Elshua woke to the scent of fresh bread and the soft clink of dishes, his body sinking into the inn's plush bed, the furs warm against his skin.
The fire in the hearth had died to embers, casting a faint glow across the room, and dawn's light filtered through the window, painting the wooden beams in pale gold.
His golden hair spilled across the pillow, and he rubbed his eyes, the faint glow of his own gaze startling him for a moment.
The mirror's reflection from last night lingered in his mind—golden hair, golden eyes, skin like alabaster. He was Elshua, the Spark of Aeloria, not Jun, the college kid who'd scraped by on instant noodles.
The young paladin was already up, bustling around the room with the energy of a squirrel.
Caelan had laid out a clean tunic and trousers on a chair, the fabric finer than anything Jun had ever worn, and was now arranging a tray of food by the bedside.
"Good morning, Your Holiness," Caelan said, his voice bright, his curls bouncing as he turned with a smile.
He held a wooden comb, gesturing toward Elshua's tangled hair.
"You're looking better, but let me fix this before breakfast. Can't have the Spark of Aeloria meeting the knights with a bird's nest on his head."
His grin was boyish, almost teasing, and Elshua couldn't help but soften, the tension in his chest easing.
He'd spent the night maintaining a neutral facade, ignoring Caelan's touchy attentiveness, but now, seeing the paladin's earnest efforts, he wondered if he was doing more harm than good.
Caelan's covenant, whatever it was, clearly tied him to Elshua's past—a past Jun didn't know but couldn't keep dodging. Acting distant might protect his secret, but it risked alienating the one person who seemed to care most about him.
He sat up, letting Caelan comb his hair, the paladin's hands gentle as he worked through the knots, humming a quiet tune—a hymn, maybe, from the monastery Elshua supposedly came from.
"Thanks, Caelan," Elshua said, his voice softer than before, testing a warmer tone.
Hearing that, Caelan's eyes lit up, and he nearly dropped the comb, his cheeks flushing.
"You're welcome, Your Holiness," Caelan said, his grin widening. "Now, let's get you ready. The Lion Hearts are eager to meet you properly."
He gestured to the door, where the clank of armor and low voices drifted from the inn's common room.
"My knight order—one hundred strong, sworn to Aeloria and to you. The lion crest you saw, that's ours. The Lion Hearts Knight Order. We've been searching for you since… well, since we lost you."
Elshua nodded, his mind racing. The lion crest—gold with a ring of stars—made sense now, a symbol of the knights' loyalty. Caelan's words carried weight, a reminder of the three years Elshua was supposed to have been missing.
He still didn't know the details of that past—monastery, betrayal, demons—but Caelan's faith was unshaken, and the other knights shared it, calling him "Your Holiness" without a hint of doubt.
He needed to lean into that trust, to build on it, especially with the high demon still out there. The system's latest objective—defeat the demon—loomed large, and he couldn't do it alone.
Caelan led him to the common room, where a long table was set with a hearty breakfast: warm bread, butter, smoked fish, and bowls of porridge studded with dried fruit.
The knights stood as Elshua entered, their armor gleaming in the morning light, their faces a mix of reverence and relief.
"Your Holiness," they said in unison, bowing slightly, and Elshua felt a flush of discomfort.
He wasn't used to this kind of attention, but he forced a small smile, nodding back as Caelan guided him to a seat at the head of the table.
The meal was a welcome distraction, the food rich and filling compared to Jun's college diet of instant ramen. Caelan hovered, as expected, piling extra fish on Elshua's plate and refilling his mug with warm cider before he could ask.
"You need strength, Your Holiness," Caelan said, his voice earnest as he pushed a bowl of porridge closer.
"The Spark must be ready for what's ahead."
Elshua caught a few knights chuckling softly at Caelan's fussing, but their eyes were warm, their faith in him palpable.
He ate slowly, savoring the flavors, and let himself relax into the moment, the clatter of spoons and the knights' banter creating a sense of camaraderie he hadn't expected.
After breakfast, Caelan clapped his hands, his voice taking on a commanding edge.
"Lion Hearts, to the council chamber. We've a demon to plan for."
The knights rose, their chairs scraping the wooden floor, and moved to a smaller room off the common area, its walls lined with maps and a single table at the center. Elshua stood, intending to follow, but Caelan held up a hand, his expression firm.
"Your Holiness, you should rest. This is knight business. We'll handle the strategy."
