Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Olga Virtus
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Olga Virtus's life had never known a shred of warmth.
From the moment she was born, Olga had been a chosen one, prophesied by the goddess's oracle.
On the day she came into the world, half of the church's Holy Knights Order arrived at a remote imperial village.
For rural farmers who rarely even glimpsed a noble, let alone a knight or butler, the procession of the Holy Knights Order—clad in gleaming white armor and devoted to the great goddess—was a spectacle beyond imagination.
Naturally, for Olga's parents, fresh from childbirth, the empire's archbishop arriving under the knights' escort was a being too exalted to even meet eye-to-eye. The oracle he spoke of was incomprehensible, yet impossible to refuse.
And so, Olga's parents handed over their newborn daughter to the archbishop and his priests for six gold coins. A single gold coin equaled a poor farmer's monthly living expenses, so six were a temptation no one could resist, divine oracle aside.
Thus, Olga was raised in the church's hands from birth.
Her name, Olga, was inherited from the first saintess, and her surname, Virtus—an ancient noble title for a fallen seraph—marked her solely for the role of saintess. She grew up educated for that singular purpose.
Whether due to that upbringing or her divinely ordained fate as the saintess, Olga at age six already sensed how others looked at her and matured far too early.
People didn't see her as Olga. The surname Virtus merely proved she was a tool belonging to the Holy See.
To everyone, she was solely the "Saintess."
All addressed her with "Saintess," most ignoring her name or surname altogether, praising and worshiping her as "Saintess" alone.
Yet even the nuns and priests who cared for her, and the Holy Knights who swore to lay down their lives for her, never looked into her heart.
If she ever acted like a child her age, they spent days fretting over her with worried words and lessons to correct her "deviation."
By age eight, Olga had fully mastered the art of playing the "good child" that satisfied the adults around her.
Killing off her personal preferences and personality, she performed solely as the pure, devout saintess—and only then did the adults begin praising and acknowledging her.
'...How dull.'
The adults' attitudes were all too predictable. They openly showed what they wanted from her, sometimes not even hiding their darker sides.
Seeing those who embezzled wealth through her, used her to claim women they desired as subordinates and exploit them, or denounced others' corruption via her to seize positions—Olga felt only one emotion: boredom.
That feeling persisted even after she turned ten and received her first divine revelation.
Unlike some brazen fool proclaiming a dying god, the goddess truly existed, caring for believers, sending angels to bless heroes, and thwarting the Demon King's Army's wicked schemes.
When Olga, who could hear and relay the goddess's words directly, shared what she witnessed, all the faithful rejoiced and sang praises. For decades since the last saintess, the goddess still watched over humanity.
Yet Olga felt no awe toward this goddess.
Why? Simple. The goddess's revelations were needlessly verbose and convoluted, her prophecies vague enough to fit any interpretation, and her powers neither omniscient nor omnipotent.
Even the authority granted as the goddess's proxy and saintess—stronger than many mortals, yes—but as a transcendent proxy's power? It felt like mere window dressing.
Suddenly, everything seemed futile to Olga. What was the point of her existence?
Every day demanded ruthless austerity and restraint, denying her personal values and inclinations. Then atop the altar, she praised a goddess she didn't truly believe in, scattering false smiles at nobles and wealthy bourgeois.
Amusingly, the goddess never mentioned Olga's doubts about her, yet whenever Olga wished for death amid her tedious life, she sent revelations through angels to others.
Whoever received them would come, embrace her, weep, and lecture on life's joys and the world's beauty—prompting Olga to inwardly scoff at the melodrama while nodding along.
The world was boring, the masses foolish, the intellectuals arrogant.
Shouldn't this world perish? Olga began to truly believe so.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "The goddess is dying. And we're the ones killing her—humanity itself."
The man appeared as abruptly as a divine revelation one day.
Olga had come to the academy under orders to rally its promising talents against the Demon King's Army. Before her, Arthin brazenly declared the goddess dying—her first impression: 'Is this guy insane?'
He was Kaiyen Silversword's friend, acknowledged by the goddess as a hero of the era, yet amid the academy's stars—each a genius among historical talents—the most incompetent man. And he stared at her with irreverent eyes.
She paid it no mind. Plenty sought her gaze with shocking or absurd claims and actions.
But Arthin ignored even her indifference. Despite his lowly talent, he commanded geniuses like limbs and used the hero Kaiyen like a subordinate.
Some in the church argued to separate him from the hero, send him to the Demon King's Army frontlines, or even dispatch a Black Knight to eliminate him. But more favored watching the man who'd thwarted Demon King plots at the academy multiple times, so nothing happened.
From that point, Olga began feeling a faint kinship with Arthin.
This man lived for his own path, yet survived only because higher powers found him useful—as a tool to support Hero Kaiyen.
'Foolish, pitiful man. Do you not even realize how others see you?'
Next came pity. Unlike her, Arthin hadn't mastered reading others' true hearts; oblivious to his treatment, he just worked tirelessly.
So Olga began granting him small blessings. If he was going to struggle anyway, she wanted to see him leave some mark on the world.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "—Danger! Olga!"
