Iralniel’s injuries were grave. Most of her abdominal organs had been destroyed. Even for a transcendent, survival was nearly impossible. But she was forcibly tethering her life together using overwhelming power. Still, at this rate, it was only a matter of time before she died. She was drawing on every last bit of energy to stay alive. “H-Hurry, tend to the High Chief!” The elders urgently channeled the energy of nature into Iralniel’s abdomen. Nature’s energy did have healing properties. But it merely enhanced regeneration—it wasn’t a miracle that could instantly mend such catastrophic wounds. If all elder-level beings poured their strength in, the results might be promising—but there was a bigger issue. Fssshhhh... “Guh! The resistance is too strong!” It was the energy Rahamod had left in her wounds. The darkness writhed as if alive, gnawing at Iralniel’s life. She had to maintain the cohesion of her ruptured organs and suppress the dark energy at the same time. The elders sweated profusely as they tried to purge Rahamod’s residual aura. But it was too powerful. Had Iralniel not been suppressing it, the darkness would’ve long since consumed and destroyed her body. “High Chief!” Ereneth reached out with trembling hands, tears spilling down her cheeks. As someone with great power herself, she tried to help. But the moment she saw Iralniel lying there, her desire to help was matched by an equally deep resentment. “Why... Why did you do that?!” Her voice cracked with grief. She loved Iralniel. That love made it unbearable to watch her dying like this. Why had she made that choice? “If you die, High Chief... then we’re all dead too!” Ereneth knew the enemy’s true aim. They counted on Iralniel sacrificing herself to protect everyone. They knew her too well. Iralniel surely understood that too—but still, she couldn’t abandon the others. So now she had fallen, and the tide of battle had turned to despair. The elves were going to lose—and die. If that happened, then what was Iralniel’s sacrifice even for? “Even if we all died... you should’ve stopped him. Even if it meant sacrificing us... that bastard should’ve been stopped...” “Ereneth...” “You should’ve lived! You should’ve killed him, even if you were the only one left!” Her voice trembled with fury and sorrow. Why did someone who had done the right thing—who had protected everyone—have to be the one to die? At that moment, Iralniel weakly reached out and caressed Ereneth’s cheek. Her touch was soft and warm. “Who knows... I don’t really know myself... I didn’t mean to... but I couldn’t just stand by and watch... I guess that’s... just the nature of an elf...” Ereneth bit her lip hard. She hated that "nature of an elf." That beautiful idealism that led nowhere—that noble instinct that rendered even the strongest elf helpless. Humans were different. They knew when to sacrifice the few for the sake of the many. That’s why they ruled the continent now. “...I will never live like an elf.” She made her decision. Even if it meant sacrificing her own life—she would live for a greater cause. That was the vow she etched into her soul as she watched Iralniel dying before her. She would never allow such meaningless choices to be repeated again. “Please don’t die... I beg you...” Ereneth wept as she poured all her energy into Iralniel. With the elders’ power joining hers, the darkness began to subside—just barely. But the energy Rahamod had left behind was too strong. He had used all his might to ensure Iralniel would die. If Ghislain hadn’t appeared to help, Iralniel would’ve died instantly. Lionel rushed in and shouted, “I can use holy power! Let me help!” He understood the gravity of the situation. If Iralniel died, no one here would survive. That’s how overwhelming Rahamod’s presence was. He was terror incarnate on the battlefield. FWOOOOSH! Lionel unleashed a burst of holy energy. He, too, was determined to save Iralniel. But even with divine power, the darkness didn’t vanish easily. It only hesitated for a moment in its rampage. Lionel quickly turned his head, looking for Deneb. Every hand counted. Even weak holy power could make a difference now. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there—help! Use your pathetic divine power!” “Y-Yes!” Deneb had been too hesitant to step in due to her weak holy power. But being called on like this made her feel more at ease. Of course, Julien—standing nearby—was visibly restraining himself from cutting Lionel down on the spot. Snap! Deneb mustered all her strength and poured out her divine energy. It didn’t help much. She couldn’t even treat the surrounding wounds, let alone cleanse the darkness. But her will burned stronger than anyone’s. She wanted to save Iralniel. She couldn’t bear watching this great elf die. “Goddess... please... lend me strength...” Deneb didn’t even notice how much divine energy she was using. She focused solely on the wound and the darkness writhing within it. Before long, all sound faded. Time itself seemed to stop. She didn’t even notice. Now, there was only her—and the darkness. As she faced it, Deneb suddenly felt a strange sensation. “...It’s in pain.” The darkness, touched by her divine energy, felt as though it was screaming. It twisted and flinched as if trying to flee from her light. It was common knowledge that the Salvation Order’s energy was vulnerable to divine power. The stronger the holy power, the weaker the darkness. But that was only ever described in effect—not in cause. No one explained the emotion behind it. And yet, Deneb could feel it clearly now. That darkness... was afraid. “Ah...” She finally understood. That thing—was not of this world. That thing—did not belong in this world. That thing—thrived on fear. And so, if you cast away your fear and faced it directly— “It’s nothing.” At that moment— FWOOOOOOOSH! A tremendous light burst from Deneb’s body. It wasn’t just divine power—it was her convictions, her hopes, her prayers, and her kindness, all exploding as one. Lionel jumped back in shock, forgetting the healing. The