"Aw… are you already leaving?"
"Can't we play a bit longer?"
The children clung to Iris's trouser leg, eyes wide with pleading. Their small hands tugged at her robe, unwilling to let go.
Iris smiled gently, kneeling to meet them at eye level.
"It's okay. I'll come back to play again soon."
"…Really?"
"When? When exactly?"
"I want to play more with you, sister!"
Their reluctance was palpable, and even the usually patient Father Antonio stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Now, now. That's enough. The Saint has duties to attend to, don't you think?"
"But…!"
Their chorus of protests only grew louder.
Just as Father Antonio's brow began to furrow—
"Please, don't be too harsh on them, Father."
"…Spoiling them too much leads to bad habits."
"Even so," Iris said, still smiling softly as she stroked the children's hair. "Let them enjoy the moment."
It was in that moment that she tilted her head as if recalling something.
"Oh, right! Isn't the Sealing Festival coming up soon?"
The children perked up instantly.
The Sealing Festival.
A celebration commemorating the day the Five Great Heroes sealed away the Demon God. Training would be suspended, lectures paused. Even the academy—normally closed to outsiders—would open its gates to family and guests. Valhalla City would come alive.
"I was thinking… why not invite the children to the festival?" Iris said.
"…The children?" Father Antonio echoed.
"Of course, you as well."
"That is…."
The old priest faltered, clearly taken aback.
"Really?! We can go?"
"I want to see the academy!"
The children were already jumping in joy.
Father Antonio leaned closer, voice low. "Saint, are you sure? Orphans wandering the Academy grounds… it won't be taken lightly."
His concern wasn't misplaced.
Despite the supposed neutrality between the three great nations, people's prejudice against orphans ran deep. In this demon-ridden continent, the weak were seen as burdens—barely above beasts.
Iris's smile never wavered.
"If anyone has a problem with it, I'll use my authority as Saint to ensure they're not easily forgiven."
"…Lady Iris," Father Antonio whispered, his eyes misting.
"Thank you."
"No need for that. If anything, I should have invited you all long ago."
Father Antonio chuckled warmly. "Still, thank you."
The yard burst into joyful chaos as the children spun around, laughing and shouting.
"You rascals! What are you doing making such a mess? Get inside!"
"Eek!"
"Anyone who doesn't hurry will be left behind when the festival comes!"
"S-Sorry!"
"Let's go!"
The children scrambled back toward the orphanage with renewed excitement.
Iris stood beside me, brushing dust from her robe as Father Antonio turned to us.
"The Sealing Festival is in two weeks, yes?"
"Yes," Iris nodded.
"Then we'll be there, Saint. May the stars watch over you on your way back."
He made the sign of the cross and gave a respectful bow. Then his gaze turned to me.
"Oh, and… your name is Dale, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please continue to watch over the Saint."
He patted my shoulder, smiling meaningfully.
"I will."
"Haha, you'd better. She may look gentle, but she's fiercer than a sandcat if you test her—"
"Father Antonio!" Iris's cheeks flushed with flustered indignation.
His booming laughter echoed across the yard.
Then his face turned thoughtful. "By the way… the timing's fortunate."
"Hmm? What do you mean?" Iris asked.
"The Ant's Hill has been safer lately. A good time to bring the children out, I'd say."
"Did something happen?"
"I'm not entirely sure. But the black-robed freaks that were loitering around the Hill have suddenly vanished."
"…Black-robed freaks?"
He nodded. "Rumors said they were tied to some criminal group. Dangerous people. But they've disappeared without a trace."
My fingers curled slightly at the words.
Black robes. Criminal group. Dangerous.
Images flashed in my mind—Astaroth, the cultists, the blood-soaked ruin beneath the Ant's Hill.
"When did this happen?" I asked, my tone steady.
"Hmm… just a few days ago, I believe."
Right when I destroyed their hideout.
So the timing aligns.
The ones he described were without doubt the remnants of the Demon Cult—Astaroth's disciples.
"That's truly fortunate," Iris said. "I hadn't realized it was that dangerous."
Father Antonio exhaled. "It was… if the rumors were even half-true, having children anywhere near there would've been unthinkable."
"…What?"
He blinked at my subdued reaction.
I quickly schooled my expression and smiled faintly.
"Nothing. I was just thinking it's good that the danger passed before anyone got hurt."
His concern eased. "Indeed."
But my thoughts remained elsewhere.
So… the Cult's disappearance is already being noticed.
Meaning Calyx and the higher ranks won't stay idle for long.
The Sealing Festival would draw attention. Visitors. Crowds. Noise.
The perfect stage—for celebration or catastrophe.
Wait a minute.
Over a hundred?
"You're saying there were over a hundred black-robed freaks?"
"Well… I can't say for sure. I only heard rumors. But yes, the word going around is that the group numbered at least a hundred."
"..."
I froze.
