Giving Igor one last look, Lucius stood up.

  I’m tired.

  Now that the adrenaline had subsided, a wave of exhaustion engulfed his entire body. Never in his life had he felt so tired—so much so that if he lay down now, he would fall asleep right there. In addition, the injuries covering his body only intensified that feeling.

  Not yet.

  Shaking his head, he dragged his body over to where Mira was. The maid lay collapsed in the corner of the room, her body completely motionless.

  Crouching down, Lucius checked her vital signs.

  He blinked, trying to dispel the blur clouding his vision, but it didn’t help much.

  Lowering his head, he planted a kiss on Mira’s lips. Ignoring the blood running from his eyes, nose, and ear, he picked up the maid’s body and carried her out of the office.

  Very reckless.

  Walking down the corridor, he came across several unconscious guards. She should have killed them. If they had woken up and joined Igor during their fight, the outcome would have been very different.

  It would be troublesome if they woke up while I’m gone. Better deal with that soon. How exhausting.

  Alistair’s mansion was located in the western district of the city—Lucius realized this the moment he stepped outside.

  That’s good.

  Adjusting Mira’s position, he began running through the district with her in his arms. Along the way, several passersby cast glances at him—some curious, most frightened.

  After running for a few minutes, he arrived in front of the church of the western district. It wasn’t as grand as the one in the central district, but it was still far larger than anything you’d find in a smaller city.

  At the top of the arched entrance, an oval stained-glass window depicted the God of Light, His stylized image radiating golden rays.

  Lucius stared at the image for a moment before heading toward the entrance, pushing the wooden doors open with his shoulders and entering the building.

  His arrival was rather loud, immediately drawing the attention of the acolytes and deacons inside the church.

  “Damien. Where is he?” Lucius asked the oldest of the deacons.

  “W-who are you? You can’t enter here,” the deacon said, somewhat frightened. “And those injuries—”

  “Damien,” Lucius repeated, his gaze freezing the deacon in place. “Bring him. Now.”

  Breaking out in a cold sweat, the deacon turned to one of the nearest acolytes.

  “C-Call Priest Damien, now,” he said hurriedly.

  The acolyte in question, also frightened, ran toward the door at the back of the church. The others present wore uncomfortable expressions, but under the heavy atmosphere Lucius brought with him, none dared say a word.

  An uncomfortable silence followed for nearly a minute, until the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard. Through the same door the acolyte had exited, two figures appeared.

  Approaching them were the same acolyte as before and, beside him, a young man in his early twenties. He had hair and eyes of a subdued, almost faded gray, giving him a serene appearance. His face was handsome, with gentle features lacking the rigidity common among older members of the clergy, and his calm expression inspired immediate trust. He wore simple priestly robes—no opulent adornments or striking symbols—but they were meticulously kept, reflecting his orderly nature.

  “Young Master Lucius?”

  The priest looked shocked upon recognizing Lucius.

  “W-what happened to you?!”

  Breaking into a hurried run, the priest quickly reached Lucius, nervously inspecting his body from head to toe.

  “I’m fine.” Lucius set Mira down on the floor. “You need to heal her.”

  Damien was a priest of the Church of Light gifted with the power of healing. At Cédric’s command, he had healed Lucius every time he had nearly died—which, when one stopped to think about it, had happened many times in a very short span.

  Although he normally resided at the main church in the central district, Lucius had heard that on Tuesdays Damien performed charitable work here in the western district, which was why he had come straight here.

  “But in God’s name, what happened to the two of you? How did you get so badly injured?” Damien asked, shocked, as he examined Mira’s wounds.

  However, after a brief inspection, his gaze shifted to Lucius. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

  “Heal her,” Lucius said, without a trace of emotion in his voice.

  “Young master…” Damien hesitated. “This girl, she’s already—Guh!”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Lucius grabbed Damien by the neck and lifted him into the air. The priest’s face turned red, his legs kicking as his hands clawed at Lucius’s grip, trying to free himself.

  “P-priest!”

  “Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”

  The deacons and acolytes were first shocked, then enraged, quickly rushing toward Lucius.

  Annoying.

  Lucius glanced in their direction.

  “Get lost.”

  They all froze in place, too frightened to take even a single step forward.

  Lucius then turned his gaze back to Damien.

  “I won’t repeat myself,” he said in a tone that allowed no refusal. “Heal her. Use the power the God of Light gave you and heal her. Now.”

  Lucius released Damien’s neck, letting him fall to the stone floor.

  “Gh—! Hah… hah… hah…!”

  The priest braced one hand against the floor, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he struggled for air. He coughed dryly, his throat burning, eyes watering.

  “You…” Damien swallowed hard, still not daring to lift his gaze. “…you’re asking for the impossible.”

  A crooked smile spread across Lucius’s face.

  “The impossible is nothing before the power of the Light.” He leaned close to Damien’s ear and whispered, “Then perform a miracle, healer. Otherwise, you and everyone else here will meet your god before the end of the day.”

  Damien’s body trembled, shocked by what he had just heard. Lucius’s tone made it clear—he was serious.

  “Then…”

  Taking a deep breath, Damien extended his hands toward Mira’s body and began to pray.

  It wasn’t a fixed chant like those used in rituals, nor the carefully repeated words of liturgy. They were simply his own words—simple and trembling—cast into the void in the hope that the God of Light would hear them. A direct, naked plea, carried only by faith and desperation.

