Chapter 13
“Helios seemed busy, so… please accept this.”
“…Huh? Ah.”
Laila handed over a neatly wrapped box. Mari, who had been watching the situation unfold absentmindedly, accepted it in a daze.
“This is a small gift for first-time visitors. Lady Enya personally prepared it, so please deliver it carefully.”
With her smile, the wall behind Helios rippled and transformed into the door at the entrance of the Mage Tower.
It was clearly a farewell gift.
“May your god’s blessing accompany you until you return.”
Unlike the master of the Mage Tower, Laila’s farewell was warm.
After the paladins left, Laila entered Enya’s bedroom. Enya was lying face down on a bed at least ten times her size, buried in the covers, while Hasan sat beside her reading a book.
Laila sat at the edge of the bed and asked Hasan,
“Still like this?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded without taking his eyes off the book.
“Have you tried giving her the cookies she likes? You said you baked them yourself, right?”
“I did.”
Laila collapsed onto the bed and rolled over, poking Enya in the shoulder.
“Lady Enya. You’re not dead, right?”
“I am.”
A weak voice burrowed through the blankets. Laila propped her chin on her hands.
“Why not just be honest about it? You’ve both been on the battlefield for a long time and are far from politics, so you might actually get along surprisingly well.”
Enya gave a wry smile, turning her head. Her eyes were still childlike yet blackened and worn like an old person’s, and she stared at Laila.
“What good would it do to be friends with that? You two are enough for me.”
Laila knew that they weren’t enough for Enya. They were her burdens to bear, reminders of her guilt and her past wounds—not people she could confide in.
Laila gently looked at her mistress.
“Still… it’s better than fighting, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s fine. Like you said, this isn’t the first time… this is just… exceptional this time.”
Enya trailed off mid-sentence. Even in front of Helios, she didn’t understand why she felt this way. Helios, as a person, was undeniably brilliant at riling her up.
“Honestly, I can’t promise not to fight anymore, but soon this will all be over. Just pretend you didn’t see anything.”
Enya rolled back and closed her eyes.
‘I never asked you for an apology. Be satisfied with this.’
‘I haven’t done anything wrong to you.’
‘Really? Nothing at all?’
Her wrongdoing was judging her arbitrarily and being rude. But looking back, there wasn’t really any reason for him to apologize or feel sorry. He was, after all, a splendid knight who treasured his people and the West, while she had killed her mentor and comrades to take the Mage Tower.
It was impossible to erase the past like deleting unnecessary words in an unsent letter. The past could not be changed, and what had to be endured was the present self. Yet…
“Can’t help getting angry, though.”
Enya growled, and Hasan and Laila exchanged glances across her.
“Hasan, you know… I like that person.”
“I do too, Laila.”
“Eh? What do you even see in him?”
Hasan raised his elegant, long fingers and poked her eyelid.
“Meeting him made her eyes shine again.”
“Exactly, exactly. Usually, she looks like a dead bug.”
Enya was dumbfounded and tried to shoo them away, but they clung even tighter to her.
“What are you even talking about? This isn’t liveliness—it’s deceit!”
“Fine, fine. Let’s just say it’s that. Right, Hasan?”
“Yeah, right.”
“Well….”
Exhausted beyond the strength of a single day, or even a month, Enya sagged again. They, meanwhile, grinned at each other like fools.
“Good, then. If you two are happy, fine.”
Enya patted their shoulders weakly. The long day at the Mage Tower ended with them clinging together.
“Endure it. Remember this pain.”
“Please, Commander!”
“This is my fault for not training you properly.”
Ten days had passed since visiting Morgenda’s Mage Tower, and for several days at the temple, some ridiculous events had unfolded. Gray was doing handstands and push-ups, stripped to his torso, while Helios gave only curt commands like “Do more, keep going.”
Paladins from the West gathered near Mari to watch Gray’s torment. Mateus, another paladin watching, poked Mari.
“Why is he the only one being punished? Didn’t you also fall victim to Enya’s hallucinations?”
Indeed, Gray had suffered ten days of grueling “training” as punishment for succumbing to Enya’s illusions. Mari had been spared.
Mari shrugged.
“Helios was lenient because it’s Prince Ogotai. Enough to forgive him.”
