The Adventurer's Guild of the City of Holy Radiance was located on the east side of the cathedral, a standalone two-story stone building.
Its exterior walls were painted a gleaming white and gold, a decorating style typical of the City of Holy Radiance—which essentially meant massive swaths of white and massive swaths of gold.
When Constantine pushed open the guild's oak doors, the clamor in the hall fell silent for a brief moment.
Dozens of adventurers sat around long tables. Some were wiping down their weapons, some were checking bounty posters, and others were simply playing cards.
The moment the door opened, their gazes swept in unison toward the entrance.
To be precise, they were staring at the glowing white Holy Sword hanging from Esper's waist.
A one-eyed man chewing on a piece of jerky was the first to break the silence.
“Whoa, is that the Hero?”
Obviously.
A female archer with a ponytail poked her head out from behind a pile of cards, her voice filled with undisguised curiosity.
“She looks just like her portrait. The Church's artists really did a great job.”
Huh? Portrait?
A young swordsman tilted his head, studying her for a long moment before carefully choosing his words.
“Is that sword the Holy Sword? Why does it look kind of tacky...”
True.
Holy Sword: ?
Another voice drifted softly from a corner, filled with genuine confusion.
“Why is the Hero so grown up... She's older than I imagined...”
Esper: ?
Constantine clapped his hands, signaling for silence.
“Everyone, this is Lady Esper, the Hero. She just returned from the front lines. There's no need to be so stiff.”
He paused, then added another line.
“But don't get too familiar either.”
The latter half of his sentence brought several adventurers, who were just about to rush forward, to a screeching halt.
A burly man was the first to stand up.
Slung across his back was a giant axe of impressive proportions, with a fierce lion's head carved behind the blade, gleaming coldly even indoors.
“Aure.”
He briefly introduced himself, his voice so booming it sounded like muffled thunder rolling through his chest before being released.
Esper noticed a long, old scar on his left arm, stretching from his wrist to his elbow. The healed tissue was a pale gray, distinct from the surrounding skin.
“Thank you for assisting in the extermination of the death marchers. If you ever need my help in the future, I will not hesitate.”
...Esper glanced at the axe.
He was a Named Knight.
Unlike Named Knights who possessed standard rune weapons from the Mage Tower, the vast majority of adventurers used weapons from special organizations known as "workshops."
These workshops operated independently of one another but were united under the Workshop Association, producing weapons of varying quality.
However, it was said that some workshops produced equipment with performance even superior to the Mage Tower's standard rune weapons.
This guy's axe...
Esper's eyelid twitched.
The craftsmanship of the weapon itself was clearly from the Mage Tower, but the runes looked like they came from a workshop.
“...Yes. Thank you.”
In another corner, a metallic humanoid figure stood up.
From sitting to standing, his every movement was accompanied by the distinctive clicking sound of interlocking gears.
The fellow wore a purple robe, and his face was covered by a silver mask with no eyes, nose, or mouth. His hood was pulled low, shadowing most of the mask, leaving only a small patch of skin on his jaw visible, which also gleamed with a metallic sheen.
“Dinoman, from Fibores. A dark elf hybrid. My accent might be a bit strange, so please bear with me.”
His voice vibrated out from a vocalizer inside his chest.
The electromagnetic hum rippling through the air made his words sound like an old radio tuning in.
“Fibores?”
Esper frowned.
Fina had occasionally mentioned that place before. It was supposedly...
“A nation belonging to us dark elves. To transform flesh and blood into a will of steel is our lifelong wish and glory.”
Fibores, a technological empire dominated by dark elves.
After the great war between the Ancestor of Demons and the Elven Ancestor, a curse was laid upon a portion of the elves, stripping them of their longevity and their ability to resonate with nature, turning them into dark elves.
Later, the dark elf Nephelia led her people out of the Forest of Star Whispers to establish Fibores. Unable to resonate with nature, they poured their efforts into technology, which indirectly catalyzed the creation of Esperfite.
Today, due to its faith, Esperfite focused primarily on magic tech, while Fibores dedicated itself to both magic tech and pure machinery.
