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Life is like a thin card, divided by a frail boundary of light and darkness that coexist.

There is no perfection in this world.

Just as shadows are born wherever there is light.

As humans, we are born with flaws, and no one can escape this mighty destiny.

Thus, fate always lies in the hands of humanity.

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Episode 21 – The Peace of Our Time

A most unpleasant rebellion has broken out.

The Saint and the Pope took off their ranks and clashed.

It is no exaggeration to say that this is an unprecedented case of insubordination, and it was also the reason for Camila’s jaw drop.

With her face dyed as red as her hair and her voice raised significantly,

Camila could hardly contain her shock, just like a governor of the British Empire witnessing colonists protesting for independence, and she snapped at Lucia.

“Bloody Fuck—Lucia, what are you doing?!”

“W-Why are you shouting…?”

“Camila. First, pull her outside, and… please, persuade her well… Yes, let’s just quickly get out of here.”

“Got it!”

After dragging Lucia, who was bound in chains, Camila vanished first.

I trembled involuntarily as my nervous system went into a strike, clutching my throbbing head.

Oh dear.

What kind of insane person locks someone up in an underground storehouse? Look at the dust and the mold. What a stench.

“…Ugh.”

Gazing at the distinctly shaped dust on the box, I suddenly let out a sigh that felt like the ground would cave in at any moment.

There hasn’t been a single peaceful day. Not even one.

“What on earth caused this mess…?”

—

The hierarchy is the foundation that constitutes the cult’s essence.

Just as a state, founded on basic rights represented by life and freedom, is established on a constitution that guarantees them, religion exists through a well-ordered system.

From that perspective, Lucia’s rebellion was highly perilous.

If what is universally recognized crumbles, everything else will fall like dominoes.

It wasn’t just about nearly toppling the order; it was an act that wasn’t afraid to use force.

Against the Pope, no less.

One fact, however, remained utterly secret: the Saint’s act of insubordination.

Given that even high-ranking priests could not obtain proper information, I easily sensed the Pope’s influence stretching forth.

And that led to a question.

Why did the Pope choose to cover up the truth?

With the Church embroiled in issues of historical reconciliation and reparations, in this turmoil, Lucia, who stood at the center, could be struck by a nearly nuclear-level blow from Raphael.

Yet, the Pope opted for a political retreat.

Instead, he decided to quietly bury the issue.

Why did Lucia resort to violence?

Basically, she was averse to conflict.

Unlike the first saint, who often picked fights, she had never even engaged in the most common disputes.

For someone like her to smash someone’s head could only occur through mutual consent,

Or if the other person was an egregious sinner needing an immediate ticket to hell.

There was simply no word more incompatible with Lucia than “unprovoked violence.” Perhaps it would fit an old fool from the turbulent northern empire.

Some may argue that most problems can be resolved with violence, but Lucia was definitely not one to solve issues that way.

Did the Northern Duke instigate her rebellion by filling her lungs with air?

I’d sooner believe Bill Gates had a chip implanted in his brain controlling him. What kind of ridiculous statement is this?

Still, the vivid reality unfolding before me remained unchanged.

The cruelty of common sense dying in real time, an avalanche of questions.

What Camila and I felt in common was sheer frustration.

Why? Why?

As I let out a gut-wrenching cry mingled with bewilderment, the response that came back was shockingly brief and clear.

“It was a trivial argument.”

“You’re saying you smashed heads during a quarrel?!”

“I didn’t aim for the head! What do you take me for…?!”

The current Pope, an attempted assassin, the first saint to challenge the Pope face-to-face, protested fiercely, but I turned my gaze back to Camila, unfazed.

“Are you not admitting that you beat up the old man like a dog? Just look at how confidently you’re saying it! Is this even right?!”

“Yeah, right…”

“Oh, my goodness….”

Camila’s face was like the world had crumbled around her.

The expression evoking a mix of pity was similar to a friend in the French intelligence agency watching the Notre Dame Cathedral engulfed in flames. That alone signified how shocking it was.

While trying to persuade Lucia who had gotten caught in a political scandal, the disciple, attempting to escape the teacher’s clutches, finally faced reality. What she thought was a path of flowers was, in fact, a road of flames.

They say there is no paradise in the place one flees to.

The cost of playing tricks was so spicy that even the Archmage could not have anticipated it. But now it was too late to return to the Empire, so what could be done?

I offered what was not quite comfort in a bitter tone.

“Camila, don’t evade the responsibilities that come from your choices.”

“Just shut your mouth.”

It wasn’t much help.

“Damn it… fighting to the point of throwing punches? We’re not teenagers; how could adults behave like this, Lucia?”

“……”

“Was it really necessary to go that far?”

Expressing her exasperation, Camila started pacing around as she poured words out at Lucia. She seemed a bit angry as well.

“You were the one who strongly insisted on tying up past matters. But what do you expect to achieve by using violence when mere words weren’t sufficient? That’s completely different from the Lucia I knew.”

She had come to persuade Lucia but now found herself scolding her. Yet, from her tone, brimming with unjustness, one could feel her concern for her colleague.

Though the questions seemed similar at first glance, the implications contained within them clearly differed.

