Countless citizens swarmed over, crowding in front of the palace gate that had already lain abandoned for a hundred years. Together with the prince they adored—Prince Tony—they watched the line of one hundred and two people file through the ominous gates.
It was clearly the sweltering height of summer, yet no one knew why, as they waited outside the ruined palace, a chill crept up from the bottom of every heart.
The morning rain had paused for a while, then returned as a fine, dense drizzle.
All eyes were fixed on the entrance of the ruin. Even Prince Tony, who had been perpetually busy with affairs of state ever since the old king fell gravely ill, made no move to leave.
The last knight entered alongside her companion. Just before her figure vanished behind the closing palace doors, she turned back and left the people outside with one last steady, resolute look.
Inside the ruin.
“Thankfully it’s the rainy season. The rain, more or less, can weaken the Firecloud Sparrow’s momentum.”
Hilton held a parchment covered in cramped, tiny writing, and gave a wry smile.
This parchment came from an expedition team more than twenty years ago. Acting under orders from the Natiwoods royal house, they broke into the ruin, attempting to slay the Firecloud Sparrow that had brought terror to the realm and thrown Natiwoods into panic.
They failed.
Of the one hundred and fifty who entered, almost all were buried in the flames spewed by the Firecloud Sparrow. Only a single knight escaped.
Even so, that attempt had been the closest anyone had ever come to success.
That knight, who had crawled back from the jaws of death, carried out a single parchment written in blood from deep within the ruin. By the time the bloodstained parchment finally reached the king’s hands after many twists and turns, the survivor himself had voluntarily returned to the ruin—to die alongside his companions.
“Look…”
A knight suddenly stopped. His gaze had frozen on something in the distance.
Countless ancient knights with solemn expressions rode tall warhorses through a resplendent palace. Hooves clattered against exquisitely patterned floor tiles, echoing through the great hall.
Suddenly, a temple knight in a golden cloak turned back in his saddle, his chiseled brows furrowing as he locked eyes with him. Between the golden knight’s legs, a pure white stallion lifted its hooves and turned, galloping straight toward him.
The red‑cloaked formal knight muttered under his breath,
“My lord…”
Clang.
Hilton turned and brought his shield down directly on the dazed knight’s head.
Leif turned her head toward the direction that knight had pointed. Naturally, she saw none of what he had just seen—only broken walls and toppled stones—so she was a little puzzled.
Then she heard Hilton’s shield smash into the knight who was slowly veering out of formation, the blows ringing out—clang, clang—mercilessly. He didn’t hold back at all just because the other man was one of his own. Several knights then had to use all their strength to drag their babbling, thrashing companion back into the line.
Leif vaguely remembered this knight. At the ball, he’d butted heads verbally with Lance a few times. Judging from what he’d said then, he too had wanted to fight the Firecloud Sparrow for the sake of the princess he protected.
Like most in the order, he took honor extremely seriously.
“I told you lot ages ago to grow some brains and stop charging in headfirst.”
Hilton scolded as he hammered away with his shield.
“How many times did I say it before we came in? Stop letting your minds run wild. Honor, beauty, wealth, power—anything and everything. The moment you give those things a single thought, you’re opening the door to temptation. Have you all forgotten what special ability the Firecloud Sparrow has?”
Once he finally beat the knight back to his senses, Hilton strode toward Lance.
Lance was currently bent over a square pillar. His handsome face wore a gentle smile as he spoke courteously:
“My beautiful lady, how did you lose your way here? Where is your home? Might I have the honor of knowing? Perhaps I don’t even need to say it for you to understand—I don’t simply wish to escort you back.
“After this day, every time I depart on a journey, I will bow toward the direction of your home, as if bowing to your blessing…”
As he spoke, Lance bent his knee slightly and took the “noble lady’s” hands—hands that seemed a little too large and rough for a lady’s—cupping them reverently before kissing them.
What he bit into instead was a mouthful of hair that stank of familiar sweat.
