# Enhanced Translation
In the dense forest under the sweltering heat—what passes for summer by Krasilov standards but is really just full spring weather—humans sometimes recover their primal instincts while sprinting through the wilderness.
In a forest filled with every shade of green imaginable, occasionally losing oneself in the pure rush of movement—
*BANG—!!*
"Oh shit!!"
Every time she tried to master the nearly wild-horse-like skill of running while half-asleep, gunfire cracked like a whip. Isabelle flinched reflexively and ducked her head.
With a crisp *thwack*, sawdust sprayed from a nearby tree. Ivan immediately returned fire. Though it was impossible to tell what he was aiming at, he responded almost simultaneously with the sound of the gunshot.
When asked how he managed this:
"If you identify the impact area in the direction of the gunshot, you can read the line of fire. By comparing the sound of the gunshot with the bullet caliber, you can determine the distance. And by detecting the sound waves reflecting from the gunshot, you can pinpoint the location."
And when further pressed on exactly *how* to do this:
"Repetition, mastery, training."
With that, he would close the subject. Ivan nodded with great satisfaction at what he considered excellent instruction, while Isabelle and Asidis could only clutch their chests in frustration.
More than a day had already passed. They never expected to be literally sprinting through the forest on foot, much less with attackers shooting at them from a distance and chasing them. Any attempt at conserving energy had been pointless.
So, by the time they finally emerged from the forest:
"Huuuuuaaaeugh..."
The entire group collapsed in complete exhaustion. Even superhumans had limits to their magical power and physical strength.
Isabelle barely managed to shake her head with unfocused eyes and stared ahead. In the distance, she could see horses and a group of people in the meadow.
"We're saaaved—"
A rescue party. It had to be. It absolutely would be.
As if answering Isabelle's desperate wish, five or six mounted soldiers approached them at a leisurely pace, their hooves clip-clopping against the ground.
Ivan stepped forward a couple of paces. After dropping Elfihera to the ground and setting down the Saintess, he stood empty-handed.
"From this point to Evron is another day's journey. Can you run for another day like today?"
"Just kill me instead..."
"Then we'll need to get horses."
Ivan nodded and looked at the approaching cavalry.
Count Escalon was anxiously biting his lips atop the castle wall. Despite the soldiers having long passed their expected return time, not a single messenger had returned.
"It's already evening!!"
"Your Excellency, please don't worry too much. From what I hear, they're just a band of five or six mercenary knights."
"That's exactly what's strange! Did they miss them somehow? Damn it, this is why I didn't want to do this in the first place!"
When he received orders to assassinate the Saintess, he seriously wondered if the king had gone mad. It was too significant a matter to risk on the words of a lunatic.
Even more suspiciously, the king's secret letter had come with extremely ambiguous wording: "Prevent the Saintess from leaving the forest." Depending on interpretation, it could mean to detain her temporarily.
But knowing that a council was being convened, this wasn't simple detention. It meant making the very fact that the Saintess had been here "disappear." In other words, it meant secretly beheading her.
He couldn't refuse. He wasn't merely a frontier nobleman. The Norvik Fortress wasn't an ordinary rural estate but a military stronghold. He wasn't a territorial noble but a military commander. His wife and children were all being held in the capital...
Even if the operation succeeded, he would be beheaded if the Saintess's assassination was later discovered. If it failed, he alone would bear the disgrace and be beheaded. If he disobeyed the order, his family would be beheaded for treason. Some count he was—more like a hunting dog.
As Count Escalon anxiously drummed his fingers on the castle wall, he spotted a single foot soldier running toward them from the northern border.
"Just one? A foot soldier? What on earth...?"
"Must be a messenger, sir."
"If it's a messenger... did they fail?!"
"If they had failed completely, they would have retreated together. This might actually be fortunate, Your Excellency. I'll go down and find out what happened."
"No, let's go together. What's the point of staying up here?"
The count forgot his dignity and immediately headed for the gate. Soon the drawbridge was lowered, and the exhausted soldier who had been running for a long time staggered through the gate. He immediately fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
"What happened? What's going on?!"
"Huff— hah... Your Excellency..."
"Someone give this man some water! Now, tell me what happened!"
