The heavy tension finally thinned out, but Jeanne still watched the infected workers in the distance with a pretty complicated knot in her chest.
"Hello there. I am Theresa, the leader of Babel. First and foremost, I am incredibly sorry that you had to encounter such a dangerous situation the moment you arrived. This was entirely an oversight on our part, and I want to express my deepest apologies for what happened."
While Jeanne was sitting by herself in a quiet, out-of-the-way corner of the camp, completely lost in thought, a soft pink figure quietly approached and spoke up. The sheer sincerity and apology in her eyes were unmistakable as she addressed the girl.
By the time Jeanne snapped out of her daze, she found the pink-haired Demon King already bowing deeply to her. The sudden, formal gesture caught her completely off guard, making her scramble to her feet in a bit of a rush.
"Oh, please, there's really no need to apologize!" Jeanne insisted, waving her hands. "Nobody could have predicted that something like this would happen out of nowhere. Besides, Kal'tsit kept a very close eye on me, so I didn't suffer a single scratch..."
Jeanne honestly hadn't expected Theresa to offer such a humble apology the very first time they met. From her perspective, the journey up to this point hadn't actually felt exceptionally dangerous.
After all, no matter what kind of trouble popped up along the road, Kal'tsit was always right there beside her. The ancient doctor had been tracking her safety like a hawk watching over a notoriously mischievous child, never giving her a single chance to wander off or face danger alone.
To be perfectly honest, out of all the nations and wild regions Jeanne had traveled through, this was the very first time she had ever experienced this level of intense, suffocating protection. Even back in Laterano, she had never had someone following her around like a personal shadow, strictly monitoring her safety every single second of the day.
As for the chaotic ambush that had unfolded last night? That was just the kind of unpredictable hazard that no single person could foresee. Jeanne didn't hold a grudge or feel bitter about hitting a sudden midnight raid; in a lawless border territory, it was simply impossible to know when you might accidentally run face-first into trouble.
Yet, despite Jeanne's completely casual, carefree attitude toward the danger, Theresa didn't seem ready to just let herself off the hook so easily. She slowly shook her head, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she spoke:
"The nature of the situation is quite different. This particular raid was meticulously planned by our enemies well in advance, and our intelligence network failed to catch the flaw in time. That is the sole reason you were exposed to such severe danger..."
Theresa truly hadn't anticipated that the enemy's offensive would be quite this ferocious. If Jeanne hadn't possessed such incredible combat skills herself, Kal'tsit would have been forced into a horrible dilemma last night—likely having to choose between saving the civilian convoy or protecting their guest, completely abandoning one side to save the other.
But the core issue weighing on Theresa's mind was that the invitation to Kazdel, along with the entire travel arrangement, had been backed by the personal guarantees of all three leaders of Babel. She felt a deep sense of shame that things had fallen apart so spectacularly before Jeanne had even officially crossed the border.
Jeanne found herself entirely at a loss for words in the face of Theresa's persistent apologizing, but the sheer sincerity pouring from the woman made it impossible to reject. Accepting the earnest gesture, she simply gave a small shake of her head and offered a reassuring smile:
"Alright, fine, I accept your apology. Besides, I have absolute faith that you and your people will keep me perfectly safe from here on out, and won't let me bump into this kind of mess again, right?"
Jeanne tilted her head, her gaze drifting toward the clearing where Babel's elite operators were currently moving about. Under Kal'tsit's sharp, authoritative directions, they were systematically clearing the debris, securing the perimeter, and double-checking the surrounding ridges to ensure the area was completely locked down.
Looking at the fierce capability radiating from those masked fighters, Jeanne figured that very few people would dare to pick a fight with this group anytime soon—unless, of course, an entire enemy army marched over to overwhelm them with sheer numbers.
But even if an opposing faction did decide to commit a massive army to crush them, Jeanne wasn't particularly worried. With the sheer combat power concentrated in their small group right now, even if they couldn't successfully haul all the heavy transport cargo away, escaping with their lives would be an absolute breeze.
"Though, if you don't mind me asking," Jeanne started, her curiosity getting the better of her, "is the Kazdel border always this wild? Is it a regular occurrence for mercenaries and raiders to just block transport routes and rob supplies?"
It wasn't that Jeanne was completely ignorant of Kazdel's chaotic reputation, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. If the border regions were truly this lawless on a daily basis, she honestly couldn't comprehend why any foreign merchants would ever willingly risk coming to this country.
Even if trading here offered a chance to make an astronomical amount of money, what good was a massive pile of profits if you had absolutely zero means of defending it against these brutal, sudden raids?
What about hiring a highly capable security force to protect the goods? From what Jeanne could gather, the only force strong enough to guarantee a merchant's safe passage through Kazdel would be another high-end mercenary company—and if you went down that route, you then had to live with the constant, terrifying risk of your own guards turning around and robbing you the moment the price was right.
Jeanne hadn't expected that her very first step into Kazdel would immediately slap her with such a harsh, sobering lesson about the reality of the badlands. It gave her a very real, visceral understanding of what it meant for a society to exist in a state of near-total, lawless anarchy.
Even the frozen, unforgiving tundra of the Ursus snowfields—which Jeanne had previously viewed as a dark, brutally mismanaged nightmare of tyrannical rule—didn't seem quite as wild as this place, though they admittedly weren't too far apart.