She was asking about necessity, not cause.

What she genuinely wanted to know was not the actions that produced results, but the true motives behind Lucia’s movements.

It seemed like a rather long story.

Perhaps recalling that one of the budding information officers had brought alcohol under the pretext of sober musings was also a reason.

And that was where the trouble began.

—

Every incident has a cause.

Accidents with no cause do not exist, nor are unforeseen disasters a reality.

The cause Lucia revealed could be traced back to a meeting long past.

Calling it “long ago” was somewhat misleading; calculating in terms of time, it had only been a matter of months.

“…You all remember the blood-drinking tree.”

The cultist terror that occurred in the Jamria Federation. A tree that nearly obliterated a metropolitan city by sacrificing humans.

Beginning with the instance of the saint’s blood theft, the Order of the Holy Knights joined forces, infiltrating the necropolis where occult practices and exiled magicians coexisted.

Ultimately, it was revealed that Al Kair was behind it all.

A lone tree that appeared in Nabuktu Province.

And the instigator who was subdued.

“We spent hours to chop down that tree. Akande joined around that time as well.”

“The damages were pretty significant too, right?”

“Indeed. Very, very significant.”

We emerged victorious. At the same time, we lost a great deal.

With casualties in the tens of thousands and millions displaced, the international situation of Northern Mauritania entered into murkiness.

The ball set rolling by the blood-drinking tree still burns fiercely, causing disturbances everywhere.

“After Al Kair gained notoriety, those claiming to be ‘Messiahs’ began to emerge. Armed with the singular resolve to burn the world, copycat attacks are on the rise, and countless subsiduary groups, claiming to be their spiritual successors, have sprouted.”

This was a phenomenon we could observe surrounding us.

Even after Bin Laden was taken out, Al-Qaeda’s subsidiary groups spread to places like Saudi Arabia and Yemen. Even after Daesh (ISIL), which terrorized Iraq, collapsed, many offshoots roamed the Sahel region.

This situation wasn’t fundamentally different in context.

A major organization had fractured into subordinate groups, and imitators abound while copycat attacks proliferate.

The backgrounds might differ, but the essence remained the same.

It’s just that the attacks aren’t about regular explosives but arcane magic that can instantly mummify the living or turn a graveyard into a ghoul field.

As long as that is the case, it’s manageable.

Petty copycat terror can be somewhat “managed” by the Magic Department and the counterterrorism agencies.

However, Lucia’s concerns lay elsewhere.

“The leader of Al Kair held a grudge against our sect. From what I personally gathered, a priest of a nation long gone in Mauritania remained silent even after witnessing the atrocities committed by the government army. At times, he even cooperated with the dictatorship.”

“……”

“Though that nation has ceased to exist, we all already know the person who was born there.”

A highly cautious insinuation.

Yet, there were no fools here who could not understand the implications.

Thus, Lucia asserts.

“We must stop it. So that we do not repeat the same mistakes.”

Silence ensues. A brief silence, but a long one nonetheless.

Camila, who had been standing silently for a while, suddenly broke the silence.

Her tone was soft and kind, her whispers resonant enough to lift any lock.

“Let’s admit our wrongs and seek forgiveness… to prevent potential victims from becoming perpetrators. To break the cycle of violence… It’s a noble intention.”

Camila expressed her agreement in a bright voice, yet she stubbornly held her ground.

“But honestly… I’m still unsure if we need to go this far, Lucia. This method feels overly aggressive.”

“It’s possible that the same individuals may emerge again. Sometimes, the beginning comes unexpectedly.”

“Isn’t that a leap in logic?”

Experiencing unjust harm does not automatically compel one to seek bloody vengeance. That was Camila’s main point.

“Even if one has become a victim of unreasonable violence, thinking about harming lives and acting on it are different matters. A person with a normal sense of ethics wouldn’t redirect their anger toward the innocent, creating more victims.”

Many long to avenge personal grievances.

However, few actually commit to such retaliation, and even fewer express their anger in misguided ways.

“It’s understandable for the cult to harbor resentment over their past misdeeds. It’s also acceptable to demand apologies. Forgiveness is a rightful claim for victims, isn’t it?”

Yet, attacking the clerics of the cult or threatening innocent civilians is not permissible.

Taking innocent lives without just cause is an unforgivable crime in any circumstance. No matter how unjust one feels, one cannot toy with human lives.

A reasonable person wouldn’t consider turning tens of thousands of strangers into fodder.

Thus, Camila could confidently declare.

“Lucia, if the reason for clinging to the issues of the past is that incident… then we shouldn’t patch up conflicts in this way. You know that the method of oppressing others through violence is wrong.”

“Yes.”

“Even if we seek forgiveness, there’s no guarantee that another terror attack like last time won’t occur again…”

“I agree with that too.”

“If we truly worry about the lives and safety of everyone, wouldn’t it be better to take this opportunity to explore alternatives? Maybe establish preventative measures through investigative agencies and international organizations, or seek other ways to avert terrorist activities.”

She was essentially implying to drop the apologies and unleash the army and police to wipe out the terrorists. Or, to have the inquisitors stomp them into the ground.

