The celebration had ended. What followed… was the funeral.
Coloners of Triangulum, Arleguni of Arachnid, Moses of Cetus.
The five young Bronze Saints of Equuleus, Xiphias, Canis Major, Canis Minor, and Delphinus.
From the beginning to the end of this Holy War against Poseidon's army, eight Saints had perished. They were worthy of the Saints' mission, worthy of the Saints' honor.
"Dong~ Dong~ Dong~…"
Twelve solemn tolls rang out—the deep sound of the bell was sacred and somber.
This was the second grand funeral ever held. The first was for Molcarba. The second—for the eight fallen Saints.
Everyone prayed it would be the last time. But they all knew—it wouldn't be.
Poseidon had fallen. Atlantis was destroyed. The Mariners were annihilated. This was a great victory.
But… it was only the beginning of the Holy Wars.
…
…
Hades still lived, and the army of the Underworld stirred restlessly beneath its seal. Zeus remained in the outer cosmos, wandering free—no one knew when he would return or what calamity he would bring. The Buddhist gods continued to hide, but no one could say when they might suddenly strike the Sanctuary…
The awakening of Ares's lingering soul was a signal: the gods who had not yet fallen would begin to awaken one by one. They would descend once again to claim dominion over Earth.
Eight had died this time. How many would die next time?
No one knew the answer. But the answer they all hoped for was always the same—zero.
When the moment of silence ended, Melin personally stepped forward, digging the first shovelful of dirt to bury the eight Saints in the Saint Cemetery. May they rest in peace, watching over him and Athena as they led the Saints to win the final Holy War and bring everlasting peace to the Earth—specifically, the War of the Gods.
When the final mourning ended, Melin passed by the Saints and approached the trainees.
In their eyes, he saw sorrow, he saw unwillingness, and he saw fear of death.
"Coloners, Arleguni, Moses… they're dead," Melin said directly. "The battles to come will only grow fiercer and more brutal. Are you all… prepared?"
The trainees were startled by Melin's intensity, stepping back instinctively, then lowering their heads in shame.
"Is that so? Not ready yet? That's fine…"
The trainees lifted their heads at those words, looking at Melin with varying expressions.
"They might die too." Melin pointed at the other Saints, then at himself. "I might die as well."
"My lord!"
"Lord Melin!"
…
Shouts of protest rang out. Melin was the pillar of the Sanctuary. They couldn't imagine why he would say such a thing. They couldn't imagine what would happen if it became true. What would they do then?
"Everyone dies. But!" Melin raised his voice, his eyes blazing as he looked at the young trainees.
"Where do you want to die? Do you want to die a meaningless death under the protection of others? Or do you want to die on the battlefield, radiating your own brilliance, fighting bravely for others, for Earth, for yourselves?"
Faced with Melin's challenge, the trainees lowered their heads again in shame, fists clenched, lips bitten so hard they bled.
"Fight!"
No one knew who shouted first, raising a fist high.
"Fight!"
"Fight!!"
"FIGHT!!!"
First the other trainees, then the Saints, and finally the civilian representatives attending the funeral.
A wave of battle spirit spread outward—from the Saint Cemetery, through the Twelve Temples, and across the entire Sanctuary. That blazing courage drowned out the fear of death.
"Very good! The dead are gone. Mourning them is important, but even more important is carrying their will forward! The Saints have left vacancies, and the new generation of Saints… will be born among you. Tell me, are you… ready?"
"WE'RE READY!"
"Good. I'll be waiting for the day you all become Saints."
"For Lord Melin! For Lady Athena! For the love and hope of Earth!"
Not just the trainees—Saints as well. Shion and Alex—all knelt on one knee, shouting with passion.
"Mm. I believe in you."
Melin nodded, then instructed Shion to handle the follow-up, and returned to the temple.
…
"Steve, right now… I think you becoming a Saint might've been a mistake," Howard said, watching the people slowly disperse.
"Why?" Steve didn't understand what Howard meant. After fighting side-by-side, his feelings toward the Sanctuary had only grown deeper—especially toward the Saints who had fought in Atlantis. He could entrust his back to them with absolute trust. Personally, he didn't even know how many times the other Saints had saved his life. Though he'd returned the favor more than once, such things couldn't be measured in numbers.
"Because…" Howard patted Steve's shoulder and said, "I don't want to see your name on a tombstone here someday."
Steve froze at the sight of Howard's slightly desolate back, deep in thought.
"Don't worry, Steve. Howard is… just feeling unwilling," Peggy comforted him as she took his hand.
"Unwilling?"
"Yes. Maybe that's just how men are. When others are fighting, they don't want to only see their backs—they want to join them, fight side by side, even if their accomplishments lie elsewhere," Peggy said as she looked at Howard's back.
"Fight side by side, huh…" Steve let out a self-deprecating smile.
