Chapter 290
Chapter 290
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 290
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (49)
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“Pfft, ahem, hmm! Ah, sorry about that. Want a handkerchief? Wiping it on your white clothes might leave a stain.”
“Ugh, thanks. Being a cleric is no joke. That woman blew her nose right into my hand.”
“That’s the problem with you, Professor. When the guy who personally wiped that crying woman’s face says it, it looks like you’re just bragging about how it’s no big deal, even though it was actually pretty tough.”
The Professor wiped his hand with the handkerchief Astra had handed him, looking down at the diminutive mage who didn’t even reach his waist.
The boy he hadn’t seen in a while seemed to have shot up in that short time. His relaxed demeanor, and that paradoxical title of “resident” wind mage representing Storm Hill.
“Hahaha. There’s still no shortage of entertaining stuff around you, Professor.”
His once perpetually dour, emotionless expression now knew how to smile properly.
‘...Time doesn’t make the man; it’s the experiences packed into that time.’
After losing nearly half his master and family-like mages on Storm Hill, the time wandering that now-empty home had matured the boy beyond his years. The Professor grumbled needlessly.
“Entertaining? You think that’s entertaining?”
“Hmm... Yeah. There’s not much funnier than paladins debating whether to leave the temple spire as is and register this place as a holy site, or cut it from the base in its pristine state and house it in the Lordric headquarters as a sacred relic.”
“Ugh...”
No arguing that. Even I thought it was kinda funny. They were dead serious about the “symbolism of the saint’s fall meeting the spire’s location” or the “symbolism of a large sacred relic made in modern times and how it would bolster the faithful’s devotion,” and then Gregory—who I thought was coming to stop them—says something like “This matter is under formal discussion at the Lordric headquarters, so restrain yourselves.” Everyone acted like it was the crossroads of their lives, so I couldn’t laugh outright. Astra and I had to stifle our laughs beside them until my jaw ached.
“At this rate, if I just trip on a rock on the street, they’ll say, ‘It’s the stone that halted the saint’s steps! Loharam’s will to pause and survey the surroundings! That rock! Dig it up carefully without damaging the roots!’”
“Ah, don’t even joke about that where others can hear. I overheard the communication spell earlier—some church official would probably go straight to a potter to get holy water bottles made if they caught that.”
“...You heard that?”
“Wind is everywhere. It just happened to carry it over.”
“Haaa. How did it come to this...”
While dealing with crowds begging just to hold his hand, he’d heard the Archbishop had been trying holy communication for over an hour. No choice but to answer.
He’d ignored it, knowing full well what it’d be about, but the spell was infused with so much holy power that the connecting priest glowed brilliantly—impossible to ignore.
=========
“Yes, Saint Loharam speaking.”
[....]
“Uh... Lathura? Archbishop Norman?”
[....Return to us.]
“Yes?”
[I’ll be direct. Come back to headquarters immediately, undergo formal canonization, and take your place as the church’s saint!]
“Whoa, Archbishop, your voice is strong. If it’s because I broke my promise and rushed to the Empire... I’m sorry! Really sorry! Things got urgent! Not sure if word reached you, but no way! In the imperial capital—”
[The unforgivable blunder that made church members who once called themselves ‘children of light’ demean themselves as mere tools, sending the church’s power into decline; the lost saint descending as a fallen witch, turning the Empire into a hotbed of curses and slaughtering royals left and right; an event where even one evil god nearly suffocated the continent, and a second was on the verge—I’ve got reports filling my office desk on all that. So yes, this old body that ignored the saint’s warnings knows a thing or two!]
“Uh... You know well. Yes. Because of that, as the saint of light, I felt a sense of duty—”
[And moreover! The comet brimming with light’s ‘holiness’ that smashed the apocalypse ritual and thwarted that evil rite! We know full well~ its identity is our saint! So, will you still claim you haven’t heard Loharam’s voice? Yes!]
=========
Archbishop Norman, excited beyond imagining compared to the grave, composed man at their first meeting, ranted like he’d regressed to his youth as a high priest of the crumbling church, dominating high society.
=========
[And it blocked the fallen saint, crashing right into our temple of light!]