Camila might argue that wasn’t her intention, but interpretation is a personal freedom.

Considering her major in conflict studies, her hoped career in the information agency, and the fact that she hails from England, this interpretation somewhat aligned with Camila’s intentions.

In truth, unless a more pointed method were to emerge, this was the most pragmatic alternative.

“You sound like His Holiness the Pope.”

Lucia murmured in a matter-of-fact tone. Coming from someone who had shed ranks to engage with the Pope, it was a clear sign of refusal.

Though outrightly rejected, Camila was relentless, refusing to give up until the end. A bittersweet smile surfaced on her face, reminiscent of a child savoring bitter coffee.

“If someone would lay down their weapons just because we say sorry, they wouldn’t even think to harm others in the first place. What such criminals need is punishment, not leniency.”

“From a judicial perspective, yes. But that’s why I believe we should strive even harder to ask for forgiveness and offer leniency.”

“That doesn’t perfectly resolve the problem, though?”

At that moment, Camila’s expertise shined through.

She began referencing the external conflict cases of all existing cults. Unraveling their historical wrongs and the intricately intertwined interests of international society.

Diplomatic frictions arising from cult believers being oppressed overseas,

the cutthroat competition of trade wars from a strategic viewpoint,

military races unfolding to secure the interests of their allies and partners in a bipartite conflict structure,

and the increasingly deteriorating public opinion in civil society.

The examples she presented were conflict cases that had repeatedly occurred in both the Cold War and the New Cold War.

Russians treat America as an obstacle, while the White House kicks Chinese businesses for issues in Xinjiang; you get the idea.

And Camila argued,

Recognizing historical wrongs in the current situation is a decision that cannot be easily made.

Should we attempt to apologize, the other side would demand a considerable amount of responsibility for “forgiveness,” which would be burdensome for the cult, to the point where it could no longer be defined as “compensation.”

Above all, there was a notion that domestic public opinion wouldn’t agree with it.

Yet, if they chose to selectively seek forgiveness from specific countries while being conscious of public opinion, they would undoubtedly encounter an uproar of diplomatic protests. So, Camila cautiously suggested, “Let’s wait a bit longer and observe the situation.”

It goes without saying that this was an exceedingly political stance.

At the same time, it was a very British perspective.

Though she cleverly circled her points using diplomatic rhetoric and deflections, to sum up, Camila’s claim essentially expressed…

“If we apologize now, both Lucia and Raphael are going to politically end up in a mess, so let’s keep quiet and hold on! Eventually, the compensation issue will settle down! Let’s endure until time resolves it!”

…wasn’t that the gist?

To knock out the terrorists with force and stay silent on the matters of the past. Could this really be the mindset of Europeans?

Indeed, the nation of numerous Independence Day celebrations was different in every way. No wonder companies only hire experienced workers.

“……”

Lucia silently listened to Camila’s laments, her expression unchanged.

And when the grand soliloquy came to a close,

the saint finally opened her mouth.

“So, what you just told me means we should essentially halt discussions on settling historical issues, correct?”

“…Huh?”

That was right on target.

Unprepared for such a blow, Camila stared at her in shock. Perhaps the alcohol was to blame, but a look of confusion flickered across her face as she lost her usual composure.

Irrespective of that, Lucia maintained a steady tone as she pressed on.

“We cannot permit that. This matter must be resolved.”

“No, no! Lucia!”

Her voice rose.

In a rare show of panic, Camila flitted about, struggling to organize her thoughts. Yet, it seemed she could hold it back no longer. She leapt from her seat, her anguish spilling forth in a wail.

“If we wanted it resolved so badly, we should have done it correctly! How can you resort to violence against the elderly just because communication isn’t working?! This isn’t Germany – do you really think they’d follow orders just because someone hits them?!”

“Hold on… What’s with the sudden racism? Just because we left the European Union doesn’t mean we’re not Europeans anymore, right?”

“Just be quiet, Frederick. If you don’t want to get hit.”

I couldn’t help but stare at the Englishwoman in disbelief at such a shocking remark.

Am I some kind of colony-born slave? Just because I spoke up once, that warrants a beating? I’m at a loss for words with how absurd that is.

While I wished to punch her, I regrettably found myself the weakest in this setting, and Camila was currently intoxicated. And drunkards have notoriously been the bane of public service, the eternal enemy of civil servants.

That was the reason I quietly slipped away to a corner.

Bang! Camila slammed her hands on the table, as if she could no longer endure her frustration, her voice sharpening.

“I understand this matter is significant to Lucia! But we can clearly see the controversy ahead; we all have no idea why you’re pushing through with it, facing this backlash!”

“……”

“I think it’s about time you tell us. Why go to such lengths?”

After a momentary pause, the answer returned.

Lucia, who had been sitting with her eyes closed, finally spoke after a long silence.

Her voice was surprisingly calm.

To be precise, it would be more appropriate to say it was subdued.

“Are you asking why seeking forgiveness is so important?”

“Yes.”

“Can someone who has forgotten even how to acknowledge their sins, just because they’re in the clergy, demand others confess their sins and plead for mercy?”

 

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