elven elders reacted the same way. Even Rahamod, charging in to finish Iralniel off, froze mid-step. And then— “W-Wha—?” Ereneth’s eyes widened, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. All around, the elders stared in disbelief. A gentle light rose from Iralniel’s body. Where her abdomen had once been soaked ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ in blood, not even a scar remained. The torn flesh was now smooth and whole. The blood, once pooling out, seemed to have vanished as if time itself had reversed. Iralniel exhaled softly. Slowly, like someone waking from a long sleep, she lifted her upper body. Seeing her move, Deneb melted into a relieved smile. “...Thank goodness.” Thud. She soon collapsed where she stood, unconscious, as if all her strength had left her. Iralniel looked down at the fallen Deneb for a moment. “This child...” It was hard to believe. No matter how talented a priestess might be, healing wounds of this magnitude was impossible—especially ones saturated with Rahamod’s aura. Even the Pope himself likely couldn't have healed such wounds so easily. And yet this girl, who appeared to be a mere novice, had done it. Even Iralniel, who had lived for countless years, could hardly comprehend it. “...Could it be...” “...Could it really be...” There was something every race had wished for across the ages—the end of the war with the Demon Realm. And with that longing came an ancient prophecy: One day, a divine agent of the Goddess would appear, leading all peoples of the world to destroy the Demon Realm once and for all. It was a legend known far and wide, but just that—a legend. Even Iralniel had never believed it would come true. But now, for some reason, she remembered it. Because of a miracle brought about by a human priestess so feeble she hadn’t even warranted attention. “...Perhaps...” But Iralniel didn’t let herself dwell on it. She turned her gaze back forward. Rahamod still stood there, face stiff with unreadable emotion. It wasn’t the time to be lost in thought. “See to it that this girl is well cared for.” After entrusting Deneb to a nearby elf, Iralniel began walking toward Rahamod. Ten elders followed behind her. Rahamod’s eyes gleamed with weight as he spoke. “A miracle beyond belief has occurred.” “That’s what divine protection is, is it not?” she replied. “They are nothing but relics long since abandoned by the world.” “That applies just as much to the god you serve.” “...But you are not in fighting shape. You won’t defeat me like this.” He wasn’t wrong. Though her wounds were healed, Iralniel had already spent too much energy. In her current condition, a fight would end in Rahamod’s victory. But Iralniel gave him a serene smile. “That would be true—if it were one-on-one.” “...” Rahamod glanced at the elders standing behind her. They too were exhausted. If he fought, he could likely kill at least half. Maybe all, if he went all out. But the aftermath would be a problem. If he burned his strength on them, he would fall to Iralniel. “...That cannot happen.” Even with the sacrifice of four high priests, they had failed to kill Iralniel. The loss was bitter beyond words. And now, to lose himself as well—a core asset of the doctrine—would be unacceptable. A martyrdom only held value when it benefited the Order. “...So this is the limit.” He had been on the verge of success. Just a little more and he would have achieved it. But then, a miracle had occurred. Because of some insect of a human he hadn’t even bothered noticing. Rahamod’s body slowly lifted into the air. In a dry voice, he said, “No matter how I calculate it, the numbers don’t work out. Let me instead pay my respects to the Goddess’s favor... for now.” “...” Iralniel said nothing. No taunt. No rebuke. Not a single word. She simply watched Rahamod with calm, unwavering eyes. He, too, stared at her for a moment—then turned away. “Executor. Withdraw. Send the orcs forward.” BOOM! Munareff’s punch was blocked by Ghislain’s staff, and he grimaced in frustration. His opponent was visibly dying—on the verge of collapse. Just a little more and he could’ve finished him off—but now came the order to retreat. Bleeding heavily from his nose and mouth, Ghislain grinned. “I win.” “...Y-You bastard...” “I’ll give you this one chance to run. Hurry up and flee. Koff!” Clearly, Ghislain was the one losing, coughing blood and half-dead. Yet even in that state, he kept provoking his enemy. BOOM! Furious, Munareff swung with all his strength—hoping to land one final blow before pulling out. But two elf elders suddenly appeared and blocked the attack. From behind them, Ghislain stood tall and shouted boldly, “Weakling. I’ll let you go this time, but next time—I’ll kill you. Koff! Ugh, why is there so much blood...” “Grrrgh...” Munareff ground his teeth in frustration. The man was infuriating. Last time too—he’d just stalled and escaped. He had a real talent for getting under people’s skin. “Next time, I’ll take your head for sure.” With that, Munareff followed behind Rahamod. And at that moment, the orc charge resumed. KRAAAAAHH! More than half the orcs had already been killed. There were no more Salvation Order priests. No dark mages left. And yet, the remaining orcs charged again with frenzied rage. They had no other choice. Iralniel, watching them, quietly spoke: “Let’s go. We’ll ensure they never again trample this forest.” She stepped toward the mass of orcs. Eight elders and every elf followed behind her. BOOM! Iralniel struck hard, tearing into the orcs. The elders shredded through their formations one after another. The orcs, already on the brink of collapse, began to crumble completely. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Iralniel unleashed her power without restraint. With each flick of her finger, light erupted, the ground warped, and orcs were pulverized in all directions. Because she knew. She knew Rahamod was watching her from afar. So Iralniel stood proud, slaughtering the orcs. So that he would never realize... That she was no longer strong.