Mercy stepped forward, her movements fluid as water over stone. "May I ask, Cardinal — he killed hundreds. What makes him so important that we have to bring him in alive?"

"That," Theresa said, her smile turning cold, "is not your concern. Your concern is bringing him to me alive. The Church has questions that need answering."

Judgment snorted. "So we're supposed to work with someone who already failed once?"

Light's head turned slightly, just enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye. "I underestimated the target. It won't happen again."

"You're damn right it won't," Judgment shot back. "Because we'll be handling the actual work."

'Ugly. Crude. Graceless.'

The thought rose unbidden, sharp as broken glass. Not disgust at their appearance — though the silver-haired one carried a brutish energy that offended his sensibilities — but at their attitude. Their lack of respect for hierarchy. Their casual disregard for proper conduct. These were supposed to be holy women, servants of the Light, yet they spoke like common mercenaries haggling over spoiled meat.

Faith moved closer to Light, circling him with small, curious steps, her pale blue eyes examining his armor the way a child might examine a new toy. "You really do keep everything so pristine! Are all Inquisitors like this, or is it just you? Do you polish it yourself every day? I try to keep my uniform clean, but it always gets messy during blessings."

She said *blessings* with such cheerful enthusiasm that Light's stomach turned.

'What does she do to people that makes her uniform messy?'

He decided he didn't want to know.

"Please maintain distance," Light said, his voice strained but controlled.

Faith giggled—a bright, tinkling sound that scraped against his nerves—but stepped back.

Mercy observed the interaction with calm, measuring eyes, then addressed the Cardinal. "When do we depart?"

"Immediately," Theresa said. "The heretic has already had too much time to flee. Every moment wasted gives him more distance." She turned her gaze to Light, and something in those eyes made his skin prickle. "You will provide the sisters with all information regarding the target — his appearance, his summon's capabilities, anything that might be useful."

Light straightened almost imperceptibly. This, at least, was familiar ground. The clean precision of intelligence work.

"His summon," he began, his tone flat, "is not Mortal-tier as reported. It displayed combat effectiveness consistent with at least Legend-tier, possibly higher. It operated with unusual autonomy."

Mercy's expression didn't change, but Light caught the slight narrowing of her eyes. A flicker of genuine interest, quickly masked.

"Interesting. A misclassification of that magnitude is... unusual."

"Or," Judgment interjected, "he's just making excuses."

'Harbor not hatred in thy heart. For Love is only of the Light—'

"The summon was female in appearance," Light continued, ignoring Judgment entirely. His voice remained level, professional. "Humanoid. Red hair. Macabre helmet. Exhibited advanced combat techniques and tactical thinking beyond what a recently summoned F-rank should possess."

"Red hair!" Faith clapped her hands together, bouncing slightly on her heels. "I love red hair! I wonder if we'll become friends before I bless her!"

Light closed his eyes briefly.

These women were insane. He hated them. He hated all women — every single one of them. Filthy creatures, the lot of them, wrapped in flesh and false sweetness, corrupting everything they touched. The King of Gods had made a mistake when it created them. A grave, terrible mistake.

But he couldn't say that. Couldn't even let it show on his face.

So he said nothing at all.

Cardinal Theresa moved to Templar Lyanna's side, whispering something Light couldn't hear. The female templar nodded once, her expression shifting into formal authority, and stepped forward.

"The Grand Blue Order has jurisdiction over this matter as of now," Lyanna announced, her voice carrying the weight of official decree. "Templar Light, you are to provide full cooperation and assistance. Upon successful capture of the target, you will be released from this assignment."

"Understood," Light said.

Mercy turned to her sisters. "Judgment, Faith — we leave within the hour. Gather supplies and prepare for extended travel." She looked back at Light, and there was something almost predatory in her calm gaze. "Templar, you will meet us at the eastern gate. Do not be late."

It wasn't a request.

The three sisters moved in unison toward the door, their synchronized movement unsettling in its precision. Like three limbs of the same creature. Like something wearing the shape of separate women but answering to a single, hidden will.

As Faith passed Light, she leaned in slightly and whispered with that same bright, terrible smile: "Don't worry! We'll make sure you get your heretic! And then we can all celebrate the blessing together!"

She hummed a hymn as she left, the tune incongruously cheerful against the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Judgment paused at the doorway, glancing back at Light. "Try to keep up this time, Inquisitor. We don't have time to babysit."

Then they were gone, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

The room fell into uncomfortable silence.

Cardinal Theresa settled back into the pink sofa, a satisfied smile curling her lips like a cat that had cornered its prey. "You're dismissed, Templar Light. Don't disappoint me again."

Light bowed stiffly, his movements rigid with suppressed rage. As he turned to leave, he caught sight of the boy — the one with brown hair and dull golden armor, the one with the S-rank presence that pressed against Light's senses like a physical weight.

He had remained silent throughout the entire exchange. Watching. Analyzing. Those cold eyes missing nothing.

Their gazes met briefly.

Light saw no warmth there. No judgment either. Just... calculation. The look of someone cataloging threats.

Then Light walked out, his white cape sweeping behind him, his mind already racing with mantras and barely contained fury.

'Harbor not hatred in thy heart. For Love is only of the Light. I am of the Light, hence I am capable of Love and Love alone. Harbor not hatred in thy heart. For Love is only of the Light. I am of the Light, hence I am capable of Love and Love alone.'

The door closed behind him.

He had one hour to prepare for a mission with three zealots who made his skin crawl, hunting a target he'd already underestimated once.

Light's jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

This was going to be a nightmare.

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