The Protagonists of Romance Fantasy Novels Have Escaped

142 – 142. A Heart Trapped in Coldness (1)

The prospective saints of the Kingdom of the Alliance, who clashed with the Death’s Misfortune at the Drivayne Castle, were safely transported to the healing center. The saints rescued from the front lines all complained of extreme exhaustion.

It was due to the divine power they had used, far exceeding their limits.

It was akin to how excessive physical strain can trigger nerve pain.

“Suddenly, a bright light shone before my eyes, and I felt strength surging through my entire body… The One True God entered me!”

A girl with flowing violet hair spoke with a smile tinged with longing. As she recalled the moment she was possessed by the divine power of the One True God to confront the wicked Misfortune, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue.

The other prospective saints felt the same.

They had faced an unprecedented crisis against the Second Saint, possessed by the Death’s Misfortune. They even fought against the Saint Party, which had fallen into the ranks of death.

It wouldn’t have been strange if they had died on the front lines.

The fact that not a single prospective saint returned alive was nothing short of a miracle.

Despite having experienced such a life-and-death moment, the prospective saints praised the grace of the Earth Mother. No one doubted the great will of the One True God. Instead, they expressed a sense of exaltation, claiming they had been of some small help to the One True God.

“Unni! Do you think I helped the deity too? If I had known it would be like this, I would have trained harder…!”

“Of course, the One God would be pleased. By now, He must be looking down on us from the heavenly realm, feeling proud of us.”

“I’m so happy. I feel like I’ve been recognized by the deity.”

“One day, we too can become true saints. Just like the First Saint…”

The twin candidates for sainthood sat side by side on the bed, their brilliant golden hair cascading around them as they chatted.

Were they thirteen yet?

The twin girls, selected early as candidates for sainthood, were still very young.

However, the candidates at the Saint’s Sanctuary were all vessels prepared as incarnations of the One God, sent to the battlefield to confront the deadly calamity like sacrificial offerings. If Edanant had seen the young girls participating in the battle, he would have been outraged at the thought of even young girls being mobilized.

“What will happen to the Second Saint…?”

“I don’t know. Could it be that Lady Beatrice has accepted the deadly calamity…?”

The Second Saint, who had been revered and loved by all for her beautiful appearance and compassionate nature, had fallen to become a witch wielding the chill of death.

A witch.

A sinister being that stood in stark contrast to the saint, who symbolized divinity.

The candidates for sainthood, who had to face Beatrice, now a witch of death, were engulfed in confusion. They had to fight against the compassionate senior who had always cared for them like an older sister.

Adrein shrank her small shoulders.

Seeing her frightened younger sister, Iris gave a wry smile and wrapped her arms around her.

* * *

The witch of death, having exerted all her power, decided on a stalemate.

And Gael, concerned for the safety of the candidates who were incarnations, ultimately retreated as well.

A draw.

The clash between the Creator God and the God of Calamity ended in a tie.

The news that the Earth Mother, who had reigned as the omnipotent and supreme One God, had recorded a draw sent the cardinals into a state of fear. The terror was even greater given that it came right after the sanctuary had been destroyed by the counterattacks of war and famine.

“……”

A space created in the style of the Holy Kingdom, emphasizing sacred beauty.

Dozens of lights illuminating the darkness.

At the center of this space, formed by radiant light and sweet shadows, stood a throne. The throne, adorned with splendid gold and jewels, could only be described as glory meant for one singular being in all of heaven and earth.

A girl perched on the throne.

With hair as red as a brilliant ruby, the girl was the incarnation of the One God, embodying the candidate for sainthood.

“How long do you intend to remain silent?”

“……”

Step by step. Step by step.

A middle-aged man approached with leisurely footsteps, asking in a voice that seemed to chide a child.

It was Saint Bøern.

The girl did not respond to Bøern’s question. Instead, she merely narrowed her brows for a moment, her face filled with a sullen expression. In response, Bøern let out a solemn, bitter smile.

“In the end, the worst-case scenario we feared has come to pass.”

“I couldn’t stop it… somehow, I should have stopped Bea…”

The one true god, who had reigned as a symbol of omniscience and omnipotence.

Yet, in reality, she was nothing but a pitiful girl.

