Veronica had always feared death. The unknown void beyond terrified her—both what might await and the hollow possibility that nothing would. At least, that was what she’d told herself. Only as consciousness slipped away did her true fear surface:
What about you? If I die, how will you manage alone?
She tried desperately to open her eyes one last time to see his face, but her body had already surrendered. The moment her grip on consciousness failed, darkness swept her away. With her feet caught in a black quagmire, Veronica sank helplessly into oblivion.
The darkness stretched endlessly until it transformed into a brilliant blue sky. Peaceful Bayern appeared before her—her mother still alive and vibrant, friends laughing together, her father’s warm smile, those familiar shabby alleyways filled with childhood memories, and the dazzling sapphire sea where she’d once spotted a whale’s majestic form breaking the surface…
She drifted through an endless dream. It was a dream where she knew she was dreaming, because Leon sat beside her at the shoreline.
Perhaps this is life’s final gift—a beautiful montage of my most treasured memories before the final curtain falls.
But then…
She blinked, disoriented. The crisp morning air tickled her nose. As she tilted her head back, she found herself cradled in the arms of a strikingly handsome man who could only be Leon. He lay beside her, holding her protectively, and—most unusually—in deep, unguarded sleep. In fact, he was so deeply asleep that her stirring hadn’t woken him.
Suddenly worried, she quickly examined herself, finding her body miraculously healed without a single scar. No matter how powerful his holy magic was, could such terrible wounds truly vanish without leaving any mark? Had she somehow crossed into the afterlife?
Her hands, too, were perfectly intact. It felt like waking from a harrowing nightmare that had lasted forever. Though it seemed impossible, her mind felt crystal clear, and her body refreshed as though after the most restorative sleep. Had she not seen the massive skeletal remains scattered throughout the cave—bones far larger than any human’s—Veronica might have struggled to determine where dreams ended and reality began. The bleached bones of the Bahamuts suggested that significant time had passed.
So… could it be true?
“Am I alive?” Veronica wondered. “I am—I survived.”
Her loud voice must have penetrated his slumber, as Leon’s brow furrowed slightly. His eyes flickered open beneath disheveled crimson locks, resting upon her with momentary confusion before recognition dawned. Veronica beamed down at him.
“Wake up, Leon! It seems God has blessed us with a miracle. Our wounds have completely…”
Healed.
The word died in her throat. In one fluid motion, he sprang upright and crushed her against his chest in an embrace so fierce it stole her breath. Her words dissolved into muffled protests against his broad chest, leaving her startled and bewildered as a captured hare.
“Any pain?” His deep voice rumbled above her head.
“…Mmph,” came her muffled response.
Ignoring her predicament, Leon continued his interrogation with single-minded focus.
“Have you checked your injuries? Your hands?”
“I’m fine,” she managed, finally extricating her face from his embrace to gulp down precious air. “Though I should probably verify that all ten fingers and toes are still attached.”
The moment those words left her lips, his iron grip loosened. Glancing up in surprise, she caught him actually examining her hands with earnest concentration, and couldn’t suppress a burst of laughter.
“I’m joking! I’m whole and unharmed from head to toe, not a single piece missing.”
Despite her reassurance, Leon continued his visual inspection, anxiety still etched in the taut lines of his face. Veronica watched him with fond exasperation, bemused by his behavior—as though he were witnessing someone returned from death’s threshold. Knowing his concern sprang from deep affection rather than doubt, she found herself treasuring his attention. In truth, she savored it. No one had ever worried for her with such fierce devotion.
When his calloused fingers gently traced her cheekbone, the tender gesture sent warmth cascading through her. As the smile gradually faded from her lips, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with gentle insistence.
