Chapter 5: Glimpse of... what?

The clearing fell silent.

Even the trees, still smoldering from Elira’s azure breath, seemed to hold their breath.

At the center stood Hiroto, bare-chested, arm lowered, smiling like nothing had happened.

And then-

“You… You-!”

The shriek tore the quiet apart.

The so-called “damsel” still bound in glowing chains lurched forward, singed coat dragging against the dirt. Blood slicked her chin, her whole frame trembling with exhaustion. Yet her eyes burned with manic light.

“YOU MAGNIFICENT CHEATING BASTARD-!”

Her laugh cracked, half hysteria, half triumph. “YOU STOLE MY SPOTLIGHT!”

“…Spotlight?” Hiroto and Elira both echoed, their voices overlapping in amusement and disbelief.

Serah groaned, hauling herself upright with trembling gauntlets. She leaned on her shield, glaring through the smoke at the lunatic still thrashing against her glowing bindings. “You should be grateful you’re alive.”

“GRATEFUL?!” Elaister snapped her head toward her, hair plastered to her mask with sweat and ash. She cackled, voice breaking. “Tin Tower, you don’t get it! I was two seconds away from the perfect comeback arc! Then Mister Hero over here swoops in like some Deus Ex Pretty-Boy and cuts the scene short!”

She jerked against the chains, limbs flailing like a furious cat caught in yarn. “Unacceptable! Robbery! Narrative theft!”

From the treeline, Kestrel emerged at last, arm strapped in a crude sling made from Hiroto’s shirt. Her expression was flat, voice steady as ever, though her pale lips betrayed fatigue. “You should be grateful, Elaister. Not everyone is saved by the Hero.”

“Pfft-”

Hiroto only chuckled, dusting off his hand as if nothing at all had happened. “What can I say? I didn’t feel like letting my newest recruit get roasted on day one.” His grin widened, teeth sharp. “Besides, wasn’t this just a test?”

Elira’s staff still trembled faintly, but not from exhaustion. She bit her lip, clicking her tongue before muttering, “…Hiroto-sama. I had her. That was unnecessary.”

“Hmph.” Serah crossed her arms, helm tilting aside in irritation. “I was already about to finish it. You didn’t need to interfere.”

“Ahh, my knight, my mage,” Hiroto’s tone was honey-smooth, dripping amusement. “Don’t sulk. You both put on a fine show. But a good leader knows when to call the fight.”

“Call it?” Serah bristled.

“Of course.” His eyes flicked lazily toward Elaister, still clawing at her bindings with ridiculous determination. “She didn’t give up. Didn’t pass out. Took your best, and look. Still standing.” His grin sharpened. “That’s enough. And let’s be honest, she wasn’t bluffing when she screamed for help.”

Both girls froze.

““What?”” they said in unison.

Hiroto’s smile was all teeth. “For someone like her? Begging mercy that loud? Obviously fake. If you want proof… just watch.”

Elaister’s ragged chuckle answered him. “Heh. You got me…”

Her body flared purple.

And then, she collapsed inward.

Chains strained, glowing bright, but everything, her body, her coat, her mask, her blood, was consumed in a whirl of light and sucked into Pandora like a snake swallowing itself.

In the next instant, the azure rings snapped closed around nothing.

“What?!” Elira gasped.

“Behind yo-!” Serah barked, but too late.

Cold steel kissed the back of Elira’s head.

Her body went rigid.

“Surprise~” crooned Elaister’s voice.

Pandora’s edge pressed against Elira’s skull. The scientist leaned over her shoulder, bloody mask gleaming, manic eyes glittering.

And then-

“GhK-!”

Her mouthpiece split open with a hiss, and she vomited blood across Elira’s robe. She staggered, laughing even as crimson dripped down her chin.

“Technically, I can teleport,” she wheezed, chest heaving. “But the system isn’t… perfected. Rips me up inside every time. Little costly for casual use.”

Her tongue darted across her bloody lips.

“But not bad, eh?”

(Sei’s PoV)

I had just returned from the chapel, hands still faintly scented with incense and herbs, mind already drifting toward Altair.

If I hurried, I could still find him before supper. Perhaps I could slip him something I cooked before anyone else noticed. Perhaps-

The door to the inn burst open.

“Good afternoon. Ah, Sei.”

Hiroto.

He stood in the entrance, sunlight at his back, bare-chested and smiling like the entire world was his audience. In his arms, no, draped across him like broken dolls, were four girls… Four... Cats?

