In retrospect, Leon had been the wiser of the two, since her promise to return “soon” had been impossible from the start.
From the moment she crossed the threshold of the Papal Office, Veronica transformed into something entirely different. She was suddenly hope incarnate, sent by God to Karta—a heroine of sorts. She had doubted such a transformation was possible, yet here she stood. The reality was staggering.
The Pope’s first decree was to have her raven locks shorn. The purpose was to ensure that the sacred cross necklace remained prominently visible.
Her ebony tresses, which had grown past her shoulders, were cropped to chin length once again. Veronica didn’t particularly mind—she’d always found short hair more practical. She only briefly lamented that Leon would miss the long hair he loved to run his fingers through.
But sadly, Leon didn’t even get to see her new hairstyle. For the seven days following, Veronica was unable to meet him, as he remained stationed at the wall, while she was immersed in relief efforts for the desperate citizens.
When the church deliberately thrust her into the spotlight, she instantly became Karta’s most revered figure. Everyone knew Veronica, who appeared without fail at every gathering to distribute sustenance, tend to the wounded, and guide the souls of the departed. She was a vision in an immaculate white gown, the sacred cross necklace gleaming at her throat, the divine sword Genesis gripped in one delicate hand.
She swiftly crystallized into a living symbol.
They said a name shapes a person’s destiny. According to scholars, no evidence existed that a “Saint Veronica” from the ancient texts ever actually walked among the living. And just like her counterpart, Veronica Schwarzwald was also a fabrication, a manufactured beacon of hope—the daughter of God who had miraculously resisted corruption and prophesied Karta’s impending doom.
It was utterly preposterous, yet the masses actually seemed to believe it. Those who had suffered a loss were particularly susceptible. The desperate souls seeking something—anything—to cling to grasped at her flowing garments, kneeling before her as they repented with tears streaming down their faces.
I’m deceiving them, Veronica thought guiltily. Yet simultaneously, she recognized this charade as an unparalleled opportunity.
That was why she willingly went along with the church, even at the cost of separation from Leon. Even as she lent a helping hand, Veronica subtly wove rumors about the wilderness among the citizens. During prayers, she whispered cryptic warnings, telling them to be quiet as the Bahamuts might overhear. In this way, she was slowly disseminating vital information without arousing the church’s suspicion.
“Hmm, clever approach, but you’ll struggle to mobilize all of Karta that way.”
When she confided her strategy, Joachim—with whom she’d developed a surprising camaraderie over the week, largely due to their shared age—shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
“The masses are far more dim-witted and fickle than you imagine. You need something truly shocking. A miracle that sears itself into memory, like when you obliterated that Bahamut’s skull in the square.”
“Sir Kaisenmier, I must insist you mind your language. Regardless of worldly station, within these sacred halls, we are all but humble servants before God.”
Oscar, approaching with a meal tray, made no effort to mask his distaste for Joachim’s casual way of talking. The two men assigned to Veronica’s protection were fundamentally incompatible. While Joachim exuded a roguish charm tempered with surprising perceptiveness, Oscar maintained a frigid propriety that often revealed a naïveté about human nature.
“I took no offense at his candor. Please, it’s quite all right.”
Veronica swiftly intervened on Joachim’s behalf, preventing further scolding. Then she sank into contemplation.
Something shocking? A miracle to inspire absolute conviction…
“Oscar, would you agree that people are most convinced by what they witness with their own eyes?”
“Yes, I believe that to be true.” Oscar responded with reluctance before adding, “That explains why, even in ancient times, the Lord demonstrated His power through the Ten Plagues when guiding His flock to the promised land. Only such divine manifestations could pierce their doubt.”
The Ten Plagues.
Veronica, who had been absently tearing her bread without eating it, suddenly raised her head, eyes alight with inspiration.
The episode Oscar referenced was a well-known story in the Divine Text—the exodus tale describing how God unleashed ten devastating plagues upon a kingdom to liberate His people from oppression.
