Chapter 131
Chapter 131
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 131
Chapter Title: Chapter 9: Star Fall (16)
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“Why did you do it?”
“Pardon?”
“I mean, why volunteer for such a grueling path?”
During a brief recess in the council, the archbishop had asked for a moment of my time, so I followed him briskly to his office. The moment he sat in his chair, that was the first thing out of his mouth. For a high-ranking prelate’s private quarters, the room was modest—almost like an ordinary noble’s study, save for the excessive number of brass candelabras used in the temple.
“I heard about it from Senadis. Your background is murky, and there’s even a chance you’re aligned with some evil god, but she said you’re too valuable a talent to just use as cannon fodder. She insisted the Church needs more people like you, so I decided to give you a shot.”
“Hahaha. No wonder everything fell into place so perfectly. There’s a story behind it, then. So, what did you think? Satisfied?”
“More than satisfied. I could feel in my heart how Lord Loharam guides us with his light.”
The archbishop bowed his head toward the sunlit window for a moment, murmuring what sounded like a prayer. If he’d looked like a kindly old grandfather who’d spent his life farming on a serene hillside back in the meeting hall, now he resembled a tormented old king lost in profound anguish.
‘That must be the real Archbishop Saint Norman. Or maybe this is just another act.’
Without any prior discussion, he’d read the direction I was steering things and provided perfect backup at just the right moment. I was certain he wasn’t some simple old man chasing divine glory.
“That’s why it baffles me even more. Do you grasp the magnitude of what you accomplished? You toyed with those legendary heroes like they were pieces on a board. And in that room, no one left a stronger impression than you. Did you notice those who slipped out before us?”
“I did. Plenty of them were lounging around, pretending to admire the gardens.”
“They weren’t just taking a break. Once the situation settled and they realized you’d pulled every hero in the hall into your rhythm, a few came out to speak with you—Professor. They knew who was steering the meeting now and wanted to discuss their interests.”
“No wonder. I felt eyes boring into my back as I followed you.”
“Heh heh heh. No need to play coy. You stuck right behind me the second we left to avoid tangling with them, didn’t you?”
“Goodness. Does Lord Loharam whisper even that to you?”
“In this tangled world, bearing the title of archbishop into old age lets you see a great many things.”
I’d phrased it as ‘Grandpa, are you really a cleric? How do you know all this?’ and he responded with a gentle smile.
“Do you know the most fundamental doctrine of the Radiant Church?”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t studied the Radiant doctrines for long.”
“It’s this: [The light shines equally on all peoples]. Equality without restriction. The joy of sunrise that anyone can behold upon waking. Countless doctrines and interpretations stem from this single one.”
“I... see.”
I gave an ambiguous reply, unable to outright contradict him. The Radiant Church was practically synonymous with human supremacy—a racist cult hiding behind religion. And yet, equality for all peoples?
“Don’t make that face. I know full well how absurd it sounds nowadays. The scriptures of Lord Loharam given to the faithful now include this line under the first doctrine: [All peoples means those who revere and worship the light]. Only Loharam’s followers receive that grace.”
“Isn’t that... apocryphal? When did someone dare to—”
“I did it.”
“...Pardon?”
“I tampered with the doctrines.”
The archbishop spoke in a calm tone, like a confession in the booth. But his wrinkled face bore the weight of decades of regret.
“Fifty-eight years ago, I was a young priest content with a day filled solely by praising the light and Lord Loharam. I believed a priest’s duty was simply to pray without worry.”
I listened intently, sharpening my senses to the utmost. I didn’t know why, but what came from the archbishop’s mouth now bordered on the Church’s deepest scandals. If anyone overheard, my life would be in peril. Frankly, ignorance would’ve been bliss—I wanted to clamp his mouth shut.
“Fifty years ago, the orcs’ periodic ‘hunting season’ arrived. Unfortunately, my temple was too close to the south. I survived, but lost many brothers. I kept asking: Lord Loharam, why? Why take so many good brothers? No answer came, but I realized prayer and faith alone couldn’t protect the Church. So I became a monk, honing my martial prowess to shield the light of faith from the world’s shadows.”
Whooo—
As the archbishop clenched his fist, a fierce holy aura gathered around his seemingly frail hand.
‘This geezer looks over seventy-five, became a monk around seventeen fifty-eight years ago? A sixty-year veteran monk? That’s a total monster.’
