Chapter 55: Companions on the Road to the Arena

“Ahh, thank you so much!”

“We were so afraid those bandits were going to make an excuse and attack us out of nowhere.”

The fledgling priests and knights bowed repeatedly, expressing their gratitude to Bel and Lema.

What had happened was this:

After Bel rolled the dice, she stepped forward. But surprisingly, no bloodshed followed.

The moment Bel revealed herself—

—“Uwaaah! Aaagh! Aaaagh! An Apostle! An Apostle! Heretic! Fanatic—!”

The drooling, vacant-eyed man suddenly shrieked in terror and convulsed violently.

At that, the bandits took one look at her reaction and immediately bolted, muttering that it was proof there must really be an Apostle present. Even so, they had enough loyalty to drag the screaming, half-mad man away with them.

And so, only the bewildered priests and knights were left behind.

They had done nothing but appear, yet to them, Belmiath had effectively saved their lives. They bowed deeply in thanks.

The priest who seemed to be the group’s representative asked cautiously:

“Are you… an Apostle, by any chance?”

“No.”

Bel answered at once.

“Ah, of course. If someone as beautiful as you were an Apostle, surely I’d have known already. Then that man must have just been… unwell. We actually ran into him on the way to the arena. To think a person could be so broken—something terrible must have happened here.”

One of the priests crossed himself and offered a brief prayer of compassion.

“If the chance arises, I hope he can come to Lucilonia to receive treatment.”

Even though that lunatic’s presence had put them in danger, they held little resentment.

Lema worried they might recognize him as the once-condemned heretic of Lucilonia, but thankfully, they were too green and inexperienced. It had been long ago, and apart from the brand of “heretic,” there weren’t many ways to identify him now.

“By the way, you’re headed for the arena?”

“Yes, that’s right. Ah, if we share the same destination, we’d be happy to guide you there!”

The priests answered brightly, eyes sparkling with youthful enthusiasm. Their manner was earnest and proper—it was enough to catch Lema’s attention, given his past experience training such men.

“We’ve been assigned to maintain order at the arena.”

“And also… to look into rumors that a heretic has been wandering nearby.”

“Isn’t that a bit backwards in importance?”

Lema muttered under his breath, then asked,

“They gave that task to you a lot? You still seem like novices.”

“W-well… does it show that much? But the Apostles are currently focused on monster subjugations and guarding the borders! At the very least, we can serve to mediate smaller disputes, so that nothing truly terrible happens.”

“Besides, they say the arena will go on no matter what.”

“And the heretic?”

“That’s just… incidental. Honestly, I doubt we’ll encounter one!”

With the Holy Empire so preoccupied, it was impossible to outright prevent the arena from being held. If they cracked down too hard, the organizers would simply go underground, making them far harder to track. So instead, the Empire had loosened its grip slightly, dispatching a few knights and priests to ensure nothing truly catastrophic happened.

“We even volunteered for this assignment!”

“And… to be honest, we’re curious to see what it’s like!”

“They say the country hosting it is the largest one outside of the Order’s reach…!”

The young men scratched their heads sheepishly, betraying more excitement than solemn duty.

Children of Lucilonia or not, they were clearly treating it like an adventure.

So much for “maintaining order.”

Lema and Bel thus found themselves traveling together with the Lucilonian priests and knights.

Their official mission was to maintain peace at the arena—but judging from their chatter and excited demeanor, their real motive was to sightsee and indulge in youthful curiosity.

Walking a short distance behind, Lema nudged his horse closer to Bel’s and spoke quietly, so only his master could hear.

“…I think we can pass ourselves off without trouble.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. They readily believed me when I said I was just a wandering swordsman. And when I mentioned I still worshiped the ‘Divine,’ they liked me even more.”

Lema Valkyte had abandoned Lucilonia long ago, and by now seemed completely at ease with such deception.

“It’s been so long since I was purged as a heretic that there must be plenty now who don’t even know me.”

There was even a faint trace of nostalgia in his voice.

Yet even as he said it, he hesitated—glancing at Bel—before covering his mouth and clearing his throat.

“…To be clear, Master, I only said I serve the Divine. I never said which Divine.”

“……”

Meaning that as long as his “Divine” was Belmiath, it wasn’t truly a lie.

“…Not like we’ll see them again anyway.”

“Lema, nobody’s accusing you.”

The fact that he felt the need to justify himself said enough. Could such a man really be the one to help bring about the end of the world?

Bel wasn’t sure.

“And those kids… is it really fine for them to behave like this?”

They seemed more like tourists than holy guardians.

“Eh? Ah… well.”

Lema chuckled.

“I feel embarrassed saying this to my Lord, but priests and knights are human too. They slip up sometimes. Back when I commanded my order, I had plenty of knights sneaking off to drink and stumbling back drunk.”

“They weren’t expelled?”

“Not for something like that. At least, not in most lands. My own territory… we were a bit stricter, admittedly.”

He smiled faintly at the memory, though his tone had turned a little rough.

“You never did such things yourself, though. Did you? Indulgence.”

“……”

Lema’s cheeks flushed.

“…To be honest, I did, when I was very young. Humans are weak to temptation, my Lord.”

Weak indeed.

Here was a once-prospective Apostle who had turned traitor, and here were fresh priests and knights, their vows already wavering.

Bel thought to herself: if the god of Lucilonia truly existed, he must be endlessly troubled by his followers.

The road to the arena was longer than expected.

From where they had met, it still took several days of travel on horseback. Moving with a larger group inevitably slowed their pace compared to just the two of them.

Lema seized the opportunity to learn cooking from them.

As it turned out, one priest had worked as a chef in a noble household before joining the temple.

Lema had always been somewhat dissatisfied with the limited variety of dishes he offered Bel. The skill wasn’t the issue—the lack of repertoire was. So he eagerly collected as many new recipes as he could, even jotting some down and compensating with gold for particularly valuable ones. For the first time since their journey began, he smiled broadly, visibly delighted.

Bel couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he had learned that made him so happy.

In return, Lema supervised the knights’ basic training during the trip.

It wasn’t anything advanced—just making sure they woke at dawn for physical conditioning and simple sword drills. More to keep their discipline intact than anything else.

For a moment, Bel wondered if exposing them to Lema’s training might awaken abilities like her own—and whether that would get them branded heretics. But no, such powers were rare, unique to individuals. Even within the Valkyte family, only Lema himself had manifested them.

Surely there was no risk of these playful youths suddenly gaining such gifts.

And so, after several days of traveling together, Bel and Lema finally crossed the border into Lintheim, the city where the arena would be held.

They bid farewell to their companions.

“Travel safely!”

“If you end up participating, we’ll cheer for you!”

“May the blessing of Lucilonia be with you.”

The priests even bestowed a final blessing before parting ways.

A short, noisy companionship—but a companionship nonetheless.

“Phew… finally. We made it. This is Lintheim. Looks like the colosseum schedule… still gives us some time.”