Meanwhile, in the Persian camp.
"So, the Spartan messenger slipped out of your control and made it into Athens… Cain?"
Seated upon the throne, the towering figure rested his chin on one hand while idly swirling a golden goblet filled with wine in the other. His half-lidded gaze lingered on the ripples in the cup, a radiant golden gleam flickering deep within his pupils.
"My Lord, the one who interfered was far too powerful. I ask for your understanding."
The pale young man, his body marked with crimson divine patterns, knelt on one knee beneath the tent. As he defended himself, he occasionally pressed a hand to his chest and coughed, a needle-like pain stabbing through his abdomen.
Cain, meaning "the acquired," was the firstborn son of Adam and Eve, humanity's progenitors, granted by divine grace.
Yet out of jealousy and hatred toward his younger brother Abel, who had gained God's favor through sacrifice, he murdered him, earning divine punishment and becoming a "kinslayer."
Though he later repented and was granted forgiveness, marked for protection and exiled to the land of Nod to found his lineage, his sin never truly left him.
Now, summoned once more by the Lord, this former fratricide stood among the Seven Knights of the Holy Grail as an Assassin.
The golden goblet in the ruler's hand stilled.
His gaze lifted slightly, then dropped in a faint, indifferent glance.
"You failed?"
Beneath those golden eyes, all things seemed insignificant. Life itself felt as fragile as dust, as trivial as ants.
An invisible pressure descended.
Cold sweat broke across Cain's brow. His voice, once casual, turned dry and strained.
"Y-yes, my Lord… please punish me…"
"The stench of darkness clinging to you is too strong. The Holy Flame will cleanse it. Go."
Cain's pupils shrank, his face turning even paler.
Flame symbolized boundless light.
Though protected by darkness, standing within the Holy Flame would burn away the violent Ether lingering in his body. Yet it was far from a blessing. In truth, it was a torment that seared both body and mind.
Still, before that vast and overwhelming presence, he dared not resist. Bowing low, he withdrew from the tent.
As the blood-tinged figure disappeared, the air inside seemed to grow noticeably clearer.
Among the six figures lingering in the shadows, the two stationed near the entrance relaxed visibly, their expressions easing in open distaste toward the departing sinner.
Leaning lazily against the side, a man with messy blue hair plucked at a harp, producing a light, cheerful melody. A shepherd's crook was tucked at his waist, paired with a fitted short-sleeved shirt. Though handsome and refined at a glance, he carried an unmistakable air of roguish frivolity.
Beside him stood a gentle, composed woman with shoulder-length purple hair and straight bangs. Her blue eyes were clear and tranquil. She wore a loose white robe with red trim and a high collar, a cross pendant resting at her throat, its golden gleam slipping into the fair hollow of her chest, giving her the air of a kind, approachable older sister.
Yet in her hand she held an elegant staff, as tall as she was, colored in silver, purple, and red.
As her wrist shifted, the staff moved with it, its base striking the ground with a dull thud, smashing a deep crater into the compacted, stone-strewn floor.
That staff was solid metal, easily weighing dozens of pounds.
The towering figure lowered the golden goblet, his posture pausing ever so slightly as his gaze settled on the shadowed figure at the front.
"How is it progressing?"
"My Lord, everything proceeds smoothly. At most, three days… and the miracle will be complete."
From the darkness, a man in a green, fur-collared coat stepped forward. His brown curls framed his face as he removed his tall green hat, placing a hand over his chest in a courteous bow.
His narrowed eyes opened slightly, revealing pitch-black pupils, and a faint smile curved his lips as he answered with quiet respect.
"David, you won't disappoint me the way your son did… will you?"
Those golden eyes drifted toward the back of the line. Under that probing gaze, the blue-haired man who had been idly zoning out jolted upright, his shoulders shrinking instinctively as he forced a nervous laugh and nodded repeatedly, putting on a respectful expression.
"How could I! Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. All glory, majesty, power, and dominion belong to You. None dare defy Your divine decree. Everything I have was granted by Your grace. To repay this favor, I offer you my absolute loyalty. I only regret that I cannot personally seize the one who angered You and deliver him before You for judgment."
At the front, a foreign beauty with dusky brown skin, blue eyes, and a pair of fluffy beast ears rising from her purple hair rolled her eyes inwardly at King David's flattery. Her attire was ornate and richly colored, exuding an exotic elegance.
So you remember to speak nicely now? You, of all people, with your scandals of adultery and murder. Even the First Temple, which you were supposed to complete in your own reign, you left as a mess for your son to clean up.
You're hardly upright yourself, yet you want to throw your son out to take the blame?
"Very well. Then the world shall lie beneath my feet."
The towering figure on the throne nodded in satisfaction, idly spinning the golden goblet between his fingers with visible delight.
Woo… woo…
At that moment, the mournful call of a horn echoed into the tent. The heavy rhythm of troops assembling sent pebbles and grit trembling across the ground.
"My Lord, that thing is not yet complete, yet we are already launching an attack on the Greeks. Would that not lead to excessive losses? Once Greece is accepted by the Lord and submits, those who fall will still be Your people."
The violet-haired Holy Maiden holding a cross-shaped staff stepped forward, brows slightly knit, a trace of compassion flickering in her eyes as she spoke earnestly.
"Martha, the Spartans have already broken through the blockade and are heading to Athens to seek an alliance. The battle at Thermopylae cannot be delayed any longer. If we wait, even more innocents will die in the coming campaign.
Just as when you tamed the man-eating dragon Tarasque, to subdue a beast, one must first tear out its claws and fangs and shatter its shell.
Salvation without sacrifice is hollow. To show mercy, blood must first be shed. Only then does it hold true value."
The towering figure spoke calmly, his gaze deep and unreadable.
Hearing this divine reasoning, the violet-haired Holy Maiden fell silent for a moment. The compassion in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by a look of shame. She then raised her head again, looking up at him with burning determination.
"My Lord, please permit me to take the field. I will aid the army, breach the Thermopylae fortress, and clear the way for You!"
"Hah… staying here is dull anyway. And I'm getting a little hungry. This is a good chance to stretch my legs."
At the same time, a figure stepped forward from the front.
Black horns curved from her head. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a black-and-gold dress, and her amber, slit pupils gleamed with excitement. When she opened her mouth, rows of sharp, serrated teeth showed, sending a chill through the air.
Under the torchlight, her dark skin reflected with a faint, scale-like sheen. Behind her, a jet-black tail swayed slowly in the darkness.