Cirelith, the city-state of etched stone and whispered truths, was as lively as ever in the golden sprawl of the early afternoon. Even though it was a sovereign bastion governed entirely by scholars and those obsessed with the weight of ancient ink, the city breathed through the lungs of its neighbors. Because of the ironclad alliances made between Cirelith and the surrounding kingdoms, it remained a sanctuary—a fortress of thought protected by the swords of those who valued its secrets.
While it lacked the festive chaos of a holiday, the streets were nonetheless a river of motion: vendors barked their prices like heralds, children wove through the crowd like schools of fish in a bricked sea, and the heavy carriages of nobles glided over the roads, their wheels humming a song of wealth and status.
"After all that hunting, we couldn't find out a single damn thing," Noa sighed, the sound carrying a note of theatrical, silent pain. "What now?"
"We just have to call it here. We can't exactly storm the higher floors without making some kind of formal alliance with these nerds anyway," Vionette replied from his side, her voice a mix of practical logic and hidden mischief. Then, suddenly, her expression shifted into one of profound, tragic resolve. "BUT! I still refuse to give up on this mysterious murderers who harms the innocent!"
She wiped away imaginary, dramatic tears, her hands fluttering near her face like dying butterflies as she struck a pose of heroic grief.
"Yes! This tragedy is not over yet!" Noa joined in, his voice rising in a mock-heroic crescendo.
"..."
From behind them, Rose and Kaelen watched the display with faces that could only be described as curdled. They knew exactly how the 'Duo from Hell' actually operated, and they knew this sudden surge of morality was a performance tailored for a very specific audience.
"Then, shall we continue our normal patrol for clues?" Jain asked, glancing at the knights before turning her gaze toward Noa and Vionette. "Your Majesties should go and rest at the inn. We'll join you later after we've scoured the district."
"No, no, no. That won't work," Noa said, raising one arm toward the heavens while the other clutched his chest as if his heart were physically breaking. "My soul would never allow me to sit back and watch the innocent suffer—sniff."
Stop it, you absolute jerk. I'm actually going to throw up, Rose thought, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her cleaning supplies, fighting the urge to physically recoil from the cringe.
While Rose and Kaelen looked at Noa and Vionette with pure, unadulterated disgust, Jain was looking at them as if they were the physical manifestation of the Goddess's grace. To her, their 'selfless' dedication was a beacon of light in a dark world.
"O-okay then! You can definitely join us! Please!" Jain nodded vigorously, her faith in them reaching new, dangerous heights.
As Jain turned her back to lead the way, Noa, Vionette, Rose, and Kaelen shared a collective, mischievous glance. The 'mask' didn't fall, but the corners of their lips twitched with shared secrets.
Then, Vionette's sharp eyes caught a silhouette on a nearby bench. It was a man in his late sixties, sitting in the shadow of a grand archive, his eyes fixed on the horizon with a gaze so hollow it seemed to swallow the light.
"Hey Jain~" Vionette tapped the Saint's shoulder, her voice dropping into a gentle, suggestive tone. "You should go talk to that old man for a bit."
"Hmm? That man? Why?"
"Trust me, just go talk to him. Make sure to share his worries," she said, before glancing at the green-haired knight. "Take Nill with you to assist. It feels… significant."
"Well… if Lady Vionette senses something… and the man does look terribly depressed. Alright. Let's go, Nill."
Jain walked toward the bench with the grace of a holy banner, Nill trailing behind her like a loyal shadow. As they moved away, Noa watched them, his mental gears turning until the logic clicked.
"Okay, you guys, continue the investigation. No, wait," Vionette stopped them, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of a colorful banner in the distance. "There was a fighting tournament happening here today, right? Let's head there."
---
Talk to him and share his stories… that just means I have to get to know him, right?
With that simple thought, Jain and Nill approached the old man. He sat with his back leaned against the wooden slats of the bench, one hand clutching a weathered book while the other rested limp on his thigh. His face was clean-shaven, but his expression was a ruin. His eyes looked into a distance that didn't exist, his eyelids heavy with the weight of unslept nights, and dark circles clung to his skin like bruised shadows.
"Hey… how are you?" Jain leaned down slightly, her armor clinking softly as she matched the man's sitting height. She offered a smile that felt like the first warm day of spring. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"
The man's hollow eyes moved slowly, as if through a thick fog, until they landed on her calm blue ones. He looked down at her polished plate, his gaze drifting from her arm to the spear leaning against her side. After a few ragged breaths, he gave a tiny, silent nod. Jain sat down, with Nill standing like a stone sentinel behind her.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, following the line of his sight. "Is there something interesting out there?"
"Nothing. I'm just looking where my head turns," his voice came out shallow and thin, like parchment tearing. "I don't have anywhere I want to look right now."
"Nothing to look at? Why?" she asked, her gaze falling on his skinny, trembling arms.
He looks like he hasn't eaten in days. The hunger isn't just in his stomach; it's in his soul.
