Grey's gaze grew colder, the faint light in his eyes vanishing like a candle snuffed by wind.
The moment Elizabeth stepped forward with that unmistakable glint of judgment in her gaze, he understood this woman had no intention of letting him walk away. Though she appeared to be alone, Grey was no fool. Where there was one Inquisitor, others often lurked in shadow, veiled by divine rites and hidden arrays.
He exhaled quietly, his voice steady.
"It seems your memory is... unusually precise."
Elizabeth merely smiled, but her silence was more telling than a thousand words. She did not speak. Instead, she drew her sword.
The metallic whisper of the blade leaving its sheath echoed in the quiet woods like a death knell.
Grey's expression didn't change. Yet inwardly, the gears turned faster.
So, it has come to this.
There was no room for illusion anymore. The veil of his identity had been torn apart, and the church's scent hounds were already on his trail. He had misjudged the reach of their roots, underestimated the depth of their paranoia.
With a resigned sigh, Grey dismounted from his horse.
He had hoped to live longer under the mask of "Leo," but fate was not so kind.
"How did you find out?" he asked, voice devoid of emotion.
Elizabeth's gaze sharpened, the light in her eyes now tinged with fanatic fire.
"Go and ask the King of Hell!" she hissed, and lunged toward him.
Grey didn't hesitate. In an instant, he invoked his Resistance of Darkness authority. The shadows beneath his feet writhed unnaturally, rising like living tar. A sword formed in his hand,pure black, devoid of ornament or rune. It seemed to absorb the very light around it, a void in steel's shape.
Seeing it, Elizabeth faltered for half a breath, her pupils narrowing.
"A Soldier-rank Paladin?!"
Her words trembled with disbelief.
When did he reach that level?
According to her intelligence, he was at best a Citizen-rank. Advancement under normal circumstances took years painful, ritual-filled years. She herself had clawed her way to Soldier-rank after five relentless winters of sacrifice and obedience.
But him? In three years?
Unnatural.
Dangerous potential.
Her grip tightened around her blade. If he had reached Soldier-rank this quickly, there were only two possibilities either he had stumbled upon a terrifyingly rare opportunity or he was under the guidance of someone powerful person or organisation. Both were very bad.
More than confused, she was alarmed.
Darkness curled from Grey's body like a living cloak, and Elizabeth's doubt hardened into resolve. She surged forward, her strikes now infused with brutal precision.
Steel clashed against void. Sparks and tendrils of dark energy scattered into the air. Every movement of Grey's blade carried weight beyond its form an oppressive, devouring heaviness that denied the light.
She gritted her teeth. The longer she fought, the more uncertain she became.
Darkness authority, yet no divine mark. No aura of worship. No signs of guidance. How did he evolve? How did he stand here alive, powerful without ever kneeling before his god?
Most would never achieve such a thing without a church's blessing. Even nobles who bowed and scraped for decades rarely touched such authority.
She should have killed him the first time.
Now, it was too late.
Grey's counterstrike knocked her backward. Her boots scraped against soil and root as she slid, but she steadied herself with a deep breath. Then, with ice in her voice, she looked into his cold, unreadable eyes.
"Do you know my name?"
Grey gave a slight shake of the head.
She raised her sword and declared,
"My name is Elizabeth Starfall.
Today, you will witness why we are called Starfall."