Contrary to the passionate cheers coming from outside the window, Kristina’s words were soft and chilly. Eugene stopped waving at the crowd and turned his head to look at her.

The Saint had just denied the existence of a god of her own volition, yet her expression remained surprisingly calm. Her face showed no sign of anger, betrayal, or despair.

“What’s all this about suddenly?” Eugene asked first.

He had his suspicions, even certainty, but no proof. Therefore, he didn’t want to make unnecessary remarks, especially considering both Kristina and Anise were Saints of the God of Light.

“There’s no need to be considerate of me,” Kristina whispered with a faint smile.

Her words were interrogative, and her gaze didn’t seek deception or undue kindness. In the end, Eugene sighed softly and retracted his hand from the window.

With a click, the window closed, silencing the loud cheers from outside. Eugene turned to face Kristina.

Consideration.

He didn’t deny it. The reason Eugene had refrained from speaking about the Light was ultimately out of consideration.

Kristina and Anise were born as Saints.

It had always been so.

They were created to worship the Light and to be tools for the Light.

They weren’t even allowed a normal childhood because they were born and raised in such a manner.

They were symbols for spreading the faith.

They were products to enchant the faithful.

They were divine weapons for conveniently wielding miracles.

That was what the Saint was.

They were coerced into faith in the Light. Anise harbored disillusionment with the Light and religion after having lived centuries and endured many wars. Yet, she didn’t deny the existence of the Light itself. She did not deny that the Light illuminated the world, nor did she deny the existence of heaven.

It wasn’t just Anise, either. During the era of war, the priests and even atheists who didn’t believe in gods sought the existence of a deity. They prayed for an omniscient being to save the world and to lead the deceased to heaven.

“Since when have you known?” asked Eugene.

Kristina wasn’t as desperate as Anise. She was still young and had not experienced the horrific times that Anise did.

However, even Kristina yearned for the existence of heaven. She believed it was right for the sinful to go to hell and the virtuous to heaven.

“Probably around the same time you felt it, Sir Eugene,” she said. “The moment when the Light, more radiant than ever, seeped into you.”

Eugene knew exactly which moment she was referring to.

It was during his battle with the specter when he cast aside all of his hesitations. It was the moment when the specter swung his sword to kill Eugene, and his dark power transformed into flames to destroy Eugene.

“When the Holy Sword Altair, left by the Light in this world, shattered.”

The blade of the Holy Sword had shattered; it had been utterly destroyed. But the destruction of the blade did not diminish its sanctity. Instead, the Holy Sword reclaimed its true form through destruction. The Light was freed from the confinement of the blade and enveloped Eugene.

Within the cradle of light, albeit for a brief instant, Eugene was able to come to a shallow understanding of the Light.

“It wasn’t through you that I came to know this, Hamel,” Anise spoke up. Her expression wasn’t much different from Kristina’s bitter smile. “We are Saints. Though other priests might not have felt it, we, who are closest to the Light, could sense it from the light that poured out of the Holy Sword.”

“The Light is not a being that can be called a god,” Anise stated. “It lacks the holy will that one would attribute to a deity.”

There had been doubts before, even during the era of war. The Light never manifested despite the fervent prayers. More than anything, even Anise, who was closest to the Light, received no revelation.

In that irrational world, one was forced to believe in the existence of the Light. The era would have been unbearable without some semblance of hope, which took the form of faith in the existence of the Light, of a god, and heaven.

Fortunately, there were things that could serve as the basis for faith — the Holy Sword and the Hero, Vermouth Lionheart.

But was he truly a hero?

“I can’t define it as any particular entity, but what I felt… is certainly not what one would call a god. It’s just….” Anise’s voice trailed off.

“I felt something similar to you two,” Eugene spoke up. “The Light… is not the god most people imagine it to be.”

The divinity of Agaroth and the divinity of the Light were entirely different. Thus, Eugene was confident that the light was not an ordinary god.

