How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

The very night the catastrophe unfolded, in a quiet maid café tucked away within Carillian Academy.

Outside, it was chaotic and noisy. Inside, however, it was utterly serene, as though this space belonged to a different world altogether.

“Milady, I’ve already instructed them to inform the students—especially those from the Church—of the Academy’s upcoming decisions, exactly as you ordered, and through channels with extremely high credibility, nya.” At that moment, Nyako stood respectfully before the honey-haired young lady, dressed not in her usual lively, ditzy-beauty fashion, but in a formal gown, exuding calm composure.

“Good. That reliable piece of news will spread rapidly by word of mouth. We should see results soon enough.” The honey-haired girl took a light sip of her tea, a meaningful smile curling on her lips as she gazed out the window—toward that dazzling figure glittering in the sky.

“Afterward, we proceed as I instructed earlier. Should we truly be fortunate enough to witness a miracle, we’ll make a grand spectacle of it—proclaiming that the Goddess and the Saintess manifested, solved the crisis, and then disappeared without a trace, vanishing in radiant light. All of it, framed as the Goddess’s mercy. If anyone dares pry too deeply into the miracle’s origin, they’ll be seen as disrespecting the Goddess and the miracle itself. Understand?”

“I understand,” Nyako nodded. “But what about Headquarters?”

“Headquarters won’t say a thing. And have we done anything outrageous? We’re merely following the Pope’s doctrine to the letter: ‘When Fasylis’s favor is withdrawn by the Goddess, refrain from entertaining talks of the Goddess or the Saintess returning.’ We’re helping the Pope spin this into a so-called ‘accident.’ Headquarters should be thanking us, not blaming us.” Luna propped her chin in her hand, smiling sweetly.

“Later, relay the situation to Headquarters as usual. Remember—no personal interpretation, no guiding the narrative. Just report it as the other Church students witnessed it. Maybe slip in a few subtle affirmations to quietly express a positive stance on the incident.”

“Understood, nya.” Nyako glanced out the window. “But... will this ‘miracle’ really succeed?”

“Who knows? But if she pulls it off, so do we. The misguided Church will eventually be corrected. After all...” Luna’s eyes glinted as her lips curled into a confident smile, those cross-shaped pupils fixed on the pure, untainted sakura-colored figure beyond the window. “If she can accomplish even this much, it proves destiny or power—at least one of those favors her. Her very existence is the Goddess’s will. And if that’s the case... what could she possibly fail to accomplish next?”

“Just like my ancestor, Pope Alfonso, used to say... ‘The Consecrated Angel... is truly beautiful—flawless beyond compare.’”

“But Milady, haven’t we encountered her directly before? From what Nyako sees, this future Saintess—at least for now—doesn’t seem to have any intention of becoming the Saintess at all.”

“Nyako, you’re mistaken about one thing.” Luna shook her head gently. “When destiny decrees something, feelings, choices, consent... none of that matters. Neither you, me, nor her gets a say in it. Defying fate is impossible. So long as she remains, the wheel of destiny and repulsion will inevitably force her down the path of the Saintess, regardless of her will.”

“Then... you believe she’ll succeed, nya?”

“She’s the future Saintess. If I can’t believe in her, who else could I believe in?” Luna teased lightly.

“That said, the future Saintess has hidden herself so well within the Academy. Her name’s nowhere on the student council enrollment records. Apart from that one time she worked as a maid for extra cash, hardly anyone’s even seen her, nya.”

“And isn’t that a good thing? It means she’s perfectly capable of concealing herself without us having to lift a finger.” Luna sipped her tea calmly. “Maybe... she’s masquerading as a regular Carillian Academy student right under our noses?”

“Eh?” Nyako tilted her head. “Milady already knows who she is, nya?”

“Heh... I only said ‘maybe.’ It’s just a guess. I can’t be sure.” Luna smiled knowingly.