“Ah! Fair enough. The prince’s charm captivates anyone, regardless of gender or age.”
Mateus laughed and shrugged.
“Not my type, though.”
Upon mentioning Ogotai, the other paladins immediately understood and started chatting amongst themselves.
“The Mage Tower’s master is skilled… seems the commander approves of his Ogotai technique.”
“Crazy. I want to see it too.”
“I only saw the prince from afar, but amazing. Especially his back.”
“If it’s the prince, I’d even accept a lizard tail.”
“Ask him during the next training. Haha, Gray’s crying. Gross.”
Gray’s agony had become entertainment. He begged the commander in tears.
“Please, spare me! Please! Commander! No, brother!”
“It’s my fault, Gray. Endure it.”
Helios’ “fault” referred to this.
Over ten years ago, Helios had gone west alone with a humble sword. He recruited so-called “paladins” from among criminals’ children and abandoned orphans—scraps who had survived the wastelands.
He enlisted them in the name of God, made them swear oaths, and turned them into paladins. The Western paladins’ nature was closer to mercenaries, which was a secret among themselves.
Yet the bond wasn’t transactional. They had spent over ten years together—they were family, comrades, friends, and brothers.
Their goal was clear: make Helios the true master of the West, give the nameless West a proper name, and establish a knight order that had defeated the Demon King, not just paladins.
They ultimately defeated the Demon King, but their fatal flaw was lacking proper training and education in the temple.
The absence of proper training—that was Helios’ “fault.”
“Gray, you’re doing well. Your faith is strong, and your knightly virtues are solid. You’re skilled with a sword.”
“T-Thanks, brother!”
“But I didn’t realize you’d be so weak against older women. That’s my fault for not training you.”
Helios wore a black tunic and leather pants suitable for movement. He looked like the Helios of the West, but his posture, fluent speech, and radiant appearance marked him as a truly holy knight.
“Repeat after me: ‘Lady Sister,’ and bend your arms. Remember this pain whenever you see an older woman.”
“Huhhh… sister! N-No! Lady Sister!”
“One time.”
“Nnngh! Lady Sister!”
“Two times. Twenty-nine more to go.”
Though the training seemed ridiculous, Helios was serious. Mari chuckled at Gray’s writhing.
‘A bit excessive, isn’t it?’
Even with clerics trained to suppress desire, this bordered on torture and could risk psychological harm.
Yet no one stopped Helios. Everyone knew his temperament—both dignified and ferocious when he had a goal.
The goal to survive,
the goal to protect his people,
the goal to claim the West,
and the goal not to fall for Enya’s hallucinations…
Helios seemed unusually diligent when it came to matters involving Enya.
Everyone had long given up trying to understand him. No matter what, “better not get caught in the crossfire” was their common thought.
“Ah, Gray’s done. Let’s take him away.”
Finally, after thirty repetitions, Gray collapsed, panting, and the excited paladins dragged him out by his arms. Gray, being pulled along, cried, “I won’t ever do it again! Never!” in sweat that looked like tears.
Someone whispered “sister” into his ear, and Gray foamed at the mouth, shaking his head. The paladins laughed until Gray passed out.
Then, other guests quietly began entering—the young nobles who had attended the morning mass.
Although the royal family had pressured the temple, its influence was still significant. Nobles who protected the borders from monsters were all manifestations of guardian gods, and even the emperor was the manifestation of the chief god.
Since most manifestations were nobles or royals, they didn’t need to express faith through the temple. But they still observed proper etiquette, so nobles attended mass.
“Hmm, hmm. The training grounds are bright today.”
“It feels even more sacred where the knights are.”
Yet their presence wasn’t for piety—it was for spectacle. Something extraordinary was about to unfold.
Clang—
Gray’s discarded sword sheath hit the floor loudly. Helios removed his belt and threw it aside, stripped to his torso. He rotated his shoulders lightly, revealing sculpted muscles tensed in anticipation, like a predatory beast.
A young noble watching let out a breathy moan.
Whether he realized he’d become a spectacle or not, Helios remained expressionless—void of desire, emotion, or feeling—and began doing handstand push-ups like Gray. His golden hair hung to the floor, his defined jawline, thick neck, and swollen shoulders and chest moving with fierce grace.
To any observer, it was less an artful display than the readiness of a predator.
