The First Stigma Grant (1)

Revelation Day. The Day of Proof.

The first and largest festival of the Providence Church, held on December 1st — Lee Seop's birthday.

A few of the viewers watching the event live began to notice something strange.

Small pockets of confusion stirred throughout the chat.

And with that confusion as the spark, the Day of Proof began.

Human beings are creatures of doubt.

Doubt is not a sin.

Doubt is part of Providence.

A man whose doubt has been castrated is lower than a beast.

This innate human nature — doubt — revealed itself even when playing Raising a Clergy, the app that served as the unambiguous proof of divinity.

They had clearly felt something mystical while completing daily missions and surprise quests with the app's counseling bot, Love — and yet, a considerable number of users still could not shed their skeptical gaze.

There has to be a catch. They must have done something with AI, they insisted, doubting to the very end.

"Humans are truly pitiable. The proof sits plainly before their eyes, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still they deny it until the bitter end. A waste of their 'devout believer' rank, if you ask me."

Old Man Heo, watching the broadcast chat alongside me, clicked his tongue repeatedly.

"Doubt is a good thing. Doubt is like iron — the more you strike it, the stronger the faith it becomes."

I answered the old man's remark with a faint smile.

"If the Firstborn Son deems it pleasing to behold, then surely this too is part of Providence."

At that, the old man pivoted his stance without missing a beat.

It was rather amusing to watch.

"Firstborn Son, all preparations are complete."

Just then, the believers of Providence Network — the church's intelligence organization managed by Elder Hong and Kim Dae-hoon — cast wary glances around before delivering their report to me.

Until the perimeter's safety could be secured, I had been waiting briefly at the corner of the pulpit; at last, I could take my place at the center.

"There was no need to go to such lengths yet, but regardless — thank you for your hard work."

Providence Network's believers had originally been conceived to handle the church's intelligence work, but owing to the current shortage of personnel, they had also taken on my personal protection.

"As Providence wills it."

"As Providence wills it."

At my words of praise, the Network's workers reverently traced the sign of the cross.

Once I advance to Oracle, I shall grant them the Monk class, I resolved, and then set my feet in motion.

The three NIS-affiliated believers currently assigned to my protection walked alongside me, then dispersed — two to the base of the pulpit, one to the far corner.

"Joy to the Provians of all nations who love the Weaver of Providence and the Mother of All Things. May the Status Window bless all Provians."

Standing at the pulpit, I opened my mouth as though performing upon a stage.

"Beloved Provians gathered here today! My family. You and I are family bound not by blood, but by something deeper still — divinity itself."

I deployed the passive skill as naturally as drawing breath.

"Aaaaah..."

"As Providence wills it."

With barely a few words spoken, the countless believers gathered here wore expressions of bliss.

They looked as though they'd been given medicine.

"I am grateful to each of you. I love you all. First, to the Provians who have always believed in me and followed me — my eternal gratitude to the people of Providence Church."

Down at the base of the pulpit, where a teleprompter screen would normally sit, a live chat feed was being broadcast in real time instead.

Judging by the reactions, the passive skill Happy Conversation (B) had carried over the airwaves to a decent degree.

Of course, it could never match the atmosphere on-site.

Still, I was pleased to have earned the distinction of making people stop their games mid-session just to watch.

"My heartfelt thanks as well to the Provian consumers who purchase Holy Water from our Providence Foundation time and again. Our Providence Church collects no offerings. And yet the reason this church has endured and flourished so is thanks to your sacred spending."

Watching the reactions from both the venue and the online audience, I continued.

"And gratitude also to the Provian users who don't buy Holy Water and only play Raising a Clergy."

My sermon on the Day of Proof was a little different from those of other clergy.

"You Provian users are probably tilting your heads at my thanks right about now. Why is he thanking us? We never paid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a single won while playing Raising a Clergy. We never bought the Holy Water sold in the shop. We're just burning through his server costs, you're thinking."

Where most other clergy stood rooted atop their podiums like fence posts, I preached dynamically.

I roamed the pulpit freely, meeting the eyes of the audience and the cameras one by one, orchestrating the stage as I went.

"If you're a Provian user, you've already felt it. That the missions and quests you undertake are anything but ordinary. That you sense something in the sacred prayers you offer each day."

It sounded slightly narcissistic, but my enunciation was crisp, and my voice and tone carried a strange, addictive quality that seized the audience's attention.

After all, a talent for presentation I'd already honed back in my university and corporate days had bloomed all the further the moment it met divine power.

"The countless good deeds and prayers of the Provians gather divine power like so many fuel rods charging a reactor. With that divine power, our Providence Church was able to create Holy Water. To manifest miracles. To heal those who suffer."

This was at once a famous lecturer's seminar, a Fortune 500 CEO's keynote, and a master actor's performance.