The gloomy expression and subdued voice bore witness to the fragile inner self of the one true god. Gael, faced with an outcome too overwhelming to bear, retreated into the room as if escaping reality.

“…I was slowly dying.”

“Pardon?”

“Bea carries the miracle of the saint, symbolizing the sanctity of life. She can never accept the divine essence of death, which denies and deceives life. The calamity of death must be constantly gnawing at Bea’s lifespan.”

“Then…! Does that mean the more we use the essence of calamity, the closer Bea gets to death?”

Before being the second saint of the Holy Kingdom, she was a precious adopted daughter.

No.

I cannot lose my daughter.

The realization that a death sentence had been placed upon Beatrice made Bøern’s voice rise in desperation, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor, which was marked by a gentle smile that often concealed his true feelings.

“I apologize. I lost my composure for a moment and raised my voice.”

“It’s alright. You’re a father with a daughter too. It’s only natural to prioritize her safety above all else.”

Bøern cleared his throat and offered his apology.

At that, Gael let out a bitter smile.

“What happened to Belasiel?”

“That… we still have not found any trace of him.”

The Seraph Belasiel, who had been the mastermind behind the involvement of the Holy Kingdom’s paladins and cardinals, had fought valiantly against the calamity of war but ultimately met with a tragic defeat.

If he had died during the battle, he would have been recalled to the celestial realm.

Yet, Belasiel did not return.

Many were mobilized to search for the Seraph, but no traces were found. It was as if he had completely evaporated from the scene, vanquished by the calamity, leaving no sign behind.

“Belasiel…! I knew he would cause trouble someday!”

“It is highly likely that the Tower Master, who betrayed humanity and colluded with the calamity, is involved. Cardinal Nebiacus is leading the paladin order to search the tower, so we should receive news soon.”

Perhaps it was because he had seen the figure of a mother, worried about the impending end of the world, approaching like the shadows of dusk.

To unleash hunger and prevent the end.

The dutiful daughter committed an absurd act to alleviate her mother’s worries.

It’s my fault.

Because I only ever showed my weak side.

I pressed my chest, recalling the image of my daughter, who possessed a righteous spirit and deep loyalty. A wave of worry and guilt filled me, fearing that my daughter might be trapped in a predicament too difficult to express in words.

* * *

Your flesh cannot accept the chill of death.

Free me.

Or we shall fall together into eternal rest.

A coldness that seemed capable of freezing even the soul bore down on the woman burdened with a heavy fate. Yet, despite this, she exhaled a pale sigh and endured with unwavering strength.

Tsk.

The sound of a tongue clicking was heard.

“I will never… never give up.”

Her pink hair, once boasting the gentle hues of late spring peonies, had turned into a disheveled white.

Her sky-blue eyes were the same.

They had become a deep gray, symbolizing the chill of death.

Though the pale-faced woman appeared on the verge of collapsing, she manifested her divine power, calming the deathly cold that pressed down on her. It was but a temporary fix, yet the slight easing of the chill allowed her to catch her breath.

– How tiresome. Truly a stubborn woman.

A voice echoed through the raging ice storm.

The calamity of death.

The mastermind who sought to destroy the world, leading the demon lord’s army and the cultist forces.

Beatrice glared at the shadow visible beyond the ice storm, her eyes filled with animosity. As if sensing her gaze, the shadow writhed and moved.

– You are merely a vessel to contain the hypocritical harlot. If the cheap harlot chooses you as her vessel and descends, I shall be swiftly dealt with alongside the sisters of calamity.

The perfect vessel with optimal divine affinity.

That was Beatrice.

But sadly, it was a talent limited to the deities of the Creator, including the Earth Mother. Ever since she accepted the calamity of death, Beatrice had been enduring extreme pain.

– I ask you. Why are you so desperate?

“Because I have to… save.”

– Save whom?

“The benefactor who saved countless people… the man who, despite having rescued so many, refused to be saved himself, who insists on bearing the danger alone, that clumsy and foolish man… I want to save him.”

There is no grand justification that one might find in a lengthy speech.

There was no lofty purpose.

I want to repay you.

I just want to return the favor.

On behalf of the world you desperately saved—.

I only wanted to save you, who saved the lives of hundreds of thousands.

Beatrice recalled Edanant’s voice through her fading vision. It was their last conversation after he had vanquished the Lord of Death.