When she awoke, ミリサール did not know where she was. A stone ceiling floated into view, caught in pale light. Words of some kind were carved into the walls, and as she stared at them, an uncomfortable sensation—like the grinding of old wood—ran through the back of her skull. Things one must not touch. A forbidden language—ancient words from the age of darkness, which the Light Church had once strictly prohibited. She had been warned of them countless times in the training halls of the Holy City. *Those who gaze upon such characters will have their hearts corroded by darkness. Never must you lay eyes upon them.* Instinctively, she understood this truth. When she tried to sit up, her entire body cried out in pain. Her left arm hurt most of all. Bandages wrapped around it, and beneath them it throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache. Her ribs, too—were they broken? Each breath sent a sharp spike of pain through her chest. The scars on her skin belonged to that time. When stones were thrown. When she was torn apart by the hands of the crowd—those nightmarish hours immediately after her sainthood was stripped away. *(Where am I...)* ミリサール looked around. A simple stone bed. A wooden desk. Books leaning against the wall. On their spines were words she would never see in the Holy City's libraries. Ancient language. Language bound to darkness. In the Church's official histories, they were recorded as "lost heretical wisdom." Forbidden knowledge. Things one must not touch. And yet here they lay, as though they belonged. The room was dim, and the source of light was unclear. Only a faint violet glow seemed to seep from the grooves in the floor. Magic light, perhaps. But not light magic. Something else. ミリサール had spent twelve years as a saint learning only light magic. This was something alien to her—a power she could not comprehend. The violet light reflected off ミリサール's left wrist. *(Ah...)* Deep purple patterns were carved into her skin. When had they appeared? She hadn't noticed them herself. The intricate, geometric designs looked like the mark of some contract. In dark magic—the magical system forbidden by the Light Church—practitioners and their subjects exchanged what was called a "soul mark," a binding seal between them. When she touched the pattern gently with her fingertip, it was warm, and it hurt. But alongside that pain came another sensation. Something was inside her. Something new. The door opened. Soundlessly. Without even the slightest creak—perfectly adjusted, requiring no oil, opening with an impossible silence. ミリサール held her breath. The figure who entered wore a black robe. What lay beneath it was unclear, but an overwhelming presence filled the room. As though the very air itself had grown heavy. "You've awakened." The voice was low and calm. But something lay hidden within it. An icy coldness, and at the same time, something burning. Contradictions mingled together. The robe was drawn back, and his face became visible. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Yet his features were too perfect, and in that perfection lay something unsettling. Long silver hair was bound behind his head, and strands that escaped from the tie covered the side of his face with elegant grace. His skin was pale, almost translucent. And his eyes— Deep gray-silver eyes. Those eyes looked at ミリサール. No—not merely looked. They saw through her. As though they could read the very depths of her heart. A thin silver tattoo ran down his right cheek. It was the "mark of a practitioner"—a seal granted only to those who had mastered the integration of multiple magical systems. It spoke eloquently of who this man was. "Ah..." ミリサール's throat tightened. Only a voice mixed with fear and confusion could escape her. "I saved you. Treated your wounds. They are healing." The man's gaze fixed on ミリサール's left arm. The bandaged limb. The purple pattern that pulsed beneath. "But there are wounds that the Holy City's medicine cannot heal. Especially wounds of the soul." *Wounds of the soul*—not physical damage, but scars carved into the very essence of a human being. As a saint, ミリサール had borne the hopes of the people upon her shoulders. The sudden proclamation of her fall had destroyed the very core of her soul. Light magic binds itself to the heart of one who wields only light. So when she lost that light, her soul—which had existed alongside it—suffered catastrophic damage. A fundamental wound, impossible to heal through ordinary medicine. The man walked through the room. Soundlessly. Not even the sound of footsteps. He passed by ミリサール's bed and stopped before a wall without windows. "You were a saint. A symbol of light. The people's hope. But it was all a lie." "Eh...?" "The Church used you, and then discarded you. A petty method. They had you gather the people's faith for twelve years as a saint, and when you were no longer useful, they proclaimed your fall. Thus they escaped the people's gaze. A typical tactic of those in power." The man's words were sharp as knives. And every word was true. ミリサール could not deny it. In fact, for the past several years, the Church's upper echelons had been hiding something from her. Secret rituals conducted in the dead of night. The way the other nuns had begun to avoid her. It had all been leading to this proclamation of her fall. "Who... are you?" ミリサール managed to form the words. "セリスラン・ヴァレンティス. A dark sorcerer erased from the world. And from this moment forward, I am your master." "M-master...?" "In dark magic." セリスラン spoke quietly, coldly, with absolute certainty. After his words, his gaze fell upon the purple pattern carved into her left wrist. The mark he had inscribed. As proof of their "contract." "You have the aptitude for it. An aptitude far beyond that of ordinary humans. If the Holy City's examination determined your light magic affinity at ninety percent—a measurement of your magical constitution's compatibility—then your dark