leaving the flustered priests behind.
In the deepest part of the temple was the Pope.
Even he, as the head of House Feros, never expected to meet the Pope, whom he had never seen in his entire life, in such a forceful manner… but he could save Rosiel.
No, he had to save her.
“Perhaps it wasn’t a flower but a swamp.”
Once one’s foot sinks into a swamp, there is no coming back out.
It would cling tenaciously, stretching endlessly, and ultimately consume him cruelly to the very top of his head.
Rosiel was, to him, a very deep swamp.
* * *
As I ventured deeper, the surroundings grew increasingly somber—strikingly bleak for a place that supposedly housed the Pope.
The colorless environment, washed of all vibrancy until it seemed almost sickly pale, blurred my vision.
But there was no time to dwell on this. As Rosiel’s breathing grew fainter, Hyle quickened his pace.
He flung open closed doors without hesitation, desperately scanning each room for any sign of the Pope.
How much deeper could they have gone? Finally, upon discovering a peculiar space at the very end of the corridor, Hyle headed straight toward it without a moment’s pause.
The unusual room lacked a door, allowing an unobstructed view inside.
At the center of the chamber Hyle cautiously entered stood a man dressed in pristine white robes, his back turned as he bowed his head before an altar.
A silver thread was visible wrapped around his purple hair—perhaps securing a mask.
“Your Holiness.”
Hyle’s quiet voice resonated through the vast space.
Though he couldn’t see the man’s face, Hyle was absolutely certain this was the Pope.
Perhaps this certainty was inevitable.
The holy power emanating from the man was, Hyle dared say, nearly identical to that of the Goddess Renesia herself.
“Marquis Feros, you’ve come a long way.”
The voice that reached them was gentle, refined, and ethereal.
The man made one final reverent bow toward the Goddess’s altar before slowly turning around.
Though his eyes remained hidden behind a mask, Hyle immediately sensed that the man was looking at him and at Rosiel in his arms.
“Rosiel’s condition is critical. I would like Your Holiness to examine her.”