“It didn’t crash—it smashed through. Left a huge scar on my gut now—”
[Deeply symbolic! With stigmata even, it’ll be so much easier to record!]
[Anyway, enough of that. Time to return to the church. Undergo proper canonization, receive your position. Mountains of work await. Hmm... Since the cardinals down to the Pope all demoted themselves to common priests out of guilt for failing to lead after losing the saint, and no one since has dared take archbishop or higher—no arrogance there. But you, who concluded that saint’s life? Cardinal... or so seems fair.]
“Cardinal... That’s above archbishop, right?”
[That’s why I address you so formally. Your Eminence Cardinal Professor. Above archbishop, below Pope.]
“Oh no, oh no! I’m good. Saint is burden enough. What use is a title for someone like me who wanders outside?”
[....That’s exactly why we want you to stop wandering.]
As the Professor scrambled for a defense against the Archbishop’s “Come into our arms!” assault, a sigh came, followed by the Archbishop’s voice, calm now, like soothing a child.
[I know. Your sacrificial spirit, Saint. When others preserve themselves, you pour your all into spreading that light, regretting you don’t have two bodies. Thanks to that, though masked as a heretic, the whole world now calls you saint and serves you. Thus, when people think of the church, your name comes up too. You’ve become light’s new focal point.]
“That’s...”
[Every faith has leaders. We follow light’s radiance, but the path is distant and perilous. Sometimes we take solace in the nearer lighthouse over the faint, broad glow illuminating the world. You appeared before us, lost without that focal point. Do you know young acolytes’ holy power has surged these past months? Not just them—paladins, priests, monks, most brothers wield greater light now?]
[Aura, mana—impressive, sure. But when emptied, like removing the sackcloth hiding its true worth, didn’t you prove you’re the vessel holding more light than any? Many saw it, so now the faithful believe you wield such power. Sometimes results precede causes. Somehow, divinity will dwell in you. Different from us due to your multifaceted powers... but as belief in you spreads, so will the divinity. Undeniable fact.]
“Hold on, Archbishop. Power isn’t that simple—”
[I’m not done. Even if we both deny it outright, you’re light’s new focal point—undeniable. Now, if you throw yourself into peril like this and suddenly die? What then? Pilgrims finding rest after hardship lie there. The moment you die, that spot becomes endless abyss. Priests falling without focal point into the abyss. Your passing would cause greater religious loss than the saint’s. Twice happened—thrice could too. Faithful will fear firm belief. Thus, light’s name, Loharam’s will, fades from the world.]
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Cleric duty. Hitherto, when justifying tough acts, he’d leaned on blind faith: light’s will is so. But now, risen to a vital role in the Church of Light faction, the moment to bear that blind duty’s obligation had come.
Truth is, in any group, past a certain level, people flock regardless of your will.
Knight play accumulating heroic points earns “foremost knight” fame, feudal lords demanding service, raging if refused.
Die-hard mercenary play like Thousand Stream Emperor suddenly makes “Mercenary King,” random mercs handling chores, swarming at a whisper to wreak havoc.
If annoying, like Levit Princess’s “Princess House” with comrades and vassals, become head of your own small group.
Top players inevitably face it.
Just... Church of Light, yearning a century for this focal point, proposals a tad fervent.
Aware he’d overexcited, Archbishop paused, choosing words.
=========
[Honestly, even saying this, I doubt a saint like you would hole up safely in the church, wrestling paperwork with me. Just hoping you’d acknowledge it, I’ve droned on to a busy man.]
[Remember: Cloth covers small lanterns, but none covers rising dawn. You are light’s new dawn—your safety isn’t just yours. Countless small lights descended on the world, all brothers, pray for your well-being.]
“I’ll... remember.”
[Such words ease this old heart.]
“Well. It’s just ‘take care of yourself.’ Not too much to ask.”
[Of course, you must visit headquarters for canonization. Ah, and the spire where the saint ‘martyred’? Personally, leaving it as holy site aids expanding light’s influence in the Empire’s future rebuilding—]
“I didn’t die, so what martyrdom! Disconnecting!”
[Hahaha. Lathura. Fare well.]
=========
Thus ended the communication with the Archbishop.
