Granted, I didn't hit her hard.
But still—it was enough.
Enough for the sound to cut through the heavy air, sharp and unnatural.
Enough for Asia to feel it, to register pain that wasn't from guilt, or fear, or accusations.
The Church, their warriors, their faithful—they'd all branded her a witch.
Not because she'd committed some heinous crime, not because she'd renounced faith.
No.
All she did was heal.
Heal those they considered unworthy: devils, fallen angels.
That was her 'sin.'
That was all it took for them to turn on her.
It was pathetic.
And now, standing here, with Xenovia's blade drawn and Irina's words dripping with false kindness, Asia was crumbling.
Her body shook.
Her eyes begged for someone—anyone—to save her.
I could've stepped in, played the hero.
Said something grand about justice, about protecting her, about defying the Church's hypocrisy.
That's what people in stories do, right?
Earn the girl's gratitude.
Collect those brownie points.
Build a harem, maybe.
But this isn't a story.
This is real life.
Asia isn't some toy to win.
She isn't some fragile maiden waiting for me to sweep her off her feet.
She's… family.
Precious in a way that can't be warped into fantasy.
So I didn't coddle her.
I slapped her.
A single, clean strike across her cheek.
Not out of cruelty.
Not to hurt her.
But to snap her out of it.
To wake her up.
To remind her that she was more than the Church's discarded doll, more than their 'Holy Maiden' turned 'witch.'
The sting of my hand was nothing compared to the pain of staying broken.
Everyone stared at me in stunned silence.
The sound of the slap still echoed in the air, their shock as sharp as the strike itself.
But I didn't care.
My eyes were only on Asia.
"Asia," I said firmly, "stop trembling and look at me. Why are you shaking like this? Do you regret it—healing others? Devils, fallen angels, anyone at all?"
Her lips quivered.
For a moment, nothing came out.
Then, in the faintest whisper:
"…No…"
"Then why are you in this state?"
I pressed.
"Their words mean nothing. You don't need saving from this argument. You knew what you were doing, and you chose to do it anyway. The Asia I know—the Asia standing by my side—would be stubborn about that. Not… this mess you're showing me now."
I let out a slow breath, my voice softening.
"Listen. You still believe in God, don't you? Then why hesitate? Why doubt yourself? This gift, this power—it came from Him. So why shrink away from it? Why let them twist it into shame?"
I took a step closer, meeting her teary gaze.
"It's not a trial. It's who you are. Be that, Asia. Be yourself. You're far stronger than the faith of people who never even tried to understand you."
I reached out and gently rested my hand on her head, letting my touch speak as much as my words.
"You're not alone anymore, Asia. Not now, not ever. We're here, and we believe in you. So stop carrying guilt for something that should never weigh you down. What you did… what you always do… It's something we're proud of."
Her shoulders trembled, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes.
She pressed her lips together, holding back a sob, and with a small nod, she wiped her cheeks.
Then, gathering her courage, she stepped forward—past me—each step firmer than the last.
Asia stopped in front of Xenovia.
For a moment, the room was silent, all eyes drawn to the timid girl who suddenly looked anything but timid.
Slowly, reverently, she sank to her knees and clasped her hands in prayer.
When she spoke, her voice was soft at first, but it carried a clarity that silenced the air.
"I have not committed a sin," she said, the words trembling yet unwavering.
"And I will never allow my Lord's name to be twisted into an excuse for violence against the innocent. My Lord is with me—always. He is the one who granted me a new family, who guided me when I was abandoned, who blessed me when I thought I had nothing left."
Her tear-streaked face lifted, her eyes shining with conviction as she continued.
"This is not a punishment, nor a trial meant to break me. It is His blessing, His reward for all that I endured in His name. To heal, to love, to protect—that is my faith. That is the grace He gave me."
She straightened her back, no longer trembling.
Her voice grew steady, calm, and resolute.
"So I cannot accept your offer, Xenovia, because I have no need of cleansing. I have not fallen—I am blessed. My Lord has already shown me His grace… in the life and family I've been given."
Yep.
That's the Asia I know.
Blame every good thing on God, never herself.
Unbelievably stubborn about her faith.
While she couldn't even defeat a stray puppy if it barked at her, she's the strongest person in the room the moment her beliefs are questioned.
Unshakable.
Unmovable.
…Though, honestly, I still don't think God made the right decision when He sent her to me.
My plans to take His throne haven't shifted in the slightest.
But seeing her like this… yeah, maybe I'll think about those things later.
For now, I'll let her have her moment.
Xenovia's face went white with fury.
"How dare you—speak of the Lord as if He walks with you, witch!"
She spat, stepping forward as her hand found her holy sword.
Steel gleamed coldly in the living room light.
"Wait, Xenovia—"
Irina began, but her warning came too late.
... I should've seen this coming.
Of course, she would react like that.
Though I knew I didn't need to worry at all.
Asia, for her part, didn't flinch.
She stood there, quiet and composed—confident, not resigned; not the sort to welcome death, but clearly not afraid of it either.
As if she knew that her lord or her family would protect her.
Then, in a blur of motion and color, Sona and Rias stepped forward.
Sona's hands braided an intricate rune in the air while Rias's crimson-black aura shimmered into being.
Together, they slammed up a pair of magical barriers that intercepted the arc of Xenovia's blade with a thunderous crack of energy.
Both of them looked spectacular — Sona precise and businesslike, Rias dramatic and roaring with power.
The barriers pulsed, throwing back light that made the room feel like the center of some grand duel.
Xenovia's anger only flared hotter.
"Why are you two getting in the way?! This is the Church's business! If you interfere, you know what happens—there will be war!"
Sona pushed her glasses up, voice flat and cold.
"Are you deaf? Didn't you hear them?"
Rias crossed her arms, a teasing smile playing across her lips as she mimicked Akeno's tone with a wicked lilt.
"Ara~ Didn't they mention we're family? So pointing a blade at her isn't a Church matter—it's you trying to harm our family~ So you're the one interfering here~ fufufu~"
Xenovia's jaw clenched, sword trembling in her grip.
.....................................................................................................................
Don't forget to vote on the poll to decide on the next fanfic, alongside only on Patreon!
Patreon link: patreon.com/zevionasgorath