My name is Trident. Captain of the Barbarossa Pirates.
One day, that absolute idiot Ollie stole a gem called 'Tears of the Saint' from the Royal Cathedral. It's no ordinary rock—it's a crystallized mass of magical energy the Empire spent a century collecting. Without it, every defensive mechanism in the Empire shuts down. That means monsters flood the city.
And that's not all. After stealing it, Ollie had the nerve to say, 'That's half my objective complete.'
I chase him. I need to know why h
Crazy Ollie: A Thief's Requiem - The Cathedral Cage, the Mark of the Sacrifice
The rough, sweltering heat of the free port Ragnaroka still lingered deep in his bones. The smell of cheap rum and brine, Malena's trembling voice, and the parchment etched with a friend's betrayal.
The sky still held the dense darkness of night. Stars flickered in the distance, and the wind bit cold against his skin. Trident looked up at the triple walls of Fortica. Stone ramparts over ten meters high loomed, less to protect the city than to imprison it. At its heart, the chalk-white Lumina Cathedral glowed pale blue under the moonlight.
Like a gravestone, Trident thought.
He had chased the Saint's Tear, flown the *Red Bull*, and traced the Norden River all the way here. The salt wind blowing in from the sea made the hem of his familiar coat flutter. Unconsciously, he spun a silver coin between the fingers of his left hand.
The holy knights guarding the cathedral's perimeter were sparse. Why was security so thin around the cathedral, the very symbol of the Empire? Trident felt a twinge of unease, but for now, it worked in his favor.
He slipped out of the shadows and ran toward the side of the cathedral. His footsteps made no sound, his gait as practiced as walking the deck of a pirate ship. He gripped the recesses of the ancient carvings etched into the wall and hoisted himself up lightly to a second-story window. Perched on the windowsill, he used years of instinct to probe the presence within. Silence. Only the cold, stagnant air of old stonework could be felt.
He slid through the window into the cathedral's interior. The space was lit only by candlelight, heavy shadows flickering darkly. The air was cool and chill, carrying a faint trace of incense. Relying on the information he'd gotten from Malena, he headed for the staircase to the underground sanctuary.
Down the stone steps, one by one. The air grew colder, damper. An illusion of sinking to the ocean floor washed over him. At the end of the corridor leading underground, a heavy iron door stood slightly ajar.
So this was where the Saint's Tear had been enshrined.
Trident peered through the gap in the door.
The underground sanctuary was far smaller and more austere than he had imagined. The high ceiling was adorned with carvings meant to mimic stars, but their luster was long gone. In the center of the room stood an empty marble pedestal, where the Saint's Tear must once have rested. And before that pedestal, a single girl was on her knees.
Her translucent silver hair, long enough to reach her waist, sprawled limply across the floor. The body wrapped in white holy vestments was astonishingly frail, as if it might break at any moment. Even from behind, he could feel the profound sorrow and exhaustion weighing her down.
Trident quietly pushed the door open and took a step inside.
"—Who's there?"
The girl's voice was thin, yet strangely clear. When she turned, her eyes were the deep crimson unique to those who could sense magical power. But their light was dim, like a dead star.
She was Garnet Lumina. The current Saint of the Zervalion Grand Cathedral.
"Just a pirate passing through."
Trident raised both hands slightly, showing he meant no harm. But at his words, Garnet's expression changed.
"A pirate… Then you're with that thief…"
She stumbled to her feet and retreated two, three steps. Her back hit the wall. In her crimson eyes, clear wariness and a hint of fear surfaced.
"He's my former comrade. So I'll be the one to settle the score."
Trident's low voice made the cold basement air tremble. Garnet said nothing, only glared at him. He'd heard she was a sheltered saint, but the strength of will dwelling in those eyes reminded him of a caged beast.
His gaze dropped. Unconsciously, she was shielding her left arm, gripping it tightly with her right hand. The sleeve of her holy vestments was torn and frayed, unnaturally so.
Trident slowly approached her. Garnet tensed further, but there was nowhere to run.
"Let me see it."
Without waiting for permission, he seized her left wrist.
"No—!"
Garnet's short cry echoed through the sanctuary. Trident pushed up her sleeve.
And then, he caught his breath.
From her wrist to the inside of her elbow, countless old scars were layered over one another. Lines as if cut repeatedly by a sharp blade. They were proof of a cycle: heal, tear, heal, tear. The skin had hardened and discolored, like ancient tree bark. Against her pale skin, the scars stood out with a sickening vividness.
In that instant, a searing, prickling pain flared in Trident's left shoulder. The memory of twelve years ago—running through flames, clutching the child he'd saved by ignoring his superior's orders. The smell of his skin charring. The sound of his flesh sizzling. The mark of the Empire, etched into him since the day he was cast out of the military.
His grip on her arm tightened unconsciously.
As if resigned, Garnet hung her head weakly.
"These… are wounds that appear every time I pour magical power into the Saint's Tear."
Her voice was trembling now, on the verge of tears.
"That's what it means to offer your magic. We pour our very life force into that stone. The pain is the price… The previous Saint, and the one before her—they all ruined their bodies from this pain and died young."
Trident was speechless. He had heard the Saint was a symbol of the Empire's protector, an object of the people's worship. But the reality—was she nothing more than a sacrifice, her life drained away by that crystal?
The words of the secret letter Olly had left behind surfaced in his mind. *The Velg Curia*. The Empire's darkness.
"My, my. Am I interrupting something?"
Suddenly, a cold voice rang through the sanctuary.
