The Six Braves’ destination was the northwestern tip of the Howling Vilelands, where the Evil God slept. The Saint of the Single Flower had named that land the Weeping Hearth. It would take about thirty days from the Evil God’s awakening for it to be fully revived. If the Braves of the Six Flowers failed to reach the Weeping Hearth by then, the world would end.
Half a day had passed since they had embarked into the Howling Vilelands. Adlet was leaning on Rolonia’s shoulder to stand. He could feel blood oozing from his stomach—the stab wound he’d gotten from Nashetania had begun hurting again.
“Addy, I’ll treat your stomach. Let your muscles relax.” Rolonia touched his stomach. Her power to control blood amplified his natural ability to recover. Before long, the bleeding stopped.
Adlet’s party was in a ravine on the eastern side of the Howling Vilelands, known as the Ravine of Spitten Blood. Apparently, it was so named because once, when the Saint of the Single Flower had fought the Evil God, she had been so exhausted that she vomited blood in this place.
The party had made it to the ravine without any fights. Encountering none of the ambushes the seven had expected by the coast, they’d arrived in no time at all. They proceeded cautiously through the intricate network of the ravines, alert for danger, and as they readied themselves for attacks from the outside, they probed one another for possible signs of treachery or deceit. Progress was slow, and the landscape was eerily quiet. Fremy sniped a few fiend lookouts, but after that, they saw no signs of their enemies.
Fremy and Mora were currently ahead of the group, scouting. The other five awaited their return.
“Are you okay, Rolonia?” asked Adlet. “You’re white as a sheet.”
“I’m…o-okay…” Rolonia stuttered.
Earlier, as they’d advanced into the Howling Vilelands, Adlet had brought her up to speed on their battle with Nashetania. At first, Rolonia hadn’t believed the story of the princess’s betrayal.
He’d also informed her that Fremy was both the daughter of a fiend and the Brave-killer. Face pale, Rolonia had replied that one of the Brave candidates Fremy had killed—Athlay, Saint of Ice—had been an acquaintance of hers.
“I know you have mixed feelings about partnering with Fremy,” said Adlet, “But leave that aside for now. There’s no point in any further infighting.”
“Y-yeah…”
“Adlet.” Fremy had returned from her reconnaissance.
“Eeep!” Rolonia shrieked.
Fremy, who’d been about to give her report, was even more startled. “What’s wrong, Rolonia?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all. I’m fine.” Rolonia was afraid of her—and not just her. She was also terrified of the assassin, Hans; the violent Chamo; and Goldof, who had been Nashetania’s retainer. The only ones the girl could manage a proper conversation with were those she’d known for a long time: Adlet and Mora. The boy understood the terror of a traitor in their midst, but Rolonia being too scared would cause problems.
“I couldn’t see any fiends. We should be okay for the time being. Mora went on ahead. Let’s catch up with her and regroup.” Fremy brought him up to speed, then turned away from Adlet. The group picked up the pace after her.
Suddenly, they heard a cry from the top of the ravine, and Rolonia flinched with her whole body. When Adlet raised his head, he saw a deer crossing the valley.
The fauna in the Howling Vilelands was surprisingly populous. The toxin produced by the Evil God had no effect on creatures other than humans. It was also said that fiends only attacked animals for food.
“Aw, a deer! So cute. Chamo’s pets are cuter, though.” Chamo beamed.
Rolonia was the only one among them who’d been startled. Seeing her jump at a deer made Adlet uneasy. He wondered if she could handle what was ahead of them.
“Hey, cow lady. If you’re such a weakling, how can you be a Brave?” Chamo demanded, waving her foxtail back and forth.
“Huh? Um…” Rolonia trailed off.
“Chamo knows all about you. You’re a washout Saint. The Spirit choosing you was just some kinda mistake. Nobody’d believe someone like you could actually be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers.”
“Um…” Rolonia simply hung her head. “I think…maybe…I might actually…not be.”
What’s she talking about? wondered Adlet.
“This is getting really annoying,” complained Chamo. “If you’re the seventh, come on and fess up already. If you say sorry now, you won’t get hurt.”
“Hey. Stop it,” ordered Adlet.
“When the crest appeared, I just couldn’t believe that I was one of the Braves of the Six Flowers… I thought, maybe…I was somehow chosen by mistake.”
“Well, there you have it, then,” said Chamo.
Just as Adlet prepared to reprimand her, a voice called out ahead of them. “I think Rolonia is strong.”
It was Fremy.
“I heard that Mora was so charmed by her talents, she gave her special one-on-one training. The reason I didn’t go after Mora was because Rolonia was at All Heavens Temple.”
Chamo huffed. “Hmph. Then maybe she’s sorta strong.”
“Th-thank you very much, Fremy,” stuttered Rolonia.
“You don’t have to thank me. I still suspect you.”
“…Ulp.” Rolonia winced.
“But that aside, I want to hear more about you. All I know about you is that you’re the Saint of Spilled Blood and that you’re supposed to be quite powerful.”
“Oh, yeah, Rolonia. You should tell her,” prompted Adlet.
“I became a Saint two and a half years ago,” Rolonia began. “Before that, I was a servant. I was really supposed to have resigned right away, but Lady Mora ordered me to train to be one of the Braves of the Six Flowers. At the
