Julius Tapnel, a man with blond hair who had regained some of his strength thanks to the holy water, brushed his soaked hair back once and slowly picked up the coat that had fallen at his feet.
“…Not bad.”
The black coat, once worn by his beloved other half, Cecil Lionelta, had dropped to the ground during the fierce battle. Torn in several places and heavily stained, it was a mess.
It was a miracle that it was still in one piece.
He slipped back into the coat, which was neatly tailored to his frame, and smiled in satisfaction as he caught a faint trace of her sweet, milky scent—now barely noticeable.
“Krail, if you were here, you’d probably say this.”
[Don’t make things complicated, idiot. Simple life is best.]
Recalling the words of his close friend, who always handled things in a careless yet oddly fitting way, he looked back at himself.
“Die!!!”
“You die, you dirty devil!!!”
Two women continued to throw punches at each other without pause.
As Julius watched Cecil, shouting through gritted teeth and scowling fiercely, he couldn’t help but laugh.
It should have been a serious situation—yet somehow, his mind felt clearer than ever.
Shooaaa—
A chilling sound echoed, like a blade being sharpened.
It was the voice of death, blooming fresh flowers of blood in the hands of an angel of mercy and love.
Thanks to Priestess Emily’s baptism with holy water, his vitality had returned. But the radiance of Tapnel, the angel of faith within him, had long since faded.
Within the context of the situation, defeat at the edge of the Holy Sword grew ever more apparent.
And so, the way to overcome this ordeal was simple.
“…Come.”
A pendulum tilted by the holy sword.
In that case, the only thing left to do was to bring forth that famous holy sword.
“…Nerondir.”
Julius slowly raised his right hand toward the holy sword, as if reaching out for a handshake.
His hand was wrapped in black bandages imbued with magic, tied by his beloved wife, Cecil.
“…You have lost your qualifications! If you’ve fallen to the devil’s whispers and chosen the path of corruption, the Holy Sword will not answer your call!”
Red petals, glowing with a brilliant crimson light, spun fiercely through the air, threatening to tear it open.
The sacred power wrapped around the holy sword swirled violently, as if trying to rip the body of the heretic inquisitor before him to shreds.
“…Come, Nerondir.”
“It’s no use! How many times must I tell you? Understand already!”
“Come, Nerondir.”
“…I’ll just finish this idiot off.”
Ziffnel slowly lowered the holy sword she had raised, as if drawing a line in the air with a pen.
With that motion, a wave of red petals followed, descending toward his head—
“Come, Nerondir.”
Then, the brilliant red blade of the holy sword in the angel’s hand—Nerondir—suddenly returned to its pure white hue and vanished from Ziffnel’s grasp like a mirage in midsummer.
“…What is this…?”
An incomprehensible situation.
Julius Tapnel had clearly lost his qualifications.
So why—why did the Holy Sword respond to his call?
A bead of cold sweat ran down the angel’s pretty cheek.
Reflected in her pink eyes was the figure of a man holding the holy sword, his hand slowly lifting it.
After Telmere, he was the second strongest human in history to wield the holy sword.
Julius Tapnel felt the chill of the pure white blade in his grasp and began to summon the brilliance in his heart.
It felt different from before.
Unlike the old Nerondir, which had simply been an unbreakable sword, the current Nerondir revealed its full power to him without hesitation.
“…I learned a lot about how to use it. Thank you for teaching me personally.”
Angel Ziffnel.
A drop of brilliance flowed through the holy sword.
The last bit of power squeezed from his depleted heart shone, slowly driving away the golden light that had dyed his body, adorning him instead with the vibrant hue of cherry blossom petals.
A handful of divinity continued to surge and eventually unfolded into [Infinity].
He took a deep breath, feeling the endless power of authority flowing through the holy sword.
He would bet everything at once.
No—if not once, then twice. If not twice, then three times.
For his beloved wife, Cecil Lionelta.
He would risk his heart to strike down the evil before his eyes.
“Krail, let me imitate you for a moment.”
With a mischievous smile, Julius lightly swung the holy sword. This time, a chill that froze even time itself emanated from Nerondir, which had turned a frigid blue.
“…That thing is dangerous. We have to stop it quickly….”
Just one move.
The current incomprehensible situation, created by Julius was shifting rapidly.
Ziffnel, who had been staring at him with helpless, empty eyes, began hastily summoning her divine power.
The black light drove out the pale red glow, taking its place once again.
Ziffnel, who felt her beautiful black hair slowly changing color, began to calmly consider her next move.
‘If we enter a contest of dominance, the Holy Sword will eventually return to me. First, block that strike… then call it back….’
“Ugh! Francis!”
The irritating voice of a woman she had forgotten was heard again.
At the call of the Immortal Priestess Emily, the hidden legendary unicorn revealed itself. The priestess, leaping high from the back of the divine beast, grabbed onto the angel’s wings.
“Let go this instant! You’re worse than a heretic! You, who forgot Telmere’s teachings and chose the path of heresy!”
“Julius! Don’t worry about me—just cut down Ziffnel!”
Emily struggled, gripping the angel’s wings with both arms and legs.
The celestial feathers woven with divinity burned her body, and her flesh began to melt.
But even that wasn’t enough to shatter the heart of a mother who was willing to burn herself to death for her child.
“…I am sorry, Priestess Emily and Ziffnel. Please do forgive my rudeness.”
Raynell’s power emanated from the holy sword held by the heretic inquisitor, who trembled with unfortunate persistence until the end, and it completely froze the power returning to Ziffnel’s body.
“No, no! I have to win! I can’t let those worthless things live!”
Now, Nerondir’s blade, glowing with a light so intense it hurt to look at, was slowly turning golden.
“Telmere, Telmere! I must punish the foolish people who have abandoned your teachings…”
Julius’s hand flared with light, and he unleashed a strike like a blazing sun toward the angel.
The brilliance of faith shot forth.
The appearance of the holy sword was exactly the same as when Telmere wielded it long ago.
Ziffnel let out a low sigh as she watched the flames flying not toward her wings, but her heart this time.
“…I’m sorry. This is your final request. I couldn’t fulfill it.”
[Ziffnel, please lead humans with kindness and love, and watch over them so they do not get swallowed by their own evil.]
An angel shed tears as she recalled the face of a saint who had ended his brief life in her arms.
Her heart was pierced, and golden flames engulfed her body.
‘Was I wrong? Please give me the answer, Telmere.’
Her eyes slowly closed.
Her question reached no one and simply disappeared into nothingness.
Puck──
The angel of mercy, who had once tried to slay both the priestess and the devil, fell helplessly to the ground.