Doris.
At a window in an inn.
"Do we have to go up?" a woman dressed in nun's clothes with long golden hair asked, her hand resting on the Holy Sword at her waist. "Ahtal has become weak."
"Even if Ahtal is weak now," the girl beside her, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and with a dignified air, said helplessly, "we stand no chance."
The Saintess of the Sword revealed an unwilling expression, her slender fingers clutching the Holy Sword at her waist, but then she reluctantly let go. "If Ahtal has become a Demon, he would certainly be a dangerous being. Perhaps he could even grow to the height of the Witch of Death."
After witnessing Ahtal's display of combat ability, she had confirmed that Ahtal possessed... no, perhaps even surpassed the talents of the Witch of Death. Allowing such a dangerous being to grow would threaten the entire world.
