To be honest, Eugene had been half expecting to receive a slap. While he hadn't believed Gilead would resort to such actions, he had thought Ancilla might have both the right and the inclination to do so.
Initially, Eugene's impression of Ancilla had been that of a typical noblewoman who had been married into a family as the second wife — full of ambitions for power within the family and bent on raising her offspring with a strict, iron hand to realize her aspirations. But it wasn't long before he realized she wasn't just some blinded, ambitious noblewoman.
Ancilla had a knack for distinguishing friends from foes. If she found someone too challenging to handle, she made sure to forge ties, turning potential enemies into allies. After adopting Eugene, she imparted this wisdom to her children, ensuring they never antagonized him. Moreover, she never acted badly towards him as well.
All that had been nearly a decade ago. The fierce Ancilla of yesteryears had since mellowed considerably.
The fact still remained that even during her fiercer days, she wouldn't have slapped Eugene over such a matter.
"Perhaps I wasn't prepared enough," Eugene murmured with a rueful smile. He had distanced himself from Ancilla's embrace a while ago while Ciel was still engaged in a conversation with her parents.
"What kind of preparation?" Cyan queried with a quizzical tilt of his head while standing by Eugene’s side.
Eugene watched Ciel being consoled by Gilead as he replied, "I thought she might blame me for Ciel's eye and give me a few slaps for it."
"Eugene, you.... What exactly do you think of our mother?" Cyan probed.
"It’s all your fault that I have these misconceptions. When you were younger, you used to return after getting slapped by Lady Ancilla,” Eugene replied.
"That... was a long time ago, and it was because I was often mischievous. But this... this situation is different." Even as he said that Cyan couldn't help but glance at Ciel, his face etched with concern. "There aren't any further complications, right?" he asked.
"I've used every method at my disposal to check, and she's fine,” assured Eugene.
“I guess it should be considered fortunate,” Cyan said, heaving a sigh.
His face contorted into a mix of relief and unease. He knew the sequence of events: Ciel had shielded Eugene and lost her left eye in the process. If it had been left in that state, she would have lived the rest of her life with an eyepatch or a prosthetic eye.
Were it not for a certain intervention....
"A demoneye... is it? Well, in that aspect, I guess it’s fortunate that Ciel is a Lionheart," Cyan spoke earnestly.
Demoneyes did not manifest in humans. Meaning Ciel was the first human with a Demoneye in the history of the continent.
Were it not for her lineage, the Inquisitors of the Holy Empire might have apprehended her, or wizards from Aroth could have captured her for study. But neither the Kiehl Empire nor Aroth could impose their will on the Lionheart family.
‘No.... It's not just because we are the Lionheart family...,’ Cyan mused internally, ‘It's because of Eugene.’
He had spent several days in Shimuin. Since then, Cyan had come to realize the monumental influence that the name Eugene Lionheart held across the entire continent. Even the Pope had acquiesced to Eugene's words just a little while ago.
"How was the Demon King?" In an attempt to shift the topic, Cyan asked while clearing his throat.
It felt a little strange.
There was a thought Cyan often pondered in the past.This substance is firmly embedded in n0v*lbin★
Even if he wielded a sword all his life and strived with all his might, he thought he would never reach a position equal to Eugene’s. And whenever despair threatened to consume him, that damned half-brother of his seemed to possess an uncanny ability to discern it and would relentlessly pester him.
He would rile Cyan up and taunt him with stinging blows while using sparring as an excuse. But regardless of how fervently Cyan swung his sword, the gap in prowess between him and Eugene always remained undiminished.
"Strong," Eugene responded while scratching his chin. He was gazing intently at Cyan.
Eugene had accomplished grand, unimaginable feats, and as such, he should have been a distant figure. Yet, Cyan never felt the distance between himself and Eugene. Eugene always felt close. No matter if he was the Hero or the slayer of a Demon King, or even if their parentage was utterly different, Eugene was a brother to Cyan.
"It's only natural," Cyan remarked, a playful grin on his face as he draped an arm around Eugene's shoulder.
While the whole continent admired Eugene's accomplishments and revered what Cyan couldn't achieve, jealousy wasn't what he felt. It was an odd sensation. Perhaps as a child, he might have felt envy. But now?
‘Have I given up?’ Cyan pondered.
No, it was a different emotion. Cyan's sword was still aimed at Eugene. He yearned to someday, yes, someday, duel with Eugene as equals. That fervent desire remained as a roaring blaze.
Yet, alongside that longing, there was deep respect and affection for Eugene.
‘Don't overthink it,’ Cyan told himself with a mental shake.