Unlike the makeshift technology of Esperfite, Fibores was a genuine empire of advanced, dark technology. However, the two still shared many commonalities.
For instance, both sides had extremists who replaced parts of their bodies with machinery in pursuit of a so-called perfect form—or, as they put it, to resonate with the Primordial Machine God.
The individual before her clearly belonged to this category.
But that wasn't the main reason Esper was frowning.
“...Your code name is Dinoman?”
Esper asked anyway.
“Indeed.”
“Why that name?”
Are you some terrifying old man?
Wrong.
“Because dinosaurs are awesome.”
His reply was swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.
“How is a species only recorded in documents brought over by Transmigrators' oral accounts awesome...”
However, Esper kept this thought to herself.
“People from Fibores name themselves, so sometimes they have... well... rather peculiar naming conventions,” Constantine leaned in and explained in a low voice.
“Dinoman is actually on the normal side. I once met a dark elf who gave his legs their own individual names.”
“...Lefty and Righty?”
“...Galadriel and Lúthien.”
The names of the Elven High Priest and the Elven Ancestor.
“...”
Pure spite.
“What are you all chatting about?”
A lazy voice drifted down from the second-floor landing.
A tall woman slowly descended the stairs. Her honey-colored hair was loosely draped over her shoulders, its ends slightly curled, looking as if it hadn't been carefully brushed since being blown by a sea breeze.
Her skin had an unnaturally sickly pale hue, as though she hadn't seen the sun in a long time, contrasting sharply with her tall stature and boisterous demeanor.
A lazy smirk played at the corner of her mouth.
She wore a loosely cut robe with a remarkably low neckline. Three square blocks, each about the size of a thumbnail, were strung on a cord around her neck, bouncing with her steps against a certain part of her anatomy that possessed a bit too much presence.
“...Is she wearing it that low just to show off... How annoying...”
Esper grumbled to herself.
She told herself she wasn't jealous.
“I'm Yat. I'm from Esperfite, Rank Seven.”
She walked up to Esper, her light blue, almond-shaped eyes scanning Esper up and down without reservation, before resting on the Holy Sword, studying it with keen interest.
“Esperfite?”
“Uh-huh, Esperfite. A survivor of the angel rebellion. Don't be so tense, I'm no orthodox believer. If I were, I wouldn't have run off to become an adventurer. Those folks who drone on all day about the holy edicts of the Primordial Machine God drive me nuts.”
She spoke casually, brushing the matter aside before turning her full attention back to Esper.
“So this is the Holy Sword. Hmm~ Up close, it's even more exquisite than in the portraits. Does this thing actually glow on its own? Can I touch it?”
“No.”
Esper refused flatly.
“Aww, what a shame.”
She leaned down slightly, a movement that caused her already low neckline to plunge even further.
“Welcome to the City of Holy Radiance, Lady Hero. If you need any help, don't hesitate to ask.
Unlike that dinosaur-loving tin can from Fibores, I don't have any of those high-and-mighty pursuits. I joined the Adventurer's Guild just to make a living, so my rates are fair, and I won't rip you off. If you ever need anything, just come find me.”
“...You're certainly direct.”
“That's just the basic rule of doing business.”
Yat winked.
“By the way, most of those folks over there who haven't said a word aren't actually adventurers from the City of Holy Radiance. They're just admirers who heard the Hero was coming and rushed over to catch a glimpse of your lovely face.”
“...The way you put that sounds a bit weird.”
Esper followed her gaze.
Sitting in a corner was a young girl clad in dark gray leather armor, expressionlessly oiling a harpoon gun that was longer than she was tall, using an oily rag.
Slung across her back was a row of whaling spears, each meticulously maintained, their tips reflecting the sharp indoor light.
By another window, a white-haired, blue-eyed youth stood quietly leaning against the wall, a ridiculously long sword on his back.
Though, to call it a sword was a bit of a stretch; it was more like a flattened iron pillar.
Sensing Esper's gaze, he gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.