“My beautiful lady, how did you…”
Lance lifted his head in astonishment, but what greeted him was not a bashful, golden‑haired, blue‑eyed noblewoman’s coy smile. The woman who had been peerlessly lovely just a moment ago had, for some reason, become a little terrifying.
“Why has your hair grown all the way down your smooth cheeks? Why is your nose so big, your skin so rough—and why do you have an Adam’s apple…”
“Because I’m your captain, that’s why!”
Hilton yanked his own hands out of Lance’s grip and furiously wiped them on his cloak, cursing under his breath.
“Lance, you lecherous idiot!”
The young knight’s blue eyes were still tender with emotion, his voice low and husky, dripping charm.
“Then it must be some ugly evil witch, jealous of your beauty, who cursed you with black sorcery. Tell me that fiend’s name and where she lives. I’ll avenge you, even if it costs me my life—ow, ow, what are you doing, that hurts!”
“You little bastard… you’re disgusting…”
Hilton grabbed Lance by the head and started ramming his forehead against a scorched pillar, thud after thud. Lance’s tone and words had made his skin crawl; now he was both furious and half amused.
“Wake up already!”
“Why are you so rough, my lady? Did that witch curse not only your face, but also your beautiful, gentle heart?”
Lance toppled to the ground under Hilton’s beating, but still clung to the “beautiful lady’s hem” and begged piteously.
It wasn’t until a thoroughly exasperated Hilton stomped his face several times that Lance finally sobered up a little. He blinked, pushed himself up off the floor, and seeing everyone looking at him with indescribable expressions, scratched his neck in embarrassment.
Frowning, he accidentally brushed the wound on his forehead and grimaced.
“D‑did I… just do something?”
He looked up—and froze.
The spot where the lovely lady had been standing was, in fact, occupied by a blackened skeleton slumped against the pillar. Lance hissed and stumbled backward into Hilton.
“What… what’s going on? I clearly just…”
Hilton raised his shield and thumped it on Lance’s head a few more times, hating iron for not becoming steel.
“Clear your mind. Beware the Firecloud Sparrow’s illusions!”
His words, of course, were meant not only for Lance, but for everyone.
On any other day, a scene like this would have had the entire order howling with laughter. Right now, though, no one dared to.
After this little episode, a wary vigilance settled in everyone’s heart. They forced their eyes wide and carefully scanned their surroundings.
They had only just entered from the main gate. Yet after the massive doors swung shut, this space—separated from the outside world by nothing more than a single door—felt like an entirely different world.
Overhead the sky was now completely clear, not a cloud in sight. Harsh sunlight beat down, quickly drying the clothes that had been damp from rain.
From deeper inside the palace, they heard what sounded like the bustling murmur of a court in its prime. Distant and near, there were voices and footsteps that clearly did not belong to them.
Those sounds came from the royal family members and servants who had been burned to ash in the great fire, and from the countless adventurers who had once stepped into this place, hoping to slay the Firecloud Sparrow, only to die here.
Hilton had told them not to think too much. But how could a person’s thoughts be so easily reined in? The more you force yourself not to think nonsense, the more chaotic your mind becomes.
Leif leaned back against a pillar on the floor. As she stared around, a very faint popping sound brushed her ear.
The brown‑haired knight sniffed and turned her head.
A small waterfall of icy cola was bubbling away, white mist curling from its surface. Not far away, a bubbling spring of milk tea surged up from the ground, dotted with pearls, coconut jelly, and chunks of ice cream that bobbed up and down.
She kept telling herself it was all fake, but still swallowed, sniffing greedily at the incredibly realistic aroma.
As if thinking the temptation wasn’t enough yet, a nearby pillar suddenly sprouted a plump piece of fried chicken, bread‑crumb coated and fried to a perfect golden brown.
Unlike the cola falls and milk tea spring that stayed obediently in place, this piece of fried chicken wasn’t content to sit still. Balancing on its two footless drumsticks, it waddled step by step toward Leif, opening its two short, golden, greasy wings as if to embrace her.
That eager, waddling charge almost made one feel a strange sense of guilt—because refusing something so earnest felt far too cruel.
