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After going to the city and providing treatment at the clinic run by the church, I also participated in a soup kitchen organized by a church near the lower town as part of my volunteer work. There, I distributed bread, soup, and a small treat I recently started making as a personal touch (this time, it was madeleines) to slum children, war orphans, and wounded soldiers. By the time I finished, more than half of the day had passed.

“Lady Clara, thank you so much!”
“Lady Clara, can I really take some of these sweets for my little brothers, too?!”
“Thank you so much! Thanks to your advice, my beriberi is cured.”
“Thank you for purifying the graveyard on the outskirts of town. All of us residents are deeply grateful.”
“Thank you so much, Lady Clara. Because of you, my fingers can move again, and I can go back to work.”
“Thanks to your encouragement, my husband finally started working again.”
“Thanks to you petting my head, my stupidity is finally healed!”
“Thanks to seeing you, I finally started loving girls older than thirteen!”
“Lady Clara! Lady Clara!”

Waving back to everyone who sent me off with smiles, I put away my remaining supplies in my Close spell, holding onto only my staff, which was nearly as tall as I was. Slowly, I set off back to the church I belonged to, taking in the sights of Thera Maryth, the capital of the Eunice Theocracy.

In the northern region of the continent, security is poor, making it dangerous for a woman to walk alone even within city limits (though, of course, I have someone accompanying me). However, here, a city often referred to as the “Holy Capital” or the “Religious City,” a high percentage of residents are followers of the Saintess’ Church, so the security is relatively good. As I walked through the city, many strangers respectfully made the sign of the cross upon seeing my white, shrine maiden attire and greeted me.

“Thank you for your hard work, Lady Clara.”
“Thank you. May you be well.”

Having spent more than ten months here, I’ve grown accustomed to returning these greetings naturally with a smile.

Even so, there’s a slight sense of discomfort, as if being constantly watched by the residents in an uncomfortable way.

On the way back, I passed a kebab stand with a tempting aroma of spices, holding my stomach as it grumbled softly. Swallowing reflexively, I murmured to myself.

“Sigh… I suppose it wouldn’t do to eat street food dressed like this.”

I spent the entire day running around without a proper meal, only tasting bits from the soup kitchen. Naturally, I’m feeling both tired and hungry. However, as a clergy—especially a shrine maiden who values purity and modesty—it wouldn’t be fitting for me to buy food from a roadside stall. Even if my stomach approved, society would certainly disapprove.

It’s inconvenient at times like these… I thought, feeling a pang of regret as I walked past a tempting food cart. Just then, I happened to cross paths with a girl wearing the same white shrine maiden attire as mine.

While I was on foot, she was in a white-painted carriage, and by coincidence, we made eye contact as her carriage stopped at an intersection.

“Oh, Adelheid. On your way home? You must be exhausted, playing the waitress every time you venture down to the lower town. Trying to win their hearts is all well and good, but I certainly couldn’t stoop that low. —Though, I hear you’ve become quite skilled at it, so perhaps you’re merely returning to your roots? As a proper shrine maiden of the Saintess’ Church, one must carry themselves with elegance, even more so than nobility. Do you really think you’re up to the task? Do you really think you’re capable of that? Well, you seem to be getting by with a bit of showmanship for now, but it would be best if you didn’t push yourself too hard. If you feel too much of an overachiever, perhaps it’s best to step down before you embarrass yourself? Oh-hohohoho! Try not to reveal your true colors, will you, Miss Charlatan?”

The mockery in her words was clear, and the younger shrine maiden apprentices with her, all around early teens, snickered and watched for my reaction with smug looks.

—Good lord… such a blatant attempt at provocation.

Rather than feeling anger at their condescension, I found myself marveling, Wow, people who actually cover their mouths and laugh with an ‘Oh-hohoho’ exist! as though I’d encountered a rare creature. I couldn’t help but stare at her refined face.

Her name, by the way, is Eliza Farias, age fifteen—a year older than me. Her baptismal name is “Barbara.” She’s also a shrine maiden, but unlike me, she’s a true blue-blood, with both parents coming from a line of high-ranking clergymen in the order.

Given her personality, it’s only natural that Eliza would find me—a regular person suddenly recruited by the Order six months ago and fast-tracked to the rank of official miko, skipping about eight steps—both suspicious and irritating. Anyone would feel the same. I feel the same.

Granted, most people would have the sense not to show it so blatantly. In that regard, her open displays of hostility are almost endearing in their naiveté.

