Monastery, Clinic main doorway.
"Ugh—ah—ugh—ah—!"
"Push! Keep going, almost there!"
"Ugh—ah—!"
Moans of pain echoed from inside the room, mixed with the encouraging voices of Hattie, Sophia, and the others. Outside the door, Charles crouched, brow furrowed, his face etched with anxiety and unease.
Sitting on his thighs was Lisa, her chubby little face brimming with worry. "Priest, will Mom be okay?"
Charles managed a weak smile, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. With Hattie, Sophia, and Theresa by her side, she'll be just fine."
But the truth was, he was as tense as could be.
Right now, the one giving birth in that room was, naturally, Malena. With Sulpharlo's divine power at play, the child in her belly had grown at an incredibly unnatural speed: barely five months by the calendar, yet already developed enough to be born.
Fortunately, in this fantasy world, humans hadn't evolved naturally but were created by the gods, already beings of divine power. Otherwise, Charles would really have worried about irreversible defects in a child forced to mature so quickly.
Not long after his words left his lips, the pained cries in the room faded, replaced by the sharp whimper of a newborn. Charles quickly set Lisa down, stood up, and turned anxiously toward the clinic doors. After several long seconds, the door inside finally opened, and a thoroughly exhausted Sophia poked her head out, announcing, "It's a girl. Both mother and baby are safe."
Charles exhaled in relief, while Lisa had already rushed into the room. "Mom!"
She darted to the bedside. Malena's face was pale, but she was already bundled up in a fresh blanket.
Seeing her daughter come in, Malena forced a gentle smile, reaching out to tap Lisa's little nose. "Congratulations, Lisa. You're a big sister now."
Lisa clung to her arm, overcome with equal parts relief and worry.
Charles soon followed them inside, ignoring the cries of the newborn for the moment, and took Malena's hand. He spoke softly, "You did well, sweetheart. Thank you."
Malena smiled back, eyes full of warmth. "I'm fine. Go on, take a look at your daughter. She's a beautiful little thing."
Meanwhile, Hattie was conjuring warm water and carefully cleaning the newborn. With magic lending a hand, she was efficient and gentle—before long, the little girl was clean as could be.
Theresa brought over a swaddling blanket, wrapped the newborn up, and placed her in Charles' arms. Only now could he—and Malena—really get a good look.
Lisa stretched up on her tiptoes, straining to peek. All she could see at first was a squishy, round face. Fortunately, the baby had stopped crying and was breathing evenly, already fast asleep.
Lisa tilted her head, then whispered in Malena's ear, "Mom, did I look like that when I was born?"
Malena smiled and patted her head, not answering the question.
"Charles," she said softly, "give her a name. That's your job."
The other nuns glanced over, expectant. Charles didn't answer for a moment—he looked down at the baby, heart pounding in his chest.
He felt a powerful bloodline connection, as though his very soul resonated with the child's. It wasn't just that—he could sense this baby wasn't only connected to him, but also to Malena, and, in an indirect way, to all the Dark Angels…
Through this link, he sensed he could do anything to or for her…
Taking a deep breath, Charles forced those powerful, primal thoughts aside. He pushed away any lingering sense of "parental power" over a daughter's fate and focused on the moment.
"Guinevere," he said suddenly. "Nigel Guinevere. Let's give her this name."
Everyone nodded in agreement—no one had any objection. Malena smiled, tilting her head slightly as she admired his face. "Beautiful choice, darling."
Charles let out a breath of relief, as if worried his rough hands might somehow hurt the baby. Carefully, he handed her over to Hattie, speaking softly. "Take good care of her."
Beside him, Lisa suddenly raised her tiny hand, fingertip glowing gold. "Me, me, me! Priest, I know magic too! I can help take care of my little sister!"
Charles chuckled, ruffling her golden hair. "I know you will, Lisa. So you help Sister Hattie, and look after Guinevere, all right?"
He looked over at Malena. "I'll go find your ancestor now."
Malena nodded solemnly, knowing he was off to attend serious business, so she didn't try to stop him. Charles turned and strode away, his heart pounding—there were things he urgently needed to understand.
That powerful bloodline pulse—was it unique to his and Malena's offspring, or was it something universal in this world?
He didn't know, but he'd seen something similar before.
Back when facing Sulpharlo, he'd intended to kill her outright. But when he seriously injured her, all the Dark Angels—Malena included—had shown intense agony in response.
Clearly, that hadn't been a coincidence. There had to be a bloodline link between Sulpharlo and these girls, one just like this.
Sulpharlo must understand something he didn't.
He couldn't wait any longer. He had to confront Sulpharlo and get answers, now!
Since sealing her away in the pocket world he'd fabricated, he hadn't checked on her once.
But he wasn't worried; even a fallen angel wouldn't die of boredom in that place.
With no magical energy there, she couldn't recover her powers or escape. As long as she didn't try something drastic, she'd be safe.
And Charles didn't believe someone capable of defying the gods would crumble after a few days in isolation. If she was bold enough to commit such blasphemy, she had to have a will of iron.
As for dealing with her, Charles's plan had always been to let her stew.
Let her rot for a while in that empty, silent world—drive her mad with loneliness, break her down, and shatter her spirit piece by piece.
And now, finally, it was time to reap the rewards.
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