Leon stared intently at the wind-swept passage, his instincts stirring to life. This dark path would lead him to her—he felt it in his very bones. The back of his neck tingled with a cool, premonitory sensation.
Where are you now, Veronica? In what forsaken abyss are you crying alone while I search for you?
“I’ve heard whispers about secret passages beneath the Grand Cathedral before, but this is my first time seeing one with my own eyes,” Philip remarked, stroking his chin with a furrowed brow as he approached. The rectangular tunnel was big enough for men of their knightly build.
“This is fortunate. Should another invasion occur, we could easily—”
“I’ll leave the rest in your hands,” Leon cut in, beginning to fasten his loosened armor plates.
Philip hesitated, then shot him an incredulous look. “Have you lost your mind? Surely you don’t believe that woman awaits you in there?”
“The divine sword revealed the path. I thought you witnessed it too—or were you keeping your eyes deliberately closed?”
Veronica had chosen humanity’s salvation over remaining by his side. After bestowing him her mercy and grace, she had left without a backward glance.
How utterly irresponsible for a deity to flee after granting salvation, he thought. He had earned the right to serve at her side, to worship at her feet.
“Because it trembled when you mentioned the woman, you believe it will guide you to her location?” Philip scoffed. “How conveniently self-serving. People invariably see what they desperately wish to see.”
“Just as the vice commander responsible for the Holy Knight Order saw an escape route?” Leon countered.
Philip merely arched one eyebrow. Leon finished his preparations and turned back to Philip.
“Fine. Let’s talk logically, then. This sword isn’t simply pointing toward her location.”
“What are you saying?”
“If the divine sword yearns to go somewhere, then—logically—what do you think is awaiting on the other side? Or shall I say who?”
Philip’s face hardened, the realization striking him. Apocalypse was no ordinary blade, but a sacred weapon that chose its wielder. But even that bond was merely temporary—the sword’s true master existed elsewhere. In other words, the one the divine blade was desperately straining to return to was…
Ripples of understanding disturbed the violet depths of Philip’s eyes. There was precious little mortals could do when confronted with divine will. After a weighted silence, he reluctantly shook his head.
“Journeying to the Blasen Mountains in your condition will be an arduous ordeal. Unknown dangers may lurk along the way, and you can’t take a mount through such a narrow passage.”
Though his words sounded like dissuasion, Leon recognized them as reluctant acquiescence. He immediately seized upon the place name that had slipped into Philip’s carefully measured speech.
“Blasen?”
Philip offered no elaboration. With his meticulous nature, such an unintentional slip was impossible. He had deliberately planted that information.
After a moment, Leon nodded in understanding. It seemed Philip had made a vow of silence to someone.
“So Veronica has gone to the Blasen Mountains,” he concluded. “I appreciate the intelligence.”
“If you insist on expressing gratitude, direct it toward the fact that I still treat you as a superior officer despite everything.”
“I see that as your knightly honor triumphing over your noble bloodline,” Leon replied casually.
Philip, leaning against the cold stone wall, let out a soft chuckle. In truth, beyond the sacred halls of the Order, it was unthinkable for a high nobleman like Wittelsbach to show deference to a commoner, especially one bearing the name Berg. They stood in charged silence for a moment, both pretending as if they had never discovered any secret passage at all.
Then Philip abruptly broke the stillness. “Do you truly believe God resided within that woman’s mortal form?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then was I attempting to execute the Divine?”
Leon, who had been flexing his scarred hand to assess the severity of his wounds, raised his gaze to meet Philip’s troubled eyes. When Veronica had been detained at the Papal Office, Philip had pronounced the death sentence upon the Corrupted.
“Perhaps,” he repeated, the single word hanging heavy between them.
A laugh bordering on despair escaped Philip’s lips. His cynical response was understandable. A woman containing God’s essence—it sounded precisely like the blasphemous claims of heretics.
Having finally suppressed his bitter laughter, Philip muttered as if changing the subject entirely, “Two weeks past, His Imperial Majesty Emperor Kaisenmier drew his final breath.”
Leon remained silent, his face impassive.
“Then the gossiping nobility whispering about the Corrupted—including the figurehead princess—met their ends, as well.”
Still, Leon offered no response.
“And finally, mere days ago, His Holiness the Pope passed away. They discovered an executioner’s axe embedded in his skull, his corpse burned beyond recognition. Some knights claim he was blessed by divine mercy not to witness Karta’s downfall, but even so, it seems an excessively gruesome fate for God’s chosen representative.”
At first glance, it appeared he was simply mourning the deaths of distinguished figures. But both men understood the unspoken truth: those mentioned had all persecuted Veronica with religious fervor.
Philip glanced at Leon’s face. “Judging by your expression, you already knew of these… coincidences.”
Coincidence? Impossible. The wheel of fate and divine retribution turned inexorably and according to God’s inscrutable will, while mortals remained blind to the greater design.
“When news of His Holiness’s grisly demise reached me, I confess I prepared myself for a similar fate,” Philip admitted.
“That must have sharpened your combat readiness,” Leon said, breaking his silence. “If you wish, I can relay your gratitude when I find her.”
His words seemed calculated to prevent whatever Philip might say next, but the vice commander appeared unbothered. Lost in thought, Philip slowly pushed himself away from the wall, his armor plates catching the dim light.
“Skip the gratitude and tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t honor my pledge. Inform her I attempted to prevent you from pursuing her, but you proved too stubborn for me.”
Leon looked directly into the eyes of the Holy Knight Order’s final vice commander, who was tacitly permitting his departure. There was no trace of regret in his gaze.
“I shall pray for a reunion,” Philip said with surprising sincerity. “From the depths of my soul.”
The statement hung in the air, deliberately ambiguous. Philip had not specified which reunion he hoped for—Leon and Veronica, or himself and Leon.
With a subtle gesture, Philip beckoned to Joachim, who had been maintaining a respectful distance. After receiving brief instructions, the apprentice knight immediately rushed off to gather a week’s worth of provisions and water. Meanwhile, Apocalypse continued its restless rattling against Leon’s hip, urging him onward. It was as though the blade was hearing the desperate cries of its twin across impossible distances.