The air was alive with the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and too many unwashed bodies packed together in one noisy, glorious mess. The Marketplace of Whispers, as the locals called it, was bursting with life. Traders shouted over one another, coins clinked in greedy palms, and nobles pretended not to notice the pickpockets sneaking around their carriages.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Luther could actually breathe.

He stretched his arms wide, grinning like a child seeing the sun after years underground. "Ahh… the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and bad decisions. Home sweet home."

A voice puffed from behind him, breathless and annoyed.

"Sire! Slow—down! You're walking like you're being chased by a demon!"

He turned, flashing a guilty smile as Alina caught up, clutching the side of her apprentice robe. Her black cape swayed with her hurried movements. She bent forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard. "You—you could've at least waited. You're supposed to be the saint, not a runaway criminal!"

"Sorry, sorry," Luther said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just—after being stuck in that temple for an entire month, even a street rat looks like a blessing."

Alina rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "You could've asked to go out. The Saint's Authority isn't exactly something people say no to."

Several nearby heads turned at the mention of the word 'Saint'.

Luther immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. "Shh! Do you want to get us executed?!" he hissed. A few heads turned toward them, curious at the word saint. Luther forced a smile at the onlookers, pretending to cough awkwardly until they looked away.

"Let's not throw the S-word around, alright?" he whispered. "You're wearing apprentice robes; people might already know who you are. But me? I'd like to avoid being worshiped in the middle of the street, thank you."

Alina blinked innocently. "But you are the saint—"

"Alina." His flat tone cut her off.

"Right, sorry, mysterious traveler it is," she said, grinning mischievously.

Luther groaned and adjusted the blue crystal hanging from his left ear — a small disguise charm he requested from the temple. The same crystal design hung around Alina's neck but white, her apprentice necklace gleaming softly in the morning sun.

She groaned, trying not to smile, and straightened up beside him. Luther's attire was far plainer—just a simple white tunic tucked into brown leather pants, a travel-worn cloak resting over his shoulders, and a short sword hung at his waist—too modest to belong to a saint, too finely made for a common traveler.

But hidden beneath his easy grin, however, Luther's thoughts swirled like a silent storm.

Only the Emperor and the High Priest know my face. That's how it should stay… for now.

His fingers brushed the blue crystal at his ear. This little thing… my perfect excuse. Let them think it's what lets me use magic, a way to blend in. Can't have anyone finding out his identity so soon. He wasn't interested in people bowing and asking him for blessings or miracles. Not after the last mess.

The demonic sword's voice echoed from where it was hidden beneath his cape top, the necklace glowed red.

"You're enjoying this too much, meatbag."

Quiet, Luther replied mentally. You were the one crying last night about how bored you were in the temple.

"I wasn't crying, I was emotionally venting. Huge difference."

Luther sighed. Why can't you ever be normal?

"Why can't you ever be fun?"

He smirked. "Touché."

They passed a stall selling bright fruits that sparkled faintly with magic, a group of street performers playing enchanted flutes, and a man yelling about miracle potions that smelled suspiciously like swamp water.

Alina tugged his sleeve and pointed ahead. "The merchants' caravan is gathering over there. If we want to reach the outskirts before sunset, we should probably join them."

Luther followed her gaze. A group of travelers and merchants were busy loading carriages, their wagons creaking under crates and barrels. A horse neighed, stamping its hooves impatiently.

"Perfect," Luther said, stepping forward eagerly.

Luther nodded but arched an eyebrow. "You're sure they won't notice two temple folks tagging along?"

"Well…" She rubbed the back of her neck. "Your clothes are normal enough. You look like some lazy scholar skipping lectures. I, however…"

Luther's gaze traveled from her pristine white robe to the shimmering crystal pendant hanging proudly at her chest.

"Yeah, you do look like a glowing signboard for the Church."

Alina puffed her cheeks. "That's not my fault! It's the official apprentice attire."

"Then maybe next time wear something less… divine."

She stuck her tongue out. "You could've told me that before we left the temple!"

The sword chuckled faintly in Luther's head.

"Though, seriously, I don't see why we couldn't just borrow horses from the temple stable." Alina asked as she gave him a flat stare.

Luther nervously giggled, knowing fully well he was the reason. The gaurds may think his running away.

As they wove through the bustling crowd, a drunk-looking spiky hair man stumbled into Luther's shoulder. The impact made him take a step back. The man reeked of ale and bad life decisions. He glared up at Luther with bloodshot eyes before muttering something incoherent and stumbling away.

Luther blinked, rubbing his shoulder. "Well, that's just rude."

The demonic sword muttered darkly.

"Want me to stab him? I can stab him. I want to stab him."

"No stabbing," Luther replied dryly. "He's not worth the blood."

Alina frowned, checking him for injuries. "You're sure you're okay sire?"

Sire?

"Fine. Just a walking disaster magnet, as usual." He dusted off his shirt, muttering under his breath. "If today ends without me being attacked, cursed, or dragged into some divine mess, I'll consider it a miracle."

"You say that like you don't secretly enjoy chaos."

I enjoy peace, Luther shot back mentally. You know, that thing you demons burn for fun?

The sword made a dramatic scoff.

"Peace is overrated. Look at all these happy people — bored out of their minds."

"True," Luther murmured, smirking faintly as his eyes wandered over the bustling market. "But at least they get to be bored. That's luxury."

His thoughts drifted briefly. If only I could just… live normally. No temples, no angels, no divine politics. Just me, maybe a tavern, a drink… and silence.

But fate had other plans.

A scream suddenly tore through the marketplace. It wasn't the startled shriek of a haggle gone wrong — it was raw, terrified, echoing through the air like the crack of thunder.

Luther's body reacted before his mind did.

He spun toward the sound, cloak whipping behind him. His instincts flared, holy energy stirring faintly beneath his skin. Alina called out, "Luther, wait—!" but he was already moving.

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