"—!"
The leader shuddered at her words, emotions flashing across his eyes—reverence, fear of the heavy burden, and shameful humility.
"But I... I am of mixed blood, human and Danger Beast... the blood of Danger Beasts runs through me..."
That tainted blood had given him his healing gift. He was no fool or weakling, yet before the sacred presence of God—
The purer the light, the more glaring the stain.
To even stand here was already a blasphemy.
Could a sullied body truly bear such a sacred duty, to become God's shepherd on earth?
"It matters not. I care nothing for such trifles. I only value the heart, and yours—in my eyes—is purer than nearly all others in this world."
This man bore almost no black mist, while the concentration of white mist was extremely high—the highest Zeroy had yet seen.
Beneath that white haze, the faint trace of black was invisible unless carefully sought.
His good-hearted image was no façade. Even holding authority, he truly was a good man.
"In any case, remember—any betrayal or fall will not escape judgment."
The leader pressed his forehead to the floor, his voice trembling yet solemn. "I will obey, Your Eminence... I will not fail the trust."
...
Matters with the Empire were more or less settled. Now it was up to the leader of the Way of Tranquility to act.
Zeroy gave him little idols and recruited the clean officials, mostly elder ministers, to assist him.
The Empire had become a theocracy.
Zeroy looked forward to seeing this land take on a new face.
So she did not return immediately to the Main God Space, but stayed to watch—time outside always shrank to a single day inside, so long as she did not exceed thirty days. Beyond that, she'd pay extra Points.
And this was only one empire cleansed.
There remained the western kingdom, the only rival to the Empire, then the backward southern isles, the northern tundra, the uncivilized eastern islands, and scattered foreign tribes.
Since she was here, why not cleanse the pests everywhere?
Besides, Patchouli had asked Zeroy for a favor.
"Imperial Arms and Danger Beasts? Patchi, you're interested in those?"
Patchouli wished that when Zeroy purged, she would spare her eye to note Imperial Arms and Danger Beasts.
Of course, she would accompany Zeroy, so she could handle collecting—but she didn't want Zeroy cutting everything to pieces.
She had been interested in the general's Imperial Arm; regardless, Zeroy had cleaved it in two.
It still had value, its supernatural qualities not entirely lost, though diminished.
Deep in the library, Patchouli sat at a desk piled with ancient tomes, fingers brushing a yellowed cover, violet eyes gleaming with inquiry.
Softly she spoke, rare emotion in her voice: "I found a record of Imperial Arms in the archives. It describes certain powers... some so strange even I can hardly believe."
She paused, glancing at Zeroy across the desk, chin in hand, listening earnestly. Unwittingly, her lips curved. "One of the Arms' powers might even interest you—"
"Stop!" Zeroy threw up her hand, emerald eyes wide, cutting her off.
Her golden hair swayed with the sudden motion, candlelight scattering off it.
Patchouli blinked, feather pen halted midair, puzzlement in her violet eyes. "...?"
"Why'd you say it so fast?" Zeroy puffed her cheeks, half-pouting. "I hadn't even said yes or no yet."
Patchouli blinked again, uncharacteristically lost. "But... I was only saying—"
"Patchi!" Zeroy leaned forward, palms on the desk, emerald eyes locked on hers, stubbornly earnest. "If you ask for my help, I will never refuse. There's no need for conditions!"
She softened, a touch of hurt in her voice. "But you said it like that, like I'd only help if I were interested. Like without that, I wouldn't..."
Patchouli's quill slipped, a blot of ink spreading on the page.
She froze, violet eyes wide. She hadn't expected such words from Zeroy.
"No! I won't hear it!" Zeroy cut sharply. "I don't want to know the powers. I don't care what's interesting. All you need to say is you need me—that's enough!"
"I've always told you, if you need me, say so anytime."
The library fell into silence, only candles flickering.
Patchouli's gaze fled the purity of Zeroy's, her fingers rubbing the page edge, ears tinged faint red.
At last, she muttered, voice low and begrudging, "...You really are an idiot."
"?"
Zeroy blinked. "How am I an idiot again? This is important. It shows we're no longer strangers. Who needs to bait their own with interests—"
"Shut up, idiot!"
"..."
Zeroy puffed her cheeks.
Patchouli gave a small huff, picked up her pen, and bent over her book.
Candlelight stretched their shadows across the shelves, overlapping in a warm silhouette; even the old tomes seemed to carry its glow.
"That Arm's power—"
"You're still going to say it?!"
"I am. Now that I know what you mean, it doesn't matter. Say or not, it changes nothing."
"Emmm... fine, say it then. I might not even care. My standards are high, and my tastes are narrow."
Zeroy turned her head, feigning indifference.
"..."
That posture stirred something in Patchouli. This time, she did not suppress it.
"...Why are you pinching my cheek?"
"Ahem. Nothing. That Arm's power is to command corpses. However, that's only the appearance. In truth, I think it enslaves and stores souls."
"—!"
"Heh. And someone just said they weren't interested."
"Ah..."
...
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