The brown‑haired knight swallowed again. Just as she bent down, about to scoop up the enthusiastic fried chicken, the lady attendant grabbed her arm.
Leif jerked back several steps. After steadying herself, she tilted her head up at the attendant, whose pale face was as calm as ever.
“Knight,” the attendant asked, a little concerned, “what did you see?”
The interruption snapped Leif out of it. She muttered to herself,
“Right. Roast chicken doesn’t walk.”
The attendant stared at her for a moment, then couldn’t help laughing.
Only then did the brown‑haired knight realize, mortified, that she’d accidentally said her thoughts out loud.
…Lance craved beauties, the other knight craved honor. Compared to them, her own heart’s desire was miserably shabby.
“I thought that whatever could tempt a knight as strong‑willed as you must be something extraordinary. I didn’t expect you to be so simple, Miss Knight. So easy to satisfy?”
Seeing the brown‑haired knight’s face flush, the attendant leaned close to her ear and murmured softly,
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
That tone was teasing no matter how you listened to it.
Leif gradually calmed down. Just as she felt something was off, the roast chicken vanished into thin air, reverting to its true form—a skull that had rolled to a stop at her feet.
The brown‑haired knight turned back to the cola waterfall. Forcing herself to look closer at where the cola met the ground, she noticed it simply stopped—no splash, no puddle, just cut off.
Then she examined the milk tea spring and similarly noticed a flaw—the ground it flowed over was filthy, yet the milk tea remained pristine, unstained.
With a faint sense of regret, Leif watched the cola falls and the milk tea spring both disappear, dissolving back into plain stone and soil.
She looked around. Everyone’s expressions were hazy and dazed—they were all lost in their own illusions.
Even the ever‑steady Hilton, who had always been reliable, had his face streaked with tears, and his expression looked like he was both laughing and crying at once.
It was like watching people dream with their eyes open. Almost every enchanting dream was riddled with countless flaws—any clear‑headed onlooker would see right away that it was false. But dreamers either refused to notice those flaws or simply didn’t want to wake up.
Only after they woke and recalled the dream would they realize just how many contradictions it had contained.
“Flaws,” Leif said aloud, “if it’s an illusion, there must be flaws. Once you find the flaws, you can shatter it. No matter how beautiful, it’s still fake.”
Perhaps because her words hit their mark, after struggling for a time, the others finally managed to halt their steps with great care.
The ground was carpeted with bones.
Old and new, all mixed together.
The earliest were from those who had died in the first great fire. Those whose bodies had not been completely burned to ash were left as charred, dark‑brown skeletons. The fresher, more intact bones belonged to adventurers. Some still wore armor or tattered clothing, interwoven with the wildflowers and weeds that grew in eerie profusion through the ruin, creating a suffocatingly ominous atmosphere.
Even those who had not been through many battles had at least seen corpses before—especially when they had already steeled themselves for such scenes before entering.
Yet what they felt now was a peculiar, hard‑to‑define wrongness they couldn’t fully put into words.
Leif tilted her head slightly and looked at the lady attendant, whose expression had been utterly calm from the moment they stepped inside.
Even in the thick of all that illusion, while everyone else was affected, the attendant’s composure had never wavered.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Miss Knight?”
“…I was wondering why you weren’t affected at all,” the brown‑haired knight said. “If these illusions are born of desire, do you… have no desires?”
“Desire? Of course I do. But I don’t want many things. Perhaps because I was born with so much—name, wealth, beauty—when you already possess them, there’s little soil left for ‘desire’ to grow in.
“The only things I truly want are those that can’t be bought with money; that can’t be stolen with force; that might not be yours, no matter how hard you try.”
The attendant smiled as she spoke.
“‘Can’t be bought with money, can’t be taken by force, and might not be gained no matter how hard you try’… things like that actually exist?”
Leif thought it over. For now, everything she pursued fell neatly into three categories: things you could buy, things you could seize, and things you could earn through effort.
As for the delicious food and drink she’d just seen, they were precious to her only because they didn’t exist in this world.
