Chapter 121: Night Paths and Overlapping Shadows

The last ray of twilight’s lingering glow filtered diagonally through the stained glass, casting blurry patches of light onto the library’s dark wooden table.

The oil lamp had already been lit, its warm yellow halo enveloping the person sitting at the table, stretching her shadow long and quiet against the dimness of the towering bookshelves.

“Miss, it is so late. Are you still not returning?” The voice of the maid, Sally, echoed among the silent bookshelves, carrying a trace of imperceptible weariness.

Kritiya did not look up, her gaze remaining on the thick, open pages of the book as she softly replied,

“I have already spoken with the Archbishop. I will be staying here for the next few days to study the scriptures. I will let you know when I plan to return.”

Sally looked at her lady’s serene profile under the lamplight, her brows furrowing slightly. “Miss, is being a Saintess Candidate really this exhausting? You can’t even go home?”

Kritiya turned a page of parchment, her tone so flat that not a single ripple could be detected. “Do you mean the monastery? That place can hardly be called home.”

She paused. “It is the same everywhere. Go on, just deliver the message as I said.”

“Ah? But… how should I explain it?”

“Just say it is part of a Saintess’s training.”

“I suppose…” Sally muttered under her breath, covering her mouth as she yawned, a tear of sleepiness squeezing out from the corner of her eye. “Then… please take good care of yourself, Miss. I will take my leave first.”

“Do not forget,” Kritiya instructed, her voice remaining steady.

“Please rest assured.” Sally rubbed her eyes, sketched a quick curtsy, and turned to walk back the way she came.

Only then did Kritiya raise her eyes slightly, watching her figure thread through the rows of silent books before eventually vanishing into the dim shadows at the end of the corridor.

“Is she truly your maid?” A slightly teasing voice came from across the table, breaking the newly gathered silence. Such a lax servant would likely never be tolerated in any noble household in the capital.

Kritiya’s hand holding the book paused imperceptibly. “In a sense,” she replied flatly.

“Mmh…” Alya raised her eyes from her book, her gaze lingering meaningfully on Kritiya’s face for a moment, before closing her volume and standing up. “I’m tired,” she said, glancing at the darkening sky outside the window. “And it’s getting late.”

“Mmh,” Kritiya responded softly.

No more words were spoken. The only sound in her ears was the light rustling of parchment and fabric rubbing together.

By the time she raised her eyes again, the seat opposite her was already vacant, leaving only a solitary lamp illuminating the faint, lingering dust in the air.

“Hey, now that they’ve all left, do you really not plan on going back?”

Bored, I finally spoke up. Kritiya merely stood up silently, returning the book in her hand to the shelf.

“Haven’t we already decided?” She pulled another book from the adjacent shelf and turned to head back to her seat.

I noted the title of that book; it was yet another of those popular novels depicting vampires—the presence of books regarded as “heretical reading material” inside the solemn library of the Holy See was already quite strange.

Furthermore, considering that a real vampire of unknown identity was imprisoned in the deepest part of the dungeon, was there truly some secret, unknown connection between the two?

‘This world conceals too many secrets, far beyond what I could fully comprehend from casually reading a novel,’ I pondered to myself, my gaze falling upon Kritiya’s serene profile.

“We will begin once night falls,” Kritiya muttered to herself as she sat at her desk, her fingertips lightly tapping on the tabletop, her voice as soft as a passing breeze.

I naturally understood her meaning; the reason we had intentionally stayed behind in the cathedral library was precisely to facilitate another stealthy infiltration under the cover of night—into that grim dungeon.

I said nothing more, and time slipped away drop by drop in the silence. The oil lamp’s flame flickered gently, stretching and shrinking their shadows on the wall.

The entire library of ancient classics seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the dark of night to deepen.

***

The heavy footsteps of the patrolling monk grew distant and eventually vanished at the end of the corridor, taking the faint yellow glow of his lantern along with them.

Kritiya slowly pulled her cloak’s hood straight, hiding most of her face in the shadow. I cautiously peeked out from behind the pillar base, my eyes scanning the deserted corridor rapidly.

Once I confirmed it was safe, I stepped out with quiet, light footsteps.

“I get the idea, but why must you carry that thing with you?” I couldn’t help but ask, staring at what she wore on her back.

On her back, the girl carried a narrow, long wooden box, its length nearly reaching the ground. The leather straps securing the box dug tightly into her slender shoulders, pressing her cloak into a deep crease.