“Hamel. Are you denying my assertion that the Light is not a god?” Anise questioned. She appeared surprised.

The truth about the Light made Anise feel considerably betrayed. After all, she had desperately sought the grace and miracles of the Light during her lifetime.

She walked through battlefields for years and saw countless corpses. She prayed that all humans who died before her eyes would be led to heaven. Anise could speak harsh words about the Light, unbecoming of a believer because she had harbored such a deep yearning for it.

However, the Light Anise felt did not contain the divinity she had longed for in her lifetime. That truth, instead, made Anise more rational. It allowed her to understand the indifference of the Light. It allowed her to understand what had been incomprehensible to her throughout her life.

“You’ve also received a few revelations, haven’t you?” questioned Eugene.

“Revelations?” Anise scoffed and shook her head. “Yes, I’ve had a few revelations. I became an angel after death due to a miracle of the Light.”

She could not remember the exact moment when she became an angel. When she came to her senses, Anise was already an angel, drifting within the light.

There had been other angels besides Anise in the vast sea of light. They were angels who descended to perform miracles. However, these angels did not possess a self like Anise did.

The revelations Kristina heard were imparted by Anise. The dream Eugene saw through the Holy Sword was nothing more than a transmission of Anise’s memories.

“The Light chose me to become the Hero.”

Eugene could still vividly remember the event. At thirteen, after the Bloodline Continuation Ceremony at the Lionheart mansion, he and Gilead entered the treasury for the first time and saw the Holy Sword.

“As a child, I couldn’t pull out the Holy Sword,” Eugene admitted.

The Light at that time neither chose nor acknowledged Eugene.

“But after meeting you two, I was able to pull it out,” he continued.

“It was by the Light’s will that I was made to find you,” said Kristina.

“And to dig up Vermouth’s tomb.” Eugene paused for a moment. “I’m not sure what the Light really is,” he said with a wry smile while pulling the Holy Sword from his cloak.

The Holy Sword’s blade had been shattered in the previous battle, but it was now intact.

“It seems the Light holds me in special regard.” Eugene looked down at the Holy Sword and continued, “The Light I understood… wasn’t omnipotent or anything like that. It was just… just a vast reservoir of power that grants you strength if you wish for it.”

This power was different from mana and dark power. If he had to make a comparison, it didn’t feel much different from making a pact with a Demon King. Through faith and belief, one made a pact with the Light, and in return for devout prayers and faith, it granted one power.

“Anise, do you believe in heaven?” Eugene questioned.

In the past, her answer had always been yes. As an angel wandering the sea of light, she felt countless souls. Those souls definitely existed somewhere within the sea of light.

Naturally, Anise assumed that place to be heaven. People who died in this world were guided by the Light to reach heaven.

But now, she couldn’t be certain that place was heaven.

“I’m not sure,” Anise replied with a sigh.

“I feel the same,” Eugene replied with a smile. “I’m not even sure if the Light has any particular will to save the world or if heaven exists.”

The blade of the Holy Sword momentarily wavered and turned into a beam of light. It wasn’t formed from any metal but from pure light.

Eugene looked at the Holy Sword and continued, “Anise, Kristina.”

Eugene stood the Holy Sword upright and turned his gaze towards the Saints.

“Does it matter if the Light isn’t a god or if heaven might not exist?”

It was a sudden question. Anise and Kristina were momentarily speechless, and they could not find a response. They weren’t made speechless because Eugene’s question was difficult or complex, but because of Eugene’s figure. They were momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of Eugene holding the Holy Sword and the true light shining brilliantly, free from its physical shell. Moreover, Eugene’s existence merged with the light, and it felt strangely unfamiliar to them.

“Of course, it matters.” Anise managed to calm her turmoil and replied. “But the Light has been suspicious for a long time. I only have disillusionment left for the religion that created me. The heaven that I felt may not be heaven at all.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Kristina said.

