The Church of Tyr Comes Calling

At those words, Solam's smile vanished. He said nothing, merely gazing quietly at Weslan before him.

The Holy Avenger had been reclaimed by Solam as soon as the battle ended. At the time, many paladins had wanted to ask Solam to leave the divine artifact behind, but they simply could not bring themselves to say it. There was nothing they could do—it was Solam's personal property, and paladins had no right to interfere. They could only watch helplessly as Solam took the artifact back.

The moment he saw Weslan, Solam had guessed that the man would ask about the artifact. In fact, the instant Solam brought it out, he had known this would happen. But he had gotten carried away at the time and had not thought it through. Afterwards, Solam regretted it deeply.

But guessing it was one thing; that did not mean Solam was happy about it. In fact, he was furious. Even if he could not use the artifact at all, it was still Solam's property. It was not anyone else's place to covet it.

"And if I refuse?" Solam dropped his irritatingly polite expression, the malice on his face now plain to see.

"I ask you once more! The fate of tens of millions of innocent people is at stake. I need this divine artifact to punish the evil that is coming! I know my request is unreasonable, but please understand!" Weslan did not answer Solam's question directly. It was simply too difficult to respond to. Weslan was neither a fool nor some bandit tyrant. His intentions were simple: to request—to beg—Solam to agree.

As long as Solam agreed, he was willing to do anything. He had already faced Alfred and knew all too well how formidable that divine ancient vampire was. Without the Holy Avenger,