"What happened…?"
Lyrei stared at the newspaper she held above her, lying solemnly in her bed. It detailed what happened in that sanctuary, based on the lies she had told the investigators.
The man went crazy. He ended up being a cultist, whose life goal was to murder the innocent saint.
Unfortunately, he succeeded.
— I spent my whole life thinking I was a simple elf girl. But… is that what I really am? For my body to reject the Holy, god sent arts, and even kill the Saint?
She threw the newspaper to the side, inspecting her palm. Facing it toward the ceiling, she generated that sickly, pulsating black energy.
"Eek!-"
She let out a childish scream, shaking her hand off. It startled her, despite using it just a few weeks ago to massacre.
"I… killed people. With these hands. Innocent people. Yet… "
Her hand fell back onto the soft bed, weakly.
It was time to attend the funeral.
Being the saint, known throughout the continent of Stritant, hundreds of people were going to come. Believers of Ogthos, primarily.
Lyrei was incredibly close to the Saint.
No, as a matter of fact, she was now the new saint.
The leader of Gonteno.
. . .
. .
.
The specially built church, made for occasions like this, was packed to the brim. Some people even had to stand outside and listen through the mana objects that amplified sound.
Despite the packed room, there was an unsettling silence. The sound of grief, and sorrow.
The first person to speak was the Holy Priest of Anore.
Yoko Sisk.
Her silky, long white hair, moved just as elegantly as she did, with every step up the stone staircase that led to the stage.
She stood in front of the microphone.
"Citizens of Gonteno, fervent followers of Ogthos."
The silence became even louder.
"It is unfortunate for my appearance to be necessary. The death of the beloved saint- no, the murder of the beloved saint, is unacceptable. A disgrace to this continent. Something that should be kept as a reminder, of what not to do. For our children to see in the future."
"…"
Lyrei sat, just a few meters behind listening nervously. After all, she was the one who killed the Saint that Yoko spoke so passionately about.
"We have all come here to mourn, this strong woman. I remember when I first met her. I was recently adjusting to my new… position. While everyone pushed me away, as I was a rookie, she was the only one who embraced me and… taught me the ways. I'll be forever grateful for all the things she has done for me. If I ever find out who murdered her has been released… I will certainly kill them."
After a few seconds of silence, the crowd clapped, motivated by the priest's strong, and bold statement. She spoke with emotion. Her usually still face, stared at her own feet, troubled.
"This country is in array. The leader has been mercilessly killed. But fear not. The saint has put all her trust into one young girl. She could be compared to the daughter of the saint."
A long speech followed as the priest talked more about her past events with the saint, how she felt, and how the community felt. The Holy Priest was known as a relatively solemn, serene person. For her to be speaking with so much... presence...
After she spoke, a long line of religious leaders, and other believers in Ogthos, highlighted her importance to them, and their way of life.
— The person I killed... she was really this important.
It was finally her turn to speak. As the crowd slowly settled, she stood up, walking up the stage.
With such a large group, it was inevitable for her to be nervous. She swallowed down all the fear that dwelled in her.
"Citzens of Gonteno, and followers of Ogthos. The day that my master died... our leader... It was the saddest day on earth. I remember it vividly. It echoes through my mind, tormenting me every day."
She paused.
"Though, there is nothing that I can do about it. The woman I viewed as a mother, is gone. I could not do anything at all about it. It's as if... a part of me is missing. "
She clutched her chest, trying to feel her heartbeat. It was dull. Beating just as regularly as anyone's heart would. There was nothing she could really feel.
"And... how could I ever find that piece again? I'm left incomplete."
A tear slid down her cheek. Comparable to real tears.
"If I was strong enough, I could have fought off that cultist. Saved her. Prevented her death. But here I am now... without her! Alone! My weakness led to her demise. The only thing I have left of her is the art that she passed down to me. I feel her subtle warmth, every time I utilize it."
— How long will I be able to hide that I don't have her abilities, though?
"Instead of sitting in my sorrow, wallowing, I will accept my role. How could I sit hopelessly in the mud, when I own the responsibility for the entire country? Many might believe I'm not the right one for this task, but... I can assure you that you should put your trust in me. That is because I share the same love for this country that our Saint did!"
Her last sentence was filled with vigor. Pure, unbridled passion.
Not exactly pure. It at least sounded like that.
The crowd clapped. Roaring. Cheering.
But in the crowd, one person clapping echoed louder than everyone else. They clapped more passionately. Fiercely.
They stood at the corner of Lyrei's eye.
Bright red eyes and mangled. A walking corpse.
— You aren't real.
Lyrei faced her front, standing tall in front of the civilians.
"It's amazing! Not a single one of these people here knows who you truly are. Isn't it exciting? First, you killed me, then you killed the woman closest to you. It's as if you have no respect or morals."
Lyrei stood firm, her breathing just slightly shaky. She tossed aside the corpse's remarks.