"I'm here to help you."
"Help me?" Upon hearing Fenna's words, the young nun furrowed her brows in confusion. Only then did she notice some details in the other's equipment.
That indeed was the attire and insignia of the Storm Church, yet it was unlike any standard issue she was familiar with. She had never heard of any high-ranking female church official using such a grotesque longsword in battle—clearly, the sword was custom-made and not meant for ordinary guardians.
The "battle sister" standing before her, who looked as young as herself and unusually tall, was from an era she did not recognize.
The young nun fell silent for a few seconds, then said calmly, "Where are you from?"
"1900."
"I died in battle today, didn't I?"
"Yes," Fenna advanced calmly, "it seems you already know what happened."
"The Doomsday Preachers. I don't know how they accomplished it, but they opened a subspace rift within the church. I sounded the alarm to the outside, but received no response…"