Monk wasn’t just a term for a priest who trained in martial arts. It required passing rigorous trials and mastering sacred pugilism to a certain level. For a boy who’d lived only for prayer to achieve it at seventeen? Effort aside, it demanded heroic talent.
“I thought I was finally fulfilling Lord Loharam’s will. Praising the light, guarding faith’s radiance from shadows. I lived contentedly. But alas, the trials Lord Loharam prepared for me didn’t end there.”
“Don’t tell me... another temple raid?”
The archbishop shook his head.
“The Radiant Church’s healing magic is extraordinarily effective, making our priests prized on battlefields. Back then, we weren’t as mighty as now. Seventy years ago, during the undead uprising, arrogant and slothful high priests fell to corruption, becoming dark clerics hostile to humanity. Our ancient Church nearly crumbled. As a minor faith, we were a juicy target for nobles on the eve of war. They fabricated excuses to orphan widows and children, then demanded our priests forcibly.
‘Send thirty healers skilled in spells, or we’ll deem the Radiant Church allied with enemy nobles, expel you from the domain, and treat any remnants as foes.’
That was lenient. They’d kidnap wandering priests, wring healing spells from them until despair extinguished their inner light. Temples caring for wounded from both sides were torched just for being closer to enemy lands. To avoid it, the Church desperately calculated which nobles held power, who to back to minimize damage. I... couldn’t bear it. Calculations don’t always pan out. It was a massive domain dispute where every priest, including me, had to deploy.
We were crushed. Utterly, no one left alive... utterly...”
The archbishop raised a hand briefly, then stared silently at the sunlight filtering through the window, emotions surging.
‘A tale from the noble wars. An era that brooked no neutrality. Even the Church couldn’t escape it.’
This was before my character spawned, in that turbulent age of endless war.
“My honed martial skills from past regrets proved useful. While I fought like a madman staking my life, another brother freed the captured ones. But unlike me, brothers who’d only prayed couldn’t outrun mounted knights. When the pursuit ended and I looked around, only one remained by my side. Of the sixty-four brothers from our diocese, dispatched by Church order to aid Count Kandar’s house—me and the lame priest Shandallo on my back. Only two of sixty-four survived.”
His voice, flat and emotionless recounting the massacre, sent chills down my spine. Not blazing fury, but rage burned to ash, hardened like black ore atop embers—quiet and unyielding.
“Expending every ounce of strength, Shandallo and I returned to our temple. After three sleepless nights of flight, I collapsed into sleep. Do you know the first thing I saw upon waking?”
“...”
“Shandallo, hanged before the Church’s holy icon. His legs were weak, but he lived harder for it. Always up first to polish the icon, clean the chapel, greet every waking priest with morning salutations—he said it was the world’s greatest joy. The moment he awoke, he realized: no matter how early he rose, how spotless he made the chapel, no one would greet him with sleepy eyes wishing peace. Brother Shandallo couldn’t endure it anymore. Nor could I.”
Recalling that day, Archbishop Norman felt a tiny black speck bloom on the light in his heart.
Norman lowered Shandallo’s body from the chapel ceiling, performed the rites as best he could, and buried him in a corner of the garden he loved. Like a man numb to fatigue or pain, he finished the funeral silently, crossed the empty chapel, and knelt before Loharam’s icon.
Rumble—
Thunder echoed distantly.
“O Light... today, another brother has gone to your side.”
He prayed, but knew not what to do. The faith he’d trusted eternal as light now flickered perilously like a cliffside candle.
“They were all good lights following your will, so please... let them shine as new beacons by your side, usefully, usefully...”
Crack, twitch, pop!
His hands trembled uncontrollably. Fingertips dug into clasped palms, mingling drops of blood and tears.
“...Why did you do it? Why, why! Why treat them so cruelly!”
Crash!
Pour—
In the empty chapel, once lit by Shandallo’s candles, wiped spotless of dust, Norman finally lost his reason.
“Did we not beg for a clear light to guide our path? Did we not hope for a radiant future like your light? Just to be small lights to each other, a tiny flame for the lost to take one step forward—that was enough! We were people who believed that! What is this ‘you’ that tramples such pure, small brilliance so mercilessly!”
Rip!
Unable to contain his rage, Norman tore his priestly robes. The once-white garments were stained with enemy blood and brains from freeing his brothers, and the dirt from digging Shandallo’s grave. It mirrored his own sullied self—he couldn’t bear it.
