Chapter 966 - 965: The Saintess Arrives

The Saintess and Sir Luke left Miresti after assigning two soldiers to guard the village and Rowan’s parents.

The remaining fourteen riders gathered behind them.

Rowan sat behind Luke, his broken sword secured at his side.

"Hold on tightly," Luke told him. "We won’t be moving slowly."

Rowan wrapped his arms around the man’s armoured waist.

The Saintess urged her horse forward.

A moment later, the squad followed. Hooves struck the wet road, and the ruined houses began slipping past faster than Rowan could turn his head.

He looked back once.

Two white-armoured figures remained among the wreckage. Beyond them was the place where his home had stood.

His parents disappeared behind a broken wall.

’I’ll kill you.’

He pictured the demon with four pale horns and crimson eyes.

’I don’t care how long it takes but I’ll kill you.’

The road curved, and Miresti vanished.

Rowan faced forward.

The riders around him kept their formation even as their horses stretched into a full gallop. Gold flashed along white helmets. Crosses marked their breastplates and the armour guarding their mounts.

An ivory horn cut through the wind beside him.

He had never been so close to people like these.

Even without knowing how to judge their auras, he could feel the strength surrounding him. The horses alone made the animals he had known in Miresti seem small.

Luke sat steady before him, guiding his mount over broken ground as though he knew where each hoof would land.

’Could they kill him?’

Rowan watched a rider clear a fallen tree.

Perhaps they could.

But he knew too little about the world to judge. Until today, he had never seen a demon, much less understood what could kill one.

Another thought followed.

If they killed that demon, would he be satisfied?

He wanted him dead.

But did he want someone else to do it before he had his chance?

Rowan could not find an answer.

He tightened his hold as the horses climbed.

The journey did not remain uninterrupted.

They found another village beneath a damaged slope. Rocks had crashed through its roofs, and a deep scar crossed the road beyond it. Survivors were pulling bodies from beneath the rubble.

Farther on, a mountain’s shoulder had collapsed. Dust still drifted from the exposed stone, settling upon houses crushed at its base.

At each stop, they heard pieces of the same account.

A red-haired human.

A black-skinned demon with six wings.

The human fleeing. The demon catching him. Impacts that had reached people who never had a chance to escape.

Rowan listened closely whenever someone described those pale horns.

The Saintess grew quieter.

Every covered body tightened the pain in her chest. Every frightened account gave her another reason to hate the creature responsible.

Yet when someone reached for her, she stopped.

White light gathered around her tired hands. She closed wounds, eased broken breathing, and stayed beside people whose grief no Blessing could remove.

Luke watched the colour drain further from her face.

She still refused to leave anyone she could help.

Between villages, the squad rode as fast as the road allowed.

Eventually, the last rise fell away before them.

The Carpathian battlefield filled the basin below.

Luke drew his reins and stared at the battlefield with narrowed eyes.

He had seen fields like this. He had fought on them.

Knowing what he was looking at did not make it easier.

Trenches ended inside craters. Defensive walls had been reduced to broken foundations. Cannon barrels protruded from rubble, and smoke rose from fires scattered across the slopes.

Bodies lay everywhere.

Some were gathered into rows. Others remained beneath fallen stone or beside the weapons they had died holding. Blood darkened the ground between them.

The Saintess’s breath caught.

For several seconds, she could not take another.

The villages had been terrible. This stretched so far that she could not find an end to the destruction.

Tiny figures moved between the dead.

Healers. Soldiers carrying stretchers. People searching for someone.

She gripped the reins until her hands hurt.

Behind Luke, Rowan’s eyes widened at the size of the basin.

Then he began searching.

He looked at the sky first, then the taller shapes standing among the ruins.

Six wings should have been easy to notice.

But the distance defeated him. He could distinguish movement, not faces. He was still an ordinary boy, no matter what had brought him back to life.

"Rowan?"

He turned toward the Saintess.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes."

She studied his calm face.

"This must be your first time seeing a battlefield. You don’t have to pretend you’re fine."

"It is my first time," he said. "But I’m all right."

He looked at her more carefully.

"Are you? You’re pale."

She blinked.

"I’m fine. Thank you for asking."

Her gaze returned to the basin.

"Sir Luke... it seems the battle is over."

He examined the ground below.

"I can’t see the rift. There are very few demons left."

A flash rose near a ruined trench.

"Some fighting here and there. But it looks as though the main battle has ended."

The Saintess frowned.

"Then what happened? We came to reinforce them."

"I’m wondering the same thing too."

Luke’s eyes narrowed as he searched beyond the scattered skirmishes.

"There. The strongest human auras are gathered near the edge. We should speak to them."

She nodded.

They descended at a controlled pace, slower than their earlier gallop but without wasting time.

Most of the demons had escaped before Simon sealed the rift. Those who had failed to reach it were scattered across the battlefield, cut off from the demonic energy that had sustained the invasion.

Some still fought.

One lunged from behind a broken wall as the riders approached.

A soldier turned his horse, lowered his spear, and drove the point through its chest.

He withdrew the weapon without slowing the others.

Two more demons were pressing a wounded human against a collapsed cannon. Three riders broke away. Steel flashed, and both demons fell.

One rider dismounted to help the human stand.

The squad continued.

Every demon along their route was cut down. Whenever they reached a human who needed help, someone left the formation to assist.

The Saintess watched a soldier kneel beside a bleeding man, then motion for a nearby healer.

Humans began turning toward them.

"Who are they?"

"Reinforcements?"

No one tried to bar their way.

A man leaning on a spear stared at the markings on a passing breastplate.

"That cross..."

Beside him, a woman lifted her head, recognition flashing in her eyes.

"Isn’t that...?"

Their voices faded as Luke rode past.

He was not deliberately releasing his aura. Even so, the exhausted fighters nearest him stiffened.

"An S-rank," someone whispered.

Another human lowered his weapon and stepped aside.

Rowan heard them.

More importantly, he watched.

A rider caught an enemy’s weapon with his shield before striking. Another guided his horse away from a trapped soldier rather than jumping over him.

Rowan followed their hands, their feet, the moments when they attacked.

He had thrust his father’s sword with everything he possessed.

These people did not seem to waste a movement.

Near the gathering of commanders, Luke raised a hand.

"Assist the remaining units. Clear out the demons and help the wounded."

The soldiers still following them dispersed.

Luke and the Saintess continued, with Rowan seated behind him.

Mara Veles turned toward the approaching horses.

The rings within her metallic eye shifted. Pavel’s lenses paused, and Ilona straightened from beside a wounded soldier. Dorian stood near Tomas, whose fingers remained tight around his spear.

Their attention settled on Luke.

An S-rank.

Mara was A-rank. Pavel, Ilona, and Dorian were B-ranks. None had expected reinforcements of this strength.

Then Mara saw the woman accompanying him.

Her eyes widened.

She stepped forward immediately.

"Saintess Celeste of the Holy Kingdom of Aurelia."

Mara bowed her head before turning briefly toward the armoured man.

"Sir Luke."

The Saintess wore no armour and carried no visible weapon, but Mara knew which of the two held greater authority.

"Your presence honours the Carpathian Front," she said. "Forgive the state of our welcome."

"Thank you, Commander."

The Saintess brought her horse to a halt.

"You are Mara Veles, commander of the Carpathian Front, correct?"

"Yes, Saintess."

Celeste looked past her at the shattered basin, then back into her face.

"Please tell us exactly what happened here. Where is the rift, and why does it look as though the battle is already over?"

Her fingers tightened around the reins.

"Have you already repelled the demons?"