Chapter 50
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Blind Sword
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3373 marching in step.
- Thud, thud.
They advanced in silence, without a word.
The pilgrimage group was no longer heading north.
Instead, they were turning back south.
Normally, praises and prayers would have filled the air without end, mingled with joyful laughter.
"..."
"..."
But no one dared open their mouth; they simply walked the road.
Faces filled not with laughter and joy, but with bewilderment and faint fear.
A single fact circled in their minds.
'The great undertaking has failed.'
And not by the Evil God Cult, but by the very god they believed in.
Every face bore grief, confusion, and doubt.
Why?
Doubt.
It was the path to disbelief—and at the same time, a shortcut to conviction.
That was why Mohaim Espirence had been lost in endless turmoil for days.
'My god...'
Something that had never happened before.
A resolute blade must never doubt.
It must not presume to judge right from wrong on its own.
But in this moment, that faith was shaking.
And so Mohaim quietly recited the oath he had sworn his whole life, once more in his heart.
"I am His sword, the weapon that slays evil."
A sword does not think. It simply swings.
We are the ones who cut down hordes of evil and protect the righteous.
But then, who is evil?
Doubt wormed its way back into his conviction.
"I shall surely exterminate those who serve the Evil God."
But if so, why had the Lord taken the saintess's side?
Was there a greater undertaking than the holy war against the Evil God Cult?
Or had they misunderstood His will?
Fleeing such blasphemous thoughts, he recited another passage.
"We follow Him. We follow the will of His proxy."
Who is the proxy?
Pope Escabaor III.
The one closest to god.
But his divine power had been shattered. Even the facade upheld by the holy relic had been exposed.
By His direct intervention, no less.
Then who is the proxy now?
"Saintess..."
But Erzena Selaph had dismissed herself.
By denying all she had done and leaving the Church, she had received His selection once more.
Why?
Everything shook.
Faith, sword, gaze.
Helplessly shaking.
He needed answers.
Answers he could never find within himself.
He needed someone to tell him all of this.
And then, a paladin beside him spoke.
"Captain. We've arrived."
He slowly raised his head at the words.
A wall towering as if to touch the heavens.
Statues standing motionless atop it.
"..."
Mohaim gazed up at the familiar sight with a hollow expression, silent.
'When we passed here before, I thought nothing in the world could stop us.'
But here he was again. As a defeated man who hadn't even begun.
And once more, he lowered his gaze.
A man stood before the gates.
"Welcome to the southern border, Crusade Army."
A face all too familiar—a certain young man.
He called his name.
"...Central Officer."
"Sir Mohaim Espirence."
The beginning of all this chaos. The start of all his doubts.
And the one who could provide answers.
Nathan Kell said,
"Shall we proceed with exit procedures?"
Mohaim Espirence.
Their eyes met.
A brief but deep enmity.
"Shall we proceed with exit procedures?"
"...Yes."
He answered powerlessly.
Instead of replying, I turned back to look at the Gustatory Officer.
She had just hidden Erzena in the Immigration Control Office meeting room and gave a small thumbs-up.
'They mustn't find out Erzena's here.'
I could tell from their faces.
How desperately they were searching for something to cling to right now.
With their own faith denied, seeing her—the one selected by god here—would inevitably reignite their lost devotion into fanatical flames.
'And as a provisional refugee, contact is legally prohibited anyway.'
Besides, Mohaim's expression was nothing like the one I remembered.
He was no longer the proud, conviction-filled paladin.
A battle-worn veteran laden with countless questions and doubts stared at me.
'Must've been through hell mentally.'
But that wasn't my concern.
I'd been through hell too.
How much had I suffered these past few days?
And deportation was by royal order, so I had to execute it immediately.
I didn't want to see them linger here even a second longer.
So without hesitation, I told them,
"We'll process your exit. Divide into lines of five—no exceptions—and stand before the examiners."
The sense officers stood resolutely beside me, faces stern.
I'll get you out faster than when you entered, you zealots.
- Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.
In the silence, only the rapid stamping echoed enormously.
Just 30 minutes.
Perhaps because so much had piled up, their exit processing was several times faster than entry.
