The man turned his head and murmured a few gentle words to the butterfly. Then he raised his hand. Obediently, the butterfly flew up and landed on the knuckle of his bent index finger. His gaze was tender. Though his black-and-white priestly robes resembled mourning clothes, that gentle, considerate air about him was certainly not an act.
As if sensing someone watching him, the priest turned his head and looked in Dia Lan's direction.
Only from the front could she see how terrifying his eyes were—rust-red like iron rust. His features were quite refined, though they still retained the youthful immaturity of someone only recently grown.
"(Unknown language) Who's there?"
Though he was clearly looking at Dia Lan, his rust-red eyes reflected only the lush green of the trees. She could sense him, but could not see the actual person.
She could not understand what language he was speaking, yet she knew what he meant. He was asking whether someone was standing there.
Just as Dia Lan was at a loss, a tall armored figure slowly emerged from the shadows. "(Unknown language) Don't be nervous, Father Klo Raven. That child can't cross over. She isn't in The Astra Cervante's, much less on Garvin Star."
The priest turned to the armored man. "(Unknown language) Mr. Vilde, are those the souls you usually converse with? I can hear their voices but cannot see their forms. They may be ghosts or something similar. I could perform rites and guide them toward true peace."
"(Unknown language) Don't! Father Klo Raven, you've already killed quite a few people and souls lately. The Imperial Health Bureau's investigation into you is strict right now. If you don't want your identity as Rampage Armor exposed, then keep practicing medicine and making coffins like a good boy."
Vilde had