She mulled over the attendant’s words and felt she almost understood. Nobles born with a silver spoon always liked chasing after airy, intangible things.
Maybe what the attendant wanted was world peace or something.
“But fortunately,” the attendant went on, “everything I desire is already within my grasp…”
The verb she chose—“in my grasp”—pricked at Leif’s nerves. In the common tongue of the Deia Continent, its literal meaning was to hold something in one’s hand.
The brown‑haired knight glanced down at her own hand, which had somehow ended up held tightly by the attendant. The feeling made her vaguely uneasy, so she pulled her hand back.
The attendant regretfully drew back her now‑empty hand and smiled.
“…So, you see, I rather doubt there’s anything here that could trap *me* in an illusion.”
“Not necessarily.”
Leif eyed the attendant’s confident expression and, perhaps still a little sore from her recent embarrassment, couldn’t help contradicting her.
“Lady Natiaveda, where I come from there’s a saying: the ones who brag loudest at the start always end up the most miserable, their pride in tatters at the end.”
“Oh? In that case, I’m quite looking forward to seeing what kind of dream this Firecloud Sparrow can conjure for me.” Natiaveda laughed softly. “They say that once we reach the inner layers, it can touch deeper desires. Perhaps it really can spin a dream so sweet no one would ever want to wake.
“A dream like that must be exquisite.”
She suddenly bent down and wrenched a skull free from the body of a corpse clad in rusted black iron armor. The brittle crack of severed neck bones echoed, making everyone’s scalp prickle.
Turning the skull over in her hands as if it were a toy, the attendant said out of nowhere,
“The owner of this body was still laughing when death took him…”
She lifted the skull and pointed where the mouth would have been.
“Look how happy he is.”
She was now dressed in a white man’s robe; for convenience, she’d tied her long flaxen hair into a knot and tucked it under her hood. On her too‑pale face—so fair it almost looked sickly—there was the slightest hint of a smile, as if she weren’t holding a human skull but a piece of fine jewelry.
No one had enough mental space left to dwell on how jarring that sight was.
“Generally speaking, skulls keep their mouths tightly shut—oh, well, perhaps ‘teeth’ is more accurate here.” the attendant said.
Leif gave her a strange look.
“A smile only tugs on nerves and muscle. Once you’re down to bone, it shouldn’t alter the skull’s shape at all.”
Natiaveda brushed a small patch of moss from the skull, her slender white fingers finally resting at the teeth.
“Unless he died with his jaw wide open, laughing out loud, laughing so hard he couldn’t stop…
“And don’t look at me like that. If it were a scream of terror, the mouth’s shape would be different.”
Bold as ever, Lance picked up another skull from the ground. He found that this one’s “mouth” was also stretched wide, as if frozen in the instant of a hearty laugh.
After their initial shock, the others also began examining the skulls at their feet.
At last, they discovered why those bones had felt so uncanny before: no matter their age or how long they’d been dead, every last skull was grinning.
Hilton led them to an outer hall where the bones were thinner on the ground.
“Rest where you are. We make our push on the Firecloud Sparrow after nightfall.”
He stepped outside, looking up at the sun as it climbed toward the zenith.
Unfolding the parchment, he called back into the hall,
“The demon bird absorbs energy from sunlight. It’s easier to strike at night.
“Rest well and save your strength. The Firecloud Sparrow is in the deepest part of the ruin. What comes next will be a brutal fight.”
So everyone settled down where they were to rest, though questions still festered in their hearts.
They had started seeing illusions the moment they stepped inside. This didn’t even count as the first real test.
Any trace of underestimation they’d felt toward the Firecloud Sparrow was gone, replaced by full alertness.
Leif, of course, was thinking the same thing. Just then, the smell of food drifted to her side. She turned and saw the attendant happily eating grilled small fish.
“Would you like one, Miss Knight?”
The attendant held out a skewered fish toward Leif.
The brown‑haired knight stared at the roasted fish’s big, dull, black eyes and felt a pang of guilt.
“No, thank you.”
Only when night fell and the insects began to sing did Hilton rouse everyone again. After going over his warnings in careful detail several more times, he finally led them toward the first barrier.
