"You should get some rest soon," Mark said, his voice gentle but firm. "I can take care of the paperwork today."
Mary's dark eyes were strained as she grumbled at his request. "I'm fine." She replied. "As the Arch Knight, I have to ensure stability and safety." She sifted through the papers, her eyes darting down every line of text. "I have to repair the broken infrastructure before it gets out of hand. With the lack of manpower to maintain the local jobs-"
"You look awful," Mark said, his voice blunt. The old man studied Mary's exhausted face. The bags underneath her eyes were prominent on her usually stoic face. As a child, she used to be more expressive and emotional at times after her parents' deaths.
However, as she grew older, he could count on his hands the number of times she smiled. You used to beam with childish joy, bouncing on your tippy toes as you watched me show off my blessing. Those eyes would light up as if fireworks were contained in those bright, wide eyes, he thought.
The Captain smiled, reminiscing about the times he had taken care of a young Mary. As he stared at her, studying Mary's tired state, he couldn't help but feel his heart squeeze. She prided herself on being a proper leader, well-kept, dignified, and ruthless. Even towards him, she showed no mercy when her stubbornness from her mother kicked in. It was unbefitting of her to have her dress cap off, resting it on the table as she ran her hand through her red hair.
In the Captain's opinion, Mary ran her city like a general, which wasn't terrible in his opinion. Their crime rate was the lowest out of most of the cities, and since Lydia and Asura's reign of terror, their casualty rate per capita after Jormungandr's death has reduced tremendously. However, the pile of work that continuously flowed into her office had beaten down the general, leaving her broken and worn like leather, feeling the weight of stress.
Mary sighed and threw herself back in her chair. Her flowing, unrestrained red hair cascaded down her back as she rested her head. She closed her eyes, resting briefly as the stress ate away at her.
"Thanks." She said, her eyes closed as she restlessly tapped her finger against the desk. "I really needed that. It's a great confidence booster." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
The Captain heartily laughed, bringing a smile to Mary's face as she watched her old mentor stroke his beard. "Go take a nap, rest awhile, and I can take the reins of the city for a bit." He reached across the table to pull the papers from her grasp. "It's why I am here," Mark said, gently. "To help you."
Mary groaned and rubbed her tired eyes. "You need to leave soon." She said, throwing herself forward to grab back the papers. "You have your own town to manage."
"That's why Thomas is there." He replied swiftly to counter.
Mary accusingly pointed a finger at the Captain while staring at him, her eyes tucked against the top of her eyelids. She slightly tilted her head forward, like a school teacher playfully scolding a student who should be occupied with work, "And Thomas has his own work he's supposed to work on."
"Thomas also needs a break from time to time," Mark said with the smallest shrug.
Mary snorted at the comment, "Thomas is always on break." She said, pulling another stack of papers before her, adding it onto the sea of ink and parchment. "It's time he starts working. If you keep talking to me and distracting me, this paperwork will never be completed."
The Captain looked around, studying the mountains of paperwork, somewhat sorted but still chaotically scattered on the top of the grand desk. The once orderly, pristine office was reduced to a pig's den. Books, documents, records, and bills littered every inch of the room and floor. Even the bookshelves couldn't escape the storm that blew through. With most of the books and binders being pulled out, the remaining ones were left to lie on their side and lean against one another.
"Why can't I just have the librarian's blessing? This would be so much easier," Mary muttered, flipping through pages with growing frustration. Her eyes skimmed over hundreds of words at an impressive speed, a skill that often left others in awe. Mark watched, quietly fascinated, as she moved through books and folders with almost supernatural ease, as if she absorbed their contents with just a few flicks.
Of course, he knew she wasn't truly reading everything. She was scanning just enough to grasp the context, sorting and organizing them for later.
"Taking the easy route every time it's offered will lead to laziness and a lack of discipline," Mark replied with amusement as if redirecting her own words at her like a blade.
"I hate you." She said, shooting her mentor a glare.
The Captain laughed again at her resemblance to her younger sister. The fiery look in their eyes was identical to their mother's when she had been pestered. "You and Mel are just alike, you know," Mark said, his voice taunting.
