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The tension in the room had changed, but it had not disappeared.
What had once been the sharp edge of conflict had now settled into something heavier, more complicated. It was no longer about who would strike first. It had become a matter of understanding, of decisions that would carry consequences beyond this room.
Gilgamesh leaned slightly back, his gaze shifting toward Mordred with a faint, amused expression.
"You've gotten rusty," he said casually. "You couldn't even finish him."
Mordred clicked her tongue in annoyance, crossing her arms. "I told you already—I wasn't at full strength."
Gilgamesh nodded once, accepting the answer without argument. He already knew that.
Mordred was still recovering. The remnants of Bararaq Saiqa hadn't fully left her system, and more importantly, she had deliberately restrained herself. No armor. No Mana Burst. No reckless swings that would destroy everything around her. It was restraint born not from weakness, but from control.
Even so, she had kept up with Ewald Cristaldi without difficulty.
From a physical standpoint, she far surpassed him.
But that wasn't the entire story.
Ewald's technique was refined, honed through years of disciplined combat. His movements were efficient, precise, and calculated. Mordred, on the other hand, fought with instinct and overwhelming force.
Neither approach was inferior.
But in this situation, it created balance.
Because Ewald had been holding back as well.
A swordsman known for wielding multiple blades had used only one. That alone spoke volumes. He had judged the situation just as quickly as Mordred had, choosing not to escalate beyond what was necessary.
The result had been a stalemate.
Not because they were equal.
But because neither had fought seriously.
That fact alone said more than enough about the situation.
The moment passed, and the tension shifted again when Asia Argento stepped forward.
"Cristaldi-sama… may I heal your injuries?"
Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant, but sincere.
Ewald looked at her for a moment before nodding. "You may."
He extended his hand, revealing the bruise around his wrist. Asia placed her hand over it, her Sacred Gear activating as soft light gathered around the wound.
The injury disappeared within seconds.
Ewald flexed his hand slightly, testing it, and a faint smile appeared on his face.
"Impressive," he said. "Your ability is exactly as they described."
Asia smiled shyly. "Thank you…"
"You may call me Ewald," he added.
She nodded quietly.
That small exchange changed the atmosphere more than anything else so far. It reminded everyone that this wasn't simply an enemy standing before them.
This was someone connected to Asia's past.
Someone from the same world she had been cast out of.
Gilgamesh's gaze sharpened slightly.
"Let's not waste time," he said. "Why do you want to take her back?"
Ewald's expression returned to its composed state.
"As you already know, Asia Argento was accused of being a witch," he began. "Her ability contradicts the purpose of Sacred Gears. These powers were meant to oppose devils and other supernatural beings."
He paused briefly.
"Yet she healed one."
The implication was clear.
"In the eyes of the Church, that was unacceptable."
Gilgamesh spoke immediately.
"So you labeled her a traitor. A witch with a corrupted heart."
Asia's shoulders tensed.
Ewald did not deny it.
"That was the conclusion."
Silence followed for a moment before Gilgamesh spoke again, his tone calm but carrying weight.
"Then explain something to me."
He gestured toward Asia.
"She has never harmed anyone. She heals. She helps. She saves people."
His gaze shifted slightly.
"And you."
The words were quiet.
"How many have you killed?"
No one interrupted.
"You're praised for it. Honored. Given titles. Called a protector."
A faint, humorless smile appeared on his face.
"But her? She's called a monster."
The contradiction hung heavily in the air.
Ewald closed his eyes briefly.
"There are reasons," he said. "But they are not things I can explain to you anymore."
That answer was expected.
But it wasn't the important part.
"What matters," Ewald continued, "is that the Church was wrong."
That—
changed everything.
Asia looked up instantly.
"There is now proof that she is innocent," he said. "If she returns with me, her name will be restored."
Hope appeared in her eyes.
Fragile.
But real.
Gilgamesh noticed it immediately.
"And why now?" he asked. "Why the sudden change?"
Ewald exhaled slowly.
"Because not everyone agreed with what happened."
He continued, his tone steady.
"Vasco Strada opposed her exile from the beginning. He tried to intervene, but by the time he acted, the decision had already been made."
Asia's expression softened.
"Strada-sama…"
"He didn't give up," Ewald said. "He pushed for an investigation. And eventually, he got it."
He reached into his clothing and pulled out a file.
"The truth was uncovered."
He handed a document to Asia.
"Tell me," he said, "does the devil you healed match this description?"
Asia's hands trembled slightly as she looked at the page.
Gilgamesh glanced at it as well.
Short black hair.
Young.
Elegant features.
It was unmistakable.
Diodora Astaroth.
"Yes…" Asia said softly. "It's him…"
Ewald's expression darkened.
Because that answer—
confirmed everything.
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed slightly.
So that was it.
This wasn't about redemption.
It wasn't about justice.
It was about consequences.
And whatever the Church had discovered—
it had changed their position completely.
The problem was—
that didn't mean they could be trusted.
And the decision—
was no longer simple.