They emerged from the outer palace. When they looked toward the ruin’s heart, they all saw something strange.
In the calm, clear summer night sky, there was no moon, only a scatter of stars. Starlight fell upon the ruined palace, illuminating a golden‑red bird.
Its body was slim; the feathers at the tips of its wings and tail were unusually long and semi‑transparent, trailing in the air. On its head blazed a single brilliant feather—the very thing so many knights had once longed to pluck.
As soon as they stepped out of the hall and tilted their heads up, the scene above them shifted.
Countless phantoms of the Firecloud Sparrow bloomed into existence and hung in the sky, each one golden‑red and translucent.
Hilton drew his greatsword from his waist and spoke to the knights behind him.
“These are all phantoms of the Firecloud Sparrow. Only by destroying every last one can we reveal the true body.
“Try to clear this barrier before sunrise.”
“Guard your partners well. Move out.”
While the knight order battled the Firecloud Sparrow’s shadows, outside the ruin people still kept vigil.
Even though the attendants had tried several times to persuade him, Prince Tony refused to leave. Nightfall made the long‑abandoned palace look even more ghastly and forbidding, so the prince’s entourage withdrew farther back, but he himself remained at a spot from which he could still see the ruin.
As for the people of Timm City, in the span of about ten hours, crowds had come and gone in waves. Yet the total number outside the ruin never stopped rising.
Firstly, because Prince Tony was there. Secondly, because everyone wanted to see whether these knights, after entering the palace, could truly slay the Firecloud Sparrow this time.
Many had even brought food and wine, waiting to see the outcome.
An attendant presented a neatly compiled list.
“This is a list of the top ten knight orders on the continent, Your Highness. Aside from Sword and Blood Rose, the ones marked in red currently have missions in progress.
“Only two orders are available for hire: the Guardian Sword and the Calling of the Lord. Both have glorious records. You may wish to consider them, Your Highness.”
As Prince Tony took the list, an official who had waited with him since dawn stroked his mustache and said,
“We should have been more cautious when choosing the knight order in the first place. Sword and Blood Rose have produced impressive results, yes, but they’re ultimately a band of young men lacking in maturity. Their ranking has fluctuated wildly in recent years.
“If, instead of focusing on their completion rate, we had cared more about their clients’ reviews at the start, perhaps we could have avoided today’s passive, awkward position entirely.
“As things stand, their behavior has proven much too reckless.”
“We’ll keep this as a backup, then.”
Prince Tony drew a mark by the Guardian Sword, then handed the list back to his now‑nervous attendant with a reassuring smile. Turning to the critical official, he said,
“Don’t blame them. The decision was mine. I have faith in these young men.
“And as you yourself said, their task completion rate is the highest of all. Besides, there’s that new knight among them. I’ve heard tales about her. Quite interesting.”
“But, Your Highness, why must you pay for their recklessness? Sword and Blood Rose’s duty is to protect the princess. The only reason they got involved with the Firecloud Sparrow is because of the vanity and competitiveness of a few members.
“Some of them probably never even considered that if they died in the Firecloud Sparrow’s jaws, the princess they were supposed to protect would be left in dire peril.
“These youths *should* pay the proper price for their vanity and competitiveness. That is how they grow.”
The official still bristled.
“And yet, Your Highness, once you learned of this, you immediately gave them the Firecloud Sparrow’s information in full.”
“Should I not have?”
Prince Tony rubbed his brow.
“The Firecloud Sparrow is a scourge that has long plagued us. Rumors about it spread far and wide among the commoners, weighing heavily on my father’s mind. Even if none of this had happened these past days, I would have had to set out to slay that demon bird sooner or later.
“Some of those rumors have even begun to drag in discussions of the royal family’s legitimacy. If we let that fester, the consequences will be dire.”
At that, the official, who had been resentful of the knights’ actions, found his thoughts shifting. He looked at the young prince with eyes the color of clear sky.
“Then… Your Highness foresaw all this?”