magic affinity is..." セリスラン paused. A faint twist appeared at the corner of his lips. It was not quite a smile, but rather the expression of a predator that has found its prey. "What do you think it is?" "..." "Ninety-nine percent. You are nearly perfectly compatible with dark magic. Such a thing occurs perhaps once in a decade, if that. Those with aptitude for both extremes—light and darkness—number only a handful in all of history." ミリサール trembled. Her entire body froze, trembling. She had become a saint because of her perfect aptitude for light. And yet, because of that very perfection, her affinity for darkness had also reached its limit. Sacred and profane. Light and darkness. Two opposing forces coexisted within her. "Return to the Church. Or live here. Choose." セリスラン's words were cold. They offered a choice, yet offered none. Whichever she chose, her life was forfeit. If she returned to the Church, she would be executed as one who had fallen from grace, as a heretic. If she remained here—she would walk the forbidden path as a student of dark magic, a complete heretic in the eyes of the Light Church. ミリサール answered in a voice that trembled slightly. "...Please teach me." セリスラン's lips twisted once more. That expression was that of a predator that had claimed its prey. --- Meanwhile, in the outskirts of the Holy City of Lusevila, another figure was in motion. A young man with long golden hair. ライエル・ヴァルデル. Twenty-five years old. A knight of the Light serving the Kingdom of Kardina, belonging to the Akatsuki Shield Bureau—the kingdom's highest order of knights—directly under the king's command. He now stood at the boundary of a deep forest. The Abyss Forest, Elgnowar. This forest had long been regarded as an ominous place. Dark magic was dense here. So it was said. Long ago, during the age of darkness a thousand years past, this land had been the stronghold of dark sorcerers. Afterward, the founder of the Light Church had supposedly destroyed it, but ever since, light had never reached this forest. Dark magic had accumulated, and nature itself was twisted. It was a place where a light knight like ライエル should never set foot. Yet here he was. He had been betrothed to ミリサール for six years through political arrangement. ライエル, born into a powerful noble house, and ミリサール, the saint of the Light Church. That betrothal had symbolized the balance of power between the kingdom and the Church. But ライエル had come, over time, to cherish her with all his heart. Her kindness. Her concern for the people. And the inexplicable loneliness hidden behind that perfect smile. He loved all of it. So the proclamation of her fall was unbelievable. That day, the report came suddenly. "Saint ミリサール found to harbor a wicked heart. Her position is hereby revoked effective immediately." A unilateral proclamation from the Church. Immediately after, the people's anger turned upon ミリサール. They condemned as a liar the one they had revered as sacred only yesterday. Such was the nature of the masses. ライエル had sensed the unnaturalness of it. And he had begun his own investigation. There had to be something within the Church's upper echelons. A reason for stripping ミリサール of her position. And he had found this trace. "...Dark magic?" ライエル gazed at the ground. The grass was somehow blackened. And that blackening led deeper into the forest. A trail. Someone had fled in this direction. Wounded, having expended light magic. It was ミリサール. "ミリサール... what happened to you?" ライエル placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He would protect himself with light magic and venture deeper into the forest. He had decided. He would bring her back. And he would expose the truth of this incomprehensible proclamation to the light of day. As a light knight, as a knight of the kingdom, as her betrothed. But after hours of walking, the sun began to set. Twilight. The sky burned red. The forest grew ever darker, and his light magic became his only illumination. And then it happened. ライエル sensed a presence. Another presence. A vast magical power. And not light. Darkness. An overwhelming dark magic leaked from deep within the forest. ライエル's body went rigid. From the depths of the forest, a figure in a black robe appeared. The distance was more than five hundred meters. Yet the presence of that figure was unmistakable even from so far away. It was not merely power. This was the presence of one who had achieved perfect control over magic. This person was a master of dark magic. Their gazes met, faintly, across the distance. A wielder of darkness and a knight of light. Opposing positions. Opposing forces. In that moment, ライエル's hand gripped the hilt of his sword. His eyes, fixed upon the figure, became cold as ice. *(That man... did he take ミリサール from me?)* Rage ignited in his chest. But セリスラン merely smiled faintly and vanished quietly into the darkness. He had no desire to fight a light knight. There was no need to waste time on such things. ミリサール's choice was all that mattered. ライエル watched the figure disappear into the shadows. Deep within the Abyss Forest, Elgnowar, there stood a structure known as the Tower of Silence. It was a ruin from the age of darkness, once the training hall of dark sorcerers. Afterward, it had been sealed by the Church, but セリスラン had broken that seal and made it his base. It was to a room on the first floor of that tower that セリスラン returned after the sun had set. "A light knight has come." セリスラン told ミリサール this. Her face paled. "Eh...?" "Your former betrothed, it seems. He has an honorable face." "ライエル..." ミリサール whispered the name. When she spoke it, complex emotions swirled within her heart. ライエル was her betrothed. But at the same time, he was a knight of the Light Church. If he came to save her, it would mean he stood against the Light Church. Such a thing could not be asked of him. His loyalty belonged to the light. It should belong to the light. "Do you wish to return to him?" セリスラン's question was