Many years later, in the tranquil land of Percival, tales about the Saintess were still circulating.
Although time had passed and people aged, they could still vividly recall the young lady dressed in white clothes, standing in the middle of Central Square, untouched by the dust of the troubled world, her eyes filled with merciful compassion.
There were many beautiful faces in the world, but a soul filled with divine grace was the only one of its kind.
The sunset imbued the sky with shades of color. The fiery clouds were noticeably vivid.
In the lingering gazes of the onlookers, the Silver Armor Guard paved the way, escorting the Saintess away.
"Let's go." Anton Cook withdrew his gaze and casually left the crowd.
Kelly Martinez gave him a side glance without making a sound. Anton Cook laughed, "What's wrong?"
"We are being followed."
"It seems the new king is not quite confident in me. What is he worried about?"