Soon, Kael was moving—clutching his ribs.
"Fuck," he muttered. "Now it hurts like hell."
Yue hovered beside him, arms crossed in the air.
"You really need a healing spell."
"Yeah," Kael grunted, staggering forward.
His destination loomed ahead: his so-called "free hospital."
Once a forgotten, half-collapsed church, it now stood in decent shape—clearly restored with his gold.
The stone was still cold and ancient, but the cracks were filled, the doors no longer falling from their hinges.
With a quiet breath, Kael drew the mask over his face and slipped into the shadows of the old church.
Inside, shadows ruled.
The faint scent of incense and age lingered in the dark. He moved slowly through the quiet nave until he saw her.
Saintess Nyra, robed in silver and black, knelt before the altar, hands clasped, head bowed.
The icon of the Night Goddess loomed above her, its carved eyes watching with eternal silence.
Kael waited.
When her prayer finally ended, she spoke without turning. Her voice was calm, like twilight.
"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Devil."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You knew it was me?" Kael asked.
Nyra chuckled—openly this time, at ease in a way she hadn't been before.
"Who else would sneak into this old church like a bandit? Some random robber?"
Kael let out a low laugh. "Fair."
"I need your help."
She nodded, no hesitation.
Together, they moved to the back of the church, past shadowed pews and worn stone pillars, until they reached the same old bed tucked into the apse.
Nothing fancy—just worn sheets and a sturdy frame—but it was familiar.
"I brought some new things," she said, lifting a cloth to reveal fresh herbs, crystal vials, and a few curious artifacts that faintly hummed with magic.
As she began the healing—whispers of incantations, warm pulses of light, and the cool press of salves—Kael watched her in silence.
His gaze was steady. Slow-paced. Serious.
Kael wasn't here just to get patched up.
He had a goal.
"How many can you treat here?" he asked, voice low.
Nyra paused, hands still over the glowing sigils on his side. Then she nodded slowly.
"Not many. But… I'm here. At least I can help those who come, for free."
Kael's tone darkened, calm but cutting.
"You're the biggest coward I've ever met."
Her head snapped up, hurt flashing in her eyes.
"I—I know I'm not a fighter, but—"
"I'm not talking about your battle skills," Kael interrupted coldly.
He leaned forward, the weight of his words pressing down like a stormcloud.
"When you entered the Night Goddess's church, you saw the corruption. The abuse. The power twisted against the weak. And what did you do?"
Silence.
"You ran," he said.
"Abandoned your duty. Abandoned your dream. You let your fear turn you away.
Because it was easier to hide
and that makes you a coward."
Nyra was stunned, too shocked to speak. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Kael continued, relentless.
"Are you satisfied now? Helping ten, maybe twelve children in secret… while their church—your church—harasses and exploits millions of the poor. Is your soul really satisfied with that?"
She stammered, voice shaking. "I… I…"
Kael raised a single finger and gently touched her chest, just above her heart.
She flinched, recoiling as if struck.
"Listen," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You still belong to Her, Nyra. The Night Goddess didn't turn away. You did."
"This"—he touches her chest again, more gently—"this is still hers. Let it guide you."
Inside Nyra, Kael's words landed like iron—unyielding, heavy, true in ways she didn't want to admit.
She had fled the corruption. Yes.
She had turned away when the temple's silence grew louder than its prayers.
But not because she stopped believing.
She still believed.
Every night, she lit the candles. Whispered the hymns. Begged the Night Goddess for a sign—for a reason to stop hiding.
And still… silence.
And now Kael, bleeding and masked, stood here not just seeking healing—but truth.
Demanding it from her.
Pushing her into a place she had avoided for too long.
Part of her wanted to scream at him.
Another part wanted to fall to her knees and thank him.
Because maybe this—this confrontation, this judgment—was the sign she'd been waiting for.
Brutal. Honest. Unavoidable.
Her hands, still stained with healing magic, clenched at her sides.
She was tired of being afraid.
Nyra muttered softly,
"I understand… Thanks, Mr. Devil. You're really a good person."
Kael simply nodded, his expression unreadable.
She hesitated, then asked,
"But what about this church?"
Kael's voice was calm, steady.
"Don't worry. Contact the duke's third son. He'll help you."
Nyra gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
Without another word, Kael stood and turned to leave. Nyra opened her mouth to call him back—but he was already gone, swallowed by the shadows.
She sighed deeply and glanced toward the worn bed.
There, resting on the faded sheets, lay a small pile of gold coins—one thousand gleaming pieces.
Tears welled in her eyes.
###
Kael, dressed in Kaelion's clothes, finally weaved through the dark alleys on their way home.
"You saw that, right? I basically brainwashed her. Hah."
Yue gave a knowing nod, clearly amused.
Kael grinned, still riding his wave of glory—until Yue tilted her head and asked with a sly smile,
"You must have marked her when you touched her, right?"
Kael nodded, a little too confidently.
"Yeah, of course."
Yue's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"But… why on her boobs, Kael?"
Kael froze mid-step, his grin slipping away. He shot Yue a mock glare and stammered,
"Hey, let's just not talk about that, alright?"
Yue chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Kael rubbed the back of his neck.
"Seriously, Yue, it was strategic. You know, visibility, intimidation... magical resonance."
Yue raised an eyebrow, grinning wider.
"Uh-huh. Sure, 'magical resonance.' Sounds like you just wanted a good excuse."
Kael huffed, trying to keep his dignity.
"Fine, maybe it's a bit personal. But it's not like I asked for your fashion advice."
Yue laughed softly.
"Don't worry, Kael. I'm just glad you're finally admitting some things are above your paygrade."
Kael groaned, shaking his head as they stepped into the night's chill.
"Next time, remind me to pick my battles—and my mark spots—more carefully."