"Hey... isn’t that the lowest-ranking candidate next to the Saintess?"
"Huh? It really is!"
"What’s he doing with the Saintess?"
"They’re even holding hands?"
Whispers echoed around us like buzzing flies. Iris didn’t seem bothered, but I instinctively tried to loosen my hand from hers. Instead, she only tightened her grip, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Isn’t it problematic if the people of the Holy Kingdom find out?" I muttered under my breath.
"What’s the problem?" Iris said cheerfully, giving a theatrical shrug. "You’re only holding my hand to ensure the Saintess’s safety, right?"
She winked, her mischievous smile sharpening like a fox who’d cornered her prey.
I sighed.
’Now I understand why Camilla always looks like she’s aged five years every morning.’
There was no doubt in my mind—being assigned as the Saintess’s guardian had to be one of the most stressful jobs in the continent.
"Why? Do you not like holding hands with ?" she teased, her voice dipping into sothing soft and curious.
"Not at all," I answered honestly.
Still, I wasn’t thrilled about drawing attention from dozens of other hero candidates who were now whispering, staring, and gossiping. The last thing I needed was to beco the centerpiece of so ridiculous rumor involving the Saintess.
"How about we go sowhere less crowded?" I offered, glancing around.
"If you want sowhere quiet... how about the exhibition hall?"
I blinked.
"The historical exhibit?"
"It’s part of the Sealing Festival too, you know," Iris said, humming. "Besides, no one really goes there until the last day, so we’ll have it mostly to ourselves."
’Makes sense.’
The exhibition was dedicated to the final war against the Demon God 500 years ago—a subject we hero candidates were force-fed from the day we arrived at Reynald Academy.
On a day like this, most cadets would rather be eating skewered ats or testing out gimmicky battle simulators than revisiting old lore.
"Alright. Let’s go."
As we walked, the bustling sounds of the festival slowly faded behind us, replaced by quiet reverence as we stepped through the tall archway into the exhibition hall. A high vaulted ceiling lood overhead, casting cool shadows over the curated displays and glass-encased relics. The centerpiece was an enormous mural, painted to look like the final battle—the Five Heroes versus the Demon God.
I scoffed.
’They got it wrong.’
The depiction of the Demon God was a monstrous amalgamation of spikes, horns, wings, and glowing red eyes. But in truth, no one had ever seen what lay beneath that suffocating shroud of black smoke.
Even I hadn’t.
Even during our final stand, he had remained hidden—faceless, voiceless. And yet, his power had suffocated everything like a storm pressing down on your lungs.
I clenched my fists.
We hadn’t even lasted a full hour against him.
And then, when victory was assured...
’The Demon God took his own life.’
That was the part no history book ever understood. He’d sacrificed his own body—releasing a curse so vast, it turned the entire continent into a lifeless wasteland. Everyone perished. Even his own army. Even his most loyal lieutenants.
’Why?’
There had been no reason. No strategy. No last-minute twist to his plan.
He simply wanted to erase life itself.
This ti, I’d stop him. No matter the cost.
"...Dale?" Iris’s voice pulled from my thoughts.
I blinked, realizing I’d been glaring at the mural.
"Oh. Sorry. Got caught up in the mont."
"Hehe. It is kind of awe-inspiring, isn’t it?" Iris stepped beside , her eyes fixed on the mural. "Reynald, the Sword of the Sun. Julius, the Great Sage. Ryujin Seong, the Iron Fist. Baek Seunghyuk, the Divine Spear. And Grace, the Light of Life."
She listed their nas with reverence, a hint of awe coloring her words.
"I didn’t know you liked stories about heroes," I said, half-smiling.
"Oh, I used to be obsessed with the ’Five Heroes’ ga when I was little," she said. "I’d make all the other orphanage kids play it with ."
I raised an eyebrow. "That ga? It was basically five kids ganging up on whoever played the Demon God."
"Still fun," she said with a giggle. "I always played Ryujin Seong. He had those gauntlets, right? Punching the Demon God just felt satisfying."
"...I usually played the Demon God," I muttered.
She paused, blinking. "Oh."
We stood in silence for a mont.
Ahem.
"...Anyway, let’s go further inside!" she said brightly, dragging by the hand again—yes, still holding it even though no one was watching now.
I didn’t protest.
After a quiet stroll through artifacts and broken swords, we finally stepped out of the hall and into the warm glow of the late morning sun.
"It’s about ti to et the kids," I said.
"Yeah. If we’re late, Camilla will probably throw a fit."
"She might even file a missing person report."
"That’s not even a joke," Iris muttered darkly, suddenly speeding up.
We returned to the eting point at the main gate. From afar, I spotted the familiar figure of Priest Antonio, tall and balding, waving with forced enthusiasm. Behind him were a dozen excited children dressed in their best patched-up clothes.
And Camilla, who looked as if she’d aged another five years.
"Wow!"
"A festival! A festival!"
"Is this really the Hero Academy?!"
The kids rushed ahead, ignoring Antonio’s warnings, running and spinning and squealing like wind-up toys.
"You little rascals! Didn’t I tell you to stay together?!"
"Oh dear... everyone, please calm down!" Camilla tried to corral them with visible panic.
Iris stepped forward, hands on her hips.
"Leo."
The small boy in front skidded to a stop and turned toward her.
"Y-yeah, Iris?"
"Bite."
"...Huh?"
"Bite your tongue, you little brat," Iris said sweetly, patting him on the head.
Leo froze.
"I thought you were the leader of the orphanage kids?"
"I-I am."
"Then act like one," she said. "You need to lead them, not run around like a lunatic."
Leo’s expression morphed into sothing akin to spiritual awakening.
"I-I’ll do my best!"
As he saluted and turned to his companions, barking orders like a miniature general, I felt a smile creep up my face.
"...You really are scary sotis," I said.
"I just speak their language," Iris replied, beaming.
As Camilla approached us, slightly out of breath, she gave Iris a long, tired look.
"You left alone with those wild beasts?"
"I believed in you, Camilla," Iris said, placing a dramatic hand on her chest.
"You are the worst, Lady Saint."
I stifled a laugh.
The festival was still in full swing, and though the war against the Demon God lood sowhere far in the future, today—just for a little while—we had warmth, smiles, and the chaos of children running loose.
And as I glanced at Iris, still not letting go of my hand, I let myself believe—
Maybe this ti... we could save everything.
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