“Shoving the cardinal seat—vacant for decades, unclaimed by anyone—on a guy who can’t read evening prayer? Saint or not, it’s like they secretly agreed in closed talks to have a fake saint act for church benefit. No real Loharam or religious acts meanwhile. Right now, ‘light’ evokes Edison, not Loharam.”
“If the saint title burdened you so, why act it for nearly two hours in front of crowds? With your power, you could’ve pushed through triple-stacked crowds easily.”
“Ugh... Wasn’t two hours. I knew I needed to hit the palace site quick.”
“Yes, yes. Very convincing from the guy wiping tears and snot till I came to fetch you.”
“...You don’t let up, huh?”
“Mages handling admin full-time need this level.”
An hour? A bit over?
Tormented amid crowds begging to hold his hand—that long.
Honestly, there was a point thinking “this should suffice.” He was busy, wanted to wrap up and rest. Having bestowed heavy grace on the Empire, leaving words for the nascent new Empire might let him shape its growth his way in 4World later. To leave more, go now—planned to slip away moderately.
‘Saint. Could you name this child? Miraculously born amid chaos.’
‘...Parents create new life, each a part of Loharam. Light descends on names they give. Thanks, but for the child’s name, leave it to them...’
‘I’m the grandfather. Father died protecting wife, my daughter—child’s mother—died birthing alone without help. Only family left is me, but with parents’ noble employer dead too, how’s this child to live...’
‘...Hand her here. She’s a cutie.’
Amid turmoil, old man came to temple, cradling babe suckling dead daughter’s milk.
‘Saint. My hand—my hand’s gone. Closed eyes briefly woozy from drink, city burning, my hand... Aaa... Prayer... No hands for prayer, presumptuous, but may I ask you?’
‘...Even in pristine robes and relics, hands clasped, some don’t reach light. Likewise, no hands doesn’t bar prayer. Gregory, tend this brother?’
‘Church purification priests en route. Upon arrival, healing station for wounded.’
Woman unwrapped bandages, showing mangled stump from rough teeth, begging prayer.
‘....’
‘It’s fine.’
‘...Ugh, heuk...’
‘...It’s fine. Really. Not your fault.’
Man, bloodied hands, dazed eyes, pushed here by crowds, collapsed at one comforting word, confessed sins till exhaustion-sleep.
[You are now light’s new dawn.]
Never done, never seen such.
But at his hasty words, tears flowed, guts spilled like burning, then reclaimed life’s will—impossible to leave.
‘Nadia... Lovely name. My daughter rejoices in heaven. Thank you, truly... May light shine on Nadia and you...’
‘Thank you for staying, saint. Ah, Lathura...’
‘Such words... I’ll live. Thank you.’
Torment bred no fatigue—mind lit bright.
Even now, weighing political advice for new Empire’s foundation at Gainax vs. comforting weary before him—obviously Gainax, urging inwardly to interject now.
‘One more.’
‘Just this one. A word, a prayer—time for that...!’
His mere presence giving solace, hope.
[Countless small lights descended on the world, all brothers, pray for your well-being.]
So many praying for his safety, baring it raw, facing it.
Truly, truly good experience. Forgot Empire growth direction in 4World, immediate military aid— all.
“Ahem. Compensation for the toil? Not bad. Healing, say.”
“That mindset’s why people revere you, Professor.”
Anyway. After endless crowds, Astra fetched him as needed—snapped to, slipped out together.
“So. Why’m I needed?”
“Ah, coronation prep nearly done, modest scale. To calm chaos, show Empire’s center firm to max people. Survivors: third at temple, seventh at palace site. Bring you, rest follow—so came.”
“Ah, coronation. Right. Others arrived?”
“Heh heh. Already here, prepped. Lucilla especially combative. Didn’t expect so many dresses, jewels surviving ruined capital. Snagged intact lace here, dress frame there. Servant city maids mostly experts, all eager—blink, high-end dress complete.”
“Our girl’s sharp. So. Gainax’s reaction?”
“Saving that joy for you, Professor. See yourself.”
Hurrying, reached cliff parting palace and capital. Astra’s wind crossed valley to ruined palace site.
Far off, familiar voices echoed.
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