The Forgotten Altar
I lived in Brunel, a small village on the outskirts of the Lumenheim Empire.
It was a place barely hanging on at the edge of the empire's map—probably omitted entirely from some maps. A total backwater.
In the village center stood the flag of the Holy Light Church. So faded no one could remember the last time it had been replaced.
A little ways from the village, along the roadside, there was an old altar.
A stone altar engraved with the symbol of the Holy Light Church.
They said pilgrims once stopped there to pray, but now it was half-buried in weeds and dust.
Naturally, no one maintained it.
Not the villagers. Not even the village's Holy Light Church bishop.
But I went there every day.
At dawn... always at the same time.
The path from home to the altar wasn't short. Not terribly long either, but it felt farther to me than to anyone else.
Because of the illness I'd suffered since childhood.
Rakein Degeneration.
Even now, its exact cause and symptoms remained unknown. Some fell into madness, others had their mana run rampant in their bodies, and some turned into monsters.
Well... I suppose that made mine a blessing in disguise. I was just born with a frailer body than ordinary folk. At least, no other bizarre symptoms had shown up yet.
But because of it, I couldn't farm or hunt. I couldn't contribute to the community in any way.
Maybe that's why I became the village laughingstock.
"Ellian, you cripple. Just get out of the village already."
Familiar words.
"Get lost! I'm scared every day that your disease'll spread!"
"…."
I understood their feelings, so I just smiled it off.
Lost in such thoughts, I arrived at the altar before I knew it and knelt down as usual.
I pulled a ragged cloth from my pocket and silently began wiping the stone.
Dusting it off, scraping away moss, rubbing slowly into the cracks.
I'd been clumsy at first, but now my hands moved on their own.
No one told me to do it. No reward either.
Honestly, no one cared.
Passersby glancing over and turning away was routine too.
"What a waste of time."
Someone had said that once.
I'd heard, but didn't react.
I just kept cleaning the altar.
Because I thought it was the only thing I could do for the village.
Of course, it wasn't just some worldly motive.
When I was young, a Holy Light Church priest had helped me greatly. I'd tried to thank him somehow, but he smiled and refused.
And then:
"It was merely following the teachings of Goddess Yustia."
Love and embrace your neighbors. That was all.
Simple words, hard to live by. But they filled my heart to bursting.
After that, I dreamed of joining the Holy Light Church to pass on what I'd felt to others.
But soon enough, I learned it wouldn't be easy.
People feared my disease and rejected my entry.
Still, I hadn't given up. I vowed not to yield to any trial, to hold fast to my convictions.
"The light does not burn alone; it banishes the night only when shining upon one another."
I began reciting passages from the Holy Light Church scriptures I'd secretly overheard.
"Love your neighbor. But love not the darkness that would devour him…."
A good while later.
I stopped my hands and caught my breath.
My chest burned like fire. Even this much movement pushed my body to its limit.
Still, I smiled.
Because it felt like I could do something.
"…Good job today too."
I didn't know who I was talking to.
Prayer didn't take long.
I clasped my hands and bowed my head.
No grand words, no learned prayers.
Just:
"I hope everyone's safe."
That was enough.
I wanted nothing more.
As the sun dipped low, I folded the cloth, pocketed it, and slowly stood.
The altar was a bit cleaner than before.
Probably no one would notice.
But that was fine.
I hadn't done it for recognition anyway.
I headed back to the village along the familiar path.
The way was quiet.
As if nothing had happened.
And today, too, the world would pass me by unnoticed.
Usually.
Truly usually, that would've been the case.
[….]
I was heading home after finishing my work, as always.
"…?"
Something felt off.
At first, I thought it was the wind. But no.
A warmth began rising from deep in my chest.
Not cold out, yet it felt like gentle hands embracing me carefully.
It wasn't unfamiliar.
It reminded me of long ago, when Mother was still alive... on feverish nights I couldn't sleep, her patting my back.
I stopped walking.
That instant.
I saw the light.
A warm glow slowly enveloped my body.
The sensation started at my fingertips, climbed my arms, and loosened my stiff shoulders.
I drew in a breath.
Deep.
Deeper.
I felt my lungs fill to the brim.
And even more astonishing…
No cough came.
No shortness of breath.
"…Huh?"
I inhaled again.
Still fine. And not just that—the constant pressure on my chest vanished, my spine straightened like it couldn't break.
And the ever-present pain… was gone.
The light lingered a moment longer, then melted away like snow.
"…."
