"Didn't Charon eavesdrop on everything from start to finish?" I asked.
"That's right."
"Then keep your mouth shut. We still have six hours to decide what to do with Evan."
Or is it five hours now? Whatever.
Seren, misreading my intentions, spoke up. "Are you hesitating because you know him? Or do you actually object to killing?"
"It's something you should always be prepared for."
I didn't deny that many people in the world deserved death. But treating killing lightly was another matter entirely.
Seren shot me a frustrated glare. "You don't have the luxury of time. The instructor said six hours, but there's no guarantee you'll last that long."
"So you'll kill for my sake? How touching."
She gritted her teeth. "Do you not understand? If this continues, you'll die. Are you really just going to sit back and let it happen?"
"I have no intention of dying quietly. And your logic is flawed—when has Evan ever explicitly threatened to kill me? You're the ones who've lost your minds."
Finally, Seren seemed to understand my stance. "So you refuse to kill Evan Helvin."
Surprisingly, she fell silent after that.
I expected her to argue, to try and convince me, but instead, she just stood there, watching me.
Something is wrong.
She was not the type to respect my opinion so easily.
No, wait a minute. Don't tell me—
Just as the thought crossed my mind and I tried to move past her, Seren stepped in my way.
"Not letting me through?" I questioned.
"I'm following the instructor's orders. We're here to search for traces of the ally," she answered.
"And in the meantime, the others will kill Evan?"
It was as expected.
"Impressive. So everyone agreed except me?"
"Hector hesitated until the end, but he gave in when he heard how little time you had left," she replied.
I was at a loss for words.
"One look at you says it all. You're in no shape to fight me, so stay put—rest if you need to," Seren suggested.
"You've made a mistake."
"What?"
I clenched my fist and said, "Hearing that just awakened my half-hearted rebellious spirit."
***
Like most boys his age, Evan Helvin had once admired knights. Becoming one had been his dream—at least, until he learned of heroes. Even after setting his sights on that greater path, he never thought poorly of knights. After all, his own father had been one.
Evan closed the eyes of the nameless knight before him. The man's face bore no trace of pain or fear—he had died without even realizing it.
Should that be called fortunate? Evan wondered, remembering Pam's terrified expression.
The biting cold stung his cheeks. With a sigh, he rose to his feet.
Joining the scouting party had been an impulsive decision. If anyone asked why, he wouldn't be able to provide a clear answer. But for some reason, staying behind felt unbearable. Of course, that was a rude thought for those who had chosen to remain behind.
But now, surrounded by the others, he understood his true desire.
Hector possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of the forest. Charon was a flawless guide. Seren had obliterated dozens of demons in a single move. And then there was Luan.
Evan refused to be a burden. He wanted to stand out among these exceptional hero disciples and prove he wasn't inferior.
"Evan Helvin."
The voice snapped him from his thoughts. Junian had appeared behind him, silent as a shadow.
Weren't we supposed to split up and search? Evan wondered.
"How much do you know about the Dark Church?"
Junian's sudden question caught him off guard.
"The church?" he echoed.
"Yes."
"Why ask that all of a sudden—"
"Don't change the subject," she interrupted. "Answer."
Under the weight of an inexplicable pressure, Evan replied, "Aren't they the greatest enemy of the empire and the Hero Society?"
"Is that all?" she pressed.
"Well... I'm sorry. If I survive here, I will study more about them—"
"The priest saw you and called you the Young Dark Pope," Junian interrupted.
Evan blinked stupidly. "Young Dark Pope?"
"Yes. The one who carries the Dark Pope's bloodline."
"I... What?"
"Do you admit that?"
"W-wait a minute! I don't understand what you're saying—"
Evan's words died as Charon and Hector emerged from either side of Junian. Their eyes mirrored hers—cold, suspicious, hostile.
Sometimes, a single glance spoke louder than a thousand words.
Evan realized they weren't there to listen to excuses. Without proof of his innocence, nothing he said would matter.