“I'm Jovian. The sailor over there is Eli.”
The introduction was brief, devoid of any unnecessary pleasantries.
A few others sat at tables further away.
One figure, wrapped in a tattered gray cloak with their face obscured, was buried in a thick, old book, its pages yellowed and curled at the edges.
Another tall, thin figure wearing a beast-bone mask sat cross-legged on a cushion, hands resting on knees, seemingly in meditation—or perhaps simply zoning out.
Esper's gaze lingered on each of them for less than a second before she looked away.
Those people likely had their own stories, but today was not the time to pry.
“Right.”
Now that she was done speaking with the more formidable ones, the rest of the less impressive crowd began to gather around.
They lacked Aure's composure, Dinoman's mechanical reserve, and Yat's seasoned poise.
Among the circle of people crowding in front of Esper, there were young swordsmen, archers who had just crawled out of their rookie phases, and even a few greenhorns who didn't seem to have officially registered with the guild yet.
“Lady Hero, if there are ever any more subjugation missions like the one against Zhong, please let us join in!”
“Yeah! Even a wanted Saintess would do! If it's the Hero, you can definitely find a target even more formidable than last time!”
Several young adventurers crowded closer with their tankards raised, excitement and anticipation written all over their faces.
The ponytailed female archer squeezed her way to the front, slapping a bounty poster onto the table and pointing to the crudely drawn portrait of the wanted criminal.
“Lady Hero! Could you tell us how you defeated her?”
Esper looked down at the bounty poster.
The portrait was rough, but she recognized the face.
“...”
She said nothing.
Constantine noticed her silence, but he didn't press. Instead, he spoke up.
“Alright, alright, everyone. The Hero just returned from the front lines and needs rest. Today is just for introductions. We can discuss specific matters later—”
“She is not the enemy.”
Esper's voice cut Constantine off.
The crowd froze. The young adventurer holding the tankard blinked, unable to process her words immediately.
Esper stared at the familiar gray-green eyes on the bounty poster.
“...She shouldn't be anyone's enemy.”
With that whisper, she turned and walked toward the guild's exit.
Constantine watched her depart, letting out a soft sigh.
Then he turned back, offering a warm smile to the still-dazed young adventurer.
“My apologies, it's a complicated matter. You see, some of the death marchers are highly skilled at deception. While Lady Hero wasn't fooled, it still left her with some lingering trauma.”
“Oh, I see... My bad...”
“It's fine. Just keep it in mind for the future. I must take my leave as well.”
After explaining to the crowd, he headed out to catch up with Esper.
The setting sun had already coated the stone slabs of the square in a dark gold.
“Esper.”
“...Yeah.”
“Get some good rest today.”
“...Aren't you going to ask me what exactly happened?”
“If you don't want to tell me, what's the point of me asking? Besides, as a Grand Commander, can I really question the Hero's decisions?”
There was a trace of helplessness in Constantine's voice.
“...Thanks.”
“Sure. Go on back and rest.”
Esper continued on her way.
By the time she returned to her guest room in the cathedral's side hall, night had fallen.
Night came earlier in the City of Holy Radiance than in Avalon, and the city's twilight always carried a deliberate sense of solemnity.
Even the speed of the sunset felt precisely controlled, drawing away the light bit by bit to give people ample time to prepare for the night.
Eladia still hadn't returned. Esper lay on the narrow bed, resting the Holy Sword beside her pillow, and turned onto her side, staring blankly out the window.
She didn't know when she had fallen asleep. She had only closed her eyes for what felt like a brief moment, yet when she opened them, dawn was already breaking.
Rolling over, Ela was still not by her side.
It was strange.
Based on past experience, she should have woken up early and stood three feet away, staring at Esper's face until she got up.
“...Ela?”
She called out softly, but there was no response.
Then, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, followed by an even more urgent pounding on the door.
Esper frowned, slipped on her shoes, and opened the door.
Constantine stood outside.
He opened his mouth, pausing for a split second.
“...”
“What is it?”
He said:
“...The Saintess has turned traitor.”
Rate on N.U.
