Chapter 365
Chapter 365
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: The Saint and the Completer (21)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
****
The Rite of Canonization. It’s a ceremony where believers officially present the one they’ve elevated to sainthood before their god, essentially asking, “Please confirm if this person aligns with your will.”
Normally, the church only declares someone a saint after this rite. In my case, things happened in reverse.
As I’d expected, the official canonization by one of the five great churches was a rather elaborate affair.
“The church’s inaugural saint, Saint Haroud, was once a notorious bandit. Answering the call of light, he confessed all his sins here in this confessional, vowed to atone to the world for the rest of his life, declared that all he needed henceforth were hands for prayer, and severed his own ankles. Then, in that state, he crawled from the confessional to the altar to pray.”
The rite begins at the outermost edge of the main compound, right next to the entrance in the confessional.
The barefoot march from the confessional to the main hall stairs commemorates the inaugural saint’s penance. At the same time—
“Waaaaaaaaah!!”
It proves to the ordinary believers gathered in the round plaza before the main hall—surrounded by stone pillars—that the figure they’ve only heard rumors about truly exists.
The saint walks as slowly as possible, greeting each one individually. The believers get to touch the sanctified body touched by Roharam’s hand, greet the saint directly, and pray for Roharam and the saint’s future without distraction from the clamor. Of course, out of deep reverence, no one damages the sanctified body or robes with rough contact.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Swish—Flutter!
“The path the saint walks will be covered by a vast cloth, shrouding it in shadow. This symbolizes the long history of our church, which has walked through darkness... But its greatest meaning commemorates the horrific darkness that engulfed the world seventy years ago and the brothers who burned themselves to protect it amid that gloom.”
“...What if I can’t see the path because it’s so dark? I’m not familiar with this place.”
“It will be visible to you, Saint. Stop talking nonsense and recite the canon instead.”
As the saint passes, the path of stone pillars is veiled by thick white cloth. Those entering the shadow fall silent in unison, halting their cheers with solemn quiet. Shadow and silence trail the saint to the stairs of the main hall. At that moment, thick cloth drapes over all the compound’s facilities, plunging the gathered masses into impenetrable darkness.
...Twinkle—
“Oooooh... Latura... This worn tool of light, Ashelia Tirek, dares to offer the traces of ancient light to the one who will become the new light of radiance...”
The eldest guardian priest of the holy water presents a chalice containing its source. In the utter darkness, where not an inch ahead is visible, the canonization candidate reverently receives and drinks the only thing emitting sacred light.
This liquid, said to have been bestowed directly by Roharam, sits at the heart of the compound’s sacred spring, endlessly producing holy water—a gift from the god no mortal can absorb. Past saints who drank it in this rite all returned it through tears.
Gulp—
“Cough! Kughhh!”
...The overwhelming divine power ruptured my blood armor and tissues alongside it. Some issues arose as my saintly tears mixed with coughed-up blood returning to the golden holy water chalice.
But procedurally, [all liquid returned by the saint who drank the holy water source] becomes the new source. The guardian priest eyed it anxiously but carried the now blood-tinged holy water up the stairs.
Once the holy water succession rite ends, the saint may finally enter the heart of the Radiant Church compound: the temple housing Roharam’s statue.
Clack—
The newly received holy water source, the golden chalice, is placed before the statue.
Priests part the crowd, ascend the high church steps, support the weary sanctified body (previously always an elder or frail woman), and lead it before the statue. A dim lantern with a tiny sacred oil flame becomes the temple’s sole light.
“Latura. Guide of light who has traversed this harsh and arduous path to reach here—now standing at the end of penance and the start of a new journey... Stand before that one.”
“Uh... Archbishop? Didn’t you say it ends once we get here...?”
“What we know ends here. What follows is for the two of you alone.”
“...Two?”
At my question, Archbishop Norman pointed alternately at the flickering lantern and the statue it illuminated.
-Clack.
Soon, the vast temple, sunk in darkness, holds only the saint and the statue.
With all preparations complete, the ‘canonization’ truly begins...
Or so they said.
“Uh... Now I just pray? Is it over?”
Archbishop Norman’s instructions covered only ascending the stairs and entering the temple. With my only experience of holy rituals being childhood church services for free pizza bread, how would I know what comes next?
In the pin-drop silence of the darkness, I fidgeted, touching chairs, shaking the now blood-red holy water chalice from my vomiting...