"And so, at long last, that miracle has been converted into Stigmata — to be bestowed upon the faithful Provians."

I kept simultaneous watch over the believer count in my Status Window and the live viewer count on the prompt monitor.

Neither the believer count nor the viewer count leaped dramatically at any given moment.

Shame. I'd wanted to hold the first Day of Proof as an Oracle,

The believer count especially stung.

The numbers had fallen agonizingly short, and the year ended with me still unable to advance to an A-class occupation.

For the first Day of Proof, I had hoped to grant not only Cleric stigmata but also genuinely useful classes like Monk and Pardner. It wasn't to be.

"Today is the Day of Proof! Our church's grandest event, held only once a year. And today! I will not merely perform baptisms. I shall grant Stigmata."

Of course, the upward trend in believer numbers was still climbing.

I'd stake my word on it — it was rising faster and steeper than the current price inflation.

But a man with the world's divine power at his command could not content himself with an ordinary uptrend.

The back of the pulpit opened, and Provians of all ages stepped into view.

They wore the dark-gray uniforms that symbolized the people of Providence, singing as they played their instruments.

A song blending hymns and pop melodies in exquisite measure filled the venue to the rafters.

"Run quickly, and let us carve the Mother's proof upon our bodies! Faithful laborers, chosen by the Weaver!"

To grow the believer count even more steeply,

the turning point was needed now.

Time for one more quantum leap.

Urrrrrr—

At my cry, the ten people who had received their orders in advance mounted the pulpit.

Every one of them was a familiar face.

Seven in particular I knew exceptionally well.

They were the founding members of the Providence Church.

"Heo Jae-soo — Elder of the church and steward of the Providence Foundation."

"Wield this old body roughly, like a tool, I pray. O Firstborn Son of Providence, who reflects the Mother of All Things."

"To you I grant the Stigmata of the Cleric."

"Aaaah! As Providence wills it! All things, as Providence wills it!"

First of all, I granted the stigmata to the second-in-command of our Providence Church — Heo Jae-soo.

Heo Jae-soo had to manage the Providence Foundation in my stead and run the corporations under its wing.

He needed to live as long as possible, and to stay healthy.

And so I bestowed the stigmata upon him.

Along with the system message, holy light poured down upon the crown of the kneeling Heo Jae-soo's head.

Ssssssss—

At the same moment, a lantern-shaped stigmata was engraved in real time upon the back of his neck.

However, none of this was caught on camera.

If even this went to broadcast, the fragile "subtle-power-flex" meta I'd barely established would start to wobble.

The cameras simply filmed the kneeling old man and me from a modest distance.

Even so, the reaction in the chat was excellent.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A significant portion of the viewers were showing interest in the Providence Church's services.

Considering that until now, quite a few users had ranked up their believer tiers but rarely attended services — finding it a hassle, and the distance prohibitive — this was major progress.

"Hong Dong-soo — chief laborer of the Providence ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Network."

Even as the chat messages poured down in a deluge, the stigmata granting continued.

"I offer unto You my two eyes and my two ears. O Mother of All Things, O Firstborn Son of Providence."

"To you I grant the Stigmata of the Cleric."

"As Providence wills it! All things, as Providence wills it!"

Hong Dong-soo oversaw Providence Network, the intelligence arm of the Providence Church.

At present, he commanded three NIS agents under him, Kim Dae-hoon foremost among them.

But no matter how grandfather-tier a talent Hong Dong-soo might be, age waits for no man.

For the church to prosper, he had to be healthy. He had to be strong. He had to become young again.

Ssssssssss—

Just as with old man Heo, holy light rained down upon the crown of his head.

A lantern-shaped stigmata was engraved upon the back of his neck.

"Praise the Mother of All Things, the Weaver of Providence!"

And so Heo Jae-soo and Hong Dong-soo were rejuvenated.

Yet the rejuvenation did not transform their appearance in any dramatically visible way.

"You two must wash your faces with Holy Water every day, because there's hardly any change in your looks at all."

"Lee Seop nim! But I can feel it! Inside my body! My bones! My muscles! They're coming alive!"

"It's true. This is truly... radiance itself!"

"I offer my second life to the Providence Church! All my body and soul, and every worldly possession, belong to you, Firstborn Son!"

"My thoughts and my will likewise belong to the Mother. I shall do anything, and carry out anything without a whisper of doubt."

At my remark about their unchanged appearance, Heo Jae-soo and Hong Dong-soo wept on the spot, shouting their testimonies.

Men who washed their faces in Holy Water daily and took half-body baths besides — their skin age had long since settled somewhere in the fifties, but the age of what lay inside could never be so young.

Yet now their backs stood straight. Their stooped shoulders squared themselves.

For an instant, it even felt as though they had grown taller before my eyes.

Their dimmed eyes had brightened too, it seemed — they no longer squinted at me with furrowed brows.