"Roar!!"
A dazzling blaze flashed through the darkness, streaking toward the shadow looming ahead.
Judy gripped her longsword, leaping nimbly like a swallow. Billowing flames erupted outward from her body, and the blade in her hand blazed with an incandescent white light—the hottest core of the fire had converged entirely on the sword. The surrounding air warped and shimmered under the searing heat.
Then she raised her left hand, pressed it against her right wrist, and swung the sword downward with all her might.
The surging tide of fire cascaded down like a waterfall, engulfing the shadow completely. The intense heat distorted the very ground, scorching it to a charred hue. But as an invisible gust tore through the flames, several dark figures shot out suddenly, lunging at the airborne girl like venomous snakes poised to strike.
Yet their attack proved utterly futile. Facing the incoming assault, Judy twisted her waist sharply mid-air. A blast of scorching hot air propelled her body sideways, narrowly evading the shadows' strikes. The moment her feet touched the ground, she let out a thunderous shout and thrust her sword forward.
"BOOM!!"
Waves of fiery red light rippled outward. The deafening explosion was followed by a deep, heavy thud. When the flames finally dissipated, a massive, bulky suit of constructed armor knelt half-crouched on the ground. Several black whips hung limply at its back, and a gaping crater dented the armor's abdomen. Web-like cracks spread outward from the center, and the heavy plates shattered into glittering crystals that vanished into thin air, revealing Ophelia within. The former princess clutched her stomach, her face ashen as she gasped for breath.
"How are you holding up?"
Blake asked, looking at Ophelia as she trembled, teeth gritted, struggling to stand.
"More than passable, Your Excellency,"
Judy replied with a nod, her eyes glinting with a hint of admiration as she looked at Ophelia. She casually tossed aside her sword, now completely melted, and continued speaking. While the twin sisters had been in their slumber, Ophelia's training had fallen to Judy. Normally, switching trainers midway would pose significant problems for a warrior's development—but the former princess was an exception. After all, everything she'd learned so far boiled down to taking a beating. So who delivered those beatings hardly mattered.
"Given how little time Ophelia has spent training, her progress has been nothing short of phenomenal. Her offensive skills are still lacking, but her defensive capabilities already rival those of a mid-ranked swordsman. Though considering her spectral form, that's only to be expected."
For humans, awakening one's soul power marked the threshold to mid-ranked status. But Ophelia, as a spirit, wielded soul power innately. Channeling and manipulating it came far more easily to her than to ordinary humans. Hence Judy's assessment—and it was not an overstatement. Now fully awakened and possessing the strength of a knight, Judy had struck with her full might. Yet Ophelia had not only blocked the blow but even attempted a counterattack. The outcome may have been less than ideal, but for someone of her level, mounting such a response was truly commendable.
Moreover, with each training session, Ophelia's Illusionary Armor continued to evolve. It seemed to adapt to combat instinctively, reshaping and refining itself with every battle. Each time she summoned the armor, its form differed slightly from before, and its offensive methods had begun to shift as well. Unfortunately, as things stood, it was still far too weak to withstand a knight's full assault.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
Leaning against the wall, Ophelia slowly straightened up, her hands and feet trembling uncontrollably. It was no wonder—while the Illusionary Armor, forged from spectral energy, boasted formidable defenses, it could never shield its wearer from a knight's unrestrained attacks unscathed. She gasped for air, trying to alleviate the searing pain wracking her body. This was no ordinary assault. Strangely enough, her first sensation had been a numbing cold, but in the blink of an eye, that cold had erupted into a blazing inferno that seared through her entire being. The waves of agony seemed endless. Even after enduring the twins' rigorous training, Ophelia still couldn't steel herself against such excruciating torment.
Yet despite the agony, she clamped her jaw shut stubbornly, refusing to let out a single cry of pain in front of Blake. But the next moment, two familiar voices reached her ears from behind him.
"Truly impressive, Big Sister."
"You adapted so quickly."
"Messiah is very happy."
"Semira is very relieved."
"You managed to block Sister Judy's strike."
In their characteristic disjointed manner of speaking, the twins emerged from behind Blake, hand in hand. They gazed at Ophelia, their faces softening into gentle smiles.