"Don't, you dare." She jabbed a finger. "At least I don't run away from work. I may not like it, but I do it. She runs and hides." Mary's eyes continued to scan through page after page, but Mark knew her eyes had begun to twitch from irritation. "She does whatever it takes to get out of it." Her head snapped up, locking eyes with him in a sharp, disapproving glare, more maternal than anything else. "And you're supposed to be fixing that, but clearly, it was a mistake to send her to you."
"Your mom was exactly the same when she was younger," Mark chuckled, unbothered. "Give Mel some time, and she will grow out of it."
"Did Mom ever grow out of it? Hm?" Mary narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "From what I've heard, even when she was the top gun dealer in all of The Temple, she still had an attitude." She grabbed hold of a book as if its context were relevant, grasping it firmly. "You said yourself she refused to make properly designed weapons. She sparked a revolution by building non-holy firearms to fight demons—and then spent her days tinkering with bizarre contraptions she tried to pass off as guns." Mary scoffed at the thought of her mother abandoning her duties to The Temple.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Mark's lips. "And who else would you send her to? Thomas? I could send her to be Thomas's disciple since I am so bad at my job." He playfully replied.
"In all that is Judex, I'd rather die," Mary said, her voice trembling from a painful groan that left her throat. "She's fine with you."
"Haha, that quickly changed your mind," Mark said as he grabbed hold of a binder filled with tax records, sifting through their archives.
"Yes, and on the note of changing, this conversation needs to change back to work." Mary said as she tossed him another binder labeled East District Tax Records. "Did you receive Aliza's distress message?" She asked.
"I did." Mark's eyes shifted from his joyful gaze to a serious, dark tone. "Who are you sending?"
"Rose and Mel." She bluntly replied as if it were decided long ago.
"Send Asura with them," Mark added.
"What?" She asked as her eyes shot up, concern painted on her face.
Mary studied the Captain, who sat confidently in his chair. "Give me a reason, he can't," Mark said. The words rang in her ears from the days she had trained underneath him.
"He's an ogre, Captain. We can't just send a monster there." She pleaded as the thought of him revealing his mana plagued her mind. "I can't watch him... And neither can you. That meathead could get into trouble." She shook her head in refusal. "He could kill someone without supervision. I don't like it."
"I think you should show him a little respect after all he's done for you and this city. The Temple still hasn't sent aid, or more priests, paladins, or even word from another Archknight." His voice grew grim and serious, reminding her of his stance. "You defend them as if they are saints and yet vilify an ogre who spends his free time digging graves."
"I have received word from The Temple." She swiftly snapped back. "They are sending replacement teams to fill the spots the priests who fled have left open," Mary said, letting out a sigh as she continued. "We've received a few teams already, and you know this. That makes about a hundred or so priests to help with the repair."
She paused before responding as if hesitant to reveal what she had been told. "Four Archknights are investigating Malachi and the Jormungandr incident as we speak."
"Yet, where are the Archknights? Why aren't they here if we can teleport hundreds of miles?" Mark jestered with his arms as if waving away delusions. "If they wanted to, they could."
"They are busy just like I am." Mary said, her voice meeting his serious tone. "This is a newly established city compared to the others. We just weren't prepared."
"If everyone is tied up with their responsibilities, then using Asura should be beneficial." Mark's eyes were heavy anvils on Mary's shoulders. His words stopped her in her tracks as if he had been planning the course of the conversation the entire time. "He's outside help, a new, fresh pair of hands. He's proven himself, and you can't prove me wrong."
Mary tried to counter his argument but was at a loss for words. She let out a quiet, defeated sigh. He wasn't wrong. "Name one person who has done more than he has for the civilians who lost their loved ones." Mark continued.
Due to a lack of manpower, the Temple has always been too busy to help with business outside its responsibilities. So, the government hired contracted companies to maintain safety regarding mundane problems like fires or medical transportation. It had never sat right with Mary. Just because something was "mundane" didn't mean it wasn't important. However, her hands were tied as monsters, cultists, and now Apocalypses were a factor in the forever war of survival.