I didn't realize tears were falling until much later.
Drip, drip.
I didn't know why I was crying. Tears just started streaming.
No explanation needed. My body knew first.
I cautiously clenched and unclenched my fist.
No trembling.
A laugh escaped me.
It was what I'd wished for. But… not something I'd dared hope for.
A sensation too grand for me.
I closed my eyes briefly. Then knelt. Words came unbidden.
"Let there be light."
With a trembling voice, I prayed to the constellation shining in the sky.
"To Goddess Yustia… thank you."
Something ignited deep in my chest.
A warm, quiet, but certain flame swelled uncontrollably. Like something long dormant breaking free. My faith in Goddess Yustia surged wildly.
"…."
This wasn't a reward, I thought.
A trial.
It had to be.
I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. Then murmured a remembered passage.
"Abide no injustice… shine light in every corner…."
No need to wonder where to go.
I already knew. I lifted my head and stepped forward.
Without a hint of hesitation.
Yustia observed the man's every move.
An ordinary man. Or more precisely, a frail-bodied one. Perhaps that's why she took even more interest in him.
What does the faithful do to temper themselves?
They endure asceticism. Strict discipline to suppress bodily desires, tormenting the flesh for spiritual perfection or religious enlightenment. That was asceticism.
But in these times, with faith's flame flickering out, no one sought such trials.
Not the heroes of old, icons of a bygone era. Not any champions... not even the Holy Light Church's pope.
Yet this man, dragging a body more inconvenient than most, cleaned the forgotten Holy Light Church altar every day.
Was that his asceticism? No—to him, even the process held joy.
"A rare soul of true devotion these days…."
Watching his deeds, she let out not a sigh, but admiration.
The man had never witnessed a miracle, heard an oracle, or received any reward. Nor did he act expecting one. And finally… he reminded her of the very first prophet to whom she'd given a divine message.
With that, she resolved to choose this man as this era's Saint.
Saint.
One of holy character and virtue, a model to lead the flock like a shepherd. This man deserved blessings befitting such a role.
Snap.
Yustia lightly flicked her finger, and a cluster of tiny stars bloomed above her.
She exhaled softly, scattering them into shooting stars that plummeted toward the mortal world.
But there was a slight issue.
"Hm… maybe a bit too much divinity went in…."
She brushed it off as no big deal.
Soon, her divinity, carried in the falling star-dust, reached the man.
"…Well then. Let's see how things unfold from here."
The Holy Light Church cathedral in Brunel village had long since devolved into a merchants' market.
This place, meant to hold solemn quietude, had lost all sanctity.
Cheap fabrics piled on prayer stones. Dried fish hung where incense should be.
The offering box served as a cash register. Spots for kneeling devotees echoed with haggling.
"Cheap price! This thing's blessed, I tell ya!"
"Blessed my ass… that's leftovers from yesterday."
Laughter and clinking coins reverberated off the cathedral ceiling.
Then.
The door burst open.
BOOM──!
A few people startled, turning their heads.
A man entered their view. From his face, it was definitely Ellian—the one they always mocked. But something was wrong.
His body… so robust. The skeletal frame should've been all bones, but now it was solid. Better than any man in the village.
Breaking the silence was one man.
"…Ellian? Wha…. How the hell…."
Ellian pulled a book from his bosom. A Holy Light Church bible.
And.
CRACK──!
"You blasphemous scum!!!!!"
Ellian smashed the bible onto the man's head. Pious as he was, he followed the goddess's teachings—no killing. At least… not fatally.
Meanwhile, the onlookers froze, trembling in terror.
Ellian strode slowly toward the cathedral altar.
No one dared block him.
"This place…!"
CRASH─!
"…is a MARKET?!"
People backed away.
He snatched the offering box used as a cash register.
Coins rattled inside.
He stared a moment, then barked a hollow laugh.
"Counting coins with the hands meant for prayer, you fucking bastards."
And hurled it.
THUD!
The box hit the floor, popped open, coins scattering everywhere.
Silver clinking filled the cathedral.
Someone cursed and lunged, but froze at Ellian's eyes.
"Eek…!"
Ellian reached the altar.
Grabbed the canopy roughly and yanked.
Ripping sounds revealed the hidden holy statue.
Dust swirled in the sunlight.
He steadied his breath, muttering.
"…This is a place for prayer."
And added one last line.
"Everyone except those who wanna pray—get the hell out now. If you don't wanna die."
Hearing that, the people fled….
But one being stood dazed, just watching.
[….]