The moment the door creaked open, Luther flinched from the sound and squinted, groaning at the sudden brightness that poured in.

Standing there was the cheerful female apprentice, a warm smile stretched across her face as she bowed lightly.

"Good afternoon, Saint Luther," she greeted, voice like morning bells.

Luther blinked. Afternoon? His eyes darted to the window. The sunlight wasn't soft anymore—it was a heavy, golden hue that only came after noon. He groaned, dragging a hand across his face.

"Don't tell me I slept through the morning again."

"Oh, you didn't just sleep," a dry voice drawled in his head. "You hibernated. Like a log. A very useless log."

Luther shot a glare toward the necklace lying innocently on his neck. The demonic sword's voice had that irritatingly smug undertone again.

He wanted—desperately wanted—to smack it against the wall, but doing so in front of the apprentice would raise questions he wasn't ready to answer.

Right. Keep the crazy talking sword thing to myself, he reminded himself as he slumped back down.

The apprentice, oblivious to the murderous glare Luther was throwing at the jewelry, clasped her hands together. "The elders said to let you rest. You've been through quite a lot lately, Saint Luther."

"Oh, he's been through nothing," the sword whispered lazily in his mind. "You should've seen the last idiot who wielded me. Now that was suffering. He screamed like a baby every time I—"

"Shut up," Luther muttered under his breath.

"Hmm?" the apprentice tilted her head.

"Nothing." He gave her a small smile that could barely be called polite. "Just… talking to myself. Holy habit, you know?"

"Liar," the sword snorted.

Luther clenched his jaw. One day, I'll find a way to mute you.

As if reading his mind, the sword chuckled. "You can't. You love me too much already."

Keep talking and I'll use you as a coat rack.

Before the sword could reply, the apprentice stepped forward and said brightly, "The elders have gone out to prepare your things for the journey to the Enferi Forest. Elder Haro even cancelled all lessons today."

Luther blinked, half-surprised. "So they're… serious about sending me off like some errand boy?"

The apprentice nodded eagerly.

Luther sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "Guess I should be honored. My grand purpose as a Saint—fetching sticks in a cursed forest."

"That's the spirit!" the sword said cheerfully. "Look at the bright side, you might die before boredom kills you."

Luther's eye twitched. "I liked it better when you were sealed shut."

The sword hummed in his head. "And I liked it better when I wasn't stuck with a Saint who sleeps like he's avoiding divine responsibility."

The apprentice's voice snapped him out of his mental sparring. "So, Saint Luther, will you be resting again or—?"

He blinked, pausing mid-thought. "Wait. What's your name again?"

The girl froze, still smiling, but her eyes flickered in confusion.

Luther internally winced. Great. I don't even know her name. He replayed their interactions—the healing at the hospital wing, her being assigned as his personal aide, her endless cheerful greetings every morning. Not once did I ask.

"Umm," she started nervously, brushing her short brown hair behind her ear. "It's Alina, Saint Luther. I was assigned to you by Elder Haro."

"Ah," Luther said, pretending he totally knew that. "Of course, Alina. I was just… testing your memory."

She giggled softly. "I see."

"You really don't," he muttered, flopping back onto the bed.

"You're hopeless," the sword laughed. "At this point, even I feel embarrassed for you."

"Keep talking," Luther whispered under his breath, "and I'll donate you to the temple's relic collection."

"Ha! They'd worship me in seconds."

They'd melt you down in less than one.

As Alina moved closer, arranging the bed sheets he'd kicked off in his sleep, she said lightly, "It's a free day today, Saint Luther. The temple apprentices are studying in the library, and the guards are training in the west courtyard if you'd like to observe."

Luther gave her a long, blank look.

"Books or sweaty men hitting each other with sticks… what wonderful choices."

"Saint Luther!" she gasped, trying not to laugh.

"I'm just saying," he stretched his arms, "if I wanted to torture myself, I'd attend another sermon."

The sword hummed mischievously. "Speaking of sermons, didn't you promise that angry priest you'd join him for prayers today?"

Luther's eyes widened slightly. "...I did."

Alina looked confused. "You did?"

He coughed, straightening his robe. "Yes, well, I'm sure the prayers went great without me. The gods don't need me there personally to bless their day, right?"

The sword laughed so hard that Luther felt his temple throb. "Oh, they're definitely going to smite you one day."

He shot a dry smirk. "They'll have to get in line."

For a few seconds, the room fell quiet—until Alina spoke again, her tone more hesitant. "Well, if you don't want to read or train, maybe you'd like to visit the garden or the prayer hall? It's unusually lively today."

Luther groaned. "Pass."

Alina blinked. "Then… what would you like to do?"

"Sleep."

"Again?"

"Forever, if possible."

The sword scoffed. "You're the most depressing holy man I've ever met."

Luther smirked faintly. "You've met others?"

"Yes. They cried more."

Before Luther could reply, the sword's tone shifted. "Wait. You said this is a holy place, right? Why can't any of them sense me? I'm practically leaking demonic charm here."

That question had been in Luther's mind too. He leaned back, pretending to inspect his nails. Yeah, why can't they sense him?

The sword gave a lazy, proud hum. Seeming to answer the question he brought down himself "oh i see. Its because of you, it seems. Your magic's so big it's drowning out my aura. It's like hiding a dragon in a storm cloud. They can't sense me as long as I'm near you."

Luther rolled his eyes. "So basically, you're freeloading off me."

"Borrowing your greatness, Saint Shiny-pants."

"Say that again and I'll bury you under the chapel."

"Promises, promises."

Alina tilted her head, noticing his half-suppressed smirk. "Saint Luther?"

He waved her off quickly. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

She giggled. "You're quite funny, Saint Luther. I didn't expect that."

Luther smiled weakly. If only you knew who I was arguing with.

Then Alina's voice brightened. "Actually, there was a report this morning. The Noia Town outpost mentioned monster wolves attacking the outskirts. The merchants are having trouble passing through."

Luther perked up slightly. "Monster wolves?"

She nodded, shuffling through a few papers she'd brought along. "They said they've been spotted several times but the town guards are too few to handle it. The elders said they'll send an official squad in two days."

The sword suddenly spoke in his head, tone sly. "You hear that, Saint? Sounds like a chance for you to do some real holy work. You know, help the helpless, save the day, all that shiny nonsense."

Luther snorted. "You just want to see blood."

"Tomato, tomato."

He looked back at Alina, thinking. It's not like I have anything better to do. And maybe… maybe I'll find something useful out there.

Alina blinked as Luther stood abruptly. "Saint Luther?"

He stretched lazily. "Tell me, Alina—can you take me there?"

She gasped. "To Noia Town?"

He nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Well, it beats sleeping all day. And besides…" he gave a mock-saintly smile, "isn't helping people supposed to be my job?"

The sword snickered. "Look at you, pretending to be noble. I'm so proud I could vomit."

"Do it quietly."

Alina clasped her hands together, looking both excited and nervous. "I'll make the preparations immediately then!"

"Good," Luther said, turning toward his cloak and sliding it on. "And tell the guards not to follow. I'd rather avoid the whole 'saint with an escort' parade."

"Yes, Saint Luther!" she said brightly, rushing out.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, leaving the room quiet again—until the sword let out a long whistle.

"Admit it, you just want to impress the girl."

Luther groaned. "You're imagining things."

"Am I? You blushed when she smiled."

"I did not."

"You did."

"I'll turn you into a spoon."

"You'd still have to eat with me," it replied smugly.

He rolled his eyes, gathering his things. Why am I even arguing with a sword?

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