CHAPTER 1448: RESCUE MISSION

__Somewhere, in Wellington city__

The apartment was small, a little cramped, but undeniably cozy. Warm brick walls were lined with vibrant paintings, and a soft gray carpet covered the wooden floor. In the corner sat a modest dark-gray sofa, brightened with colorful pillows, just big enough for Lydia to sprawl across during her rare moments of rest.

Everything had been provided by Noxcra as a practical gesture to help her settle in while carrying out her mission.

at the moment, Lydia sat at a small round wooden table near the sliding glass door. The evening light filtered through the glass, painting soft streaks across her laptop screen.

After typing for a few moments, she paused, propped her chin in one hand, and took a slow sip of tea. Then, with the faintest trace of irony tugging at her lips, she scrolled past yet another headline: ’The Saintess Moves the Masses—Miracles or Destiny?’

Thousands of people gathered in the photo, young, old, frail, radiant, all of them gazing at the Saintess as though she were the divine incarnation herself.

A sea of tears, clasped hands, and trembling faith. Once, Lydia might have been among them. She remembered the first time she saw the woman in person during a grand assembly: how her heart had swelled, her admiration almost painful. Back then, the Saintess had seemed untouchable, a beacon of hope wrapped in silk and sanctity.

But now? Oh, now Lydia saw her for what she truly was. Not a holy savior. Not even a pale reflection of greatness. No, this woman was the discount knockoff of a legacy that once belonged to a real hero: Princess Lorient.

Lydia almost laughed at herself, at the sheer absurdity of ever thinking otherwise. How had she, who once grieved at the mention of Princess Lorient’s name, ever allowed herself to be dazzled by this hollow spectacle?

Unlike anyone else, Princess Lorient hadn’t merely spoken of sacrifice; she had lived it. Lydia could still picture the young princess, hurling herself into a horde of ravenous beasts to shield her people and lead them to safety, even as everything she loved was reduced to ash.

Side by side with her subjects, she fought through blood and fire without so much as a flinch, her resolve unshaken.

later on she found out that the reason for her decade-long disappearance wasn’t cowardice or defeat, but a desperated act of a sister trying to help her only brother: For that, princess Lorient leave the safety of L’markieth and ventured into the abyss itself to find a way to save her brother, King Lucas, before he was forced to wield the Seven Gods’ Swords and pay their terrible price.

A girl who is only mid-twenties, stepping alone into a world of endless night, where every shadow crawled with ferocious demon beasts.

Lydia could almost feel it, the crushing weight of despair, the bone-deep loneliness, the kind of silence that devours the mind. And yet... Princess Lorient emerged from it all.

Not broken, not bitter, but somehow warm-hearted and kind, as though the darkness had forged her into something greater rather than consumed her.

And that, Lydia thought with quiet awe, was what true greatness looked like.

And then there was the Saintess. Oh yes, the ’Saintess.’ She didn’t walk, she paraded. She didn’t help; she performed. Wherever she went, there were grand openings, jeweled gowns, expensive spectacles that cost a lot of money that could feed ten orphanages.

A ceremony covered with silk veils, expensive wine in the golden goblet, then came that ever-present knight, Salvo De Rova, who was as handsome yet as pointless as the saintess.

Together, they made quite the picture, well, if one enjoyed pageantry over substance. Lydia wondered bitterly, how could such polished theatrics ever hope to match the quiet, bloodstained, bone-deep heroism of Princess Lorient and the Lucient family had done?

They couldn’t. But looking at the worshippers on her screen, Lydia realized something else: no one cared. And perhaps, she thought grimly, that was the greatest miracle of all.

The door was suddenly knocked. Lydia didn’t worry; this apartment was protected by Noxcra agents inside and out, and with Justin Thornberry, the mighty Archknight, watching over them personally, there was no real danger befalling them, at least not now.

"Come in," Lydia said, without taking her eyes off the laptop screen.

The door opened, and Madeline stepped inside. "Ugh, I’m exhausted," she sighed, tossing her jacket onto the sofa before heading straight to the refrigerator. She poured herself a glass of cold juice and drank deeply.

Only then did Lydia glance away from her screen. Her lips curved in a faint, pitiful yet teasing smile.

"So... how was the sermon? Did our precious Saintess heal the masses again?"

Maddeline sighed as she set her glass of juice down. She and Jack had been tasked with observing the Saintess’s grand healing ceremony. It was an event that drew crowds from all over the world. Thousands of people, desperate for miracles, never questioning where those miracles came from... or what price they carried.

Madeline paused mid-sip, then set the glass down with a loud thud. "About a hundred," she replied casually. "Mostly war cripples and accident cases. Quite the spectacle."

"The Sanctuary must be overflowing," Lydia said with a smirk, turning her gaze back to her screen.