"Failed... huff... we failed..."
"What? Where are the others? Are they in pursuit? Have you formed a pursuit team? Where are Otis and Montero? Where have all the cavalry gone, leaving only you to run back?"
The soldier looked up at the count with a terrified face, then took a deep breath and hung his head.
"They're all dead..."
Six knights all dead, and the infantry scattered in terror.
The scattered infantry were essentially stragglers now. It would be a miracle if even half of them returned to the stronghold.
The fact that someone had rushed back to report immediately after the battle, without even tending to his wounds, meant the count's leadership need not be questioned.
The count collapsed against the wall before the soldier even finished speaking.
Since there were only six horses, the Saintess still had to ride behind Ivan. Unlike Ivan's back, the military horse offered little comfort, and the Saintess fidgeted with her numb legs.
"Do you not resent me, Brother?"
"Resent?"
"Coming to a country that has nothing to do with you, fighting battles that don't concern you."
"Are they really unrelated?"
"...Pardon?"
Ivan continued speaking while holding the reins and looking straight ahead.
"If we're measuring by relevance, that question comes far too late."
Only then did the Saintess realize that the man before her was a foreigner. Both Maximillian and Ivan were. Strictly speaking, they had nothing to do with this world at all.
Unlike the civilized nations of this continent, bound together despite their distances, these men came from a world with entirely different concepts.
In response to the Saintess's silence, Ivan briefly shook his head.
"Don't waste time on pointless worries, Patricia. Focus only on what needs to be done."
"Yes, I should. But..."
The Saintess clenched her small fist and lowered her head. Why do these people, these strangers from a distant world, put us to shame like this?
Despite having no reason to risk their lives, no reason to fight for this world. Despite having no need to continue this bloody struggle in a foreign land far from home, with no relatives or connections.
"Lord, have mercy."
The Saintess prayed quietly. May these foreigners receive the proper reward they deserve.
An unrelated battle? Ivan clicked his tongue at the Saintess's myopic analysis of the situation.
If the Papal Office officially excommunicated the Saintess, what would happen to Krasilov, which had been protecting her? They would obviously be bundled together and join the heretical procession.
If the Saintess's crime was heresy, and her actions had caused the disappearance of holy power, then Krasilov, which had clearly allowed such actions, would be shattered.
If the Saintess didn't actively respond, or if she failed to safely reach the council and was judged a heretic?
'Tilles and Droan would have no choice but to sever diplomatic ties with Krasilov.'
That's what it meant for the entire civilized world to become hostile. The same would happen within Krasilov itself. Administrative officials and domestic nobles would also turn against the royal family.
This was a problem that couldn't be handled even by the Counter-Intelligence Command's internal network. Fundamentally, the civilized nations shared a single religion, a situation not much different from medieval Europe on Earth.
Did the Pope in those days actually lead some Templar order that could force emperors to kneel? What matters is authority, not national power.
So the current situation was rather...
'We need to safely get the Saintess to the council and prevent her from being unilaterally excommunicated there, for Krasilov to remain safe.'
That's what it meant. It meant he hadn't recklessly followed the Saintess across foreign borders and slaughtered foreign knights without thinking.
Rather, it meant that even if the Saintess gave up defending herself and admitted guilt, he would need to boost her morale, even if it meant using a healing potion.
'Moreover, Krasilov has... defended vampires and joined hands with dwarves.'
There was considerable backlash from the Papal Office when Enrique joined the Hero Party. Fundamentally, vampires were no different from monsters, and they even weakened holy power.
Why should a race that sucks human blood, infects humans, and weakens under the sun—the symbol of the Lord—represent humans?
But because Krasilov was an extremely rational country, it maintained a meritocratic talent policy and thus utilized Enrique. Yes, she had actually killed the Demon King, so this could be understood.
But dwarves... Dwarves were clearly demon-kin. They had been at the forefront of the demon-kin's invasion of civilized nations during the Great War.
The very act of joining hands with them lagged far behind in terms of justification. It wasn't for nothing that Krasilov hadn't officially established diplomatic relations.