After all, I am indeed a nobody here, and I don’t particularly care about the role of “official shrine maiden.” I’d be happy to step down anytime. I’m only wearing these robes as a favor to the head of the Church in Clarus, who saved me from the brink of death ten months ago; it’s not as if this is what I wanted in the first place.

Just as I was thinking this, Eliza’s patience seemed to wear thin. She had ordered the coachman to stop despite the road being clear, her brow twitching in irritation.

“Say something, won’t you, Adelheid?”
“…”
“Do you even hear me, Adelheid?!”

After she’d repeated it several times, I finally realized she was talking to me.

“Oh, right. I go by ‘Adelheid’ now, don’t I? I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t recognize the name and just tuned it out.”

With my completely genuine explanation, Eliza’s temper flared past its breaking point.

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“…Honestly. To think it was the Saintess who revived me back then, or that Igoronak mistook me for the Saintess due to the transfusion, or that we’ve had a magical link all this time—being told all this out of nowhere just leaves me confused.”

If only I’d been informed gradually, I might have handled things differently.

As I muttered, Cestlavie looked at me as if I were some kind of strange creature.

“So the Saintess actually existed, huh? …And is she still teaching you through that link?”

I gently shook my head in response, double-checking just to be sure, and let out a sigh.

“No. It seems the amount of blood transferred was minimal, and that was several years ago. On top of that, I’ve lost so much blood today that the link has likely dissolved… so I can’t hear her voice anymore.”
“That’s a shame. I was hoping her power might help us escape from here…with time running out.”
“We’re not that lucky.”
“Tell me about it.”

As we spoke, the red glow surrounding us continued to contract, and though the lightning had faded, there was a strange feeling of distortion—a sensation that the very space around us was warping, or rather, compressing.

I could barely make out Cestlavie’s face beside me, but I turned in his direction on instinct and bowed my head.

“I’m sorry. In the end, you’ve gotten dragged into my misfortune.”

In response to my apologetic words, a strangely nonchalant voice came from Cestlavie.

“—No worries. We did everything we could, and it was fun, too.”

At the same time, I sensed the faintest trace of a smile, and I found a gentle smile forming on my own lips.

And then—

“All right! Coppelia, reactivated!”
““Too late!!””

Just as we delivered our synchronized quip to the newly rebooted Coppelia, the Ultimate Arcane Armament—the Dimension-Shattering Bomb—finished its compression phase, and the heart of the blast zone was engulfed in a brilliant flash.

♦♢♦♢

The long night had ended, and the morning sun was beginning to rise in a clear sky.

In the misty forest, Luke, hurrying toward his destination, stopped abruptly in front of a clearing about a hundred mertes across, where trees, grass, and even the ground itself were cleanly scooped away—as if sliced as smoothly as cream taken up with a spoon.

He had climbed up through a few hundred more mertes of the hillside, where large trees and boulders had been swept aside, only to arrive at a crater with a cross-section as neatly cut as if by a blade.

Standing on the edge of the utterly barren depression, he squinted, focusing his eyes. In the center of the crater, something piled up high caught his attention.

“What…? —Jill!”

“Lord Lucas, it’s dangerous to go alone!”
“Hold on! We don’t know what could be here yet!”
“Calm down! I understand you’re worried, but going alone is risky!”

Ignoring the sounds of multiple footsteps and concerned voices pursuing him from behind, Luke leaped into the crater without a second thought and sprinted toward its center.

“Jill! Jill! Jiill!”

Before long, he stopped in front of a mound, illuminated by the crimson dawn, staring up at it in stunned silence.

“…What is this?”

In a word, it looked like a heap of miscellaneous goods.

Bags of flour, logs, clothing, buckets of water, medicines, books, cups and plates, various daily necessities—and even an assortment of mysterious magical items and weapons like swords and spears—all piled high, like the stock of a small fortress.

“What is this doing here?”

Viola and the others, who had caught up to him, stared up at the sight with equally astonished faces.

Just then, Vier began sniffing around the pile, turning over some of the objects until he pulled something out.

Eren’s face paled the moment she saw what it had found.

“That’s… that’s my maid uniform! I gave it to Lady Jill to store safely—why is it here!?”

Snatching it from Vier, Eren inspected the garment closely, confirming beyond a doubt that it was hers.

Hearing this, Lieselotte’s face tightened with a grimace, and she spoke as if holding back some pain.

“…You said you gave it to Jill. If I recall, Jill could use the Close spell. For it to be here now means…”

“—”

Without needing to say it, everyone’s minds filled in the answer, etched like blood-red letters across their thoughts.

