A dark, damp underground passage stretched ahead, resembling a prison more than a prayer room. Walking along the path with soft footsteps, Kyle frowned.

‘Why does the temple need a space like this?’

No matter what massacres the temple might have carried out elsewhere, the capital’s temple appeared to engage only in virtuous deeds. Since public image was important, all malicious activities were delegated to the Holy Knight Order with separate headquarters or to provincial temples far from the central one.

Yet, here was this prison-like underground facility in the supposedly virtuous capital temple.

‘Could they be conducting kidnappings and torture even under the imperial intelligence agency’s nose?’

This wasn’t something he could overlook. As Kyle’s expression grew serious over this matter that directly challenged his imperial pride:

A voice Kyle despised echoed from the end of the underground corridor.

“…There’s no need for sympathy.”

It was Pope Incensino’s voice.

The moment he heard it, Kyle’s claws involuntarily extended and his fur stood on end, leaving long claw marks on the stone floor.

Multiple footsteps approached. Kyle, grinding his teeth, grabbed a pillar and leaped into a corner of the ceiling.

Soon Pope Incensino and two armed holy knights appeared. The Pope continued speaking with a benevolent smile.

“After all, these are wounds she could make disappear in an instant if she wanted to.”

‘She?’

The word “she” particularly caught his attention in Incensino’s statement. He instinctively felt it referred to Cioranne.

‘Wounds? Is he saying Cioranne is injured?’

The woman who resolved all injuries with holy power, who had panicked over a mere fever in a cat—was she physically hurt?

The anger that had been directed at Incensino moments ago vanished, and Kyle’s ears perked up to hear more about Cioranne.

“But in a state of mental shock from pain, she’s helpless. She won’t even think to manifest her holy power.”

“She isn’t that weak. It’s unfortunate—if her heart had been softer and she had quickly submitted to the divine will, she wouldn’t have had to endure such pain.”

The situation seemed far more serious than he had thought. Kyle bit his lip hard. Incensino spoke in a calm tone without the slightest hint of emotion.

“Pain is the price of sin. Great suffering merely purifies her. There’s no need for sympathy, nor for watching over her. Leave her be.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

It seemed they were preventing her from healing herself with that nonsensical logic about atoning for sins through suffering.

The footsteps faded away. Kyle quickly ran toward the place Incensino had emerged from.

Finding Cioranne wasn’t difficult. In the middle of that vast underground space, only her pale hair shone alone.

‘Ran!’

Kyle was horrified. Though he prided himself on having seen all manner of terrible sights while roaming battlefields, Cioranne’s condition ranked among the most dreadful.

‘Why is Ran imprisoned in such a state!’

The floor was soaked with her blood. Red lines crisscrossed her skin, evidence of some kind of whipping. Her limbs, hanging limply like a broken doll’s, looked far from intact.

Seeing her collapsed so powerlessly made his stomach turn. Kyle bared his teeth, growling with rage.

‘Just because wounds heal quickly doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain! Why are they leaving her like this?’

Now he understood why that holy knight had mentioned mental shock. In her current state, it wouldn’t be strange if she died unconscious, unable to manifest her holy power.

‘Why is that foolish woman enduring this pain so obediently? She could at least pretend to comply!’

Though he knew Cioranne was the victim, his distress made him blame her. In response to Kyle’s anger, the deity shook its head.

[‘The Dragon Trampler says there’s nothing that can be done.’]

His directionless rage now turned fully toward the deity at those words. Kyle shouted at the god:

‘What do you mean nothing can be done! This place is filled with your followers. Descend right now and deliver divine punishment! Tell them Ran is right and you’re all wrong—you’re the ones who should be punished!’

How could there be something a god couldn’t do in a place where that god was worshipped? It made no sense.

Despite Kyle’s fierce protest, the deity’s answer remained the same.

[‘The Dragon Trampler answers that gods cannot freely interfere in human affairs.’]

‘Then what can you do?!’

