Chapter 179: The Saint Had to Decide Who Could Still Be Saved

Elise Veyra arrived four hours too late.

She didn’t know that yet.

The town was small even by the standards of eastern trade routes: one main street, a two-story inn, a stable, three warehouses, and a shared office used by the road guard and the Mercenary House.

It was the kind of place where a new face became news quickly.

A White Saint became news faster.

Elise had barely dismounted when a boy dropped a basket of apples.

The fruit rolled across the road.

He made no attempt to retrieve them.

He was staring at her.

Elise sighed.

"Not again."

Brother Halven climbed down from his horse.

"What?"

Elise subtly indicated the boy.

"The clothes."

Halven looked at her outfit.

White.

Gold.

Pale blue.

The symbol of the Church of Eternal Light displayed across her chest.

Mercy hanging at her hip.

"You could travel in ordinary clothes," he said.

"I tried that once."

"And?"

"They asked why I was carrying a Saint’s sword while dressed like a merchant."

Halven had no answer.

Elise walked over to the boy, crouched, and started gathering the apples.

That seemed to confuse him even more.

"Are these yours?"

The boy nodded.

"Then we should probably keep the horses from stepping on them."

That finally made him move.

He knelt and started helping.

Elise picked up another apple and noticed a brown bruise along one side.

"You should eat this one first."

"My mother says bruised ones are for cooking."

Elise considered that.

"Your mother probably knows more about apples than I do."

The boy appeared to take the statement very seriously.

"Are you the White Saint?"

Elise looked toward Halven.

He had suddenly become deeply interested in a building across the street.

Traitor.

"Elise is fine."

The boy’s eyes widened.

"So you are."

"I suppose."

"My father says Saints kill demons."

"Sometimes."

"Have you killed one?"

"Yes."

"A big one?"

"Fairly."

"Bigger than a house?"

"No."

The boy looked disappointed.

Elise added, "One was almost as large as a wagon."

His disappointment vanished.

She handed him the basket.

"Don’t tell your father I said that just to impress you."

The boy ran away.

Halven approached.

"You have now guaranteed that everyone on this street will know who you are within five minutes."

Elise looked around.

Several people were already pretending not to stare.

A woman beside the well bowed.

A man in front of the inn did the same.

"They already know."

"Three minutes, then."

Elise smiled.

"Let’s find the office."

Halven nodded.

"If Raven passed through this morning, we may already have lost several hours."

"Then let’s find out how many."

That part was urgent.

And for the first time since beginning the pursuit, Elise refused to let urgency become blind haste.

---

They didn’t reach the Mercenary House immediately.

An elderly woman delayed them first.

Not intentionally.

She was trying to lower an oversized crate from the back of a wagon outside a shop when it tipped toward her.

Elise reached it before it fell.

"Wait."

She caught the bottom of the crate.

The woman looked up.

"Saint."

"Elise."

"I can’t call you that."

"Then we’ll avoid arguing while holding this."

Halven ended up helping.

Together, they carried the crate inside.

Flour.

The woman thanked them several times.

Elise didn’t ask whether anyone in her family needed healing. She didn’t turn the store into an impromptu clinic.

She simply helped with the box.

When they stepped outside again, Halven looked at her.

"That was surprisingly quick."

Elise raised an eyebrow.

"Were you expecting me to convert the shop into a medical ward?"

"I was prepared for it."

"I’m trying to improve."

"I’ll record the occasion."

They continued toward the office.

At the next corner, a beggar sat against a wall.

One leg ended below the knee.

A bowl containing only a few coins rested in front of him.

Elise stopped.

Halven closed his eyes.

"Again."

"I haven’t said anything."

"I know that expression now."

"That is becoming unfair."

The man looked up.

The moment he recognized who stood before him, he tried to rise.

"You don’t need to stand," Elise said.

He sat again.

"Saint Veyra."

"Elise."

"I can’t call you that either."

"Apparently nobody can today."

The beggar smiled faintly.

Elise looked at the missing leg.

Old injury.

Nothing left to heal.

"How did it happen?"

"Wagon."

"Long ago?"

"Three years."

No demon.

No curse.

No war.

A wheel.

One bad day.

Elise took out several coins.

The man shook his head.

"I don’t need that much."

"Then spend it slowly."

"I can’t repay you."

"I didn’t lend it to you."

She left a small bag of food as well.

Halven waited until they were walking again before commenting.

"That was part of our provisions."

"We have enough."

"For us."

"Now for him too."

"And if we’re short tomorrow?"

Elise looked ahead.

"Then we share less tomorrow."

Halven sighed.

"I don’t know why I keep arguing."

"Because one day you might be right."

"That was cruel."

"I’m sorry."

Elise was smiling.

---

The Mercenary House clerk recognized Raven Ashford’s name before Elise finished asking about him.

That was already an answer.

"He left this morning."

Elise looked toward the eastern road visible through the window.

"How long ago?"

"About four hours. Maybe a little more."

Halven exhaled.

There it was.

The first useful number.

Four hours.

Not days.

"Alone?"

"No. Lady Valeria von Nacht and a mercenary named Roland were with him."

Elise opened Raven’s file.

