Chapter 113: The Current Knight Order Commander

Peretti ground her molars so hard they made a creaking sound.

Now she finally understood Anasha’s earlier frustration. Having someone by your side who constantly babbled nonsense, deliberately choosing the most unpleasant things to say—while you couldn’t do anything about it—was like having your heart slowly carved apart with a dull knife.

Fortunately, that little brat hadn’t followed her out. If she had to listen to a few more insults, Peretti was afraid she might actually pull out her weapon and knock her unconscious first, consequences be damned.

After calming down a bit, Peretti lifted her head and looked toward the statue of the God of Light in the center of the hall.

Carved from pure white stone, the deity lowered its gaze in compassion. The folds of its robes flowed naturally, and even its fingertips seemed to carry a faint warmth of holy light. It was identical to the one in the Falisa church—down to the strands of hair and the creases of the garments.

She remembered Josuna once saying that all human depictions of the God of Light were fake. The statue existed only to give people a tangible object of faith—to deepen believers’ devotion.

Nothing more.

“Miss, are you here to pray as well?”

A steady male voice came from behind, interrupting her thoughts.

Peretti turned around, and her gaze immediately fell on the man’s attire. Her pupils shrank slightly.

It was a knight’s uniform she knew all too well—dark blue fabric, thorn-patterned pauldrons, and especially the silver medal on his chest, identical in style to the one worn by Fakenna.

Fakenna had been the former commander of the Third Knight Order—wearing that uniform might’ve been out of nostalgia.

But this man…

Peretti sized him up and spoke tentatively, “You are… the current commander of the Third Knight Order?”

Kane clearly hadn’t expected to be recognized at a glance. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

“Huh? I… is it that obvious? You figured it out immediately?”

Peretti raised an eyebrow, her tone lightly teasing. “You’re wearing the commander’s uniform and insignia. Isn’t that obvious enough?”

“Ah… right, right.” Kane laughed awkwardly, his hand still half-raised, looking somewhat at a loss.

He didn’t seem used to having his identity exposed so directly. His gaze instinctively avoided Peretti’s and shifted toward the statue in the center of the hall.

Following his gaze, Peretti noticed his expression change instantly.

The earlier awkwardness vanished, replaced by extreme devotion—as if the entire world had been reduced to just him and the statue.

What a strange guy, she thought.

He had just looked simple and embarrassed, yet in front of the statue, he became someone else entirely. The contrast was jarring.

Shaking her head, she decided it had nothing to do with her and turned to leave, not wanting to get involved in more trouble.

But after only a couple of steps, his voice sounded again, slightly urgent:

“Miss, please wait.”

Peretti stopped and turned back, her tone less than warm. “What?”

Kane hurried over, his expression earnest. “May I ask—according to the nun on duty, you encountered Fakenna on your way here. Is that correct?”

The moment she heard Fakenna’s name, alarm bells rang in Peretti’s mind.

She narrowed her eyes, studying Kane.

Why is the current commander asking about him so deliberately? Is there some hidden connection between them?

Old grudges—or old bonds?

“Yes, I met him. So what?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Kane waved his hands quickly, though his gaze wavered. “I just… wanted to ask how you met him. And… is he doing well?”

Seeing his hesitant, conflicted expression, Peretti suddenly felt like watching a good drama unfold.

She sat down on a bench and slowly recounted everything that had happened during her encounter with Fakenna.

Kane sat opposite her, back straight, listening quietly without interrupting.

As she spoke, the tension in his shoulders gradually eased. The faint worry on his face faded, replaced by a sense of relief.

When she finished, Kane let out a soft breath, a faint smile forming.

“That’s good… He’s still the same as before. That’s good.”

It sounded like he was speaking to himself—tinged with nostalgia and reassurance.

He paused, then suddenly remembered his manners and stood up, giving a standard knight’s salute.

“My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Kane. I’ve been ordered here to coordinate with the Regulation Squad and assist in the operation.”

“Assist?” Peretti’s eyes snapped up in surprise. “You’re going to fight against Fakenna?”

From just those few exchanges, she could clearly feel how much Kane cared about Fakenna. It wasn’t a simple superior-subordinate relationship—it felt more like comrades who had fought side by side for years.

Sending someone like that to fight his former companion was… ironic.

Kane’s smile vanished instantly.

He lowered his gaze, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. His voice carried undisguised bitterness.

“This… is the nobles’ order. Someone like me has no power to resist.”

“And what about Fakenna?” Peretti pressed.

Fakenna had been branded a heretic. The local church had even brought in the Regulation Squad to suppress him.

From start to finish, everything about this situation felt wrong—the people’s admiration for him, the bishop’s evasive answers…

It all pointed to something hidden beneath the surface.

Peretti had already formed a guess.

Most likely, Fakenna had defied the nobles’ orders. What the nobles wanted was never a hero who stood for the people—but a loyal dog.

And yet, even in such a situation, he still had the courage to stand his ground.

Compared to him, Kane—hesitant, unable even to resist—felt painfully indecisive.

Kane fell silent.

After a long pause, he let out a heavy sigh, his voice hoarse.

“He… is different.”

“So you’ll never be comparable to him,” Peretti said bluntly.

Her words pierced straight through his fragile composure. His face turned pale, lips moving, but no rebuttal came.

Peretti didn’t intend to continue the conversation. She stood up and began to leave.

But after a few steps, Kane’s voice rang out again—almost as if he were asking her, or perhaps himself:

“Miss… if the power and wealth of the nobles can bury all crimes, then what meaning does our resistance have?”

Peretti paused and looked back.

Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, casting a soft glow over her.

“Resistance itself is the meaning.”

Kane stared at her in a daze. After a long moment, he came back to his senses, a trace of admiration in his eyes.

“What’s your name?”

Peretti hesitated briefly before answering:

“…Peretti.”

Then she turned and walked out of the church without looking back.

The dim, oppressive light of the church vanished as she stepped outside, replaced by warm sunlight. Instead of discomfort, she felt an immediate sense of relief.

The sunlight wrapped around her like warm water, washing away all the irritation and suffocation she had felt inside.

“As expected… it’s better outside.”

She stretched lazily, her arms extending as the tension in her body finally released. Then, like a deflated balloon, she let her arms hang and wandered leisurely through the streets.

The scenery here was completely different from the city’s outskirts.

Buildings rose tall along the roads, their stone walls carved with intricate patterns, windows inlaid with colored glass—grand and luxurious.

Outside the shops, scantily clad demi-human girls could occasionally be seen. Thin strips of cloth barely covered their bodies as they swayed their hips, flirting openly with passersby, their seductive gazes completely natural.

Peretti clicked her tongue in amazement.

This wasn’t just a different part of the city—it was like two entirely separate worlds forcibly stitched together.

No wonder this was the core city of the s*ave trade.

The number of slaves, their quality, and the openly indulgent atmosphere were far beyond anything seen in Blake or Falisa.

Back in Blake, the freezing cold alone would make such clothing impossible—even wrapped in thick fur coats, people would still shiver at night.

Dressing like this there would mean freezing to death overnight.

But then again…

With the physical strength of beastkin, perhaps this level of cold meant nothing to them.

Probably nothing.

Shaking her head, Peretti stopped dwelling on it and continued wandering aimlessly, observing this bizarre and dazzling city.