Prince Tony neither confirmed nor denied it. He merely tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest.
“With such a notorious monster, very few knight orders aside from a ‘reckless’ one like Sword and Blood Rose would have the courage—let alone the strength—to challenge it.
“And if we merely cobbled together a hunting party for the occasion, they would never have the same tacit understanding that comrades in a knight order share.
“That tacit understanding may well be the most crucial factor in killing the demon bird.”
Perhaps it had all been arranged by the prince from the start, the official thought. Perhaps those nobles who had spread those vague, tempting rumors had done so at Tony’s behest.
That would explain why, in what they told the knights who had come from afar, all they emphasized was the Firecloud Sparrow’s alluring feathers, while deliberately glossing over its dangers.
The official couldn’t help recalling a few days ago, when Hilton, the captain of Sword and Blood Rose, had come asking for an audience after his men’s rash actions. He had looked rather like a father coming to apologize for his children.
The prince had given him all the intelligence records from past attempts to slay the demon bird. Hilton had left practically in tears, overwhelmed with gratitude.
Ask someone to do exactly what you want, and they end up thinking it was their own decision. Even when they’re being maneuvered, they feel grateful for it.
Perhaps… even the prince’s coldness toward his sisters was merely an ingredient meant to push those knights into acting rashly.
The official dared not follow that line of thought any further. He couldn’t help but glance again at the young Prince Tony, and a chill slid up his spine.
The prince was infinitely more approachable than his decisive, iron‑fisted father, yet the resemblance between them was still inescapable.
Unaware of the storm of speculation his words had stirred, Prince Tony said to his attendant,
“Split the palace guard into two units and post them to protect the Larela residence. And contact the Guardian Sword as soon as possible.”
Then, almost talking to himself, he added,
“I truly do have faith in Sword and Blood Rose. Unfortunately… accidents are impossible to avoid.”
“Indeed. Even if Sword and Blood Rose truly can slay the Firecloud Sparrow, if they suffer losses in the process…”
The attendant, well versed in the prince’s thinking, answered softly,
“…then we will still need to replace them with another order.”
That much went without saying. The position of prince’s consort was of immense importance, and competition among the princesses was intense. The knight order wasn’t only there to keep petty villains away, but more importantly, to prevent the princesses from harming one another.
At least the ties between the Sword and Blood Rose knights—famed for being as close as brothers—could lessen that internal strife.
Prince Tony nodded, a touch of regret passing over his beautiful, almost girlish features.
“I only hope we can avoid such a regrettable outcome.”
“Even if you must make such a choice, Your Highness, there’s no need to worry overmuch. One way or another, the brave will always receive the honors they deserve.”
Whether those honors came in life or only after death—no one said.
The prince watched the ruin under the night sky and murmured,
“May the Sanctuary protect them.”
Though he’d guessed at the prince’s intentions, the official still felt there was real sincerity in those words. He too could only turn his gaze toward the ruin, which under the stars looked even more sinister.
Blood‑red bird‑shadows shimmered into view, hovering like demonic eyes in the air. It meant the Firecloud Sparrow, whose lair had been invaded, had begun to deploy its first line of defense.
Anyone patient enough to count them would find one hundred and two bird‑shadows in total—exactly matching the number of people who had entered the ruin.
Soon, some of those shadows dimmed as they suffered blows. For one breathless instant, every shadow in the sky seemed to vanish.
The citizens craned their necks. Their bright eyes darted to each other’s faces, as if celebrating the knights’ first victory.
“Was it really that easy to wipe them out?”
“That was only the first line of defense. There’s another one behind it.”
“But it looked easy enough. Hardly any expedition in the tales ever reached the second layer. Maybe those stories were exaggerated.”
Beneath their words, a faint frustration surfaced—as if they felt they’d been tricked. If it was this simple, perhaps all those past failures had only been due to those adventurers’ laziness.
Just then, a sharp, piercing shriek rang down from above.
The crowd looked up. Amid the Firecloud Sparrow’s harsh, cackling cries, they saw new bird‑shadows being born at the places where the old ones had vanished—bigger this time, darker in color.