The kiss was relentless, profound, and gloriously messy—as if making up for time nearly lost forever. Their passionate connection felt less like physical desire and more like a desperate affirmation that they both still existed. Each movement of his lips sent ripples through the strong architecture of his jaw and throat. Breathlessly struggling to match his fervor, Veronica finally surrendered completely, wrapping her arms around his neck and climbing onto his lap. As she rose to meet him, her head tilted naturally to deepen their connection. When she finally broke away, gasping for air, his eyes—dark with desire—gazed down at her. His moistened lips gleamed in the dim light.
“You’re like an enormous puppy,” she murmured, her voice husky as his lips blazed a trail down her neck.
One delicate strap of her chemise slipped from her shoulder. As she threaded her fingers through his tousled crimson hair, his large hands caressed her back with reverent uncertainty, as though she might shatter under his touch. His every gesture was paradoxically both wolf-like in intensity and puppy-like in vulnerability.
“…I thought I’d lost you forever,” he confessed, his whisper muffled against the hollow of her throat.
Veronica released a soft, affectionate laugh. “I thought the same. I was certain I was going to die, and I wept so shamefully… Can we pretend that it was all a terrible dream?”
She felt foolish now for having sobbed so desperately when she appeared perfectly fine. She forced a laugh out of embarrassment, expecting him to join her in relieved humor, but Leon maintained an unsettling silence. The moment she sensed something amiss, he slowly raised his gaze to meet hers. As their eyes locked, the smile gradually withered from Veronica’s lips.
Wait a moment.
“I mean… it can’t be that…” She gulped nervously. “Did I actually die?”
Leon said nothing and continued to stare at her.
“No, that’s impossible,” she protested weakly.
She mumbled disjointed thoughts, desperately hoping he would contradict her. Leon opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, his hardened expression only deepening her unease.
“It’s over now,” he finally said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“No, that’s not…” She struggled for words. “Then how could I…? How am I…?”
“After you died, I shattered the divine swords.”
Veronica couldn’t immediately comprehend his meaning.
But then, as her eyes widened in dawning horror, he elaborated, “Life force accumulated over a millennium would be more than enough to resurrect the dead.”
Following his gaze, she turned to behold the scattered golden fragments strewn across the stone. Though only the hilts remained intact, the broken pieces were unmistakably the remnants of Genesis and Apocalypse. They’d held a millennium’s worth of sacred power, enough to restore life to the dead and more. Veronica’s eyes darted frantically as the implications crashed over her.
“Is such a thing even possible? No, I mean— is it okay to do something like this?”
“There were other corpses scattered throughout the cave besides us,” Leon replied. “But only we were revived. I believe that was God’s answer.”
“But this isn’t something you can just attribute to God’s will and move on from!” Veronica protested. “I may not be particularly devout, but I understand what the divine swords mean to the church.”
Genesis and Apocalypse were the evidence that God truly existed—that the stories in the Divine Text weren’t mere myths but historical facts.
“People don’t believe what they can’t see with their own eyes,” she finished quietly.
“I know. I knew all that, but you meant more to me.”
His calm yet profound response left her speechless. He hadn’t treated the divine relics lightly—he had simply decided that she mattered more. Veronica clutched the fabric of her garment, twisting it between white-knuckled fingers.
“I can’t say I was in my right mind when I shattered the swords, but even now that I’m clearheaded, my judgment remains the same. One living person is more precious than dead swords.”
He was resolute. In that moment, Veronica truly understood what Leon had sacrificed, and that he had finally laid down the cross he had carried for so many years.
“As for faith itself,” he mused, “I wonder—is belief truly faith if it requires physical evidence? If so, haven’t we all been spiritual cripples, leaning on God’s staff rather than learning to walk the path ourselves?”
Leon’s face showed a faint bitterness as he gazed at the sword fragments. Since leaving Tyran, his sword had likely been his only constant companion.
She hoped he wouldn’t regret the path he had chosen. Without even realizing it, Veronica opened her arms and pulled his face tightly against her chest.
“You looked like you might cry,” she whispered.
They remained entwined there for what seemed an eternity, like mourners at the wake of a nameless friend.