“Yes! That story is known to every child in Karta. That’s precisely what we need.”
“I—what? Surely you aren’t suggesting… you cannot mean to bring ten plagues upon Karta itself?”
“No, nothing so extreme. One plague will suffice. A single, unforgettable event that will shake them to their core.”
Veronica rose to her feet, her eyes gleaming.
“I’ll need both of you for what comes next.”
The two men, who had been at odds for days, exchanged bewildered glances. For once, they shared a perfect understanding as identical expressions of confusion crossed their faces.
✦ ✦ ✦
Heinz’s boots echoed against the floor as he approached Leon, who sat perched on the pristine white rampart, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon.
“Already on your feet? Are your wounds truly healed enough?” Heinz asked.
Leon answered with characteristic dryness, not bothering to look at his friend. “After being blessed by the cross’s divine mercy, it would be wasteful to languish in bed.”
“Is it true that the woman actually wielded the cross’s power?”
Leon offered no response. The fierce wind whipped through his hair, tousling it wildly before rushing onward. His miraculous recovery seemed answer enough, though—Heinz stroked his beard in undisguised amazement.
“I’ve heard she’s playing the role of a saint these days,” he remarked. “I suppose she has the qualification for it after all.”
The cross was a sacred relic priests once used for healing in ancient times—though its terrible price ensured that it didn’t remain in use for long.
“Aren’t you afraid?” Heinz blurted, after studying Leon from the corner of his eye for a moment. “When that borrowed holy power leaves your body, the agony will be worse than death itself.”
Leon was intimately familiar with this fact from the church’s ancient records. The artificial holy power bestowed by the cross was notoriously ephemeral—a week, a month, or at most half a year.
The holy power that had substituted for his life force would eventually return to the sacred relic. When that happened, the human who had received healing would pay the ultimate price—an excruciating torment of blood draining away and flesh dissolving into nothing.
Worse still, during this agonizing time, one couldn’t even choose to die quickly—as you had to endure for precisely as long as the extra time given to you by the cross. According to the records, the sight alone was so revolting that it would make even the strongest stomach turn.
The 120th Pope Anastasio, after witnessing his people dissolving into dust, prohibited the use of the cross without papal permission. This was how a simple cross necklace had become a symbol of papal authority.
Though he couldn’t have dared say it aloud since it was God’s sacred object, Anastasio must have believed in his heart that it was the devil’s necklace.
“Well,” Leon said, “it’s far too cold today to fear the fire that hasn’t happened yet. I wonder if Karta will even survive until the holy power abandons my flesh.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared at the faint crimson dots glimmering ominously at the edge of the vast field. The Bahamuts had opened their eyes. This attack would be utterly unlike the previous incursions. This time, the monsters weren’t searching for someone specific, nor were they charging in blindly. The regular army would be worse than useless—they would only become corrupted. The walls would inevitably fall.
Leon thought Veronica must be aware of the dire situation as well. That must be why she was focusing her efforts on evacuating the people to the wilderness.
Selfishly, desperately, he yearned to see her. He wished she would cast aside all concern for others’ safety and remain by his side until the bitter end. This was beyond reason—it was an illness, an obsession. He had recognized his own madness long ago. As one of the pillars of his beliefs had crumbled, his longing for her had grown fiercer in its place.
Even though he’d only held her for a few precious days, it felt like he’d already become accustomed to it. Leon found that he couldn’t quite fall asleep on a bed that lacked her warmth, comforting himself with the lingering scent she had left on the blankets.
“Are you truly all right?” Heinz asked as Leon flopped onto his back. “I told you not to push yourself.”
Leon shielded his eyes from the merciless sunlight with his arm.
I fear this unquenchable thirst far more than the pain of death, he thought. This relentless desire might someday consume me completely, leaving nothing but ashes.
“Oh, my monthly cycles have actually stopped.”
She would never know what impossible future he’d dared to dream of when he’d heard those words falling from her lips.