Armin stepped through the gate once more, and the familiar scent of sweat and blood hung thick in the holding hall. His sword was sheathed, but the sticky traces of battle,although healed, clung to his clothes like a second skin. He leaned against the stone wall, listening to the faint hum of the arena crowd fading behind him.
Then came the sound he was waiting for—small, hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. Two blurs launched into him before he could brace.
"Armin!"
Dike clung to his leg like a vine, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around him. The boy's face was beaming.
"You won!" he cheered with bright, awestruck eyes.
Armin placed a hand gently on the boy's head, his smile tired but real. "I did."
Behind him came Eirene, quiet as ever. Her gaze was analytical, bordering on unnerving. She scanned him like she was searching for the error in an equation.
"How did you heal so quickly?" she asked, tone flat but curious.
Armin exhaled slowly, still catching his breath. "It's a Veil Art. One I was born with."
In the corner, Jubak leaned against the wall, arms crossed and silent. He heard those words and immediately understood what they meant. Veil Arts weren't common among humans. They belonged to demons, trolls, and a handful of gifted races. His own powers, [SPIRIT SORCERY] and his clan's Veil Art, were proof of that—frightening to some, revered by others.
And then—
"Oh! Like this?" Dike chirped, lifting his hand.
Golden energy shimmered around his fingers, then condensed into a bright sphere.
Eirene followed suit, her hand rising with practiced elegance. A radiant orb of mana bloomed in her palm, stable and pure.
Armin's breath hitched. He hadn't expected it. Not even a little.
Jubak uncrossed his arms slowly and stepped forward.
This wasn't normal.
Humans could achieve,with enough training, rare gifts—[SORCERY], [IRON BODY], and so on. But they had to train for that. Commoners like Dike and Eirene would not have received any training and so should not have Veil Arts.
"How… how did you do that?" Armin asked, his voice quiet but shaken.
"We've always been able to," Eirene replied. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes now. She realized it a moment too late—they had let down their guard. Armin had seemed safe, kind. But this wasn't something they were supposed to show. Not here. Not in front of anyone.
Eirene closed her hand.
The mana vanished.
Dike followed suit, blinking in confusion.
Jubak's voice cut through the silence. "What was that?" His tone was casual, but his mind was already spinning.
That color… that presence…
Only two things had golden energy like that from birth.
The Hero.
And the Saints.
But that couldn't be. He was the Hero—or at least, somewhat of a hero. Although he hadn't been born with golden aura Herina told him to be patient.
That left the other option....
-SAINTS-
-They were fragments of the Hero's power. Born to help him. Destined to die for him most of the time-
He straightened up, composed his face, and leaned toward Armin.
"Ignore this, okay?" he whispered.
Jubak gave a slight nod. "Was going to do that anyway."
Neither of them spoke further. The mood had shifted, but they wrapped it in silence.
Dike still smiled. Eirene was more reserved now, her mind clearly elsewhere.
Jubak was next to fight. He said nothing as he stepped into the arena.
The crowd roared for blood.
Opposite him stood a bull-like beast, massive and bristling with black fur. Its breath came in short huffs, hooves scraping the dirt.
But Jubak didn't raise his fists.
He walked forward slowly, eyes locked with the creature's.
He whispered something no one could hear and placed a hand on its snout.
The beast lowered its head.
Then turned and walked away.
For a moment, the arena was silent.
Then the audience exploded.
The cheers shook the walls. Even the guards glanced at each other, confused but impressed.
Later, the four of them walked through the lower corridors. The air was colder here, damp. They passed through a set of iron gates leading to the prisoner cells.
Two demons stood waiting.
One was massive, built like a wall. The other was thin and sharp-toothed, eyes twitching with glee.
"Anything you want?" Jubak asked, voice relaxed.
The thin one stepped forward. "Yeah. We want your heads."
The large one cracked his knuckles. "You think you're tough just 'cause you won a fight? I'll take those kids and—"
CRACK.
Armin moved first. The thin one went flying, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening thud.
BOOM.
Jubak's fist shattered the tall demon's tusk. He dropped like dead weight.
The hallway fell silent.
Without a word, they kept walking.
That night, Armin lay back on his makeshift bed. The blankets had been "borrowed" from less-deserving cellmates. He didn't care. They shivered now, but he was warm.
Jubak didn't need warmth. He gave his share to Dike and Eirene. The children slept peacefully.
Armin stared at the ceiling.
'Maton.'
[Yes?]
'Are the kids Saints?'
He asked.
[Yes.]
Came the cold yet intelligent voice of Maton.
'Are Saints destined to die?'
[Herina would be better suited to answer that.]
'Then how do I meet her?'
[Sleep.]
So he did.
Armin quickly fell into sleep.
He felt as if reality was tugging at his soul and then....
When he opened his eyes, he was in a garden painted by gods.
The air was honey-sweet. The sky was painted gold. White mountains rose like crowns against the horizon. Marble pillars dotted the landscape. A gentle breeze carried the scent of lavender and sun.
Herina sat beneath a gazebo, sipping from a glass carved of divine crystal.
"Hello, Miss Goddess," Armin said as he approached.
"Sit, Arminius," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
He sat. Poured himself a drink. It sparkled in the light.
Then came the rush of tiny paws.
Lupa, the jet-black wolf cub, and Irina, the snow-white tiger pup, leapt into his lap. He laughed quietly, holding them close before placing them gently on the table.
Herina smiled and poured nectar onto two shallow plates for the animals.
"They've been an absolute jou to care for," she said warmly.
Armin scratched behind their ears. His mood shifted. "The kids," he murmured.
She nodded. "Yes."
"You can't remove their status?"
"No. I cannot."
His fists clenched.
"Saints always die. That's what I've heard."
"Often," she agreed. "But not always. If guided properly, their path can change."
"How?"
She raised her arms with a grin. Her love for all things cute and cuddly seeping through,"Send them here!"
He stared.
Her grin faltered and she cleared her throat.
"...Too much?"
He blinked. "You know if I send them here, Jubak will notice. He'll realize something is weird."
"That's not a problem."
"What?"
Herina set her glass down. "There is great empathy in him. The Veil itself bends toward light when he's near. He is fated for something good. You don't need to fear him."
Armin studied her. Hard.
"I'll do it when we're closer. When it's safer."
She raised her glass again. "Suit yourself."
They drank in silence.
Then he raised a questioned.
"...Can I take some nectar back with me?"
"No."
She didn't even hesitate.
He sighed.
'Karma.'
The pups yawned.
And for a little while, there was peace.
End of Chapter-017