She clasped her hands over her chest and gazed at Eugene.

“Even if the Light is not a god, Sir Eugene, you are the Hero. Even if the Light doesn’t illuminate the world, your existence will be the light of the world. Even if the Light does not love all believers equally, you are especially loved,” Kristina said with a bright smile.

Anise had been pushed back in an instant and could only stick out her tongue at Kristina’s words. She could feel Kristina’s unspoken, immense love and fanaticism for Eugene.

“Heaven, huh?” Eugene sighed and put down the Holy Sword. “The Light isn’t the only god that exists in this world.”

There were various religions on the continent, though the religion of Light was the most dominant. The divine magic and miracles used by priests and paladins of the Light were not exclusive to the Light. Although the believers of the Light boasted superior power both qualitatively and quantitatively, the existence of other gods was evident by the fact that divine magic and miracles could be performed by those outside the Church of Light.

“Even if there’s no heaven of the Light, there could be heavens of other gods, right? Wouldn’t that suffice?” Eugene asked.

“Are you seriously saying that right now?” Anise responded, looking at Eugene with disdain.

Eugene cleared his throat when he felt her burning gaze and shook his head.

“Well…. I’m just saying. And since there’s no guarantee that there’s no heaven of the Light, let’s go check it out sometime.”

“Easy for you to say. I’ve died once already, and you’ve died once as well, Hamel. We didn’t find heaven or even hell,” Anise retorted.

“That’s true,” Eugene admitted readily.

“And Hamel, heavens of other gods? Even if the Light isn’t the god we expected it to be, I am a Saint of the Light, and so is Kristina. Would other gods lead us to their heavens?” questioned Anise.

“Would gods be so petty?” Eugene grumbled while tucking the Holy Sword back into his cloak. “Then, come to my heaven later.”

Anise and Kristina could not accept his words as casually as he had spoken them. They were speechless, and their mouths were agape as they stared at Eugene’s face.

“What are you looking at?” Eugene questioned.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, if you can’t go to the heaven of the Light or the heavens of other gods, then come to mine,” he repeated.

Eugene turned to look outside. Just a brief peek and a wave had caused the crowd outside to point and shout toward this window.

“What’s so grand about being a god? I was a god in my past life, and now I’m becoming something god-like. If I truly become a god later on… then I guess I could create my own heaven,” Eugene said.

Could he really? Although Eugene talked about it as if it weren’t a big deal, he wasn’t certain. There was no Heaven of Agaroth in the Age of Myth.

Had there ever been a god who possessed their own heaven in those times? Eugene pondered for a moment before shaking his head dismissively.

“Anyway, don’t fret if we can’t go to the Light’s heaven,” Eugene repeated. “If there isn’t one, I’ll just make one—”

“Pffft….” Anise couldn’t hold back a laugh before Eugene could finish his sentence.

“Aha… Ahahaha! Ahahahaha!” Kristina burst into uncontrollable laughter alongside Anise. Eugene, baffled by their laughter, blinked in confusion.

“Did I say something strange?” he asked.

“No…. Not at all, Sir Eugene,” Kristina managed between laughs, finding the burden of recent days ludicrously lifted.

The doubt about the Light being a divine being, the absence of heaven, and the unequal treatment of believers — did any of that truly matter?

The Light had chosen Eugene as the wielder of the Holy Sword and as the Hero. That alone was sufficient.

Even if the Light did not intend to illuminate the world, Eugene would slay the Demon Kings. If there was no heaven of the Light, Eugene would become a new god and open the gates to a new heaven.

And that was enough. Anise clasped her rosary, and Kristina joined her hands in prayer.

“Then, we are Sir Eugene’s saints,” they realized.

Until now, they were Saints of the Light, but now they wished to be Eugene’s saints. Eugene felt an odd sensation at their declaration. He could sense the light from the Holy Sword within his cloak. The light embedded in his inner cosmos seemed to expand momentarily.

