No matter how severe the wounds, under the white magic of the Bishop, there seemed to be nothing that couldn't be healed. Yet, no matter how profound or ingenious the white magic, it could not restore the Paladin's utterly depleted strength. The Holy Light Cross Sword, which was already unusable, had consumed all of Lancelote's energy, magic, and even more than half of his vitality in its final strike. Though he could still barely stand, for now, he was no different from an ordinary person.
The shattered fragments of the Glory Armor strewn across the ground left everyone in the church utterly stunned. The Glory Armor was no fragile object, not something that would shatter entirely from a single impact. Not only was it extraordinarily durable, but it also possessed the ability to self-repair under the influence of white magic. In truth, the Temple Knights and Holy Warriors never believed that there was any force in the world capable of destroying this treasure of Celeste. And yet, here they stood, witnessing it with their own eyes.
"Seems you're still the stronger one. It's just a pity I couldn't fulfill the task His Holiness entrusted to me," Lancelote wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and spoke to Grutt calmly. Neither his demeanor nor his voice carried any trace of anger or despair; his brown eyes remained as calm and steady as a mountain, showing only faint regret.
"You were a worthy opponent." Black flames burned in Grutt's eyes. His wounds, too, were being healed by Theodorus and Asa, leaving him slightly better off than Lancelote—but only slightly. At this moment, even a lowly holy warrior might have been able to stand against him.
Yet, it was evident that such a scenario would never occur. Even if no elves or others obstructed them, even if this blood-drenched, barely alive man stood defenseless, no one dared draw their sword against him. They simply didn't dare.
"I rarely remember the enemies I kill, but I will always remember you," Grutt extended a hand, his long fingers pointing at Lancelote. With a deep sigh, he added, "It's just a pity that we probably won't ever have the chance for another fight like this. Opportunities for a fair one-on-one like today are rare."
Lancelote nodded. Both of their identities were too extraordinary; the kind of external forces that had suppressed their respective allies today were unlikely to occur again.
"Well, well, it's fortunate that no one has sustained any irreparable injuries. Let's end it here for today. Turaleone does not welcome unnecessary conflict. Both Theodorus and Asa are our friends, and the friends from the Glory Fortress are certainly not our enemies. Let us call it a reconciliation today," the elven elder said kindly. However, the tension in the surrounding elves, with their bows still drawn and ready, lent his words an undeniable weight.
"Friends?" Adra turned her head, sneering coldly. "Bring over that still-talking thief leader." At her command, a Paladin darted off and soon returned carrying the tightly bound Esis like a trussed-up parcel.
Adra turned to Elder Lloyd and asked, "Respected Elder of the Elves, don't you find it strange that this band of petty thieves managed to breach your wards time and time again?"
Elder Lloyd was momentarily stunned and replied, "Does the Bishop know why?"
"Not entirely, but I can make a guess." Adra smiled faintly, casting a meaningful glance at Theodorus. "Let's test the theory, shall we? What do you say, Mr. Theodorus?"
Following Adra's gaze, Elder Lloyd looked at Theodorus in puzzlement. Theodorus, also looking perplexed, shrugged at the elder and then nodded politely to the Bishop, gesturing for her to proceed. "By all means, Your Eminence."
Adra's sharp gaze locked onto Theodorus's expression. His clear, black-and-white eyes reflected nothing but pure confusion. The snow-white eyebrows furrowed, and his gaunt face was etched with doubt and perplexity; every wrinkle seemed to express his innocence. No matter how suspicious or observant one was, it would be nearly impossible to find any flaw in such an expression.
Adra sighed inwardly. He knew the likelihood of sowing discord among them was slim. Even if Theodorus had indeed been manipulating the thieves behind the scenes, he would undoubtedly be able to mask it flawlessly.
Yet, things had come this far, and the question still needed to be asked. Looking down at the trussed-up Esis on the ground, Adra asked, "If you don't want to die screaming on a pyre, then spill everything: why you attacked Turaleone, and how you were able to breach the forest's wards."
Trembling like a skinned mouse under a cat's paw, Esis shivered as he glanced at the Paladins and the countless elves surrounding him. It took all his strength to avoid losing control of his bodily functions. Stammering, he answered, "It was… it was a necromancer from Dehya Valley… He wanted us to find a leaf with magical powers in this forest…"
"A necromancer?" Adra frowned, her voice sharp. "Are you certain?"
"Yes, yes! I swear by the Holy Light's purity and wisdom! The mage wore a silver skull mask—I could tell it was made of mithril, imbued with numerous magical runes. It was definitely the kind a necromancer would use..."
"The scrolls he gave us were also his…" Desperate to save his life, Esis began rambling, swearing loyalty to Adra and even recounting his past as a former student at the Einfast Academy of Magic.
Frowning, Adra signaled to a warrior, who swiftly decapitated Esis. The thief's lifeless body twitched one final time before going still, his head rolling to the side.
"So, it's the people from Dehya Valley… No wonder they had scrolls like those," muttered Elder Lloyd.
Theodorus sighed, turning to the elder. "Necromancers are notorious for their unprincipled methods. The Whispering Forest is a prime example. Since they've noticed Turaleone, you must be extra cautious. I suspected there was something amiss when I heard rumors of thieves targeting the forest, so I asked Mr. Asa to infiltrate and investigate. Unfortunately, this misunderstanding arose in the process."
Theodorus's expression remained flawless—sincere, regretful, and utterly convincing. Even Adra found herself questioning whether this was indeed the truth.
"Necromancers using magic doesn't necessarily mean they're from Dehya Valley," Adra remarked, glancing at Asa.
"We agree entirely," Elder Lloyd said with a nod. "Magic is a skill, not an identity. However, Dehya Valley's necromancers have long coveted our sacred relics. Mr. Asa has risked his life to protect one of our sacred artifacts before. Regardless of his reputation among humans, here in Turaleone, we will ensure his safety."
Adra's brow twitched slightly, but she said nothing. He knew he would leave empty-handed today.
The people he faced were among their most dangerous adversaries—a mage drained of mana, a knight near death. Under different circumstances, he could eliminate them both. Yet here, with the elves poised to intervene, any move would be suicidal.
Reluctantly, Adra turned and departed with his entourage.
As they left, Elder Lloyd sighed softly. "Trouble lies ahead…"
"Trouble is inevitable," Theodorus replied with a faint smile. "But perhaps this is the perfect time to discuss how we might face it together."
The next morning, Asa stood atop a treetop dwelling, bathed in the first light of dawn. The gentle sunlight, unfiltered and alive with vitality, warmed his face—his unmasked face. After months of relentless battles and constant vigilance, this brief moment of peace felt indescribably precious.
Below, the traces of yesterday's battle lingered—broken trees and scarred earth—but the harmony of the elves and their unicorns strolling gracefully through the forest had already erased the tension.
"Hey, Elder Lloyd wants to see you," Ruya called from below, her tone as cold as ever.