After we finished all the paperwork—or rather, after Aria did it for me (according to her, my carefree attitude was reflected even in my atrocious handwriting)—we said goodbye to the old priest, whose name I didn't bother to learn.
There was something particularly heavy in the air as we stepped out of the church. This had undoubtedly been one of the worst missions of our lives. Bruises and burns were normal, part of the day-to-day. What wasn't ordinary was that the demon I had spent years containing was now freer than ever.
And as if that wasn't enough, we now possessed a grimoire that practically screamed "cursed" and had a sin-eater chasing after Laplace.
"Ignis, I think I need a vacation," Aria said, her voice breaking the fatalistic train of thought racing through my mind.
"I need a new job. You know, maybe with my divine fire I could try being a chef or a pastry cook."
