-----Chapter 13: Clash of Pure Hatred and Unforeseen Faith-----
"Sir… the Saintess is here."
The words hung in the air, quiet yet heavy.
Sylvian didn't move. His gloved fingers rested against the wooden frame of an old painting—a relic of a kingdom that no longer existed. The brushstrokes were faded, the colors dull, yet he still traced them as if trying to etch them into memory. A memory that time was trying to erase.
A soft exhale left his lips.
"Let her in."
The heavy doors creaked open.
She stepped inside.
Not in flowing robes, not with delicate footsteps, but clad in battle-worn armor, her movements steady, unyielding. The flickering candlelight caught the edge of her plated shoulders, reflecting a dull sheen of silver and white. Her gauntlets bore the faint etchings of divine symbols, yet her grip on the hilt of her sword was not that of a priestess, but a warrior.
Sylvian's gaze remained unreadable as he turned toward her.
The knights stationed around the room stiffened slightly at her presence. Their eyes flickered with uncertainty—not hostility, but something close.
A Saintess, yet she carried herself like a soldier.
A Saintess, yet she looked as if she had seen more war than prayers.
The doors closed behind her, leaving the room wrapped in dim torchlight and an atmosphere far too quiet.
Sylvian finally spoke.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Emissary of the Goddess?"
There was no warmth in his voice. No aggression, either. Just cold, polite distance.
Sofia met his gaze.
"I wished to meet the man called the Guardian." She paused, studying him. "The one who fights for humanity, not the gods."
Sylvian let out a breath, a ghost of something unspoken passing through his expression.
"Flattering." His voice was steady. "And yet, it is rare for a disciple of the divine to acknowledge those who have cast away their gods."
Sofia didn't react immediately.
Instead, she removed her gauntlets with slow, deliberate movements, placing them lightly on the edge of his desk.
Then, she flexed her fingers.
Her hands were rough. Calloused. Lined with faint scars. Not the hands of a woman who had only held rosaries and prayer scrolls, but the hands of someone who had gripped steel until her palms bled.
"I do not speak for the gods," she said at last. "I speak for the people. Just as you do."
A beat of silence.
For the first time since she entered, Sylvian truly looked at her.
He had expected the usual. A woman who preached salvation, who whispered honeyed words of faith, who knelt before an unseen god and asked others to do the same.
But the woman before him…
She did not look like she had been saved.
She looked like she had been fighting to save everyone else.
His fingers curled slightly at the realization.
"Then tell me, Saintess—what is it that you seek?"
---
Sofia took a slow breath.
"Three months ago, I was alone."
Her voice was steady, but not emotionless.
"The first few days, I saved who I could. But it wasn't enough. People ran. People begged. And those who had no strength left simply… fell to their knees and waited to die."
A flicker of something dark passed behind her eyes.
"So I stood. And I fought. And I didn't stop."
She unclasped the top of her armor slightly, revealing the faint outlines of deep bruises and faded wounds.
"When the gods were silent, I was not."
Her fingers tapped lightly against the desk. A slow rhythm. A habit from battle—counting heartbeats between attacks.
"Those who still had faith gathered around me, hoping that my presence meant the gods had not abandoned them. And those who had lost faith?"
She exhaled.
"They followed because they needed something to believe in. Even if it was just a person who refused to fall."
Sylvian remained silent.
His gaze flickered briefly toward her hands. The way they curled slightly. Not out of uncertainty, but something else.
Exhaustion.
Not of the body. But of the soul.
"You reforged their faith," he said at last. His tone was unreadable.
"No," Sofia corrected softly. "I gave them a reason to fight. Even those who cursed the gods fought beside me. Because faith alone does not save people."
She lifted her gaze, locking eyes with him.
"Only action does."
---
A sharp exhale.
Sylvian's fingers tapped against the desk once. A slow, controlled movement.
"You speak as though you understand," he muttered. "And yet, you still wear their sigil. You still call yourself their Emissary."
He took a step forward, just enough for the candlelight to sharpen the edges of his features.
"Tell me, Saintess—do you still pray?"
Silence.
Sofia's jaw tensed slightly.
Then—
"I speak to the goddess." Her voice was low, quiet. "But I do not know if she listens."
For the first time, Sylvian smirked.
Not out of amusement. But something colder.
"Then you are wiser than most."
---
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—Sofia saw it.
A flicker of something in Sylvian's expression.
Hatred.
Not raw, not uncontained, but buried deep beneath his composure. Like embers beneath cold ash.
She wasn't certain. But she had seen something.
Instead of pressing, she simply exhaled.
"You despise the gods."
It wasn't a question.
Sylvian didn't deny it.
"The gods will not end this war," he said instead. "Nor will they save those caught in it."
Sofia nodded slightly.
"Then perhaps we are not so different."
Sylvian narrowed his gaze.
"You still wear their name."
Sofia tilted her head slightly.
"And yet, I stand before you, asking for none of their blessings."
A pause.
A realization.
Neither of them served the gods.
Not truly.
What they both fought for—what they had been desperately protecting—was the same thing.
Humanity.
Sylvian exhaled, crossing his arms.
"Then tell me, Saintess… what is it that you seek?"
Sofia's lips parted slightly.
Then—
"An alliance."
Sylvian studied her for a long moment. The candlelight flickered between them, casting shifting shadows across their faces. His gaze met hers—not in defiance, not in hatred, but in the quiet weight of undeniable truth. A truth neither could ignore, one that bound them together in a fate neither had chosen.
Yet, beneath that certainty, a faint uncertainty lingered.
Would this alliance be their salvation?
Or the beginning of something far worse?