Whoosh!
“Whew. Alright, alright! Sit there?”
The lantern left by the archbishop before the statue flared as if demanding I kneel right then.
[...Roharam. What sort of being is a god?]
“Dunno? Guess we’ll see.”
With millions, perhaps tens of millions of data souls’ faith converged, it’s no ordinary entity.
Figuring it’s something like the World Tree, I knelt reverently before the statue.
“Suuuuuh—Fweeeeew. Alright, I owe him plenty, so.”
.
.
.
.
.
.
“L—”
Fwooooooooosh——!!
KABOOM-!
“Oooooh...”
“Latura...! A pillar of light... Into the temple!”
Believers in the compound plaza tore away the thick tents veiling them and collapsed to their knees toward the temple at the pillar of light piercing down from above, offering prayers.
“Archbishop... Sniff, sob! Do you... see it, Archbishop!”
“I see it... Bright enough for even these blind eyes, a strong light no one could ignore...”
The archbishop, Holy Knight Captain, Holy Knights, and priests wept profusely at the sight.
Roharam’s light, untouched by earth for ages since losing the Saintess.
The era of proclaiming by mere words and conviction that it was Roharam’s will had ended.
Before all the gathered tools of light, Roharam had proven the one inside bore his touch.
****
KABOOM-!
“—Laaaaaaaaack!”
Huff, huff, huff, huff!
“Wha... wha... ugh... wha... huh...?”
[Ugh, uh... u... uh? Uh... huh?]
...What? What did I just see?
A spot of solid bluestone worn smooth from countless knees. As the sacred oil lantern illuminated it, I knelt, thinking this was it, mouth opening—
Before even “La” escaped, something yanked me away, my brain couldn’t process it before hurling me back.
Crackle, crackle...!
Sparks flew from my body. Looking down, my new robes were ash. Smoke rose, it stung, but no visible injuries.
‘...Was the temple ceiling this high?’
Surveying, chairs, statue—everything seemed two handspans larger.
Tremble...
“No... Where’s my sturdy body? Why these stick-thin bones...”
The temple hadn’t grown; I had shrunk. My bulging muscles and snake-like tendons gone, leaving bony skin and bones.
Not just my body—my mind fogged like pre-faint daze.
‘Anemia. Near-death levels...!’
Ah, Roharam. Damn divine power.
---------
- Heung An Mandu: Professor! What did you see! We saw nothing!
- Professor: Ugh, uh, ugh... huh...
- Take a Look: You gotta speak carefully now! Or don’t! Not everyone watched the stream during work hours, but old-school religionists to new cults in the wastes are all interpreting that however they want!
- Professor: Uh... That’s... a god?
- Jokasss: Don’t speak! Seriously, shut up! Already a fight at my shelter—two haulers grabbing collars over whether calling that pure faith convergence a ‘god’ is right! Refugee camps and elsewhere too! Not a peep!
---------
Outside, they’re fussing to shut up since minor riots stirred. But how to speak of what I saw?
Flash! Like a ground-to-air night searchlight in my eyes, something IMMENSE whooshed past...
Then, splat—dumped back to reality. That’s all I recall.
Even my all-purpose memory device Hide just glitches, rolling on the consciousness space floor.
-Clack.
Murmur murmur
Step step
So mentally and physically dazed, I barely noticed the temple door cautiously opening, urgent voices approaching until right beside me.
Archbishop Norman weeping outside, Holy Knight Gregorius, and about thirty clerics.
“Archbishop! The saint, the saint’s mountain-like robust body...!”
“Stay calm! Our brother beheld the pillar of light bridging heaven and earth! For a mortal to face a god and return alive is miracle enough!”
Some clerics gasped at my emaciated, caterpillar-like form—bones unchanged but flesh gone—but the archbishop scolded them, helping me up from the floor.
“H-how to express this gratitude...”
“Ugh... Honestly still... don’t even know... what’s what...”
“No need for more humility. With these stigmata so clear, you are now the living proof of him, the church incarnate. Nobler than any mortal, all must bow before you—and you hold the right to command it!”
Archbishop Norman gestured joyfully, happier than anyone. The two priests who’d applied sacred oil to my back carefully, reverently held out a mirror.
My back in the mirror. Amid thick scars, a white one stark even on bone-stuck skin.
A radial scar like light descending from heaven—unmistakably tied to the Radiant Church, even to my eyes.