The demon bird’s “kya‑kya” calls were laced with scorn, as if mocking the challengers’ overconfidence.
“So long as a single Firecloud Shadow remains, it can never truly die. Only by erasing every shadow at once can they pass the first line of defense.”
Prince Tony frowned.
“If even one escapes, the reborn shadows will only grow stronger and stronger. I just hope Hilton didn’t overlook that line on the parchment—and that they have enough unity between them.”
The shadows flickered out several times. Each time, just when the breathless onlookers thought the last of them had finally vanished, larger, deeper red shadows would coalesce once more.
The increasingly heavy crimson on their forms seemed to hint at how much blood the knights were losing inside the ruin.
The Firecloud Sparrow’s mocking cries grew ever more wanton, and the knights’ pace at cutting down the shadows grew slower and slower.
No one knew how many times they had to swing their swords for themselves and their companions.
It was grueling. Yet through hours of fighting within the ruin, none of them gave up.
The night had grown very deep.
Outside, whether nobles or commoners, everyone seemed infected by that desperate struggle against hopeless odds.
An attendant stepped to the prince’s side, bowed, and reported,
“Your Highness, the letter of appointment for the Guardian Sword has been sent. We should have their reply soon.”
“So quickly?” Prince Tony dipped his head slightly. “And still, I can’t shake the feeling that Sword and Blood Rose won’t fail so easily.”
“Your Highness, why not retire for the night? Even if you stay, I fear…”
The attendant thought the situation was already clear. No matter how long they waited, those knights might only end up like their predecessors, staying in the ruin forever as nourishment for the Firecloud Sparrow.
But all of a sudden, a beam of blinding light flared from deep within the ruin.
The attendant turned, eyes instantly watering. That light shot out from the darkest corner of Timm City, yet in an instant, it brightened the whole night sky. It was more dazzling than staring straight at the midsummer noon sun.
The crowd too squinted, raising hands to shield their eyes or simply turning away. Some who’d been staring unblinking at the Firecloud Sparrow’s shadows were too slow to react; the light hit them full on, blinding them for an instant. As their sight slowly returned, tears streamed uncontrollably from their eyes.
“Why is it like this…”
“What happened in there?”
By the time the crowd came back to their senses, they were already dropping to their knees without even realizing it.
That white radiance lingered a long while before finally dissipating. And when it faded, it took every last bird‑shadow with it.
Time seemed to freeze. No more shadows emerged. The Firecloud Sparrow fell silent; only after a long pause did a raw, enraged screech of pain tear out from within.
Prince Tony rose from his seat.
“This is Purifying Holy Light. I’ve only ever seen it described once in the Temple’s records. I never expected to witness it in my lifetime—or that there would be a holy magist in this world capable of casting it.
“Sword and Blood Rose truly are full of hidden talents. My faith in them wasn’t misplaced.”
His pale blue eyes turned to the distant sky. There, it seemed, a faint silhouette suffused with holy radiance still lingered.
His heart trembled; he bowed his noble head, stepped down from the carriage, and knelt, his expression filled with humility.
The nobles and ministers present were confused at first by the prince’s sudden action, but once they saw the holy silhouette hanging in the sky, they quickly followed suit, all kneeling as well.
Throughout Timm, near and far, people were jolted awake by that brilliant light and saw the sacred figure in the heavens.
One by one, they too bowed their heads and prostrated themselves.
Purifying Holy Light.
Holy magists were rare enough on the Deia Continent. A spell of this level, spoken of only in legend, was something almost no one had even heard of.
Unlike knights, who only needed iron bodies and indomitable wills, holy magists all carried the blood of Heaven’s messengers in their veins. It was by that bloodline that they were granted the Lord’s power. The Temple valued such bloodlines immensely, and common folk rarely laid eyes on them.
In what little record existed of Purifying Holy Light, there was always one line:
“If the Lord of Heaven does not descend in person, then He descends through this spell, to cleanse all sin.”
Even those who had never heard its name felt a natural awe rise in their hearts as it fell upon them.