His breath quickened, though he hadn't moved. Heat surged in his throat, so intense he forgot the cold. Anger, confusion, sorrow, resentment—all crashed over him at once, driving him to a futile act.
"N-no! I'm not the Dark Church's Young Dark Pope or whatever!"
Even as he spoke, he knew that it was pointless.
At that moment, Hector and Charon lunged at him simultaneously.
Evan barely drew his sword in time, but against even one of them, he stood no chance. Within moments, his sword clattered to the ground, and he slumped to his knees.
What he felt most acutely wasn't anger or resentment—but emptiness.
He had sparred with them before. Even then, the gap in skill had been clear, but somewhere in his heart, he'd clung to a foolish thought: In a real fight, it would be different. If my life were on the line, I wouldn't lose so easily.
Now, in a single exchange, he understood just how arrogant that had been. Their combat experience far outstripped his own.
As Evan sat dazed, Junian approached. "Shall I tell you the vilest of the Dark Church's arts?"
"What?"
"It is the concealment of memories." She tapped her head with her index finger. "How to explain it simply? Suppose a church member buries all memories of being one. Would they be confused by the gaps? Lose their mind?"
It wasn't a question meant to be answered.
Her voice turned icy. "Neither. They become an entirely different person. A new personality rises from the dust, and they'll never even consider themselves a church member."
Evan's breath hitched. "What... are you saying?"
"I didn't tell Luan Badniker, but I've already found proof that you are a church member. Sooner or later, a church member must reclaim their sealed memories, so they always carry a medium. Of course, most magic tools are forbidden in this camp." Junian paused. "Except for weapons."
She picked up Evan's fallen sword and traced the blade with her fingers. Though it looked like she was wiping away dust, she was infusing it with divine power.
Dark sparks flickered, etching letters into the steel. The pristine weapon blackened instantly, radiating an ominous aura.
"I may not know demonic language, but I can sense the church's miasma, Evan."
"This can't be," he whispered.
"Where did you get this sword?" she asked.
"This sword..."
Where did I get this?
Evan grabbed his head. "I-I don't... I don't remember..."
Junian closed her eyes at the sight. O' Aton.
She'd witnessed this scene countless times as an inquisitor, yet each instance compelled her to invoke the Sun God. Fighting demons to the death was preferable. This felt like condemning an innocent man.
This was why she loathed the Dark Church.
Her voice dropped to a murmur. "Luan Badniker is about to die."
Evan raised his head blankly at these words.
"He has five hours left." She studied his face. "I still believe you're a church member, but for now, I'll trust the sincerity you've shown."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he rasped.
"Die as a hero," Junian stated in a low voice. "If you're truly Evan Helvin and care for the identity you've been given, then accept your execution quietly. Your past as a church member will be buried. The Helvin family's honor, and yours, will remain intact."
Evan remained silent.
"This is a proposal made out of respect for you, Hero Discipline Evan."
She tossed the sword back to him.
The black sparks faded from the sword, along with the letters.
Evan closed his eyes. His father's face came to mind first.
How would he react when he learned his son was a church member? The answer was obvious. He'd take his own life.
Does that mean even this thought is fabricated?
A dry laugh escaped him.
One thing was clear: the Evan of now still yearned to be a hero and despised the Dark Church. With that clarity came the realization that he'd only ever had one choice.
He opened his eyes, his mind eerily calm. For the first time, he saw the three before him as they truly were. Junian, Hector, and Charon were all desperate. They were struggling because they wanted to live and refused to die.
Maybe it was the same for those who weren't there.
When he had first dreamed of becoming a hero, he'd imagined his death a dozen ways. The most dramatic was always dying in place of his comrades. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
How absurd.
Now, he was willing to die for his comrades, but there would be no honor in the act.
"Instructor Junian." His voice didn't waver.
She inclined her head. "Speak."
"Promise me you'll keep your word."
Junian nodded. "I swear to Aton."
Evan gripped the sword with both hands, and its pulsed with an ominous darkness.
I wanted to be a hero, he thought before driving the sword through his heart.