With the murderer dead and the incident resolved — to a certain extent, anyway — Dia and Risti saw no issue with returning to their temporary base of operations. The threat of innocents dying was over, as was the threat to their lives, and Dia couldn’t help but smile as she stepped through the garden gate.

“I rarely see you smile like that,” Risti observed.

Dia glanced at Risti, whose posture was light and free of worries. “I rarely see you move like that too.”

“That’s what doing good deeds feel like,” Risti replied. “We didn’t just come here to fulfil the master-subordinate obligations of Count Nightfall; we came here to protect people.”

“It’s a rather…good feeling,” Dia replied. Stretching her arms and body, which felt lighter than usual, she looked around at Nachtville, whose main streets were still covered by cloth. By tomorrow, the news about the murderer’s death would spread, and life would return to normal.

“If only we had intervened earlier, however.” Risti sighed. “What a senseless loss of life. In the end, what’s with that passive skill?”

“You’re still thinking about it?” Dia asked.

“Hard not to, considering that’s the first time I’ve ever seen such an odd skill. T-H-B-O-D, and three question marks. Oh, and not every letter is capitalised either, to add on to the confusion.” Shaking her head, Risti entered the house, with Dia close on her heels.

“Do you know any skill that has such a weird…I don’t know, name?” Dia asked. “Given your standing, you might have actually come across it before.”

“If I did, it probably wasn’t very memorable,” Risti replied. “I should write it down first, though. Just in case I forget about it or something.”

“You don’t strike me as someone with a bad memory,” Dia replied.

“Just in case I forget what the passive skill looked like,” Risti answered. “In fact, that skill’s even more shocking that the fact that the murderer had the Black God’s Gaze, which is already shocking enough.”

“What’s shocking about Black God’s Gaze?” Dia asked, interested. She had been brought up on a diet of swordsmanship and the occasional statesmanship, which meant that she didn’t have all that much time to herself. Being able to read novels and sneak out of the Lustre palace incognito was already the best she could do, so she didn’t know that much about the churches of the Coloured Gods.

“Well, it’s a rather…special skill,” said Risti.

“That much was a bit obvious,” Dia replied, rolling her eyes. “I mean, how many skills have something like the words ‘Black God’ attached at the front?”

“Yeah, I mean, that’s precisely it.” Risti closed the door behind them both. “It’s a skill of the Black God himself, don’t you get it? It’s a skill created by the Black God and handed down to his Blessed and his apostles. It’s a skill that he has, or used to have.”

“Wait.” Risti’s sudden barrage of words were making her head whirl. “Black God’s Gaze…is a skill that the Black God himself had?”

“Yes. That’s what making it this special. This skill can only be conferred by someone of incredible standing in the Church of the Black God onto someone equally prestigious, but somehow, he had been turned into…that.” Risti shook her head, shivering slightly. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked out at the windows, where the Moons’ light was grappling with the shadows, before covering them with the thin curtains.

“Is someone targeting the Church of the Black God?” Dia wondered. “Such a person should have quite the status in the Church of the Black God, after all.”

“Who knows?” Risti shook her head. “It might be one of the other Coloured Gods. Or maybe some organisation who wants to stir up trouble. There are all kinds of possibilities, but we shouldn’t involve ourselves in this any more than is required.”

The foreboding tone in her words gave Dia pause, and after struggling with her curiosity for a moment, she decided to ask one last question.

“Risti, one last question.”

“Hmm?” She looked at Dia. “One more question?”

“Yes.” Dia smiled. “What’s…going to happen in the next few years, or even decades? Are we going to be in danger?”

For a moment, Risti froze up. Covering that movement with a seemingly-nonchalant glance, she asked, “Why do you ask that question, of all things?”

“Why? Intuition, I guess,” Dia replied. “The murderer had the Black God’s Gaze. Like I said earlier, it’s possible that he has a high status, and was subsequently targeted due to this status. It’s possible that someone intended to frame the Church of the Black God by forcing him to act as a murderer.”

“Intuition…” Risti repeated Dia’s answer slowly. “I don’t know. But…well, there’s a reason why I’m out roaming Grandis. I suppose…well…umm. You are the bodyguard of Princess Dia, so I suppose telling you shouldn’t be an issue. If you can get the news to her, all the better.”

“Hmm?”

“Ruler Umbra…had been plotted against many times over the past three decades,” Risti began slowly. “Assaults by people like Tot, monsters from the Third Godsfall. These people were weak by the standards of the Third Godsfall, but now, save for the Chromatic Lords and hexa-folders, they are…invincible.”

“Why would they do such a thing?”

“If my father knew, he wouldn’t have sent me out alone,” Risti replied. “No one knows. Penta-folders of the previous era have appeared out of nowhere to kill Ruler Umbra, before overloading their mana circuits in a bid to take him out with them.”

“That’s…insane,” Dia muttered. “Why would they do such a thing? They’re penta-folders. There’s no reason to kill themselves like this!”

She took a breath. “So, a period of turmoil.”

“Yes.” Risti’s words were quiet, carrying through the silent house. “That is almost certainly going to happen. This war between the dukedoms of the Umbra Sovereignty is already exceptional enough, but the Moon of Strife will shine bright for years to come.”

For a moment, Risti looked like a total stranger to Dia, and the latter found herself trembling. It was as if she was proclaiming the end of the world or something, someone possessed by an apostle of the Moons or the Coloured Gods. A stranger of strangers, whose only purpose was to proclaim their prophecy.

In a cold, distant part of Dia’s mind, something clicked.

“Your father sent you away to protect you,” Dia stated calmly. It wasn’t a question, just a simple sentence, and Risti looked at her evenly. A humourless smile tinged her face as she nodded, before turning away in silence.

Risti had agreed to answer only one question, after all.

Dia glanced at her silhouette as she vanished into one of the many, recently-cleaned rooms, before thinking about the warning she had presented. Was that a reason why she had joined up with the Moon Lords? To make use of the strength of an organisation? It was very possible, and the fact that her performance had been impeccable in this assignment would probably increase her value in everyone’s eyes.

In contrast, Dia knew that she was just an extra-powerful hired muscle. She didn’t really bring anything to the table, other than a better-than-average ability to beat people down…and she herself was beginning to even doubt that. It was natural to doubt her own ability, seeing as how a one-armed person whose only selling point were crazy spear skills had cornered her.

That, and probably a whole of other factors that she had no idea about.

However, without any available channels to increase her exiting combat ability, Dia could only lament over her relative lack of power. Some time ago, while she was training the Moon Guards, Dia noted that she had reached a plateau; no matter what she did next, that elusive spark of improvement in her swordsmanship eluded her.

It was possible that she had reached the natural limits of her swordsmanship talent. While nearly unrivalled, the encounter with the murderer had left her wanting; Dia had a feeling that if she hadn’t taken an arm off in the sneak attack, she could have lost her life.

The murderer had shown exquisite accuracy in throwing spears; his skill at wielding a spear directly could only be far above that.

Dia frowned in the darkness, before heading into an unused room. All the rooms had been cleaned, but the musty smell that probably came with long periods of disuse was still here. Removing the outermost layer of her clothes, she unclasped her sword and placed it against the bed.

It was long past her usual bedtime, but whenever she closed her eyes, all Dia could see were streaks of steely light, streaks formed from flying spears.

Apparently, a small trauma had developed in her mind. There was nothing she could do about it, though, save for letting it play out over and over again until she got used to it. Rolling around on the bed, Dia’s consciousness drifted in and out of focus.

Her last nap in Nachtville was clearly going to be a fitful one.