Her gaze drifted to the stack of letters on the desk. When they first arrived, she braced herself for the worst: hate, fear, disgust, and even death threats. But instead, each envelope contained words of thanks, warm welcomes, and gratitude. All directed toward Asura.
It would be a lie if Mary claimed she still hated the ogre. Initially, it was tense, and she was at war with him over the smallest of arguments. However, he did not disregard her orders to never use his mana outside of sparring with Lydia. After watching him for a few months, she couldn't help but respect his character a little.
After sparring, studying, and daily work, Asura spent his free time digging thousands of graves for the ones who lost their lives during the attack. At first, the civilians watched him with disgust and spewed hateful comments at him.
He never used a shovel, using only his four hands to scoop away the soil, and the barbaric sight enraged the people. Although he helped in the battle, they blamed him for their relative's death. However, he never returned their spiteful words and anger. Instead, he continued to dig silently.
Mary watched from afar at times as he continuously dug without a complaint. He was never asked to do such a task, but instead took it upon himself. She expected him to use it as a means of escape, a way to disguise a sinister plan to free himself from the grasp of The Temple.
She was baffled by his determination and admired him as she watched him dig through the downpour that drenched him from head to toe. Why doesn't he quit when it rains? It's just filling with mud, she thought as she watched him continue.
Two months ago, he never returned, and when she woke the next morning, finding the ogre no longer present in her cathedral, she found the Captain with Lydia in one of the halls. Lydia was discussing the city's current condition as Mary approached them.
"You were wrong," Mary commented angrily. "He finally ran."
"Haha, I wouldn't be so sure of yourself," Mark replied. "Where do you think he's at?"
Mary rolled her eyes. "If he's not at the cemetery, he's dead."
"Let's go then." Mark dropped his arms to his side, waving for the two to follow as he walked toward the entrance of the cathedral.
The three made their way in silence through the city streets until they reached it—the largest cemetery Mary had ever seen. It used to be a park. She remembered the hesitation in her chest when the citizens petitioned to have it changed. A green space, once filled with laughter and trees, was now a sea of headstones. In the end, the cries of thousands of grieving survivors had outweighed her reluctance. The park had become sacred ground.
As they approached, Mary spotted him in the distance. Asura was deep in a trench, quietly digging a row of seven graves. His massive hands carved into the earth, scooping and tossing the soil aside with practiced rhythm. They stopped a few paces behind him.
"You are supposed to return every night." Mary's eyes blazed upon his back, but he never replied. "This was non-negotiable."
The ogre kept digging, his massive hands moving with quiet determination. He showed no signs of fatigue, just steady, relentless motion, scooping dirt and heaving it into a growing mound beside the trench. Mary's patience snapped. She stepped forward, ready to haul him out of the grave herself.
But before she could move, Mark extended an arm in front of her, blocking her path. Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Move your hand." She demanded.
"Wait," he said gently, yet with a finality that halted her. The kind of voice that didn't invite argument.
Reluctantly, she stilled. Asura gave no reaction. He just kept digging until the last grave was finished. Then, slowly, he paused, settling back on his heels in the open pit. For a long, quiet moment, he didn't move. Then his gaze lifted.
Mary followed it instinctively, turning to see the first rays of sunlight cresting the horizon. The dawn spilled over the landscape, casting a golden hue across the earth. And in that light, the cemetery came alive. Thousands of graves stretched out in every direction, each one carefully dug and placed with reverence. The sun touched them like a blessing, wrapping the resting ground in a soft, golden warmth.
It was as if the morning itself had risen just to acknowledge his work. And for the first time, Mary said nothing.
Though Asura never looked tired while he worked, the truth bled through in his voice.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, startling Mary with how soft and strained his tone was. "An old lady asked me to dig these."
He turned to face them. His gaze met hers, hollow and sunken. Mary froze.
Was he crying? she wondered, peering down at him standing in the grave he had just dug. But his face was dry. There were no tears, just the weary, haunted look of someone carrying too much.