“If Nyako remembers right, isn’t there a Fasylis family member on the enrollment list? But... he’s a guy, and supposedly rotten to the core. The rumors say he relapsed with his old illness shortly after enrollment, harasses the class belle constantly, bullies the Golden Elf Princess publicly... everyone says he’s a fake descendant of Fasylis, nya.” Nyako puffed out her cheeks.

“And what do you think?” Luna asked meaningfully.

“I just don’t believe the future Saintess would have anything to do with that kind of man. Setting aside the gender issue, their personalities couldn’t be more different. I think the rumors are true, nya. No way that male student’s a true descendant of Fasylis.”

“Who’s to say for sure?” Luna offered no clear answer. Her gaze drifted toward the stormy sky beyond the window, where dark clouds billowed—yet only one radiant figure shone through.

“If she survives tonight’s trial, the road ahead will be wide open. No obstacle will stop her.” Luna’s eyes narrowed, voice brimming with expectation. “So, let me see how much resolve you possess... Whether you’re truly worthy of my allegiance, Vanessa Fasylis.”

―――――――――――――

High in the blackened heavens, the sakura-haired angel stared silently at the obsidian barrier—and the blood-red altar hovering above it. The altar-bound, howling souls twisted in agony, making her hesitate to act recklessly.

Dense miasma lingered around the barrier, repelling anything that tried to approach. Other than destroying the structure outright, there seemed to be no other solution.

The [Sacrifice] ritual engraved into that blood-red altar was no ordinary array. The miasma emanating from the Abyssal Demon God’s domain wasn’t something a mere magic shield could block. Any spell lacking sufficient mana density would be devoured in an instant.

But... there exists one thing in this world immune to erosion.

Between Vanessa’s palms, twin flames ignited—their cores a pure sakura white, outer edges shimmering with radiant, prismatic light. The moment the flames appeared, the surrounding darkness recoiled like insects fleeing fire, losing color and vitality, as though driven by some primal survival instinct.

No matter how small these flames burned, they remained Flame of Divine Benediction—a force capable of instilling fear in even the Demon God Pillar.

But this paltry Flame of Divine Benediction wouldn’t sustain her long enough to breach the barrier. If her mana reserves were vast enough to cloak her entire body in it, she wouldn’t need such elaborate methods—one fireball-sized Flame of Divine Benediction would shatter the barrier instantly.

With every passing second the Flame of Divine Benediction burned, her mana depleted at terrifying speed.

There was no time to waste.

Vanessa smeared the sacred flame along her wings, setting them alight with flickering holy fire.

It was a makeshift, opportunistic tactic—far from ideal.

Wrapping her sanctified wings around herself, Vanessa charged headlong into the miasma.

The corrupt fog recoiled from her burning wings, driven back entirely.

Vanessa used minimal Flame of Divine Benediction to achieve maximum effect—but the flames didn’t engulf her entire wingspan. This tactic was mostly clever improvisation rather than brute force. Consequently, the miasma invaded through gaps where the flame didn’t reach.

By the time Vanessa, like a comet of holy fire, collided with the barrier, her wings were battered, tattered, and full of holes. Feathers shed like rain.

Her body, too, suffered minor miasma intrusion—black patches blooming across her pearlescent skin.

She didn’t care.

Lifting her damaged wings, she struck the barrier with the waning Flame of Divine Benediction, knowing each blow cost her more feathers, deepened the miasma’s corrosion.

Her wings were as much a part of her as her flesh—she could feel the pain.

Yet she pressed on without hesitation—as though the blackened lesions weren’t on her body, as though the corruption wasn’t hers. Numbly, relentlessly, she hammered the barrier.

All around, students and even instructors froze, eyes fixed on her—silent, unmoving.

Even within the Order Spire’s amplified magic array, the Vice Principal and senior staff paused mid-action, staring wordlessly.

The once radiant, flawless angel girl now stood corroded, her skin festering, her wings shattered.

And yet, drenched in filthy black patches, she shone more sacred and dazzling than ever.