Elshua's stomach twisted. The high demon was his fight, too—the system had made that clear. He couldn't sit it out, not when his survival, and maybe the world's fate, hinged on defeating it.
"I want to join," he said, his voice steady despite the flicker of unease. "I need to know what's happening."
Caelan's brow furrowed, his blue eyes narrowing, but Elshua pressed on, softening his tone.
"Please, Caelan. I may not remember everything, but I'm the Spark, right? I should at least hear the plan."
Caelan hesitated, his lips pursing like he wanted to argue, but Elshua's plea hit a soft spot. The paladin's shoulders slumped, and he sighed, running a hand through his curls.
"Fine, Your Holiness," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "But you're only listening. No risks, no heroics. Promise me."
Elshua nodded, and Caelan's expression softened, a small smile breaking through.
"Alright, then. Stay close to me."
The council chamber was cramped, the air thick with the scent of ink and leather. The knights gathered around the table, their armor clanking as they leaned over a map of the forest.
Sir Torren, the scarred veteran, took the lead, his voice gruff. "The high demon's been sighted near the Blackthorn Ridge, two miles west. It's raiding farms, burning crops. Skitterbeasts follow it, but it's the real threat—shadow and flame, stronger than anything we've faced."
He pointed to a spot on the map, his finger tracing a path. "We'll draw it to the old quarry. The terrain's rough, good for traps. Archers on the cliffs, swordsmen in formation below."
Caelan nodded, adding, "We'll need divine wards. My healing can support the wounded, and we'll use blessed steel to weaken the demon's defenses."
He glanced at Elshua, his eyes protective rather than expectant, and Elshua felt a pang of relief. The knights weren't relying on his powers—yet—but he knew his Heal and Shield skills could make a difference if things went south.
"I'm coming with you," Elshua said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
The room fell silent, the knights exchanging glances.
Caelan's face paled, his mouth opening to protest, but Elshua cut him off, his voice firm.
"I know I'm not a fighter, but my skills can help. Heal, Shield—I can keep you alive. The demon's after me, isn't it? I can't just hide."
Caelan shook his head, his curls bouncing. "Your Holiness, it's too dangerous. You're the Spark, our hope. If we lose you again…"
His voice cracked, and Elshua saw the pain in his eyes, the echo of those three years of loss. It hit him hard—Caelan's devotion wasn't just duty; it was personal, tied to a friendship Jun didn't remember but couldn't ignore.
"Please, Caelan," Elshua said, softening his tone, his golden eyes meeting the paladin's. "I need to do this. Let me stand with you."
He leaned forward, a plea in his voice, and Caelan's resolve wavered, his lips twitching as if fighting a smile. Elshua was his weak spot, and they both knew it.
Caelan sighed, rubbing his face. "Alright, Your Holiness," he said, his voice resigned but warm.
"You stay by my side, no exceptions. If I say run, you run. Agreed?"
Elshua nodded, relief washing over him, and the knights murmured their approval, their faith in the Spark outweighing their doubts.
The discussion continued, the knights mapping out traps and formations. Elshua listened, his mind racing. The quarry was a good choice—narrow paths, high cliffs, places to funnel the demon.
His skills could keep the knights fighting, but he'd need to be smart, using the terrain like he had against the skitterbeasts. The system pinged, a golden window appearing:
༺═════════════════༻
System Notification: Strategy Formed!
Objective Updated: Defeat the High Demon with the Lion Hearts Knight Order.
༺═════════════════༻
⟪Note: Your skills will strengthen your allies, Saint Elshua. Stay close to Caelan and protect the knights to secure your path.⟫
Elshua glanced at the window, grateful it was invisible to the others. The system's confidence bolstered him, but the reality was daunting.
He was a saint with no combat skills, relying on a hundred knights and a paladin who treated him like a fragile treasure.
As the meeting ended, the knights dispersed to prepare, their armor clanking, and Caelan stayed by Elshua's side, his hand brushing Elshua's shoulder as he guided him back to the common room.
"You're sure about this, Your Holiness?"
Caelan asked, his voice low, his eyes searching. He handed Elshua another dried apricot, a small, hopeful gesture, and Elshua took it, smiling faintly.
"I'm sure," he said, his resolve hardening.
The high demon was his chance to prove he could change the story, to keep the Holy See from retreating and give the protagonists a fighting chance.
He'd survived chapter one, found allies, and now he'd face the demon, not as Jun, but as Elshua, the Spark of Aeloria, with Caelan and the Lion Hearts at his side.