The three of them stopped in front of a house.
Easel said softly, "...We're home, Cecilia."
Cecilia nodded, but said with some embarrassment, "Um... I don't have the key, I can't open the door... Brother Easel, can you..." Before Cecilia could finish her words, she noticed Easel's grim expression and immediately changed her tone, asking with concern: "Brother Easel, are you really okay? Are you feeling unwell... You've looked so pale for a while."
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself," Xiling patted the kind-hearted young Sakta man on the shoulder.
"...I got it."
Xiling nodded.
The door opened with a click.
From the doorway, Xiling said to the two men, "I won't go in."
Watching the two people enter the house, Xiling leaned against the door. He knew what was going to happen next, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't change what had happened. Soon, the sound of mournful sobbing echoed from within the house.
Hearing the mournful cries, Xiling sighed helplessly. Even though he already knew, he still felt sad for the little girl and a tinge of anger at the uninvited guest.
"Am I being too sentimental?" Xiling, leaning against the gate, opened his eyes and looked at a potted green plant.
"If you're willing, stay where it's cooler. Maybe you won't have to suffer any physical pain."
"...Who are you, young man? Why are you here?" Oren smiled at Xiling, the unexpected figure.
"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is, are you really not leaving?"
Looking at the smiling green plant before him, Xiling recalled what he was trying to do. He wanted to make his country stronger, which he understood, but that wasn't a reason to attack a child.
"I have a mission to complete, so I can't leave."
Easel and Cecilia, who were in the room, heard the noise outside.
"Cecilia, hide behind me," Easel said, heading for the door. Standing there, he saw the man who claimed to know Cecilia's mother, facing off against a Messenger of Nations.
Oren saw Easel coming out of the door and immediately waved. "Hey! Easel, how about you trying to persuade this guy? I have a mission from the Pope."
"Are you the Messenger of Nations?"
"Yes, that's right. You have good eyesight."
"What are you doing here?"
Oren smiled. "I'm here to take Cecilia to the Cathedral by order of the Pope."
Oren was about to say something...
"I'll give you three seconds. Turn around and disappear from my sight." Xiling stood in front of Oren, his eyes serene. "...Brother, what do you mean? This is an internal matter between us, Laterano. You, an outsider, shouldn't interfere..."
With a clang, the holy sword was unsheathed.
Xiling pointed the holy sword at Oren.
"Your words do not affect me. You have only two choices now, you green pot plant. Either you think you can withstand the holy sword in my hand, or you turn and leave."
"Wait, sir," Easel said anxiously. He had never expected the previously kind-looking man to draw his sword without a word.
Xiling didn't respond to Easel, his eyes meeting Oren's.
"...Who is this guy? He seems to know all about my actions. He might even know my plan, but how is that possible?" Oren's mind raced, his hand already resting on his guard gun.
"It seems you've made your choice."
"Is it right here?" Fiammetta, having received the clue, was running quickly down the street. Just then, a loud bang reached her ears.
...
"Young man, you're truly formidable!" Beads of sweat streamed down Oren's forehead, but he didn't dare wipe them. A sword rested on his neck.
One sword shattered a bullet, one step forward, one strike to defeat the enemy.
"Three strikes will crush your dreams of melee combat. Archers shouldn't engage in melee combat with warriors. Don't you understand that?"
"Sir, calm down!" Easel hurried forward. He had no idea what was going on and why the fight had suddenly begun, but he couldn't just stand by and watch a messenger from all nations die before his eyes.
"Xiling, what are you doing!" Fiammetta, who had rushed over, shouted as she saw the scene, her hand on her rifle.
She didn't immediately draw her rifle, but instead glared at Xiling with a fierce look.
"You're here so quickly!" Xiling thought as he watched Fiammetta arrive. Returning his gaze to Oren, Xiling's tone was filled with admonition, "You'd better think carefully about what you're doing. What are the lives of other races in front of you? Oren, I'll let you go this time, because I don't know if you've killed innocent people."