"Those done, go left. Those waiting, right."
"Not ten at a time—thirty!"
"Family units together for processing!"
The sense officers, seething with venom, processed one every two seconds.
Just 30 minutes.
In 30 minutes, the pilgrimage roster was wiped clean.
"Good. Finally... Sir Mohaim Espirence. Identity confirmed."
I stamped the second-to-last paper.
- Thunk.
[Exit Processed]
Red letters stamped onto the paladin captain's document.
The mountain of rosters gone, only one sheet remained.
Nathan and Mohaim looked down at it simultaneously.
The paper bore the face of a very familiar woman.
[Saintess Erzena Selaph].
"..."
"..."
Mohaim's face twisted in complication.
- Shff.
I quietly slid the paper with Erzena's details back and addressed the pilgrimage group.
"As of now, exit processing is complete for all 3,373 of you. Proceed through the gates without delay. Any objections?"
"..."
Silence.
"Then this concludes exit procedures. Thank you for visiting the Crossroad Kingdom. Safe travels."
Finally over.
Never see you again.
- Thud, thud.
Like defeated remnants, the Crusade Army shuffled quietly beyond the border without resistance or reaction.
Pitiful, almost.
'They'll be branded as failures of the great undertaking now.'
The future was plain as day.
Losers, failures.
Those who failed to carry out god's will.
But at the same time, they would become bombs to the Church.
'Erzena's self-dismissal, god's intervention, the Pope's divine power stripped.'
What happens when they return south carrying all this?
Rumors will spread uncontrollably, and the Pope can't stop it.
And when his authority finally shakes someday, the saintess's provisional exile ends, and she returns south.
The Church will be turned upside down.
Along with the true saintess chosen by god.
Finishing that thought, I turned and said,
"Sir Espirence. Your comrades await."
"..."
Only Mohaim remained standing in the empty clearing after everyone left.
But instead of moving, he said to me,
"One thing... before I go."
"If it's about Miss Erzena's whereabouts, I can't answer."
Absolutely not.
No telling what the Pope might do if he knew.
Won't even mention the provisional exile.
But his question was entirely different.
"Were we... truly wrong?"
"..."
What the hell now?
Stunned by the unexpected question, I stayed silent a moment, and he continued.
"I've lived my whole life as a sword for god. So I believed this holy war was His will too."
His face twisted like a knight confessing to a priest.
"But if not, I'm terrified what in my life was right. Where His will ended and my delusions began."
His scarred eyes looked at me.
Those eyes were saying.
Was I wrong?
Tell me the answer.
The answer to our faith.
A face brimming with endless doubts.
For the first time rejected in his life's mission, the old man asked me.
"You, the rumored Talent Manifestor, blessed by god—can you answer?"
Seeking answers from me.
"Were we wrong? Had the Church misunderstood His will?"
As if I knew all the truths.
"..."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Anger surged.
Blood boiling in reverse.
Disgust at the arrogant old man's attitude.
'You tried to kill me in your frenzy.'
Wrapped in that repulsive binary of "heretic if it doesn't fit your views."
'And now you demand answers from me?'
The reason was absurd too.
Assuming I'm a Talent Manifestor, loved by god, and seeking answers accordingly.
The pinnacle of ignorance, arrogance, selfishness.
My fists clenched white-knuckled.
But at the same time, pity welled up.
'That must've been the world Mohaim saw his whole life.'
Right and wrong, truth and lies.
Such virtues unnecessary for a soldier.
A soldier simply obeys orders.
Swing the sword where pointed, cut down those deemed evil.
So now, with conviction shattered for the first time, Mohaim looked lost.
"As Central Officer..."
So, I spoke honestly.
"I do not believe in god."
"...Pardon?"
"Nor do I wish to rely on such a being."
Stunned by the blasphemy to his face, he shouted.
"Your very existence is proof of god!"
The old man's voice boomed.
"You saw it! Through the saintess, how He protected you! I heard it all. You're the Central Officer, a Talent Manifestor! And He proved it!"
"..."
"Yet you claim not to believe—?!"
"Who asked for that?"
I cut him off.