The door was flung open. A middle-aged man in black vestments strode in, his boots tramping rudely across the floor. Gaunt, with a hooked nose like a hawk. Despite the thin smile on his lips, his eyes were cold as a reptile's. Heinz Rosenberg, Inquisitor of the Velg Curia. Behind him stood four holy knights, hands on their swords.
"Lady Saint, surely you understand your position. To allow the Saint's Tear to be stolen, of all things, by a pirate. This is a grave matter."
The blood drained from Garnet's face.
"N-no… I didn't…"
"You didn't? Then why is that pirate here with you now?"
Rosenberg's gaze pierced Trident. Then it turned back to Garnet. He strode over and roughly grabbed her wounded left arm.
"I see. Did the pirate take pity on these scars? Hah, don't make me laugh. Don't think a mere 'Sacrificial Saint' like you can protect the people. You are nothing but a tool. Keep pouring your magic with those scrawny arms—until you die!"
At last, tears spilled from Garnet's eyes.
In that moment, something inside Trident exploded.
"You bastard…!"
His right hand drew the grappling rope from his waist. The weight of the well-worn leather filled his palm. In the next instant, the hook at the rope's end tore through the air. His target wasn't Rosenberg, but the hand of the holy knight behind him, who was about to draw his sword.
CLANG!!
A violent metallic sound. The steel hook wrapped around the flat of the blade and wrenched it away. Trident flicked his wrist and flung the entangled sword aside.
"Gwah!"
The holy knights cried out in shock. Seizing the opening, Trident scooped up Garnet's slender body.
"Don't move! Try anything funny and I'll snap her arm!"
He threatened them with a low, beast-like growl. In his arms, Garnet was simply stunned.
Keeping his eyes on the soldiers blocking the entrance, Trident retreated toward the wall. His gaze caught the escape route he had scouted beforehand—a small hidden passage. The candlestick behind the altar was a disguised lever.
Still holding Garnet with one arm, he reached out with his free hand and pulled the candlestick hard. With a low grinding of stone, a section of the wall rotated, opening a gap just wide enough for one person to squeeze through.
"After them! Tear them both to pieces!!"
Rosenberg's furious roar echoed. The soldiers raised their swords and charged in unison. Trident pulled a flint from his pocket and took aim at the oil spilled around the candlestick at the passage entrance.
*Click!*
Sparks scattered, and the oil on the floor ignited instantly. A wall of flame blocked the holy knights' path. With that fire at his back, Trident clutched Garnet and dashed into the dark underground passage.
A dark, cold stone corridor. The walls were covered in moss and dampness, smelling of old earth. From behind came the angry shouts of their pursuers and the violent hiss of water evaporating—whether from extinguishing the flames, he didn't know.
At the end of the corridor, a spiral staircase. It led up to the cathedral's bell tower. Urging Garnet on, Trident raced up the steps.
When they burst out onto the top, the cold night wind swept over them in a rush. This was the highest point of the cathedral, ninety meters up. Two massive bells hung silently. Below, the town of Fortica lay enclosed within its ramparts. Countless lights glittered like a starry sky.
Garnet, gasping for breath, collapsed on the spot. Her shoulders heaving, she asked in a trembling voice:
"Why… why would a pirate like you… save me…?"
Trident didn't answer for a while. Gazing steadily at the city lights, he loosened the collar of his coat and exposed his left shoulder. From his shoulder down his arm, a massive burn scar stretched, puckered like melted wax.
Garnet caught her breath.
"I used to be in the Imperial Navy. Twelve years ago, my superior ordered me to abandon a village to its fate. A hole had opened in the barrier, and monsters were flooding in."
His voice was low and quiet.
"But I ignored the order. I pulled a kid out of a burning house. This scar is from that. And then I was kicked out of the military, and I became a pirate. To be free."
He gave a bitter laugh.
"Those scars on your arm… they're not someone else's problem to me. It means you're another victim of that rotten Empire."
Garnet's crimson eyes wavered deeply. Gently, as if cherishing it, she wrapped her right hand around her wounded left arm. Tears spilled from her eyes again, gleaming silver under the moonlight.
"That crystal… the Saint's Tear… it isn't a holy thing meant to protect the people."
As if wringing the words out, she began to tell the truth.
"For forty years, the Empire has used the threat of shutting down the defense mechanism to extort money and resources from the surrounding countries. If a nation defied them, they would actually partially stop the barrier and let monsters attack entire villages… My role was to be the tool that made that threat a reality."
Trident listened in silence. The role of the Velg Curia mentioned in Olly's secret letter was now confirmed by her own words.
"All the previous Saints knew this truth. Even so, they believed that if they endured, the people would be protected… They spent their whole lives in a cage, accumulating more and more wounds. I was the same. I thought that even if my body broke down, it couldn't be helped if it was for the people."
Her voice turned into a sob.
"But I can't take it anymore…! I'm not a sacrifice meant to live like this…!"
Her cry was swallowed by the darkness of the bell tower.
Trident knelt on one knee before Garnet. He looked straight into her eyes. In his deep sea-colored eyes, there was no longer passion, but a cold, resolute determination.
"You can sense the direction of the Saint's Tear's residual magic, can't you?"
Garnet's shoulders trembled slightly.
"H-how do you know that…?"
"That guy… Olly didn't take the medium mark carved into your arm. He deliberately left you alive. It was his way of making me bring you along and follow him. To make you understand. The Empire's darkness."
Trident was certain. This was a twisted invitation from his former friend.
He extended his hand. A large hand, scarred and roughened by the sea wind.
"Come aboard
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