Under the gaze of the crowd, Xiling sheathed the holy sword at Oren's neck and turned—and ran.
Xiling didn't just run, he ran incredibly fast, disappearing from everyone's sight in the blink of an eye.
"That guy, what...what's going on?" Oren, having been warned, gasped for breath as Xiling left.
"What's going on? And why are you here, Oren?" Fiammetta stepped forward, her tone serious. "...I was just here to do a favor, and then that guy suddenly attacked me. You seem to know him, Fiammetta?"
Fiammetta: "..."
"Hahaha, at least I did the favor. I was so scared when a sword was held to my head just now that I left." Oren felt that the plan might change, so he shouldn't stay here for long.
Fiammetta's eyes were fixed on Oren's retreat. She had a feeling that things were not simple, but the two people in front of her were more important right now.
Fiammetta turned to look at Easel and Cecilia.
...
"Would you like to eat?"
Easel and Fiammetta fell silent as Xiling appeared before them with a bag of food.
Fiammetta didn't know where to start complaining. Didn't this guy just run away? How did he run right in front of her again?
"Well, aren't you hungry? Little Cecilia must be hungry. Here, here are some freshly baked donuts." Xiling leaned over to Cecilia in Fiammetta's arms and handed her the donut.
Cecilia looked at Easel as if to ask if it was okay to eat, while Easel looked at Fiammetta, also asking if it was okay.
Fiammetta wanted to give Easel a look back, saying, "How would I know?"
Looking at the three of them, Xiling smiled. "You're not afraid of poison or anything, are you? How about this? You tell me which one you want to eat, then point to a spot. I'll break it off and eat it. You can see if it's poisoned."
"...No need. What exactly do you want to do here?" Fiammetta took the food from Xiling, and the other two followed suit.
"Oh, I was asked to come here to ensure the little girl's safety, though I don't think she's in any danger. Are you tired?" Xiling spread his hands.
"If you're tired, I can help you hold little Cecilia~"
Facing Xiling's expectant gaze, Cecilia said, "If I'm tired, I can get down and walk on my own."
"Am I being disdained?"
"Isn't that only natural?" Fiammetta retorted unhappily.
Just then, a song reached Cecilia's ears, evoking memories.
"That song sounds so familiar," Cecilia thought. Searching for the source of the sound, she soon spotted a cotton candy cart.
"What's wrong, Cecilia?" Easel asked softly, noticing Cecilia's strange state.
"No, nothing," Cecilia shook her head. She felt that the older sister was a bit aggressive, and she shouldn't bother her older brother anymore.
Xiling looked toward the cotton candy cart, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. He then patted Fiammetta's shoulder. Facing Fiammetta's puzzled look, Xiling pointed at the cart.
"Look, there's a Sarkaz over there. Are you not going to do anything about it?"
"What are you talking about!" Fiammetta's eyes shifted, becoming extremely serious.
She looked in the direction Xiling pointed and saw the cotton candy cart as well.
"Oh, that hooded figure. That's a Sarkaz!"
"Don't be ridiculous! How could there be Sarkaz in Laterano?"
Xiling simply chuckled and didn't respond.
However, the more Xiling didn't speak, the more Fiammetta felt something was amiss.
"Easel, take Cecilia and stay here," Fiammetta said, and walked towards the cotton candy cart. Watching Fiammetta depart, Xiling glanced at the two people standing motionless. Then, under Easel's gaze, Xiling knelt again, eye-level with Cecilia.
"Little Cecilia, your father is a Sarkaz, right?"
Easel: "!"
"Yes, brother, do you know my father too?"
"That's a bit embarrassing for me."
The conversation between the adult and the child was no longer audible to Easel; he felt only a dizzying sensation.
What did he hear! A Sankta's father is a Sarkaz!
Just as Easel was frantically pondering, a hand gently tapped his shoulder, waking him.
"What's your choice?"
"...I've changed my mind. Cecilia, let's go."
"Where are we going?"
Easel looked in the distance.
"You're probably going..."
"The Church of Requiem"
...