His insistence on viewing the world through his lens was utterly repulsive.
"I didn't pray for it. Didn't request it. It was simply thrust upon my life."
"B-but that's god granting it for our sake—"
"Who the hell are we to receive it?!"
I bellowed.
"Don't lump me with you without permission."
For the first time in an official setting, I dropped honorifics; the sense officers looked at me in surprise.
My breathing grew ragged.
I glared at Mohaim.
Even if god exists, I won't thank him.
Even if he helps me, I won't rely on him.
Conversely, no matter how unreasonably the world turns, I won't blame him.
Because that's the most dangerous thing.
'The Visual Officer's incident, everything I've endured—none of it can be chalked up to that being's will.'
I won't entrust my joys, sorrows, loves, hates, or life to such an existence.
If Talent Manifestation is a divine blessing, I'll just use it.
I won't drown in it.
'I'm no pawn of god.'
That was the sole difference between Mohaim and me.
I spat it out.
"I don't resent gaining this power. But that doesn't mean I'll thank someone in the heavens."
"..."
"If I'd revealed I was a Talent Manifestor from the start, would you have judged me a heretic?"
You lot tried to kill me for upholding principles.
"Even as a Talent Manifestor rejecting pilgrimage entry and papal requests—would you still call me one?"
I struck the core.
"Under the name of your 'great undertaking,' you violated Crossroad Kingdom laws and world treaties. You sowed the seeds of war."
I stabbed like a dagger.
"Was that god's will? The righteous will you zealots cried for? Is that what the Church should do?"
No.
It was plainly human will. Pope Escabaor III's ambition.
"How are you any different from the Evil God Cult?"
The Evil God Cult that treats lives lightly, committing terror and atrocities.
The Holy Church driving people to fanaticism in god's name, killing dissenters.
They look the same to me.
It sickens me.
Even after seeing god intervene directly—something they should've died happy for—denying it in their heads despite knowing in their hearts.
Beyond anger, I pitied them.
So finally, I added,
"That's why Erzena dismissed herself."
Mohaim could say nothing.
"Go back, Sir Espirence."
If he wanted answers from me, this was all I had.
"You already know the answer."
What was right and wrong had been laid bare in the trial.
Your refusal to accept it is on you.
Blind sword.
That's you.
Mohaim stared at me as if struck by a hammer.
Long silence.
"..."
"..."
In the empty clearing, our eyes locked for ages.
How much time passed before he slowly spoke.
"Is the saintess here?"
"I can't say."
"Then relay my words."
His eyes changed.
No longer doubt, but realization.
"It was an honor to serve her. And that I will soon find the truth."
For the first time, he bowed to me.
"...Stay safe until then, Central Officer."
Even his address turned respectful.
To that, I said,
"The Crossroad Kingdom will always be here. Safe travels."
Whether you change or not.
This country will always stand guard here.
I'll guard it.
With that, Mohaim left the border.
The border gates closed, and Mohaim silently rejoined the tail of the pilgrimage group.
Heading slowly back to the Holy Church's southern branch.
“How are you any different from the Cult of the Evil God?”
The Central Officer's words echoed in his mind.
“You already know the answer.”
The cold rebuke and the answer he gave.
"You already know."
He quietly repeated it.
The doubts he'd heard endlessly.
They slowly settled.
Instead, he recalled the trial.
'The Lord's will was clear.'
Now he knew the answer.
The Central Officer didn't believe in god. He even tried to exclude Him from his life.
But at the same time, he lived more as god desired than anyone.
Standing on his own.
Stumbling and shaking, yet enduring, living upright to the end.
It was written in doctrine.
- Heaven aids those who help themselves.
That's why god chose him.
And gave him his own answer too.
What he hadn't believed despite seeing with his own eyes.
He pinpointed it exactly, saying he already knew the answer.
"Your Holiness."
Next, it was time for the Pope's answer.
Instead of the unresponsive crystal orb, he'd go directly and pose the same question.
'And hearing it, I'll decide for myself now.'
The final respect to the Pope he'd followed his whole life.
The Church's blind sword was opening its eyes for the first time.
And the moment to decide whom to swing at was approaching.