Pour—
“Give answer! We ask little! A small sign, proof their deaths weren’t vain! Please! If you truly count us as your children!”
The blood- and tear-soaked monk bowed before the icon.
“Please... give... answer...”
Boom!
In the storm-lashed temple, the monk seeking answers cried out to his god.
Yet despite prayers reaching to the heavens, the darkened chapel, shrouded in thunderclouds, held only the dead man’s candle flickering tenuously.
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“I don’t recall what prayers I offered. ‘Psalm of Birds 7’ or ‘Radiance 3’? Nothing. I just screamed Loharam’s name without lifting my head until exhaustion felled me. No answer came. But as shattered dawn light pierced the window, I felt holy power descend upon me—stronger than ever before.”
Only then did Professor understand the origin of the brass candelabras filling the office.
“I heard no reply, but knew my path. I closed the empty temple and reported our diocese’s fate at the Church headquarters. Many grieved and thanked my survival, but it mattered not. From that day, I did everything to ascend to archbishop. Approaching powerful nobles first, scheming politically, using dirty means, leveraging mighty holy power for priests’ support—I claimed the seat. It was when noble wars had drained Lordric and nearly every nation’s coffers, war merchants hoarding all wealth. I asked them: what would make you back the Radiant Church? Know what they said?”
“What... did they say?”
“‘Merchants price everything, but elevating a faith yields semi-permanent gains—we can’t put a number on it. So make your rise our profit.’ They demanded we preach ‘treat non-humans not as fellow humanity.’ Most nations then legally banned non-human slavery; it cramped their high-value trade. It contradicted doctrine, but I allied with them. The Radiant Church ceased treating non-humans as equals. Those war merchants, indebted to marquises, dukes, royals alike, fulfilled their promise: they made us Lordric’s state religion. None could defy our might. No more brothers dragged to unwanted wars or slain in raids.”
—Sigh.
The archbishop rose.
“That’s how it happened. I learned faith alone can’t protect the Church. That day allying with merchants and altering doctrine, I selected faithful like myself—those willing to stray from light’s path for the Church—to form a shadow intelligence arm. This old archbishop and those brothers stepped into shadow from Loharam’s light, but countless others could now live as I did in boyhood: praising light, serving Loharam’s radiance.”
“Why tell me this?”
As I asked, the archbishop—who’d recounted that brutal past without flinching—hesitated briefly.
“Senadis... wanted you in the Church’s shadows, like her. Talented, she said. I agree. Seen Gregorio? Steadfast faith, impeccable prowess... but if such stand atop the Church, we’ll weaken in worldly storms, repeating my past. We need talents like you. Your council performance convinced me further—especially in these chaotic times. I’d planned to coerce you into joining, by any means... but...”
Slide—
He rummaged a drawer, producing a worn letter and book, stamped with his seal, and handed them to Professor. The book pulsed with extraordinary aura; the letter read: [My Apology to the Brothers I Turned From].
“Strange, isn’t it? Scheming to convince you stirred old tales I longed to share.”
Handing me the letter, he looked relieved, unburdened of lingering regrets.
“The world may ignore it, Loharam avert his eyes, but I can’t. For brothers’ safety, I forsook countless non-human brethren entitled to Loharam’s ‘light for all peoples.’ An indelible sin. If I return to light at Loharam’s side, I lack confidence to ask: ‘Did I live as your fitting tool?’”
He stepped back, bowed deeply to me, hands clasped.
“But you appeared like a comet, vowing to unite Church and non-humans. Know how shocked I was? I nearly cried Loharam’s name in the hall, barely holding back. Perhaps Loharam chose you as his instrument—how dare I bind such a one.”
He didn’t stop at bowing— he knelt to prostrate.
Flat!
“Oh no, Archbishop! No need! Truth is, I steered talk that way for elf business, not because I heard Loharam’s voice or—”
“Heh heh heh. Isn’t that Loharam’s guidance?”
He produced a small vial from his robes—temple anointing oil. Rising, he poured a drop onto the prostrate Professor’s head.
“Latura, Loharam. As Lord Loharam’s servant and Radiant Church archbishop, I formally appoint you Radiant Hero and Goodwill Ambassador. Please, right our errant past with light.”
Over the flustered, flat Professor and the archbishop’s beaming, relieved face anointing him, the afternoon sun shone brilliantly.
That day, the Radiant Church announced to envoys and intel guilds alike: Hero Professor’s name, and that his endeavors bore the Church’s full support.
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