On the day Olga left the academy, the Demon King's Army sent Admiral Ammosers of the Deep—a kin of the Demon King—to kill her.
The church's Holy Knights guarding her and the academy's security forces fought valiantly, but with Lich Harmon and Dream Demon Queen Liliet's support, her protectors began falling helplessly.
As Ammosers's horde reached the prow of her ship, Olga felt not fear, but liberation. Death by an undead's blind blade would finally end her tedious seventeen years.
"You idiot...! Why! Why throw yourself in the way?!"
Yet in the melee, the ghost sailor's blade cleaved not her, but Arthin, who lunged in her stead.
The hero and witch's awakening turned the battle to victory, but even the saintess's miracle couldn't spare Arthin weeks of aftermath. She poured all her power into saving him, but the deep, fatal wound left much to fate.
"Sorry, you looked in peril... Wanted to save you."
To her question, the man in the sickbed answered softly with a low laugh. His eyes held no duty to protect the goddess's proxy, no faith-driven sacrifice for the saintess.
"Still, glad you didn't die. Olga."
As always, he called her by name—terribly rude.
Olga didn't dislike it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "...Mm... Where am I?"
My head spun. Slowly opening my eyes, I found myself lying with something soft pillowed under my head.
"Oh, you're awake, darling?"
"Olga...? When did I fall asleep...? Did I even fall asleep...?"
Clutching my throbbing head, as I tried to rise, Olga gently laid me back on her lap and took my trembling hand in hers.
The warmth of that hand was so comforting, the softness of her thigh against my head so soothing, I naturally relaxed and surrendered to her touch.
"Darling, are you not suffering?"
"...From what?"
"Everything. Repeating death over and over. Fighting the Demon King endlessly. Helping lecherous men who eye you, forcing your body to match the strides of unparalleled geniuses."
"...Hard to follow. My head won't turn."
I tried to grasp Olga's words, but my mind refused to work, my headache only worsening.
Olga slowly stroked my aching head, whispering in a voice full of compassion.
"...Arthin, you don't need to try anymore. Live a peaceful life with me."
"...A peaceful life?"
"Yes, leave the Demon King to Hero Kaiyen... and escape this place with me."
Pillowed on her lap, her ample chest blocked her face from view. But her voice carried a strangely moist tremor.
"No more sacrificing for worthless people with efforts no one recognizes. The kingdom, the islands... or beyond the desert to the Sultanate. Somewhere no one knows us."
"...Leave? The academy?"
"Yes, greeting peaceful mornings every day, living each one to the fullest in happiness."
I felt strength in Olga's grip on my hand. I couldn't understand why, but she seemed utterly sorrowful.
"We'll live in a small rural home, raising livestock. Chickens, farming, sometimes hunting..."
"Waking to the rooster's crow each morning, watching your sleeping face until you stir. When you open your eyes, kissing you and asking in a joyful voice if you slept well last night."
"Olga, that's..."
It was from the "practice" love letters we exchanged in the 3rd regression.
"While you feed the chickens, I'll prepare breakfast. Once it's ready, I'll run to you, hug your neck tight, and tell you to eat. Even if it's just coarse bread and eggs, sharing it with you would make me happy."
One of our letters listed bucket lists of dreams.
I wanted visits to my beloved, secret rendezvous like in romance novels, whispering sweet nothings—and more...
"When you head out to the fields, I'll clean the house and prepare your meal. Preserving food for winter, mending your worn clothes, pricking my finger now and then..."
My list centered on romantic times with a lover. Olga's was different.
"...When I'm resting at home because it's hot, Olga brings a snack, wipes my sweat, and feeds me?"
"Hee hee hee, you do remember, darling? Yes. After lunch, gazing at the blue sky with Arthin, chatting about dinner ideas, last night's dreams, which tree bore fruit, names for the chicks—trivial things, blissfully happy."
Olga yearned for a peaceful life. Humble, hard, barren, unremarkable perhaps.
Yet one shared wholly with her beloved, every moment together.
"...Back then, I called it lines from a book... Sorry, darling, that was a lie."
Olga's breath trembled softly as she spoke.
As it grew more ragged, her pulse quickened under my hand, yet her voice remained calmer than ever.
"At night, stargazing, sharing breaths and warmth. Worrying over next year's crops, fretting if we need to hunt for winter..."
"Olga..."
"...That's the life waiting for us, Arthin. Not risking death every moment, not endless pain chasing impossible goals—but infinite happy instants with the one you love."
The Olga I knew was no great saintess.
The woman before me was no grand goddess's proxy.
"So... be with me now, Arthin. Feel no more pain..."
Rising slowly, the face I met wasn't the iron lady from the original tale, humanity's hope, the lauded hero.
Just a fragile girl dreaming of an ordinary life, gazing at me with tear-filled red eyes.
"...You don't have to bear that life. Arthin."
Suddenly, I recalled seeing this expression on Olga.
From Violet's memories: Olga watching me burn to death, looking just this heartbroken.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ A quest has occurred. Quest: Reject Olga's request and refuse her love. Quest Failure: Forced Regression.