Mark silently extended his arm, and Asura accepted the help, climbing out of the trench with a heavy, deliberate movement. Lydia's eyes lingered on the row of seven graves. "Who are they for?" she asked softly.
Asura turned back, looking down into the holes with a stillness that spoke louder than words.
"The old lady said it was her daughter... her son-in-law... and their five children." He exhaled slowly. "Couldn't tell her no, so I stayed the night to finish it." He paused, then added. "I'm headed back now to sleep unless there are some monsters who need to be dealt with. I'm always up for a fight."
Asura gave a slight, almost weak smile to the three who stood silently, watching as he began to walk off towards the cathedral. Mary didn't say a word. Couldn't. The silence around them felt too sacred to break.
Mark placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "I believe you owe that young man an apology."
She nodded, unable to argue. Later, once they'd all returned, she did just that, with sincerity and the humility of a leader who knew when she was wrong. From that point on, something shifted, not just in Mary, but in the people.
The civilians began to see Asura in a new light. No longer just a monster, he became a symbol of healing, someone who kept working long after others had given up. They brought him food, offered help, and even sat near him in the cemetery as he worked through the night.
He became their strength in a time of mourning. There were still voices of protest, calls for his exile, or worse. Some even stood on her doorstep, shouting for his execution. But for each one of them, dozens more stood in his defense. While some shouted, others quietly made their way to the cemetery, shovel in hand, to join him.
Even Mark and Lydia were often absent, only to be found later alongside Asura, digging, lifting, and honoring the dead. Lost in memory, it wasn't until she heard Mark's voice that she was brought back to the present.
"I believe it is Judex's plan to use him." Mark pressed, reminding Mary of their conversation. "Uriel chose him, too. That hasn't happened in years." Mark looked toward the ceiling, recalling the stories of the war of Uriel's children. "If we can't trust the Archangel of Wisdom's decision, what can we trust?"
Mary groaned, unable to attack his argument. If she chose to do so, she would be challenging an Angel of the Lord. "I hate the fact you are always right."
"Well, I am old." Mark chuckled like an old man filled with aged wisdom. "I've seen a thing or two." He smiled. "So you are sending him then?"
The door to the office slid open enough to let her words be heard outside.
"Yes. I'll send him with Mel and Rose." Mary sighed.
"Send who with who?" Asura asked, curiosity thick in his voice as he barged into the room with Mel trailing close behind. The door slammed into the wall with a thunderous thud that echoed through the massive hall. "Oops."
He glanced back and pulled the door away from the wall to inspect the damage. Mary couldn't see the dent, but the way his face twitched said enough. He slowly slid the door shut and gave it a few light pats, like that would somehow make everything better.
Mary leveled a stare at the ill-mannered ogre. "I'll be sending you to a nearby city. With Mel. And Rose."
"Why?" he blinked.
Mel groaned loudly, throwing her head back like it weighed fifty pounds. "Can he go? Or I go. Why do I have to go with him?"
Mary folded her arms. "There's a monster causing trouble for Aliza. She's a support Paladin—great at healing and barriers, not so great at killing things. So, you two, along with Rose, are going."
Mel jabbed a finger toward the Captain. "Send Lydia and Asura! They love bashing heads. Why three? Why me?"
Mary's jaw clenched so hard a vein popped on her temple. "Because, my dear little sister, while I've been drowning in work, you've been dodging yours like it's the plague. So, since I've had no time to properly scold you, I'm giving you the most miserable tasks available to ensure you actually do something. And just to remind you, you're twenty-five. Yet here I am, still babysitting you. Lydia is busy, Asura is available, and Rose will lead the mission."
"You can't be seri—" As the sisters launched into another round of verbal warfare, Asura turned to the Captain.
"When's Wain coming back?" He asked, tuning their shouts out as if he had grown accustomed to it. The Captain looked out through the high windows, sunlight catching in his eyes. "When did he leave?"
"Week or two ago," Asura replied.