They fussed around me after. Ointments, robes, grooming, heated quiet debates, furious note-taking till pens snapped...
“Um... Saint?”
“Ughhh... Yes...?”
“Might you... share even a little of what you saw with these foolish believers?”
“...?”
Mid remaining rites, a priest scribbling seriously with a quill approached.
“Since the Saintess passed, light has never touched earth directly—first time. Knowing and enacting its meaning is our duty as light’s tools, yes? If not blasphemy, please impart some teaching!”
“No, I don’t even know what to teach...”
“Saint! Divine words needn’t translate to human tongues—that’s natural! Just share the feeling as you received it!”
The scribbling priest’s plea joined by a bowing priestess. Other priests and knights halted, bowing to hear sacred will.
Archbishop and Gregorius eyed expectantly, eyes aglow.
Uh... But how to describe it?
It was like... y’know...?
“...Like taking a nuke to the face while signing a refund and re-lease contract?”
“...Saint?”
“What... does that mean?”
“Like... getting chewed out in a black hole’s heart? Body unraveled like thread, flushed down a toilet?”
“A-Archbishop! I can’t understand what the saint...!”
“F-First, record it! Phonetically at least! Seems he’s conveying exactly as heard...!”
“...Divine words!”
“Alas, should’ve brought more brothers to hear...!”
Divine words my ass. Just outer words mangled beyond their grasp.
Game-world church folk couldn’t parse my gamer explanation—my expressiveness couldn’t do better.
‘Truly don’t know what, so what to do.’
Felt like facing something tween existence and nonexistence—no room for what-was-done or met. Just ‘Ugh... something happened! Met something!’ at best.
If anything, it left a ‘not bad’ sensation. Millions of data souls’ ‘Radiant God’ collective liked Saint Professor plenty.
Stagger—
“O-oh! Not the time for questions with weary saint. Sir Gregorius! Carry him inside, quickly!”
“Yes, Archbishop!”
I staggered rising with support; archbishop shrieked like a holy relic shattered, ordering Gregorius to piggyback me.
“Norman... Tha...”
“I’ll handle petty human affairs. Saint, focus only on resting your body!”
“No... Mu... M-”
“We’ll spare no effort for your recovery—rest your eyes. We’ll handle visitors and believers.”
No, that’s not—
‘Was gonna ask for mutant blood!’
Seemed god-shower purged all mutant blood from me; wanted any mutant caught for blood. But too exhausted, powerless to finish.
Ultimately, muscles melted by divine baptism, I blacked out like a sealed vampire mumbling inwardly ‘blood, bloooood...’
Fading consciousness caught archbishop’s voice outside, believers’ cheers faintly.
****
That day, the archbishop officially proclaimed the church linked to Roharam’s will.
Participants and non alike believed without doubt. Light-handlers gained new powers, varying degrees: Mercy priests with innate sustained heals, Wisdom with broadened thinking, Abundance with growth buffs, Valor channeling divine power into aura-like strength.
Zzzzt!
“Hm? My robes suddenly feel tight?”
“You too, brother? Mine feel smaller...”
“No, Brother Malphus? When’d you bulk up?”
Stab shunk stab stab!
“Why’s shoveling suddenly so easy?”
“Yours... handprints on the tool handle?!”
...Far from the Saintess-era ‘divine word wide-area’ infusing spells into light for blanket sacred effects.
“Ooooh! Power overflows! Latura!”
“Truly, a saint is born! Hngh!”
...Key was: post-Saintess, faith-only divine power now bore church traits anew.
“Uh, ngh... Brother Gregorius. Seems... somewhat distant from canon... that...”
“Latura. Have no doubt, Archbishop. The saint’s changed body may symbolize sharing his immense power with brothers.”
“Ngh... Latura, Ro-haram. I misspoke. My faith was lacking...”
Archbishop Norman winced at frail holy water priestesses accidentally smashing the ‘holy spring’ or elderly priests’ sudden growth headbutting and splintering doorframes.
Strongest holy power in Roharam-shrine compound meant strongest graces—and mishaps.
Even saint-guarding Holy Knights like Gregorius swelled till armor joints creaked awkwardly.
‘Latura. O Radiance... Grateful beyond measure for graces, but... what does this mean...?’
Archbishop glanced saint-ward, racking brains over inscrutable divine will.
Today’s prayers would last till dawn, he figured.
****