Compared to her delicate frame, it appeared exceptionally disproportionate, exuding an indescribable clumsiness.

“Weapon,” Kritiya replied briefly, her steps never faltering as she kept her voice low.

I expressed my doubts about this. I knew very well that what lay inside the wooden box was none other than that enchanted greatsword.

Perhaps thanks to the special metal alloy of the blade, this massive sword wasn’t overly heavy, but even so, with Kritiya’s physical strength, she was barely able to carry it on her back.

‘With that tiny amount of strength, can she really swing this sword?’ I grumbled internally.

“This is for you to use.” As if precisely capturing my doubt, Kritiya paused her steps slightly and added, “…We can’t just let it sit there and gather dust.”

“And who was it that spent a hefty sum to force the purchase of this thing in the first place?”

“For me to use… Well, under the blessing of blood magic, my strength is indeed sufficient to wield this sword. But the issue is, I’ve never been good at swinging giant weapons like this. If possible, I would much prefer a smaller, more nimble blade.”

Kritiya did not reply further, simply walking forward in silence.

Her footsteps were exceptionally light, each step carefully placed along the crevices between the corridor floor tiles, deliberately avoiding the patrol routes frequently used by the night monks.

To reach the dungeon entrance we had visited the day before, we had to cross the front vestibule of the cathedral’s main hall. Yet just as we were about to approach the vestibule entrance, a sharp, creaking noise suddenly sounded from nearby.

The girl’s steps ground to an instant halt with startling reflexes.

Almost at the exact moment the sound occurred, she slipped sideways into the deep shadows cast by the pillars, her entire body merging with the dark of night as she kept her breathing incredibly soft.

Next—the heavy wooden door of the front vestibule was slowly opening inward, and two figures entered, one after the other, walking in leisurely.

Then, the moment I saw those figures clearly, I felt Kritiya’s breathing freeze—and so did mine.

…

“Where are we going?”

Nolan’s voice was kept exceptionally low. The cathedral corridor late at night was terrifyingly quiet, and the moment his words left his mouth, they were quietly swallowed by the surrounding gloom.

“Just follow me.” Young Wetting’s voice came from ahead. His silhouette appeared somewhat blurry in the faint glow of the corridor lamps, his pace never wavering.

Nolan stared at that not particularly broad back, doubt gradually creeping through his heart.

He instinctively reached for his waist, hoping to find some composure from a sheath, but grasping nothing, he then remembered his sword had long since been lost somewhere.

His thoughts drifted uncontrollably back to the previous afternoon. That sudden invitation was still as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

It was this exact man before him named Young Wetting who had suddenly claimed he had a way to get him into the Preparatory Knight Academy to find Diya.

Nolan had no reason to refuse.

Even though a trace of an elusive oddity had rapidly flitted across the opponent’s eyes when he heard the name “Diya”—an expression so fleeting that Nolan had assumed it to be an illusion—who was to say the opponent didn’t just happen to know Diya?

Weighing his options, he had ultimately accepted the invitation willingly.

But then, trouble came.

According to Young Wetting, for an outsider to enter the Preparatory Knight Academy, they had to undergo a strict, ritual-like inspection to ensure they were not stained by any evil or defiling elements.

And the place they were heading to now was supposedly the Cathedral of the Radiant Sanctuary—where there was said to be a holy monk specializing in such inspections.

Nolan still did not understand why they absolutely had to come in the dead of night. To this, Young Wetting had merely explained nonchalantly that his duties kept him busy during the day, thus scheduling their visit for this quiet night when all was silent.

Truthfully, he did not trust the man before him in the slightest.

However, first of all, the Knight Academy was a quasi-military organization of the Empire, so such strict entry regulations were not entirely without reason; secondly, whenever he thought of the two sudden encounters with the undead, a cold shiver ran through Nolan’s chest, and a trace of suspicion emerged in his mind—had he really become entangled with something unclean?

It was precisely this doubt that had ultimately driven him to follow Young Wetting into this late-night cathedral.

“Turn this way.” Young Wetting’s voice sounded at the right moment. Nolan snapped back from his chaotic thoughts, his chest tightening slightly as he collected himself and hurried to follow.

His boots made an extremely soft patter against the smooth stone tiles. Even though they had entered openly through the main entrance, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was acting like a thief.

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