“Uh.”

The Saints frowned upon noticing Eugene’s reaction. Startled, Kristina raised her right hand. A wound appeared on her palm. It started to bleed, and once the blood passed her wrist, the wound suddenly healed and left a scar.

“Stigmata…” Anise murmured in surprise.

Eugene was shocked and immediately approached her before inspecting her wrist.

“What just happened?” he asked.

Anise’s gaze was fixated on her Stigmata, and she remained silent. Anise had received a baptism in the Fount of Light, and an artificial Stigmata had been etched on her back. The Pope of Yuras and the cardinals bore the same synthetic marks.

However, Kristina’s left hand had manifested real Stigmata in the sea of Shimuin. The mark that now appeared on her right hand was equally genuine.

“Let’s try cutting off an arm, Hamel,” Anise suggested after jerking her head towards Eugene. Eugene’s expression contorted in dismay.

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Another Stigmata has appeared. Simply put, it means the power of miracles has become stronger. Then, I should be able to perform miracles I could do in the past,” said Anise.

“Wait a minute,” Eugene protested.

“Shouldn’t we test to see what level of miracles are possible now? Trust me,” assured Anise.

“No…. But there’s no need to test it on me…” Eugene muttered.

“Then who shall we test it on?” questioned Anise.

“I’ll-I’ll go and cut off someone else’s arm,” Eugene answered.

“My goodness, Hamel, what are you talking about? What if the arm doesn’t reattach?” questioned Anise.

“I didn’t want to say this, but isn’t my arm far more valuable than any average person’s arm?” Eugene retorted.

Anise’s expression twisted at Eugene’s blunt remark.

“My goodness, my goodness! How selfish and arrogant can you be, Hamel? And you talk of gods and heaven!” she exclaimed.

“I did think it was a bit too much after saying it,” admitted Eugene.

“Truthfully, Hamel, what you said isn’t wrong. In such a situation, I would lay down my life in your place. But! You should not be the one to say such things. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Anise inquired.

“Uh… uh…” Eugene stuttered.

“Since you dislike the idea so much, we won’t cut off your arm. There must be someone in the hospital with a missing arm or leg. We can test it there,” suggested Anise.

Eugene’s hand was still on Anise’s wrist. Anise smiled slyly while looking at the blood flowing from her palm.

“Bleeding from the Stigmata reminds me of the old days. Do you remember, Hamel?” she asked.

“Of course, I remember. How could I forget?” responded Eugene.

“I’ve said this before, but I liked it when you wiped the blood from my Stigmata. Hehe, when was it? I thought you were detestable as you wore your indifferent face, just like always, while wiping the blood and applying ointment,” said Anise.

“Why would caring for a wound be detestable?” Eugene retorted.

“Even though I took off my top and exposed my bare skin, you acted as if it didn’t bother you at all. At first, you blushed and didn’t know where to look, but later, you just cared for the wound as if it was nothing. That’s why sometimes, I slightly lowered the hand covering my chest,” Anise admitted.

Sister! So, what did Sir Eugene do? Did Sir Eugene glance at your chest? Was he unable to overcome his carnal desires? Did he extend the towel he used to wipe the blood and his hand towards your chest? Kristina’s scream echoed in her head.

But this outcry and clamor differed from before. The previous Kristina could not bear the embarrassment and cried out in horror, but now she showed an active and desperate longing mixed with curiosity.

Anise wasn’t sure how to feel. Her mind felt tumultuous.

Eugene pulled out a handkerchief and started wiping the blood during Anise’s silence.

“I guess it doesn’t hurt,” commented Eugene.

“Regrettably so,” responded Anise.

“What do you mean by regrettably?” Eugene grumbled as he let go of Anise’s wrist.

Anise looked at the Stigmata imprinted on her palm and pouted.

It would have been better if it was etched on our back. Kristina voiced Anise’s regret with empathy.