The illusory feeling passed, and Klein saw the strange candle in his hand again, along with its black wick and palish-white flame.
The damage of the Dawn Paladin—the shattered ground, broken pews, and the sliced candles—had been restored to their pre-battle state. It was hard to tell where they had been damaged.
At some point, Bishop Utravsky, who had been standing opposite him, had taken a seat in the front pew, his back bent forward and his head buried in his hands. His hands were pressed to his temples.
Drip!
Drip!
Sweat trickled down his face and spread out from his feet. The ground was already completely wet.
When he sensed that the strange candle had been extinguished by Klein, he shuddered and raised his head to meet Klein's eyes.
His slightly turbid eyes were filled with tears, and his wrinkled face was streaked with tears.
However, his eyes were filled with emotion, joy, and clarity.
