“You are... Mr. Bruce?”
The dazzling blond hair and that overwhelmingly shocking black sun made even the usually composed matron lose herself for a moment. Only after the top hat once again covered that hair, and the black sun swallowed all the surrounding flames and smoke, did she finally cry out in surprise.
“Wh—why are you here?”
“Sorry. I’m late.”
From afar, the stench of blood and the sound of wailing pierced the night sky. The full devastation of the West District was laid bare before Muen’s eyes. It was no longer a predetermined ruin of broken walls, nor just a fleeting glimpse across timelines. And precisely because of that, the pain struck deep enough to root itself in the heart.
Blood. Destruction. Suffering. Crying.
Everything had already begun... and everything was only just beginning.
“But compared to last time... it’s not too late.”
“Last time?”
“Nothing. Just take it as me talking to myself.”
Muen slowly descended to the ground.
The threat had been completely eliminated. That black sun, so awe-inspiring it bordered on the divine and the grotesque, gradually faded, as if what they had just seen had only been an illusion.
Only a few flickers of black flame remained, proving that it had not been an empty dream.
“We... we’re saved?”
The matron stood there in a daze for a long while before suddenly grabbing the nun beside her and pinching her face several times, unable to hold back tears of relief.
In truth, ever since they had been trapped here, she had already sensed they had reached a dead end with no way back. As the matron, however, in front of the other nuns and the children, she had to maintain a façade of composure.
And now, not only had they not reached that dead end, they had been pulled back from it—how could she not be overwhelmed?
“Don’t relax yet. It’s not over.”
Muen gestured for them to stay alert. At the same time, a flash of pale blade-light swept out, and a Kingdom royal knight who had been hiding outside, waiting to ambush, was instantly cut down. Blood sprayed as he collapsed.
The knight let out a pained wail, yet there was a trace of relief on his face. Even in unbearable agony... he was smiling.
As if, for him, this was a kind of release.
“Who gave the order?”
Muen walked over, crouched down, and asked.
“It was... His Majesty.”
The knight did not hesitate to answer.
“His Majesty ordered us to kill everyone in the city... all the ordinary people. Starting with the West District, with the believers who worship the Saintess... they’re unguarded. The perfect time to strike.”
“Starting from the West District... so it really is now...”
Muen’s gaze flickered. After muttering a few words to himself, he continued,
“And you carried out such an absurd order?”
Loyalty was the foremost virtue of royal knights. But slaughtering their own country’s citizens—an entire city’s worth—should have drawn doubt, no matter what.
They were supposed to be people of flesh and blood, not puppets to be manipulated.
“We didn’t want to—”
The knight grew agitated, but his body began trembling again—no, convulsing. Pitch-black veins writhed beneath his skin like a swarm of maddened snakes.
“But... we can’t resist. Something is devouring us. I’m still... I still have some reason left. But most of my comrades... they’ve already... turned completely into bloodthirsty monsters.”
Grief filled the knight’s eyes.
Even as he spoke, several more shadows lunged in from outside.
Muen didn’t even lift his head. The blade flashed again, and more blood scattered across the ashes.
“That ancient magic again...?”
Watching the knights’ blood—polluted by sin, turned utterly black—Muen felt anger flare within him... only to be swiftly suppressed by reason.
Clearly, just like the hundreds of thousands of Kingdom soldiers on the front lines before, these knights had also been placed under the cruel control of the Witch of Repentance’s ancient magic.
Even if they were unwilling, they could only raise their blades against the innocent, staining their hands with blood and sin.
And this kind of tragedy would continue to play out across the city, again and again, until the Salvation Society... until the Witch of Repentance was completely dealt with.
It could not be avoided.
So at a time like this, anger was meaningless.
All that remained was a silent sigh.
And then, to fold that anger into flame and steel.
“Rest now. I’ll repay this hatred and rage for you.”
Muen swung his blade, severing the knight’s head.
“Thank you,” the knight said, relieved.
“No need.”
Muen noticed the Holy Light cross pendant around the knight’s neck. Following the example of the priest earlier, he offered a quiet prayer to the Goddess, hoping she might truly receive this man’s soul and cleanse the sins forced upon him.
No... he had never been guilty to begin with.
...
...
After completely clearing the surrounding threats, Muen returned to the matron.
“It looks like everyone’s still alright.”
The younger children were still caught in shock and terror. Some had even fainted. Fortunately, none had suffered serious injuries, and the harm from inhaling smoke was being treated by the nuns.
Some of the older children were already able to move. They were being organized to clear the debris. Even though the flames and smoke had vanished, this old building—standing since the welfare home was first established—was no longer safe to remain in.
“Yes. Aside from a few missing children, the rest are safe for now.”
The matron wiped her eyes. Relief lingered, but so did sorrow—for the place she had spent most of her life in, worked to maintain for most of her life, now reduced to ruins in just over ten minutes.
Still, she quickly forced herself to regain composure.
“This is all thanks to you, Mr. Bruce. You’ve helped us again and again. I don’t even know how to repay your kindness.”
“No need to repay it. In a sense, I’ve also received something from you.”
Muen shrugged lightly.
“So let’s just call it even.”
“Hm?”
The matron tilted her head in confusion. “I don’t recall us helping you in any way. A place like ours, a poor welfare home—how could we possibly—”
“Help doesn’t have to be material.”
Muen tapped his chest and smiled.
“Sometimes, something mental—an idea, a push—is just as important.”
“For example, if you want someone to go all in, you need to give them a reason to go all in, right?”
“Go all in... a reason?”
The matron murmured, then suddenly lit up in realization.
“I see! So that’s it... Mr. Bruce, don’t worry. I won’t stand in the way of you and Aviva. Even though I’ve always thought of myself as that child’s mother, if you’re willing to go this far for her, then even if she’s not yet of age, I can only—”
“Wait. Stop right there.”
Muen’s mouth twitched. He shot a glance at Aviva, who appeared to be working seriously nearby but whose ears had already turned bright red, and quickly cut the matron off.
“When did I ever mean that?!”
“But what you said—”
“If you don’t understand, don’t jump to conclusions, alright? I was talking about something on an entirely different level. It has nothing to do with any real person! And if you already know she’s underage, then don’t say things like that—do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You’re going to get me locked up, and ruin my reputation while you’re at it!”
Heaven help him—Muen had absolutely no intention whatsoever of laying a hand on an underage girl. None at all. Not even when she was of age!
He was faithful.
Yes. To emphasize it again—Muen Campbell was absolutely, unwaveringly devoted to Anna, Liya, Celicia, and Ariel!
He was definitely not the shameless, womanizing scumbag everyone made him out to be!