"Overflowing with donations and clout, that is. Oh—don’t forget the bribe money for anyone who wants to cut the line," Madeline added with a sharp, cynical smile.

"Regardless, that money should be used to help people in need. But no, they waste it on trivial nonsense, like dressing up the Saintess and parading her around as if she were some dignified goddess." Lydia’s expression was filled with disgust.

"Well, they tried..." Madeline grinned. "Even though all of it will disappear the moment Princess Lorient shows herself."

Lydia clicked on the Saintess’s video. The woman was trying so hard to look confident and poised, but compared to Princess Lorient, she was a pale imitation. The Saintess was lucky the Princess hadn’t shown herself yet, and the moment she did, it would make the Saintess look like a cheap fake.

"Even better," Madeline said, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling, a dreamy smirk tugging at her lips. "Imagine Princess Lorient and King Lucas standing side by side... it’d be like watching myth, legend, and reality collide."

She let out a long, almost satisfied exhale, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I’d pay to see the Saintess and her Paladins’ faces in that moment."

Lydia chuckled, low and sharp. "They’d probably choke on their own sanctimonious pride."

Madeline laughed softly, nodding. "Now that would be a miracle worth watching."

"But for now, we have to be patient," Lydia murmured, watching the video as the Saintess gave her speech, her smile just a little too tight, her hands just a little too stiff. "They keep twisting the narrative, trying to make people believe we don’t need the Lucients... or Harland."

"Thankfully, they haven’t achieved that goal," Madeline said firmly, her voice edged with quiet defiance. "The number of people saved by King Lucas and Princess Lorient is far from small."

"Maybe not now," Lydia murmured, her gaze heavy on the screen.

"But we can’t deny some people are unbelievably stupid... and far too easily swayed."

Madeline smirked faintly, but it didn’t last. Her expression grew serious. "Did you hear about the pile of corpses they found at Black Fog Hills?"

"I did," Lydia said with a grim nod. "But that news vanished as fast as it came and was now replaced by another wave of Saintess’s good deeds headlines."

Madeline’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I got word from a Noxcra agent. They think it’s connected to the S.A.I.N.T. organization. It said, Manuel Franco, the director of IHO, had a son, and it said the Son was gravely ill; it was thanks to the Saintess that he managed to recover. But guessed what Manuel Franco turned out to be, the one who got assigned to handle the Black Fog case."

"Oh no..." Lydia’s eyes widened in horror, for she could already see where this was going.

"Oh yes." Madeline raised her brows. "He’s the one who authorized burning all the corpses, claiming they were ’too toxic’ to keep around. Said it was for public safety, but the truth is he blocked any chance of further investigation."

"And people just let that happen?" Lydia’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

Madeline gave a helpless shrug. "The organization’s backed by Luxemborough. Even the Dolza government is under their thumb. Who would dare question them?"

"Lory won’t let this matter go, right?" Lydia asked, a faint spark of hope in her voice.

Madeline chuckled. "Knowing her? You think she’d just let it slide?" She waved a dismissive hand. "Rather than worry about that, we’d better focus on our own mission. Any news from Jasmine Wu?"

"Yes," Lydia said grimly. "She’s terrified. She’s been chosen for the next batch to receive the Saintess’s blessing." Her expression was filled with dread.

"She must be panicking right now," Madeline muttered, biting her lower lip.

"Yes. I’m trying to keep her calm, remind her not to draw the Paladins’ suspicion," Lydia replied, her voice low and tense.

"It must be hard for an eighteen-year-old girl to remain calm while facing the possibility of being slaughtered like cattle," Madeline said with a note of pity.

"Yeah... not everyone can be like Princess Lorient, unfazed in the face of death," Lydia said, her eyes glinting with admiration.

"You can’t compare an ordinary girl to our Princess, Lydia...that’s an overkill," Madeline emphasized the last sentence with a meaningful look.

Lydia let out a small smile. "I know. So... what should we do? How can we help her?"

Maddeline and Lydia exchange intense looks, because they knew what it meant to receive the saintess’ blessing.

"Have you reported this to Mr. Thornberry?" Madeline asked.

"Yeah, I just sent it a few minutes ago," Lydia replied, sipping her now-cold tea.

"Then... I guess we wait," Madeline muttered, leaning back in her chair.

Suddenly, the sharp chime of a phone notification cut through the room. It wasn’t Madeline’s. Her gaze shifted immediately to Lydia.

Lydia pulled out her phone, her brows knitting as she read the message.

Curious, Madeline moved closer, peering over her shoulder. The moment her eyes caught the screen, her expression tensed.

Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line and looked at Madeline. "Do you think we can pull this off?"

Madeline took a deep breath, her jaw set. "If we truly want to put an end to this, we have to."