"You did wonderful, Sister Ophelia."
"…Y-You two…"
At the sight of the sisters, Ophelia let out a long, relieved breath and smiled weakly. She opened her mouth to speak, but a surge of pain forced her to clamp her lips shut. She drew a few sharp breaths before she could continue. Her abdomen throbbed with a fiery, burning ache—as if someone had gouged a hole in her gut and stuffed it full of red-hot stones. Though a spirit could not die a second time, Ophelia had no doubt that if she let her guard down for even a moment, she would collapse into unconsciousness on the spot. After all, the power of a knight's attack was nothing to scoff at.
"Miss Messiah, Miss Semira—are you both alright?"
"We're fine, Sister Ophelia."
"Everything is normal. No problems whatsoever."
In response to Ophelia's concern, the twins tilted their heads obediently and replied with smiles. Then they turned to face Blake.
"Now, we can leave everything in Sister Ophelia's hands with peace of mind, Brother."
"We can proceed with the plan we originally set, Father."
"Plan?"
Ophelia froze, then turned to Blake with a look of confusion.
"Lord Blake—what exactly do you intend to do? As a lord, it seems to me you spend far too much time gallivanting off elsewhere…"
"I have my reasons, of course."
Blake shrugged, a cryptic smile tugging at his lips as he met Ophelia's questioning gaze.
"Miss Ophelia—do you recall that discussion we had about the war?"
"War?"
Ophelia frowned, thinking back for a moment. Then her eyes widened in surprise.
"Do you mean to say…"
"We have a month and a half left."
Though Blake's reply was vague, Ophelia instantly grasped the hidden meaning behind his words. The former princess fell silent for a moment, then asked hesitantly:
"Do you truly intend to go through with this, my lord?"
"Without a doubt."
Blake nodded briefly, saying no more. Ophelia lowered her gaze, staring at the ground. In doing so, she missed the worried, sympathetic glance that passed between Judy and the twins.
"I understand, Lord Blake."
Finally, Ophelia seemed to reach a difficult decision. She gritted her teeth and spoke.
"If this is your command, I will see it through."
"Excellent."
Blake clapped his hands lightly.
"Then the City of Spirits is in your care. Remember—our policy remains unchanged. During my absence, do not admit any outsiders, do not grant them residency rights, and above all, do not let the Holy Grace Church set foot within our walls. I'm sure you've heard from Judy about what they tried to pull here recently. As Lord of Duskwood, I will not tolerate such incidents repeating themselves."
"I understand, my lord."
Ophelia opened her mouth, about to ask another question, but quickly nodded in agreement when she caught the subtle look Blake shot her. He then turned to Judy, standing nearby.
"Judy—the new recruits are yours to train. If necessary, take them out into the field for practical experience. We only have a month and a half. If they fail to meet our expectations, you know where to find Charlotte—I'm certain she'll have some… effective methods. Remember: our goal is to forge an army capable of defending this city. Do not lose sight of that. Also, keep a close eye on the city's internal affairs. Should any unrest break out again, report it to Ophelia and let her handle it."
"Understood, Your Excellency."
Judy listened quietly to Blake's instructions, then nodded. But a moment later, she voiced a concerned suggestion:
"However—for this journey of yours… would you not like an escort? If you wish, I can assign a few capable men to accompany you… after all, this mission carries no small degree of danger…"
"No need."
Blake waved a hand, dismissing the idea.
"This time, I only need Messiah and Semira with me. The more people we take, the more complications we'll face."
With the instructions given, everyone departed the training grounds—everyone except Ophelia, who remained standing quietly. Once Judy and the twins had vanished from sight, she finally spoke up, a note of confusion in her voice:
"Lord Blake—if I may be frank… I do not think suppressing the Holy Grace Church is a wise course of action. I've heard Judy's report on the incident, of course. But if anything, that should encourage us to show greater tolerance and magnanimity. If we keep them under close watch, we can steer events toward a favorable outcome. Yet you've chosen to harden your stance instead. While the Holy Grace Church is not the state religion of the Wester Kingdom, it wields considerable influence—especially among the common folk. If you continue to treat them with open hostility…"
Before Ophelia could finish, Blake cut her off, speaking slowly and deliberately:
"And to be perfectly honest with you—I have more personal reasons for barring the Holy Grace Church from Duskwood."