But looking at the gentle woman standing beside her, who happened to be the nominal ruler of this entire nation, Jeanne reminded herself to be a little more tactful. She needed to run her words through her head at least once before opening her mouth.
After all, walking straight up to a country's leader and telling them that the land they governed was an absolute, disorganized disaster was essentially the same as mocking them right to their face. And while this Sarkaz older sister seemed incredibly kind-hearted and completely unlike someone who would easily hold a petty grudge, it was still better to show some manners.
"Uh... you could certainly say that. It is entirely a consequence of the current fractured state of our nation," Theresa replied. She hesitated for a brief, heavy moment after hearing the question, before answering in a deeply serious, quiet tone.
A profound, aching sorrow filled her eyes as she spoke. She knew better than anyone that Kazdel hadn't always been this living hellscape—and she carried the crushing weight of knowing that she herself was one of the key figures responsible for steering the country into this abyss.
Watching the glorious nation she once helped rebuild crumble into a literal playground for raiders, and seeing her own peaceful, ordinary citizens forced to turn into bloodthirsty monsters just to survive, filled her with an unbearable sense of self-reproach. She blamed herself entirely for the tragic state of her people.
Once upon a time, she had fought so hard to prove to the rest of Terra that the Sarkaz were just ordinary inhabitants of this world, no different from the citizens of any other country. She had wanted to show the world that the endless international persecution and hatred directed at the Sarkaz race was fundamentally, entirely wrong...
She had been so close to succeeding. But right on the cusp of the dawn, everything had come crashing down into ruin. The entire country felt as if it were shackled by an ancient, inescapable curse, plunging right back down into the darkest depths of the valley.
"The country is currently a bit chaotic... Heh, hearing those words come out of my own mouth always makes it sound so utterly ridiculous, doesn't it?"
Theresa stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Jeanne, her eyes tracking the operators as they worked tirelessly across the messy battlefield. They were watching the captured mercenaries slowly pick through the scattered wreckage, piece by piece, trying to recover whatever blown-up supplies they could to minimize the transport's overall financial loss.
A profound wave of melancholy washed over her. Though it certainly wasn't the first time she had felt this paralyzing grief, it was the very first time she had ever found herself uncontrollably baring these raw, deeply buried emotions in front of a complete stranger.
It really was quite strange. Even within the inner circles of Babel, she had only ever shared these specific, deeply personal agonies with the Doctor and Kal'tsit. She had never dared utter a single word of doubt to any of her close elite operators, terrified that her own vulnerability would end up shaking their resolve or dampening their spirits.
So why on earth was she spilling her heart out to Jeanne right now? They had literally just met for the very first time today, and by all accounts, they shouldn't be exchanging such intimate, heavy thoughts at all...
Yet, looking at the girl, Theresa felt an instinctive, undeniable sense of trust. It wasn't because of her natural talent for reading minds; rather, it was because Jeanne possessed a strange, almost magnetic aura—a pure, compelling charm that naturally made people want to believe in her!
With that thought in mind, a sudden spark of curiosity flitted through Theresa's chest regarding Jeanne's soul. She found herself desperately wanting to know what color a soul like hers would take. Would it be a deep, ancient gray like Kal'tsit's, or would it be completely transparent and formless like the Doctor's?
But she knew that asking such a thing was incredibly bad manners. Not a single person on Terra would willingly allow a stranger to peer directly into the deepest sanctuary of their soul, let alone permit the literal Demon King of the Sarkaz to do so.
"Um... would it be alright if I took a brief look at your soul? I know this is incredibly rude to ask, but I promise I will absolutely not do anything other than observe it."
Theresa phrased the request with immense caution, completely uncertain of what kind of impression Jeanne held toward her as the Demon King. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally offend her guest and cause her to storm off in a fit of anger.
The Doctor had been looking forward to this meeting for an incredibly long time. If she ended up ruining everything and chasing the Saintess away over a bout of silly personal curiosity, the Doctor would probably crawl straight under her skirt and cry her eyes out when she got back to headquarters!
"Oh... sure, go right ahead. Is there anything specific I need to do?" Jeanne replied casually. She didn't mind Theresa peering at her soul at all; if anything, she was far more curious about how the process actually worked. Did it require some elaborate, ancient spellcraft? Was she about to draw a giant magic circle on the dirt using sheep's blood or something?
"Ah, no, nothing like that at all! I just need to look with my own eyes!" Hearing Jeanne's easy agreement, a bright, genuinely happy smile broke across Theresa's face. She immediately activated her ancient Sarkaz witchcraft, her focus shifting as she began to observe the soul of the girl standing before her.
Jeanne watched her quietly, waiting for whatever mystical observation to finish. But after a prolonged, heavy silence, she watched in absolute horror as massive, silent tears suddenly began to stream down Theresa's face!
Just how incredibly hideous, terrifying, or messed up is my soul that it literally reduced you to tears?!
Staring at Theresa, who was standing right in front of her with a completely blank expression while giant, heavy drops of tears rolled down her cheeks, Jeanne completely panicked. A wild, frantic thought flashed through her mind: Could this poor girl have accidentally looked straight into the God's Light, and completely fried her own eyeballs because it was too bright?
Should I... should I start running away right now? Jeanne thought, her mind racing. But I literally didn't do anything at all!
In that exact moment, deep down in her heart, Jeanne's entire mental composure was thoroughly, completely collapsing...