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Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

“But though we’ve gone to war with the church, I am still a devout believer in Lumendori. I told Cyrilo that by helping her, I was dirtying my soul in the eyes of God, and that’s how I truly feel. Ever since that night, I’ve been unable to pray, and I feel so alone. I’m left wondering by what right I have to ask Lumendori for protection or forgiveness, having involved myself in the purest evil. Have I turned my back on God, or has God turned his back on me?”

Next to him, Viktor was impatiently tapping his foot, and the audience was close to running out of patience. Their frustrated silence turned to cheers when Noah stepped out under the guise of Reiss. Upon seeing him, Viktor turned deathly pale, not unlike the corpse he left behind. His guilt was unquestionable.