"Personal reasons, my lord? If it's because you disagree with their doctrines…"
"No, no, no."
Blake shook his head, interrupting her. He then smiled and shrugged.
"While that is indeed part of it, it is not the primary reason. Let me ask you something, Miss Ophelia—what is your opinion of Judy and Charlotte?"
"Huh?"
Taken aback by the sudden shift in topic, Ophelia stared at Blake in confusion. She couldn't fathom how a discussion about the Holy Grace Church had veered to Judy and Charlotte. Nevertheless, she answered truthfully:
"Miss Charlotte and Miss Judy are both kind, admirable people. I hold them in high regard… but what does this have to do with the Holy Grace Church? Do they harbor some personal animosity toward the church?"
"To be precise—they are victims of it."
Blake held up a finger, shaking it gently.
"You must understand this, Miss Ophelia. Charlotte, Judy, and every other spirit dwelling within this city—they were all killed by the Holy Grace Church."
"What?!"
Ophelia froze, utterly stunned. As a former royal princess, she had long known the Holy Grace Church was not as virtuous and pious as it pretended to be. But she had always assumed its corruption was limited to petty scandals—greedy priests engaging in illicit trade, or indulging in carnal pleasures. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined the church would stoop to murder… let alone murder young women like Charlotte and Judy. By the Holy Light! They were nothing but innocent girls! Why? Why would the Holy Grace Church kill them? Were they heretics? But from their words and deeds, there was not the slightest hint of heresy. So why would the church target them so ruthlessly?
As a "latecomer" spirit, Ophelia had never interacted much with the other specters in the city. But she knew they were all young women. And as a fellow spirit, she could easily sense the sorrow, grief, and rage buried deep within their souls. She had often wondered about their origins in her idle moments—but never once had she suspected their deaths were linked to the Holy Grace Church.
"How… how could this happen?"
"This concerns their private matters. It is not my place to speak of it."
Blake did not give her a direct answer—nor did he intend to. Though he knew the full story behind their fates, even better than Judy and Charlotte themselves, some truths were not his to reveal. Some battles were not his to fight, some decisions not his to make.
"If you wish to know more, you may ask Judy and Charlotte yourselves. I'm sure they will tell you. Now do you understand why I will not allow the Holy Grace Church within Duskwood's borders?"
"…I see. Of course I do."
This time, Ophelia nodded her head in quick, earnest agreement. After all, was she not the same? She had hidden herself away in this city precisely to avoid the ones who had killed her. She knew all too well how that festering sorrow, pain, and anger could gnaw away at a person's very soul. If the Holy Grace Church were to gain a foothold here, it would undoubtedly displease Judy and the others. Seeds of conflict would be sown. Should a confrontation erupt between the two sides, the church's followers within the City of Spirits might be drawn into the fray—and things would spiral rapidly out of control. This was the last thing Blake and Ophelia, as the city's leaders, wanted to see.
Watching the expression on Ophelia's face, Blake smiled inwardly. He did not tell her that the Holy Grace Church had its sights set firmly on Duskwood precisely because he had killed one of their Holy Knights. When playing a role, one must commit fully to it. If he revealed this fact to Ophelia, there was a chance the former princess might let something slip during future negotiations with the church. But if she remained in the dark, she could truthfully claim that the city had no involvement in the knight's death.
"I suspect the Holy Grace Church will send envoys to negotiate again in a few days' time. When they come, I want you to make our stance perfectly clear: Duskwood does not welcome the Holy Grace Church. As for the specific reasons and justifications—I trust you can come up with something suitable."
"I understand, Lord Blake. I will give the matter careful consideration."
Though Blake's words were evasive and vague, Ophelia paid it little mind. She was still reeling from the shock of learning about Charlotte and Judy's pasts, and had not fully registered his ambiguity. Besides—Blake had not technically lied. He had merely omitted certain details.
"When do you plan to depart, Lord Blake?"
"Tomorrow evening. I wish to leave without attracting any attention… leave the arrangements to Keith. As a merchant, he has plenty of tricks up his sleeve to help us slip away unnoticed."
"I understand."