Cioranne was the first person he’d met who served the gods with a truly good heart. And now she lay there looking nearly dead—for the absurd reason that she had healed someone the Pope had forbidden her to heal.

And even the deity was standing by while she suffered.

This is why I hate gods. Kyle, seething with anger, confronted the deity.

‘You’re going to let your most beloved human die like this? And you call yourself a god?’

Kyle fell silent, breathing heavily, challenging the deity to respond. The deity’s thoughts slowly emerged and shifted.

[…..]

[‘The Dragon Trampler answers that the only way gods can intervene in human affairs is by answering prayers.’]

[But.]

[…..]

‘So what’s the problem?’

Prayers. If the deity could only act through prayers, then it should act according to prayers.

If she prayed for relief from pain, the deity should grant it; if she prayed for punishment of those who tormented her, the deity should punish them.

[…..]

The deity’s silence lengthened. Kyle’s agitated body gradually calmed. The color drained from his face.

Why would a deity who could act immediately upon prayer say there was nothing to be done?

There was only one answer.

‘Ran is the problem.’

Kyle’s gaze turned to the white hair of the woman who lay crumpled like a trampled carnation.

Though Kyle hadn’t been with Cioranne for long, he had spent entire days with her. He had come to understand what kind of person she was.

She was truly good and sincerely cared for others. Her faith in the deity was also genuine.

But.

‘Ran never prays for herself.’

During all that time, Kyle had never seen Cioranne do anything for herself.

Concern, affection, gratitude… all those emotions were directed toward others, not herself.

She would even prepare Kyle’s meals while satisfying her own hunger with holy power.

Realizing this, Kyle roughly rubbed his face. Irritation and anger with no clear target filled his small body.

‘How can such a foolish woman exist? She’s not like others who offer vague prayers to responses they can’t hear. Why doesn’t she pray to a deity whose existence is certain and who clearly answers?’

[‘The Dragon Trampler answers that he’s also frustrated to death.’]

It was the first time the deity had seemed pitiable in its glum response. Since her personality hadn’t formed suddenly, the deity must have accumulated frustration since she was very young.

Still, Kyle couldn’t offer words of comfort to a deity he had long hated and resented. He moved closer to Cioranne.

Anxiety swept over him—what if her breath had already stopped?—but seeing her shoulders rising and falling slightly, he sighed with relief.

After staring at her pitiful form for a moment, Kyle lowered his head and pressed his nose against hers.

“Meow.”

Her weakly closed eyelids seemed to tremble slightly, then slowly revealed blue eyes.

“…Kyle?”

Though cracked and hoarse, it was Cioranne’s voice. As Kyle continued to nuzzle her nose, Cioranne’s previously unfocused eyes sharpened. She seemed surprised that what she thought was a dream wasn’t one.

“How did you get here? Did you meet anyone on the way?”

Cioranne struggled to sit up. Then, unconsciously trying to reach out to embrace Kyle, her hand froze mid-motion.

“Ah…”

Her left hand wouldn’t move according to her will. Cioranne, seemingly feeling no pain, murmured with her usual faint smile:

“Just a moment, my arm is broken…”

‘Oh, this woman, really.’

Her nonchalant reaction made Kyle’s stomach turn. After staring at Cioranne blankly for a moment, Kyle finally licked her immobile hand.

When he licked her fingertips, Cioranne startled and backed away.

“No, Kyle. There’s blood. You’ll get dirty.”

“Meow.”

Is this really the time to worry about that? Kyle continued approaching and licking her fingertips. Licking someone else’s fingers—if it weren’t Cioranne, he wouldn’t do it even with a knife to his throat.

Cioranne’s forehead wrinkled.

“Ah, you really shouldn’t…”

Yet she ultimately couldn’t resist Kyle. When she closed her eyes and opened them again, her arm was instantly restored. Kyle narrowed his eyes and smiled.

The knowledge that she prioritized him above all else made him feel strangely proud.