"Did anything happen before they left?"

The woman hesitated.

"He brought in seven men tied up."

Elise looked up.

"Why?"

"They tried to ambush him."

"Casualties?"

"One. Their leader."

Halven asked, "Raven killed him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

The clerk looked toward one of the reports.

"With the weapon."

Elise kept her tone neutral.

"Distance?"

The woman checked.

"Approximately sixty-four meters."

Halven frowned.

"Preparation time?"

"Very little."

Elise held out her hand.

"May I read the report?"

The clerk hesitated.

"Do you have an order?"

Elise produced the authorization.

It wasn’t an arrest warrant.

Only an ecclesiastical investigation.

The clerk read it and visibly relaxed.

"You can read it here."

"That’s enough."

Elise didn’t push further.

That mattered too.

She would read what she was authorized to read.

Nothing more.

The report was brief.

Private bounty.

Ambush.

Negotiation.

One shot.

Leader dead.

Seven surrendered.

Raven had delivered the survivors to the post instead of executing them.

Elise read that part twice.

"Why did he leave them alive?"

"According to one of them, he wanted them to tell other mercenaries what happened."

"What exactly?"

"That distance wouldn’t protect them."

Halven spoke from beside her.

"Intimidation."

Elise kept reading.

"Yes."

"Does that concern you?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

Elise looked up.

"I would also be concerned if he had killed all eight."

Halven had no answer to that.

That was the problem with Raven Ashford.

Even his most troubling decisions appeared to contain some kind of boundary.

Violent.

Calculated.

But still a boundary.

"I want to speak with the prisoners," Elise said.

"You’ll need permission from the road guard."

"Of course."

The clerk seemed surprised.

Elise almost felt offended.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That word rarely means nothing."

The woman smiled.

"I’ll find the officer in charge."

---

The guard took time to arrive.

Elise waited.

She did not turn the office into an improvised medical center.

That had already happened too many times during the journey.

She did treat one woman who came in with a fresh burn after hearing that a Saint was present.

Nothing serious.

Elise cleaned the injury, applied a small amount of Grace, and told her to visit the local healer if she developed a fever.

Five minutes.

That was all.

Halven watched the woman leave.

"I’m impressed."

"Why?"

"You didn’t heal the entire town."

Elise looked at him.

"I have self-control."

"I’m not convinced."

"Keep talking and I’ll prove it by leaving your next headache untreated."

Halven smiled.

Then the door opened.

Two men entered carrying a third between them.

The atmosphere changed immediately.

Elise stopped joking.

She didn’t need to touch the man to feel it.

A curse.

Deep.

Old.

And close to its end.

The man was young.

Thirty at most.

Extremely thin.

Black veins climbed from beneath his shirt and disappeared into his neck.

Mercy vibrated inside its sheath.

The woman accompanying him spoke quickly.

"They told us a Saint was here."

Elise approached.

"Lay him down."

They placed him across a long bench.

The man opened his eyes.

Still lucid.

That made everything worse.

"Saint Veyra."

"Elise."

A weak smile appeared.

"I think I’m too religious for that."

"Then don’t waste energy trying."

Elise placed two fingers against his wrist and sent sacred mana inward.

The curse reacted.

It didn’t retreat.

It clung.

Elise pushed deeper.

Blood.

Nerves.

Bone.

Organs.

Heart.

And finally...

Soul.

She withdrew her hand.

"No."

The woman went pale.

"What?"

Elise didn’t answer yet.

She tried again.

More slowly this time.

Not because she doubted her technique.

Because she needed to be absolutely certain before saying what came next.

Grace touched one of the curse’s deepest roots.

Elise tried to separate it.

The man’s pulse dropped immediately.

She released him.

Confirmed.

The curse was no longer attached to him.

The curse had become part of him.

The woman began to cry.

"You can do it."

Elise remained still.

"No."

"You’re a Saint."

"Yes."

"Then heal him."

Elise didn’t defend herself.

"I can’t."

"Try again."

"I already did."

"Harder."

"That would kill him."

The woman gripped the edge of the bench.

"Then less."

Elise shook her head gently.

"There isn’t a weaker version that would work."

The man spoke.

"Mara."

The woman looked at him.

"No."

"Mara."

"Don’t talk."

"Let her."

Elise watched him.

He understood.

"How long?" he asked.

"Not much."

"Hours?"

Elise didn’t lie.

"Maybe."

Mara tightened her grip on his hand.

"Then we have hours."

The man looked at Elise.

"What happens if we wait?"

Halven lowered his eyes.

Elise answered.

"The curse will finish integrating."

"And then?"

"You may no longer control what you do."

"My body?"

"Your mind too."

There was a pause.

"My soul?"

Elise hesitated.

"Yes."

Mara interrupted.

"Then purify it when that happens."

Elise looked at her.

"Once it reaches that point, there may no longer be a way to separate one from the other."

"But he’s still here now."

That struck harder than Elise expected.

Because Mara was right.

Tomas was still there.

Conscious.

Afraid.

Capable of choosing.

Elise had treated cases like this before.

Church doctrine was clear.

Purification had to happen before corruption reached the point of no return.