The emotion he felt was relatively simple. He felt great pride in his accomplished sibling.
"You brat, why are you acting this way? It's unsettling," Eugene grumbled while playfully jabbing Cyan in the ribs.
As the Lionhearts conversed among themselves, Sienna was with the group from Aroth, and Kristina was with the people of the Holy Empire. Neither particularly wanted to engage in conversation, but their counterparts were insistent.
"Sister, Sister, why didn't you call me for the battle against the Demon King?" Melkith whined while insistently clinging to Sienna's arm.
"But do not be mistaken. Although Your Holiness must remain as you are, you mustn't act as the representative of the Light's will, nor even try to interpret it,” Kristina warned.
Kristina's gaze bore into him, searching for any hint of insincerity. "Do you understand?"
"I will heed your words," the pope replied without a hint of displeasure, nodding solemnly.
Kristina then turned her attention to the rear, where a battle-ready clergy unit stood. They were prepared for the Saint. Members of Graceful Radiance composed the holy symbol on thin air when they saw her.
"...As you likely know, Your Holiness, times are changing," Kristina began.
"Yes," the pope replied.
"A crusade is... imminent. The exact time is unknown, but you must prepare for it," Kristina said sternly.
"Yes."
"During the preparations, please do not hinder Sir Eugene,” she advised.
"We shall gather the martyrs,” the pope responded.
"Among them, pick those who are especially devout and... prepared. Supplement the Graceful Radiance with these picks,” Kristina said in a voice quivering with a mix of determination and pain.
The Graceful Radiance was a suicide squad. From its inception, it was designed to be so. Both Anise and Kristina had concurred and pursued this design.
For ages, Yuras’ Faculty of Divine Magic researched miracles and developed new ones. They had created a faux-divine Saint, mass-produced relics through her, and even advanced the development of holy lands.
Anise and Kristina had returned the relics that the department held to the Light through sacraments. They had also sent back chimeric holy weapons to the Light and destroyed most of the ongoing research materials.
However, they had kept what could be utilized.
They couldn't fight against the Demon Kings of Incarceration and Destruction by solely following principles.
Once members of the Luminous Covenant, the combat priests were bio-weapons refined with divine power. Although they weren't comparable in 'completeness,' they were akin to Anise and Kristina.
For them, salvation was to offer themselves in the crusade as martyrs for the Light. While it was now impossible to mass-produce such weapons, there was still a need to bolster the ranks of the Graceful Radiance.
[Heaven exists,] whispered Anise in Kristina's tormented mind.
Even Anise's voice bore the weight of sorrow. [The Light will guide them there.]
Kristina sighed deeply as she nodded in agreement.
***
Eugene gazed upwards with his mouth agape. Before him stood a magnificent lion, radiating a blinding, almost excessive, brilliance.
"It took quite some effort to craft," the King of Shimuin, Oseris, boasted with pride, seizing the opportunity to make a big deal out of it. "You know, the artisans from the dwarven guild never collaborate with human artisans. But for this grand march, human and dwarf artisans worked together for the first time."
"We assisted as well," chimed in Ivatar with a boisterous laugh.
"Hauled the wood, cut it, and refined it, just as instructed,” Aman chuckled in agreement.
Eugene wasn’t sure how to respond.
He could not smile. His face contorted with a blend of horror and embarrassment. His fists were clenched tightly.
"You might find it unfamiliar, Mister Eugene,” said Oseris. “This is a float. It is used in the Shedor Island festival parade. This specific float has its own name—"
"Platinum Lion," a dwarf interrupted, standing proudly in front of the float. He was stroking his long beard. "The platinum and jewels used on this Platinum Lion could purchase several castles. And we imbued the magic of Aroth in its construction. Astonishingly, the Platinum Lion doesn't roll on wheels but walks! Haha! Imagine that! Marvelous, isn't it?" he boasted.
"Ehem, as he says, Mister Eugene," Oseris said with a smirk while pointing at the Platinum Lion. "Climb aboard."
Eugene was gripped with horror at these words.
“The Platinum Lion will lead the parade. The streets have been cleared for the parade, and every citizen of the city is eagerly awaiting for it to begin.”
Eugene just turned his head to avoid Oseris's gaze.
Around him were dozens of floats, some newly crafted, while others resembled those from past parades. One thing was clear: the Platinum Lion outshone them all, standing tall and magnificent among its counterparts.
"I would've preferred a Dark Lion," Carmen murmured from the side, seemingly entranced by the Platinum Lion. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully while observing the float.
Eugene gritted his teeth, holding back whatever retort bubbled within him.