"Expect him in another week," Mark said, his eyes still trained outside.
"Lucky guy. Gets out of work." Asura followed his gaze. "What about Ash?
"I'm bringing Ash back with me soon." Mark shifted his stern gaze back to Asura. "He's still recovering from the purity burn."
Asura pouted. "This sucks. He gets to heal, and I'm stuck with Miss Bi-Mel and Rose?"
"It'll be quick," the Captain said calmly. "Aliza just requested support. There's also a boy named Max there. You might find him interesting."
"Does he have a cool blessing?" Asura asked, his brow furrowed.
"He makes weapons with his limbs." Mark replied with a pat on his shoulder.
Asura's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry—what?"
"Oh, speaking of weapons, we should get Asura one." Mark looked toward Mary and Mel. "You have a library here, right, Mary?"
Mary froze mid-argument, her head snapping toward the Captain. "You can't seriously be considering giving him a holy weapon, can you?"
Her voice was sharp, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of fear as they locked with Mark's.
"I don't see why not," he said, shrugging as if he'd just suggested a walk in the park.
"H-Holy weapons—" she began, but Mark cut in, calm and unwavering.
"I know. But it's not your decision. Or mine." Mark continued with a gesture toward the heavens. "It's Hephestine's. All I'm saying is—take him to the door. If the angel deems him worthy, that's the end of it."
Silence followed. Both sisters stood stunned, mouths open but minds blank. The idea was so outrageous it defied immediate response. Giving a holy weapon to an ogre? There had to be a law against that—Judex's law, natural law, any law.
Mel stammered out, "W-we can't give him a holy weapon, Captain. That's ridiculous! He'd kill us all!" Her eyes scanned the ogre who stood with an appalled look carved into his face. "That tyrant loves to fight, and you just want to hand him a weapon."
Mark folded his arms. "It would be beneficial to give a Paladin a weapon."
Asura's face lit up with excitement as he heard the title being used to describe him. "I'M A PALADIN!?" The ogre's arms flew into the air. "WHOOOP!"
"Oh Judex, have mercy on us..." Mel pleaded. "Captain, rethink this..."
"Just present the door to him." Mark replied as if ignoring their concerns. "Before you leave, Mel, take him to the library."
"No clue what this door is, but I like it." Asura grinned from ear to ear, eager to grasp hold of a weapon.
Mark rose from his chair and walked to Asura, placing a firm hand on the ogre's shoulder. His expression shifted, serious, almost somber. "Hopefully, the door likes you."
Asura's excited brows dropped like heavy weights. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asked. But Mark didn't answer. He turned and left the way Asura had entered, disappearing behind the grand doors. Asura turned to the sisters, confusion etched across his face. "What does he mean by that?"
Mel looked at Mary with a bewildered expression, trying to find an anchor in her storm of uncertainty. Her mind raced at the thought of him getting his grubby hands on a weapon and the terror that would follow soon after. "We are going to die... We're dead." His sister surely wouldn't let this stand and would reject-
"Take him to the library," Mary stated.
"WHAT!?" Mel exclaimed, nearly falling onto her rear as the world began to spin. "Have you gone insane, too? He's a monster!"
"He's right," Mary said flatly. "A weapon is… useful. If he's a Paladin."
Asura began to dance. A clumsy, joyful jig with absolutely no rhythm. "Ooooh, I get a weapon, a shiny weapon, a holy weapon~" He stopped mid-shuffle, raising a hand. "Do I get to pick?"
Mel covered her face with both hands. "Judex, end me now." She groaned.
"Mel," Mary muttered, rubbing her brow.
Mary rolled her eyes at Mel's dramatic outburst, but deep down, she couldn't deny the gnawing thought creeping through her mind. This might genuinely be one of the worst decisions she'd ever made. Her former self would've scoffed at the very notion of giving a holy weapon to a monster. It was absurd. Reckless. But maybe the long days had finally caught up to her. Maybe sleep deprivation had dulled her judgment.
Or… maybe, just maybe, her view of monsters wasn't as black and white as it used to be.