"I… lost my daughter. She… she just disappeared into the city one day and never came back." He looked up at the sky, the strength in his neck failing as his head tilted back. "I waited. I searched. But people told me she won't come back. They told me to stop looking."
Jain stared at him for several long seconds, her heart blooming with a cocktail of surprise, sadness, and white-hot anger. She wanted to save everyone, to be the shield of the weak, and here was a man drowning in the silence of his own grief right in front of her.
"Are you a knight who came to investigate the disappearances?" the man asked, a flicker of something raw in his voice.
"Yes, I'm a saint," Jain nodded, her voice firming with a holy conviction. "We came here to solve this. And," she placed a hand gently on the center of his back, "don't worry. We will find your daughter. I promise you."
The man's ravaged face turned toward her, meeting a smile so bright it felt like a physical challenge to the darkness. He stared at her, and slowly, the leaden weight in his eyelids seemed to lift. In the cold, lightless cavern of his heart, a single, tiny cell of hope sparked to life, fueled by the radiant certainty of the saint.
"Y-you… truly will?"
"Yes!"
His hands raised up, trembling like leaves in a storm, before they reached out to grasp her shoulders. Jain looked at the shaking fingers digging into her mantle before meeting his eyes. They were no longer hollow; they were flooding with tears, his mouth curving into a quivering, desperate line.
"T-then… please… p-please find my daughter." The tears finally broke, tracking through the grime on his face. "I… I beg of you, please."
Jain stood up, her spear leaning against the bench like a dormant lightning bolt. As the man's face followed her upward, she grabbed both of his palms and gathered them into hers, pressing them together into a single, unified 'core' of hands.
"Don't worry," she smiled, her silhouette framed by the golden halo of the afternoon sun. "As long as I'm here, I'll bring your daughter back."
The old man looked up at her, the radiant light of the sky making her appear like a divine messenger. The promise from the Saint of the Church of Liara had been forged. And as she looked at him, Jain knew she would keep her word, even if it meant tearing the city apart or descending into hell itself to drag that girl home.
***
While he checked the pulse of their kingdom, Vionette was busy navigating her own internal interface, her crimson eyes scanning data that only she could see.
System, give me a list of all the skills Noa and I currently have. Filter them for compatibility through [A Match Made in Hell].
[Understood! Analyzing! Please wait…]
[Noa Ravel:]
Low Pain Resistance (Common) – Compatible
Low Explosion Resistance (Common) – Compatible
Minor Regeneration (Uncommon) – Compatible
Aura Blade (Rare) – Incompatible
Blink (Rare) – Compatible
Presence Override (Rare) – Compatible
Phantom Phrase (Rare) – Incompatible
Echo Reclamation (Unique) – Incompatible
[Vionette Crimvane:]
Hyper-calculation (Rare) – Incompatible
Mind Fortress (Unique) – Compatible
Crown of Accumulation (Unique) – Compatible
Sovereign (Unique) – Incompatible
Mindrift (Legendary) – Compatible
[Soul Linked:]
A Match Made in Hell (Unique)
Mmm… I technically have access to [Blink], but my Aether is still too thin to actually pull it off in the real world, she thought, her eyes sharpening. And this regeneration thing of his… I definitely need to do something about to,
She shook the thoughts away as the roar of a crowd began to drift over the city walls. They were approaching the district where the tournament was being held—a place where the air was thick with sweat, iron, and the desperate energy of those seeking glory or gold.
Grab!
Noa reached out, his arm sliding behind her back to rest his hand on her opposite shoulder, pulling her close as they walked. He looked at her with a lazy, affectionate grin. Vionette looked back at him, her crimson eyes softening as she leaned her head against his shoulder, their rhythmic steps perfectly in sync.
"Look at that. I basically gave you most of my skills, didn't I? I'm such a provider," Noa joked.
"Shut up," she whispered, her smile widening. "They're all Rare class at best. You're giving me your scraps."
"Hey, I win by quantity! That's a valid strategy."
"Then I win by quality. My Mindrift alone is worth your entire inventory," she countered.
Grab.
Suddenly, someone caught the back of Noa's jacket, causing the cuddling couple to stop mid-step. They turned to see a little boy, no older than ten, wearing worn shorts and a long-sleeved shirt that had seen better days. His black hair fell over his forehead, and his eyes were wide with a curious, desperate intensity.
"Mister, can you help me?"
As Rose, Kaelen, and the knights paused behind them, Noa and Vionette stared at the kid.
"Help? What kind of help are we talking about here, kid?" Noa asked, tilting his head.
"Could you please… participate in the tournament for me?" the boy asked, his small hands tightening on Noa's jacket.
"Huh? Participate?"
"Yes! You see… I need to bet on someone to get even a little bit of money for my family," the boy explained, a hopeful smile breaking across his face as he looked at Noa's sturdy frame. "And you look really, really strong. So… please?"
"Go ahead, Noa," Vionette said, her smile turning into something amused and wicked.
"Wha—wait, really?"
"Yes, go and participate," she nodded, her eyes twinkling. "We'll head back to the inn and rest after we've finished with this little investigation."
"Well… alright then. Side-quest time it is."