Even after this situation was resolved, dwarves shouldn't appear in official diplomatic lines for some time. If we were to compare this world where holy power has disappeared to Earth, it would require a period of stability where royal authority exceeds religious authority.
The religion that all citizens believe in fundamentally carries more authority than that of the monarch.
"Religion is the opium of the people!!"
Elizabeta ground her teeth and shouted a suspicious line. The guard officer listening to her words flinched.
But that was beside the point. Elizabeta was banging on the table with a face full of rage, venting her frustration.
"Whether it's the Saintess who dared to take my man to a foreign country despite holy power being gone, or the aging Pope threatening all nations by convening a council!! Aren't they all just high on drugs?!"
"In... indeed, indeed, Your Majesty!"
Dmitri hastily looked around as he spoke. Fortunately, those currently in the royal presence knew the family history, so there was no need to silence them.
"It's difficult to mobilize troops. It's difficult to bring Vanka back. If everything is so difficult, what exactly is easy for you people!"
"Your Majesty, please calm down. According to the intelligence we've just received..."
"More news about Vanka killing someone, destroying a city, or collapsing a country, I suppose!!"
At Elizabeta's outburst, Dmitri quietly closed his mouth. He had heard that a train had derailed and failed to reach its destination, and given the circumstances, it was clear that Ivan had become entangled in some incident again.
And from what he knew of Ivan, when confronted with an incident, he tended to resolve it through murder. Deductive murder. Based on past precedent, anyone who 'confronted Ivan with an incident' ended up dead.
"Your Majesty, Lundis Elorvandi requests an audience."
"...An audience?"
Elizabeta, who had been trying to remember who Lundis was, soon frowned. The daughter of the dwarf secretary, she thought.
If she was seeking not the chancellor of St. Yansk University but the king of Krasilov, this could be considered an official diplomatic mission. Her position was somewhere between diplomatic envoy and hostage, after all.
As Elizabeta, who had been suppressing her anger, gave a short nod, the doors to the throne room opened and a short woman scurried in.
"I greet the great monarch of Krasilov. I am Lundis, daughter of Durantrain Elorvandi."
Lundis bowed deeply with old-fashioned courtesy. With her head still lowered, she continued.
"If you would allow us to recover our nation's relic buried beneath St. Yansk University, my country could ease Krasilov's concerns."
Looking down at Lundis as she raised her head, Elizabeta gathered her thoughts for a moment.
Beneath St. Yansk University...?
"The Earth-Net Excavator. The relic that your country calls the excavation apparatus is still buried beneath the foundation of St. Yansk University. During the recent civil war, rebels from our country dared to steal and use that relic without permission before losing it. My country requests to pay a fair price and have the relic returned."
Elizabeta's face had already assumed that of a monarch. She nodded coldly and replied.
"And the price?"
Recalling what the relic was came naturally. Whether it could be dug up and recovered again was the dwarves' responsibility. A large number of dwarf craftsmen would flow into the country, but since the work would happen underground, it couldn't be observed from outside.
A train directly connecting to the dwarves' territory had already been installed beneath the city. The train had been sufficiently expanded through trade since last year.
That ancient relic capable of drilling tunnels through any land and mountain—according to the Annihilation Squad's report at the time, the last remaining relic was beneath this city now. All others had been destroyed during the Great War.
Whatever it was, rare things required rare payment. Recalling her father's words in response to Elizabeta's question, Lundis smiled faintly.
"Is it not true that authority comes not from the barrel of a gun?"
The reason humans fail to detect elves invading airspace with their aerial warships is that human watchtowers and walls extend toward the ground, not the sky.
Similarly, humans struggled to respond when dwarves used the Earth-Net Excavator to strike from behind during the Great War. Humans cannot easily detect operations happening underground.
This essentially means that human borders are meaningless to elves and dwarves. Whether vast skies or vast earth, they believe these domains belong to them.
"We will dig the gun barrel. Please fire."
If the march route is underground, dwarves can provide the strongest advance, supply, and transport routes in this civilized world.
"Hooh."
Elizabeta pondered these words, then smiled with pleasure.
A military mobilization with unified supply lines, minimized non-combat casualties, and no need for information control or consideration of march routes.
Just hearing about it made military budget cuts seem certain, she thought.