“Child, you have saved Solainem.”
Miles patted Leon on the shoulder and gave a gentle smile.
“So...” Leon looked at Miles and asked, “Bishop Miles, is there a reward?”
Miles was momentarily stunned, then burst into a hearty laugh. “Don't worry. I will report your performance to the Holy See, and they will grant you a commendation.”
“Believe me, the commendations given by the Holy See never disappoint a priest.”
At this, a smile also appeared on Leon's face.
As a church officially recognized by the Heron Empire, the Sacred Light Church possessed immense heritage, with relics for every possible function.
Leon wasn't greedy; he didn't have designs on other relics. He only wanted his old friend—the skull of St. Elias.
However, Leon sighed as he watched the skull of St. Elias being carefully protected and placed into a transparent glass display case by Miles.
A relic of that level was likely out of reach, but there was still hope for a Silver or Gold rank reward.
After a brief rest, the group followed Miles back toward the Holy Light Cathedral.
Before they could even reach the cathedral, a deafening explosion echoed through the air. The relaxed expressions and smiles on everyone's faces vanished instantly.
Miles's expression changed drastically. He didn't wait for Leon and the others, instead casting a Levitation divine spell and swiftly flying toward the cathedral.
...
By the time Leon arrived, the sound of the explosion had faded into silence. Bishop Miles stood looking ahead, his face dark with grimness.
Where the Holy Light Cathedral once stood was now nothing but ruins.
The sanctuary of faith in the center of the street was now nothing but broken walls and debris.
The bell tower had been snapped in half, its upper portion crashed into the ground. The towering statue of the god had been blown to near-pulverized fragments, leaving only scattered stones.
Broken bodies lay scattered around, and the sounds of wailing and crying were constant.
Leon stared blankly at the people still in motion, desperately digging through the rubble to search for survivors.
“Someone's still breathing!”
A shout tore through the lingering smoke and dust.
Leon followed the sound. The rescuer was the guard captain, Ryan.
However, Ryan was covered in mud and blood, and one of his arms was gone, leaving an empty sleeve.
At that moment, Ryan was gritting his teeth, using his remaining left hand to pull away stones and rescue a conscious young man from the collapsed building.
“Save them!”
Leon quickly snapped out of his daze. He clenched his fists and gave the order.
He ignited a Light Prayer, enveloping the tragic scene in the radiance of healing.
...
Half an hour later, with the help of Miles's divine spells, those trapped beneath the ruins were rescued.
Leon lowered his eyes, using a Light Prayer orb to treat Ryan as he asked in a low voice, “Who did this?”
Ryan's face was covered in blood and grime, his expression filled with hatred and coldness. He spoke one word at a time: “The traitorous nobles... and those vampires.”
Leon's expression darkened instantly. The image of Baron Sori, who had tried to ambush him, flashed through his mind.
If the nobles who accompanied him to repair the barrier could be tempted by a Vampire Grand Duke to betray the empire, how could the other nobles hiding in the cathedral be any different?
Why did he have to overlook this one thing?
If he had thought of it sooner, if he had warned Miles earlier, Miles would have had the ability to stop the explosion. Perhaps it never would have happened...
Leon lowered his head, clenching his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms.
Alicia stood beside him. Seeing his state, she suddenly stepped forward and took his hand.
She pried his clenched fist open, then cupped Leon's face in her hands.
“Leon, Priest. Not, your, fault. You did, very, well.”
Leon took a deep breath and forced a small smile. “Thank you, Alicia.”
Thomas approached them then, his face grim. “Young Master, the casualty report is in.”
Leon looked up at him. Thomas let out a long breath and said:
“594 injured.”
“273 dead.”
Beside them, Ryan heard these numbers and fell silent for a moment. Suddenly, he looked up and said:
“Priest Leon, I failed to keep my promise.”
Leon looked at him, his heart tightening.
Ryan lowered his head, not daring to meet Leon's eyes. “Granny Taylor... she also died in the explosion.”
At those words, both Leon and Alicia fell silent.
Two hundred and seventy-three deaths was just a number, but it felt different when it included an old woman he knew—an old woman who had said she was grateful to him and promised to bake him delicious bread once her headaches got better...
Leon took a deep breath and exhaled as if trying to empty all the air from his lungs.
He patted Ryan's shoulder. “No, it's not your fault.”
...
The relic chamber of the Holy Light Cathedral had been destroyed before the explosion, and all the relics stored within were missing.
The treatment of the injured, the burial of the dead, the clearing of the cathedral's remains... none of these had much to do with Leon anymore.
Leon returned to the hall of the manor. Old Hunter, who had been well-protected beside the High Priest, followed him.
“Butler Hunter, please call Uncle Thomas for me.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Old Hunter withdrew from the hall, slowly closing the doors behind him.
Leon sat on the sofa in the hall. He noticed the thank-you gifts Ryan had brought—gifts from the families of the girls rescued from the cellar—still sitting in the corner of the room.
How many of those people had perished in the cathedral explosion?
Leon didn't consider himself a savior, nor did he think of himself as particularly kind.
When real danger arrived, he would certainly think of his own escape first and would surely not have the time or capacity to save others.
However, when the situation wasn't quite so dire, when it hadn't reached the point of no return...
Leon felt that if it was convenient and the people were right before his eyes, there was no harm in helping.
After all, a little assistance didn't require much effort, and in return, people offered sincere gratitude. It was a worthwhile trade.
Even if he failed to save them, having lent a hand allowed him to tell himself with a clear conscience:
I did my best to help. I have nothing to be ashamed of. There was simply no other way...
But as Leon thought of Granny Taylor, he asked himself: Did I really do my best?
Creak—
The hall door was pushed open, and Thomas walked in. “Young Master.”
Leon nodded slowly. “Uncle Thomas, have a seat.”
Once Thomas sat on the opposite sofa, Leon looked at the bloodstains on his chest. “Are your injuries still serious?”
Thomas shook his head. “Thanks to your healing, Young Master, the bleeding has stopped. It's no longer an issue.”
Leon nodded again, staring at Thomas without saying a word.
A silence fell over the hall.
After a long while, just as Thomas was beginning to feel unsettled by Leon's gaze and was about to speak, Leon spoke first.
His voice was as calm as the surface of a still lake:
“Uncle Thomas, how did you know in advance that the gray mist would invade last night?”
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