“No… No, that can’t be true! Jill promised to return! She even promised to think about my confession… so, so… Jill!!”

Luke dropped to his knees, pounding his fists against the ground, his cries echoing like a child’s.

Eren began sobbing in large, heaving gasps, while Vier, looking lost and despairing, raised its head and let out a long, thin howl into the sky.

Lieselotte and Viola stood frozen, watching the scene unfold, their expressions hardened in silent grief.

Above them, the bright sun shone down, marking the end of the long night…

♦♢♦♢

—Third Volume – Julia in Academy, Concluded—

On the opposite side of Lake Quartz, deep within the forest—

A dark, tattered bundle began to stir.

“Ugh… haah, haah… That was close.”

Through labored breaths, the figure —though its black hair and beard had turned stark white, and its skin had withered like that of a mummy— was unmistakably recognizable as Igoronak. Rising on unsteady legs, he surveyed his surroundings.

“I sacrificed nearly all my magic and spiritual body, but here I am, still breathing. I’ve lost much, but it’s not an irreparable loss. I may not be able to act openly for a while, but with the right strategy, I could regain my strength in a few years. For now, patience is the key.”

In his eyes, an unfathomable madness and seething hatred still swirled.

“Just you wait, Saintess. My revenge is only beginning.”
“No… this ends here.”

A cool, steady voice came from nowhere, and Igoronak tensed, summoning black flames into his palm as he spun around.

“I’m not as forgiving as the Princess, you see. For a stain like you to exist—and worse, to harbor such hostility—makes tearing you apart seem insufficient. …Oh, and there’s no escaping me.”

“「M…Megiddo!!」” With a panicked curse, he unleashed black flames in every direction, but they dispersed in vain against an invisible barrier.

In sync with his attack, a young man, pale-haired and draped in a veil, appeared out of the empty space around them.

“Wh-, who are you…?” Igoronak rasped.

The youth shrugged, responding calmly, “I have no name worth giving to the likes of you. Let’s just say I’m a ‘Guardian’ of the Superempire.”

“Su…Superempire?! Why… are you here?!”

Ignoring the question, the Guardian cast a sidelong glance at something beyond Igoronak, prompting him to turn. His entire body froze in terror.

Standing with folded arms was a towering man with golden hair and pure white wings. He was even taller than Igoronak, with a broad frame and steely muscles that radiated an overwhelming, oppressive presence. His striking face held an intense, piercing gaze that locked onto Igoronak.

“An angel… no, something else?”

Overwhelmed by the warrior’s imposing aura, Igoronak held his breath.

“I am Bartholomew, the ‘Angel of Harbinger of Death’ and Palace Knight of the Scarlet Empire’s royal palace, Houzuki is my name. Know, wretched one, that your sins can no longer be absolved. Thus, I shall judge you here and now!”

Somehow, he had produced an enormous black halberd, as if it had appeared from thin air.

“No!” Igoronak tried to cry out, perhaps to beg for mercy.

Without any intention of listening, Bartholomew swung, cutting off Igoronak’s attempt to escape. The Guardian sneered, “There’s no escaping this time. No more severed tails like a lizard.”

In an instant, Igoronak’s body shattered, scattering into pieces engulfed in blue flames that devoured every trace until nothing remained.

Watching the last remnants vanish as if they’d been nothing more than an illusion, the Guardian let out a faint, satisfied snort.

“Good work. Since the issue’s been resolved, I’ll be heading back. Do you wish to return with me to the homeland? I can teleport us from here.”

Bartholomew dismissed his weapon and kneeled, bowing slightly.

“No, I have some loose ends to tie up here. I plan to stay a while longer.”
“As you wish. Just don’t overdo it.”

The Guardian turned as if he didn’t care one way or the other, but Bartholomew looked up, hesitant, before finally speaking.

“May I ask for a moment? Following the explosion, the whereabouts of certain key individuals remain unknown. Would you happen to know their status?”

Sensing the strain in his voice, the Guardian paused.

“Oh? You’re quite invested, I see.”

Bartholomew met the Guardian’s gaze in silence, showing no reaction to the teasing remark.

With a smirk, the Guardian shrugged and replied, “They’re alive. However, due to spatial disturbances, they appear to have been thrown into some other place… though there might be some minor error in the location, it should be around—”

Bartholomew’s face briefly showed relief, but his eyes widened in shock at the Guardian’s next words.