  And whether or not his prayer reached the God of Light, a golden halo enveloped Mira’s body, the wounds covering the maid retreating at a visible rate until they vanished completely within seconds.

  An extraordinary power, indeed.

  Lucius nodded to himself. While magic was limited to accelerating natural recovery, divine power could heal any wound—even regenerate lost limbs.

  “Young master, I did what you asked…” Damien said, his forehead drenched in sweat as he cast Lucius a cautious glance. “But even if I heal the body, once a person is already dead—”

  The words died in Damien’s mouth. Mira’s body, which had been as still as a corpse, began to stir. Her brows furrowed visibly before she slowly opened her eyes.

  “Th-this…”

  Damien couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his eyes widening in shock.

  “Y-young… master?”

  Mira, on the other hand, looked confused, her eyes surveying the unfamiliar surroundings she had awakened in before settling on Lucius.

  “What… happened?”

  Lucius flicked the maid’s forehead with his finger.

  “Why did you do that, young master?” the girl asked, puffing out her cheeks.

  He gave a crooked smile.

  “You’re quite a troublesome person, you know.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Mira looked around, the crease in her brow visibly easing as she realized where they were.

  “We… escaped?”

  He shook his head.

  “Escaped? No.”

  A small smile colored the maid’s expression.

  “I see… You’re incredible, young master.”

  Lucius stood up.

  “You’re tired. Sleep.”

  “Alright…”

  Like an obedient child, Mira closed her eyes without asking any further questions, and within seconds her breathing grew light as she fell into a deep sleep.

  Now…

  Lucius pointed at one of the church’s deacons.

  “Y-yes?”

  The man’s expression was one of hesitation and fear.

  Handing him the Aster family crest, Lucius ordered, “Go to the Aster family estate and ask the duke to come here. Tell him it’s important. If he asks any questions, just mention the names Lucius and Alistair—he’ll understand. If the guards try to stop you, show them this crest and they will grant you passage.”

  Instead of immediately doing as told, the deacon glanced at Damien, which prompted Lucius to click his tongue.

  “Do as he says,” Damien said, finally getting the deacon to move.

  The priest then turned his gaze back to Lucius.

  “Young master, you also need treatment. Please, allow me to heal you.”

  Lucius nodded. Not as bad as Mira’s, but his body’s condition was still quite poor.

  “In God’s name, how did the two of you end up like this?” the priest asked as he examined Lucius.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lucius shook his head.

  The situation had already been resolved, so there was no reason to go into detail. No—that wasn’t it. The real reason was that Lucius was so tired that even speaking felt like a chore.

  Depending on the healer’s level, divine power could heal nearly any wound. But according to Damien himself, it worked best when the user knew exactly what they were healing—hence the inspection.

  Once he finished examining Lucius’s body, Damien began his prayer again, invoking the power of the Light.

  A divine golden glow enveloped Lucius’s body.

  This sensation…

  Thinking about it, despite having been healed many times by divine power, this was the first time it happened while he was conscious.

  It’s not a pleasant feeling.

  Wherever the divine power touched him, he felt tingling and itching—especially in the areas that had been injured.

  Well, that’s trivial when you consider the practical effects of this ability.

  He could see his many wounds disappearing at an absurd speed.

  A truly impressive ability.

  If he had an ability like that… Lucius shook his head.

  It doesn’t matter.

  Before long, all of Lucius’s injuries were healed. But his physical and mental exhaustion were another matter—something not even divine power could cure.

  I want to sleep.

  His eyes felt heavy. He sensed that if he closed them now, he would fall asleep on the spot.

  But not yet.

  He suppressed the sensation, forcing himself to stay conscious as he waited. And approximately forty minutes later, the church doors burst open with a loud bang, a figure appearing at the entrance and releasing a pressure that made the air in the room feel infinitely heavier.

  Lucius turned his gaze toward the figure.

  “Father, you’ve arrived.”

  Cédric’s expression was strange—there was consternation, doubt, and a hint of impatience. Truly curious to see.

  His father’s gaze swept over him from head to toe.

  “It seems that whenever a third party mentions your name to me, it’s because you’ve caused some sort of trouble.”

  Lucius wondered if his father was trying to be funny.

  “That seems to be the case. But this time, it looks like I was the one dragged into other people’s problems. In this case, yours, Father.”

  Cédric’s cheek twitched slowly, his gaze demanding further explanation.

  “Well, this afternoon…”

  Lucius recounted everything that had happened—without going into much detail. He didn’t have the energy for that.

  When he finished, his father’s expression was unreadable.

  Because of the grudge an enemy held against him, his son had nearly been killed. How did that make Cédric feel? Humiliated? Frustrated? Guilty? Lucius couldn’t say.

  “Come,” Cédric said, turning around. “I want you to show me.”

  He was likely referring to the place where the elves were being held captive. Lucius nodded as he stood up, but not before directing his gaze at Damien.

  “Put her somewhere to rest,” he said, pointing at Mira.

  He knew there had to be some unoccupied rooms in the church.

  “Yes, sir…” Damien nodded, lifting Mira’s body as he left.

  “Are you done?” his father asked with a crooked smile.

  Lucius nodded.

  “Yes. Let’s go.”