Three of them clung to him as if he were their rightful master: one curled lazily against his chest, another nuzzling his arm like a kitten, the last blushing so hard it was difficult to tell whether her face was flushed from exertion or from simply touching his skin.

And then there was the fourth.

The stray.

Elaister writhed like a feral cat, shouting and thrashing, her mask half-tilted, coat torn, blood still staining the edge of her lips. “Unhand me, you narrative-thieving scoundrel! I demand a rematch! My genius was only eighty percent on display!”

Serah, pressed inconveniently against her, looked ready to snap her neck. Only the fact that she was nestled against Hiroto’s arm too seemed to keep her from acting on the impulse. Her face was red, not only with battle grime, but from proximity.

They were filthy. Bruised. Battered. Reeking of smoke and sweat.

And yet… they clung to him, like starved creatures finally allowed to bask in warmth. Except the silver masked one.

Hiroto’s gaze landed on me, amused and utterly unbothered.

“Can you heal them? The test was pretty rough for them.”

Ah. Typical. That was what he wanted me for. Just another tool to mend his pets.

I folded my hands over my chest, forcing a saintly smile, though I could feel the cracks spiderwebbing beneath it.

“…Of course, Hiroto-sama.”

But in my heart, a whisper coiled, sharp and poisonous.

I wasn’t here to heal them. I was here for him.

For Altair.

I smoothed my robes, breathing once to steady myself. Saint. Saint. I must look the part.

Hiroto lowered them all onto the benches and chairs of the inn’s common hall, like a king presenting his court. Four broken dolls waiting for my touch.

I began with Kestrel. Her burns were raw, her arm bound crudely in a sling made from Hiroto’s own shirt.

“…Thanks,” she muttered as my hands glowed faint gold over her injuries. Her voice was short, clipped, but not ungrateful. “But… I’ll keep the sling.”

“Ahaha… sure thing, Kestrel.” I forced a gentle smile, angelic to suit the role.

Next was Serah. The knight’s armor was cracked, but the real damage was hidden beneath: torn muscle, strained veins, the backlash of forcing her body past its limits with [Limit Break].

I laid my hands upon her and whispered a prayer. Light spilled across her bruised ribs and burning lungs. She bowed her head, eyes serious, voice steady.

“…My gratitude, Sei. Truly.”

Dignified. Sincere. The kind of thanks one could believe in.

Then Elira. Her body was intact, but her face was pale, lips trembling faintly. The signs were familiar: mana channels overstrained, senses stretched thin, a brain that had nearly burned itself.

She needed food more than she needed me, but I could at least soothe the frayed threads of her mind. My palms pressed to her temples, light humming, dulling the ache.

She scoffed softly, eyes sliding away. “…Tch. I didn’t need this much.”

But she didn’t pull away. And in her own aloof way, that was thanks enough.

Smooth. All smooth. Just as a Saint should be. Each one mended, each one grateful. A flawless performance.

Until the last.

The masked one.

Her coat was still scorched. Her body trembled faintly as if she’d only just dragged herself upright by sheer force of mania. But she stood out in another way: the sheer weight of injury radiating off her. Not just exhaustion, not just strain, brokenness at a level the others hadn’t touched.

“Don’t bother,” she said flatly. Her voice was muffled behind the mask, but the dismissive tone was sharp. “You can’t.”

I blinked. Surely I misheard. “What do you mean by that? I am the soon-to-be Saint.”

She tilted her head, almost as if pitying me. “God’s miracle won’t work on me. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your view.”

That… couldn’t be right.

I leaned closer, fingers glowing bright, voice soft, practiced, the very picture of serene conviction. “Don’t worry, Elaister-san. My skill is beyond most priests.”

The light of [Heal] sank into her-

Crack.

My breath caught. The spell fractured like glass on stone, the glow breaking apart, dissipating into nothing.

“…What?” My voice slipped from its usual calm.

She straightened, or rather, forced herself to, blood still crusted at the edges of her mask. And though I couldn’t see her full expression, I could feel the grin behind it.

“I told you,” she said. “God’s miracle doesn’t work on me.”

My palms hovered uselessly in the air, tingling with spent mana.

For the first time since I donned the mantle of Saint… my healing had failed.

“Anyway, I am going.”

Her words snapped me out of my daze.

I frowned, still staring at my useless hands. “…Where are you thinking you’re going?”

“Ghahaha- EXPERIMENTING, OF COURSE!”

I nearly choked. “Wha–? Look at your condition!”

She staggered a step, then steadied herself with a dramatic flourish, as if injury were beneath her notice. “This is fine. It’s not like you can do anything about it. Moreover-”

Grrrruummble.