In the past, he hadn't understood that feeling either. As "the Captain," he believed he should shoulder the greatest burden. In every battle, he charged ahead alone, taking on most of the danger himself. Rather than fight together, he preferred to go alone—to reduce the number of people exposed to the battlefield.
That instinct became even stronger after Bucky's disappearance.
But this time, he realized—he wasn't "the Captain" anymore. He was the Bronze Saint of the Shield Constellation. He no longer had the power to change the tide of battle alone or to bear the majority of the risk. Fighting alongside his comrades, protecting and supporting each other, never falling together—that was the true strength he had come to cherish.
For the first time, he felt—it was so good to have comrades by his side!
If Melin hadn't brought him along this time, maybe he would have felt the same frustration as Howard.
Just like Melin said—everyone dies. It's only a matter of time. Whether by accident, illness, old age, or disaster…
But where do you want to die? Under someone else's wings, wasting away, regretting in your final moments that you never stepped onto the battlefield? Or on the battlefield, blazing with your full glory for the sake of victory, dying with honor?
Steve would choose the latter without hesitation. And Howard… he hoped for the same.
"Maybe we should ask… if there's any way to help Howard," Steve said.
"Maria might hate you for that."
"She won't. She's Maria—the woman who tamed Howard. She's not fragile."
…
What Peggy and Steve didn't know was that Howard was far from the gloomy figure they imagined. He went directly to Shion to request a meeting with Melin.
And just as Shion was preparing to report the request to the temple, Melin's permission had already been granted.
Shion brought Howard to the temple and then left, leaving Melin and Howard alone.
"What's the matter?" Melin asked with a gentle smile.
But Howard knew Melin's mood wasn't as calm as he appeared. Though he tried to hide it, the sadness in his eyes had not escaped Howard's notice. And the tears at the corners of his eyes hadn't completely dried.
"Melin, I came… to seek your help."
"You want to become one of the Saints as well?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry, Howard. Your chances of becoming a Saint… are very slim." Melin shook his head.
Howard truly was an exceptional person—kind, brave, though a bit… arrogant and sharp-tongued. But his love for Earth was genuine, no less than anyone else's. In theory, he had the potential to be a Saint just like the trainees.
However…
He had indulged too much in his youth, draining his health. Even though the Blessing had restored much of it, starting training now made the odds very slim.
And besides… his greatest strength was his wisdom, not his fists.
"No way at all?" Howard lowered his head, fists clenched tightly.
He regretted it. Regretted letting himself be blinded by wealth and beauty in the past. If he had a body like Steve's, wouldn't his chances be better now?
"Howard, I think you've fallen into a misunderstanding. Your greatest strength… is your wisdom," Melin reminded him.
"Wisdom, huh?" Howard gave a self-mocking laugh. "For over fifty years, I've been studying Cloths and Cosmos. Every book in the Sanctuary's library is memorized—but I have nothing to show for it. No results. You tell me… does my wisdom really matter?"
Howard had once been a physics genius. But to study Cosmos and Cloths, he'd also mastered biology, chemistry…
Everything that might help. But still… he hadn't found even the slightest clue to unlock the secrets of the Cosmos.
"Do you know what Saint Cloths are made of?"
"Yes. I read it in the ancient texts. Orichalcum—'the divine metal.' But I've investigated—there's no Orichalcum on Earth. It must've vanished in the mythological age, right?"
"No. You're wrong."
As he spoke, a glowing ingot of metal appeared in Melin's hand.
"This is—!"
"This… is Orichalcum."
"This… is really Orichalcum?!"
Howard's eyes were glued to the ingot. He couldn't look away.
"Orichalcum is called 'divine metal' because it holds divinity. But… it's not a naturally occurring metal. It's any ordinary metal transformed through the infusion of a god's Cosmos. The reason you found no trace of it…"
"…is because there are no gods! After the mythological era ended, the gods either died, fled, or hid away. Without divine Cosmos to process metals, of course Orichalcum ceased to exist! And if any remains, it's been hoarded by the gods!"
"Correct."
"Then…"
As Howard stared, drooling over the Orichalcum, Melin chuckled.
"You sure you can carry it?"
"Uh…"
Howard snapped back to reality. He remembered when Steve had received his Cloth at Star Hill and was crushed by its weight without any Cosmos. He and Peggy tried to help but couldn't move it at all. Cold sweat trickled down his back.
"Heh. Here, take this instead." With a flip of his hand, the Orichalcum vanished and was replaced by a ring.
"What's this?"
"A war trophy from the past—a ring that can store non-living items. You have the Blessing, so you can control it with your mind."
"This!" Howard was stunned again. This was a spatial storage device! Putting theology aside, technologically it was hundreds or even thousands of years ahead of Earth!
"Take it."
Melin tossed it casually like trash, but Howard caught it in a panic, afraid even the slightest damage might occur.
"One more reminder—the Jamir clan is not only the clan of restorers. They are also the clan of blacksmiths."
"I understand. Thank you. Thank you so much!"