In the Ant's Hill hideout, I'd dealt with around thirty cultists—demons in disguise, likely hand-picked by Calyx himself.
Only thirty.
Which could mean one thing.
That was just one nest.
There were other hideouts—other nests crawling with Astaroth's loyal minions—and yet, all of them vanished right after that night?
Logically, it made sense. After their ritual was disrupted, they likely cut their losses and scattered before the Academy caught wind of them.
But something didn't sit right.
They wouldn't abandon the operation so easily.
Not when Archbishop Astaroth had invested years preparing for this. He'd even risked infiltrating the Academy—a suicidal mission for any demon, especially one bearing a name.
I let out a quiet breath.
"…Hah."
'There's no way.'
Even though I'd never faced Astaroth in person, I knew how demons thought. I'd studied them, fought them, burned them down.
These weren't ordinary monsters. They were fallen beings—those who turned their backs on humanity, etched curses into their very souls, and forged pacts with the primordial darkness.
They never gave up on what they desired.
The Seven Eyes.
If they couldn't have it quietly, they'd come for it with fire and blood.
"Mr. Dale?"
"Hm?" I blinked. Iris was watching me with concern.
"What are you doing spacing out all of a sudden?"
"Ah… just lost in thought."
"Could it be… you're already missing the kids?" she asked with a teasing grin.
"…Something like that."
"Knew it~." Iris smirked like a fox who'd caught her prey.
"Then how about joining us at the Sealing Festival? I'm sure the children would love it! Oh—and I mean, I wouldn't mind either."
"..."
It was clearly a trap, but—
"Sure."
"Yay!"
Iris clenched her fists and bounced like a child winning a bet.
"No backing out now, okay?"
"Got it."
I chuckled under my breath and nodded. The sun was beginning to dip behind the city's spires, casting long shadows.
"Saint, we should go if we want to make it before curfew," Camilla called from ahead.
"Oh no! Let's hurry, Mr. Dale!" Iris grabbed my arm and pulled me along with uncharacteristic urgency.
I didn't resist.
With Iris's hand firmly wrapped around mine, we walked toward the Academy—toward the Sealing Festival.
Elsewhere, in a place swallowed by shadow…
An old warehouse, choked with damp and mildew.
A cluster of figures kneeled beneath a flickering purple glow. The air was heavy, suffocating. The scent of rot and ash lingered like a curse.
Above them, a floating orb pulsed with ominous light.
A voice rumbled from within.
[Is everyone present?]
"Y-Yes, my lord! As you commanded, we've vacated the Ant's Hill!"
The voice belonged to a trembling cultist groveling before the orb.
"This incident was… Priest Calyx's error! The rest of us had no part—"
[Silence.]
The orb flashed once. The air thickened.
[Only answer what I ask.]
"Y-Yes! Forgive me!"
[Were all the nails removed from the ley lines?]
"Yes, my lord! Every one has been extracted!"
[…So the foundation is ruined.]
A heavy click of the tongue.
[Troublesome.]
Tendrils of smoke bled from the orb, curling like snakes through the warehouse.
"A-Astaroth, sir…!"
"We only need a little more time! The plan isn't ruined, is it?"
[Ruined?]
The orb spun slowly, its glow deepening.
[Who said anything about abandoning the plan?]
"…Huh?"
[I'm simply adjusting our method. If subtlety fails—then force shall prevail.]
The smoke darkened, now a deep violet, thick as tar. It slithered into the mouths and ears of the kneeling demons.
"Guh! N-No—please—!"
"Have mercy, Lord Astaroth!"
Their bodies convulsed violently. Screams echoed.
Their eyes turned purple.
The stench of sulfur filled the air.
Astaroth's presence radiated with sadistic pleasure.
[Originally, we planned to extract the Seven Eyes quietly, over time…]
[…But time is no longer on our side.]
That masked intruder—the one who annihilated over thirty demons alone.
Astaroth had investigated the scene personally.
A single warrior.
No reinforcements.
No signs of external backup.
And yet, total destruction.
[Definitely not a mere cadet… but not a professor either.]
Whoever it was, he had to be silenced—but not now.
[Securing the Seven Eyes takes precedence. Retribution can wait.]
The orb pulsed.
[Hmm. When would be… ideal?]
The answer came quickly.
[Ah, of course.]
A low, chilling laugh echoed across the walls.
[The Sealing Festival.]
A perfect day.
A celebration honoring the Five Heroes who sealed the Demon God.
A symbolic event, where the eyes of the gods themselves would be least vigilant—distracted by the rituals, the joy, the gathered masses.
[If I steal the Seven Eyes on that day, no one will forget my name.]
The smoke thickened once more, filling the warehouse with madness and ecstasy.
The cultists screamed as their bodies transformed further, swallowed by the purple corruption.
And from deep within the orb, the Archbishop's voice whispered like death.
[Let the festivities begin.]