Mirexia stood frozen, eyes wide, teeth clenched so hard they nearly cracked. Her lips moved, but no sound came—only a faint, private sob escaped her throat.

Crack—!

No one knew how much time had passed when the crisp sound rang out.

Everyone looked up—an opening had appeared in the impenetrable obsidian barrier.

“Quick! Now’s the time—get the students and that girl out of there!” Morinket broke the silence, shouting.

“Wait!” the Vice Principal ordered, grave-faced. “You can’t. The barrier’s broken, but the miasma remains—and worse, it’s spilling out, denser than before. Anyone approaching now will be consumed. That corruption hails from the Demon God’s domain. Magic can’t stop it.”

“But Vice Principal—!”

“No ‘but.’ We’ve wasted enough time. Our only option now is...” He trailed off, falling silent.

The reason was clear—the blood-red altar’s once-phased sections fully solidified. Amid the wailing, agonized souls, the massive structure fused together, forming a sealed, iron-chained Six-Pointed Star Gate.

“That’s... the Demon God Pillar’s Gate?!” Many instructors went pale. “It’s too late...?”

“...”

The Vice Principal said nothing.

“Given the circumstances, Vice Principal, allow me to lead the combat instructors—let’s annihilate these pests in one decisive strike!” Morinket proposed.

The old man merely shook his head, leaning on his cane. After a long pause, he finally spoke:

“The Demon God Pillar... is not something mortals can face.”

“The reason? Mortals lack even the right to stand before it. Around the Demon God Pillar exists a [Higher-Dimensional Domain]. Anything approaching... is crushed to dust.”

“Within the realm of [Alchemical Lord] Elrunas... mortals are rendered into blood and pulp.”

“So whether we advance or retreat makes no difference. Mortal numbers, strength, none of it matters—everything within that domain is pulverized.” With that, the elder fell silent.

The crowd descended into stunned quiet—they understood all too well the grim logic behind his words.

But Mirexia disregarded them all, bolting from the tower, unfurling her draconic wings, soaring downward.

Meanwhile, Vanessa, still kneeling, noticed the forming Six-Pointed Star Gate overhead. Though unaware of its precise nature, she understood—it was the gateway for the Demon God Pillar’s entry into the Terrilis continent.

She knew her body was nearing its limit—the miasma had corroded her very marrow—but she could still endure.

Biting back searing pain, Vanessa took to the skies.

She’d long foreseen this outcome. If she failed... if the Demon God Pillar emerged... what then?

Would she let the survivors pay for her mistake?

No—never.

Before countless watching eyes, the chained Six-Pointed Star Gate unraveled, opening on all six sides. A bolt of lightning illuminated the towering, shadowy silhouette beyond the door—a monstrous being taller than the sky itself, crowned with a gentleman’s hat.

A colossal tentacle snaked forth, scales writhing like living things. As it emerged, the very fabric of space warped and shattered, crackling like splintered glass.

Its target—the Order Spire.

Wherever the tentacle passed, buildings and space itself disintegrated into nothingness.

This... was the incomplete summoning of the Demon God Pillar. Limited by the Terrilis plane, even this high-level [Sacrifice] could only manifest a single appendage.

But that was enough.

Anything near the Demon God Pillar was crushed, discarded as irretrievable waste.

No one dared approach the tentacle—

Except for...

The sakura-colored figure ascending into the sky. Tattered, broken, bleeding—hair disheveled, wings mangled, flesh rotting, bones shattered, clothes in ruins.

And yet, without hesitation, she placed herself between the Order Spire—and the incoming appendage.

At her center, the pure, crystalline Flame of Divine Benediction erupted once more.

Such a potent flame was impossible for a mana-exhausted girl to unleash.

Then... what fueled this Flame of Divine Benediction now?

The answer... was simple.

Life.

Vanessa ignited the final holy flame with her very life itself—standing resolute before the Demon God Pillar.

(My insomnia’s worse... splitting headache... I didn’t sleep at all last night... I can’t keep going...)