A loud rumble cut her words.

The room fell silent.

My eyes flicked toward the source, and so did everyone else’s. Elira’s cheeks flared pink as she pressed a hand to her stomach, looking anywhere but at us.

The masked menace tilted her head, chuckling. “-I guess you’re the cook, Saint. Bye. Tell the hero his new party member will be back at dinner.”

A cane materialized in her hand, snapping into place with mechanical precision. Without so much as a glance at me again, she swept out of the inn, singed coat swaying, leaving nothing behind but smoke and the faint metallic echo of her laughter.

I sat frozen, fists curling in my lap.

My healing hadn’t touched her. My role, my gift, dismissed like an inconvenience.

And she had the gall to stride out as though nothing could bind her down.

Hm, at least she still wasn't his yet, she still could be usefull for me.

Now, to find Altair before I started cooking.

....

He wasn't in his room.

...

Nor in the storage room.

...

Not behind the inn too.

...

AltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltairAltair

"Sei... are you not going to cook? If so we'll go to the guild to buy some. Elira seemed like she about to pass out" Serah voice braught me back to reality.

Right I supposed to cook, BUT Altair!

He'd miss his lunch!

I must find him first!

"R-Right. I'm sorry Serah, I need to be somewhere right now."

I rushed out, I'm going to scout the city first. He probably helping old lady or some children or something!

"Hey Sei! ...Woah, she's really in hurry."

(Elaister’s PoV)

The forest greeted me like an old workshop, quiet, damp, buzzing with the smell of moss and scorched earth. Honestly, I’d prefer my actual workshop in the old man’s cave, but hey, I’ve been in forests more times than I can count too.

I left a note back at the inn: Back for dinner. Don’t touch my share. That way nobody would nag.

My body clanked faintly as I sat against a tree. Plates shifted. Tubes hissed. My metal mask slid off my face. I detached my metal left arm and set it on the ground, shrugged off the scorched white coat, and tugged at my black undershirt.

Then I reached into Pandora.

First came a tube. I shoved it into my mouth, grinded mana sand dissolved in liquid at low concentration pumped down my throat. Keeps me awake. Keeps me going. A few mechanical arms popped out of Pandora as well.

Next came the scalpel. I cut away the organic skin hiding the wrecked Ship of Theseus beneath.

“Time for real work.”

Sparks snapped as I welded nerves and wires together. A rib creaked when I adjusted it. One lung gurgled, so I swapped the filter.

Perfectly normal maintenance. Perfectly normal life.

“Ghahahahhaha- hugh- hahaa! I’m such a genius!”

I laughed while I worked. A dry, cracked laugh that rattled my chest until tears streaked down my cheeks.

Ah, how inconvenient. Maybe I should cut that response out entirely, crying.

But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Because-

(???)

“Hey, ████, you’re such a crybaby. Can you stop? Or just go away.”

“████, you piece of shit! Shut up! I SAID SHUT UP!”

Crying is scary. I don’t want to cry. But I can’t stop. If I cry, dad will bea-

Shove. Crack.

The world tilts.

“Urghh…”

Laughter. A group’s laughter.

“Hahahahahaha!”

“W-why are you laughing?”

“Why? Because it’s funny, of course. Loser~”

The footsteps faded, leaving only one person.

Senpai. He reached down, pulled me up with a smile.

“Pain… is funny? But it hurts,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “Well, we can’t just help it. And it is funny. See you, ████.”

“S-see you… Senpai.”

…Wait.

If you laugh because something is funny…

Why can’t someone just laugh when they’re hurt, instead of crying?

When you laugh, you forget things.

Can you forget pain too?

“H-ha… haha… hahahahahahaha…”

Back in the forest, my hands trembled as I tightened the last plate and sealed the skin shut. It healed quickly enough, mana always sped things up. Ah, what a beautiful orange sky.

“See? Nothing to cry about. It’s funny as hell!”

Just repairs. Just normal.

I reattached Pandora to my shoulder and locked my mask back into place. The mouthpiece stayed open this time, only so I could chew down a concentrated mana gem to accelerate recovery.

“Damn, I really should’ve finished that fabric-strengthening coating before this adventure. The old man’s coat took a beating out there.”

Snap.

A twig.

…Someone saw that?

That me?

Unforgivableunforgivableunforgivableunforgivable-

I stood, plates hissing, mouthpiece snapping shut. I rushed toward the sound.

Branches tore away in my grip.

There-

Altair?

Altair...

He landed hard on his backside, eyes wide, dirt clinging to his tunic.

“E-Elaister-san.”

つづく