Chapter 64 : The Cradle and the Flame

“I—No—Lady Lilia, that’s not—!”

“Wait, are you saying he wasn’t asking for advice? That he just attacked you for no reason?”

“I merely asked for counsel. And in response, Lord Kane attempted to set me ablaze in the name of ‘infusing magic with emotion.'”

“You blocked it before I even began! Don’t twist the truth!”

“Oh? So you were trying to light me on fire?”

Lilia tilted her head in earnest curiosity. Kane, having risen to indignation, suddenly realized he had unwittingly admitted to striking first. His words caught in his throat.

He scrambled for a lifeline—any lifeline—and managed to pivot with desperate finesse.

“W-Well! No harm was done in the end, was it? But he used that as an excuse to unleash hundreds of attacks upon me—hundreds!”

“Were you injured?”

“…What?”

“Aside from being soaked—did any of the spells wound you?”

“N-No… not exactly.”

Kane’s voice trailed off.

He knew better than to lie to a priestess capable of invoking miracles. Any false claim of injury would be swiftly unmasked.

Lilia, ever radiant, smiled sweetly.

“Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You just said it yourself, didn’t you? That even if you tried to set him on fire, it was fine because no harm was done.”

“I… I did…”

“So, if he drenched you and you weren’t harmed, doesn’t the same logic apply?”

“……”

Kane’s fury faltered like a candle in wind.

He couldn’t direct unfiltered wrath toward Lilia—she was too kind, too bright. And now, she had bested him in logic as well. A girl who once seemed absentminded had shown sharpness—but only, it seemed, to defend Curtis .

“Y-You…”

Kane’s breath hitched. His chest heaved. His thoughts—already strained from prolonged cognitive acceleration—finally collapsed beneath their own weight.

He swayed.

His eyes rolled back—not metaphorically, but literally.

“Ah!”

In a blink, Lilia vanished from Curtis ’s side and reappeared by Kane, catching him as he collapsed backward like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Brother Kane! Hold on!”

She lifted him with surprising strength and laid him gently upon the nearest cushioned chair.

Her hands, glowing with sacred light, moved with practiced care—brow to throat, neck to chest, feeling for wounds, watching for signs.

In this, Lilia was always serious. Always focused.

While she worked, Curtis  quietly summoned the water back from floor and hallway alike, wiping away the chaos like ink from parchment. Within moments, the reception hall looked untouched—save for the disheveled noble slumped in the chair.

Lilia finally let out a breath of relief.

“No lasting harm. His mind simply burned too bright and collapsed—too much strain, not enough rest. I worried he might’ve taken a deeper wound…”

“Told you—I didn’t hit him.”

“Still, you never know. Maybe you were angry.”

“Me? Angry?”

“I mean, Brother Kane did strike first—no wait, he didn’t strike, but still… you had a reason to be upset.”

“If anyone was angry, it was him.”

“And you? You’re not injured at all?”

“As you can see—dry, intact, not even singed.”

“Truly?”

Without warning, Lilia closed the distance and clasped his hand.

A pulse of divine light surged through her fingertips—only to bounce off Curtis  harmlessly. The miracle found no wound to heal, no ache to soothe. Its rejection was clear.

She released him and gave an emphatic nod.

“All clear!”

“If I’d been hurt, I’d have said so. I’m not the type to hide it out of pride.”

He shrugged. Curtis  was many things, but theatrics were not his vice.

“By the way—did you finish your errand?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Her eyes lit up again, the subject change washing away the previous tension.

“So you’re really coming to the Cradle of Demons, Brother Curtis ?”

“It appears so.”

The Cradle of Demons—that was the name the Church gave to the place where the remnants of infernal presence lingered. Not true demons, not yet. But if left alone, they would become so.

Better to strike while they still slumbered. Better to end the evil before it had a name.

“I’m so glad!” Lilia beamed. “Let’s give it our best again!”

“And I to you. But I must say, you seem quite eager for a mission that isn’t even an aberrant hunt.”

“That’s because demons are worse than aberrants!” she declared. “If taking down one powerful aberrant is worth ten weaker ones, then surely one demon is worth ten powerful ones!”

“Can’t argue with that logic.”

Especially if the experience rewards scale accordingly, Curtis  mused to himself.

“It’s my first time at a demon’s cradle too, but with Bishop Mayra leading us, I’m not worried at all! And since the Bru—”

Her voice stumbled.

Her mouth still open, she blinked, turned her head slowly, gaze drifting back to the slumped form of Kane.

Then back to Curtis .

“Is something the matter?”

“Ah… well… it just occurred to me…”

Lilia, for once, hesitated. It was a rare sight.

“This request—the cradle expedition—it was said that… House Brutaine would be joining us.”

“…Pardon?”

A beat.

A silence, thick with implication.

And in that silence, Kane slumbered, soaked and scowling in unconsciousness.

Curtis  followed her gaze, then looked back to Lilia. He arched a brow.

“Do you suppose he’ll still want to go?”

“I—I don’t know,” she whispered, suddenly flustered. “Maybe it was a different Brutaine they meant…?”

“You’re saying that with all the conviction of someone hoping real hard,” Curtis  replied dryly.

Lilia pouted. “Well, I’m trying to be optimistic!”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. If he tags along, I doubt he’ll try lighting me on fire again.”

“Maybe just out of embarrassment.”

“Or vengeance.”

She winced. “Let’s hope he forgets all of it.”

But Kane gave no response—save a soft snore and a twitch of his soaked sleeve.

Curtis  gave him one last glance, then turned toward the door.

“Guess I’ll start packing.”

“For the cradle?”

“And whatever else comes crawling out of it.”

Lilia beamed. “That’s the spirit!”

And together, they left the hall behind—leaving water, fire, and one pride-wounded noble to dry in peace.