All Dharmas Without Self: Not Two, One Origin
Noah didn't fall into a deep sleep. If she wished, she could slumber peacefully on a bed piled high with layers of goose feathers, as if approaching death itself—but her sleep was limited to brief dozes at the bedside. There were too many in the world who suffered such agony they couldn't even close their eyes. Poor souls. People she loved.
Noah lay on the creaking bed and shut her eyes. The unsettling smell of medicines, the chill seeping through the vents, the metallic tang indistinguishable from blood... Hospitals were places where the mind could never truly rest. And what disturbed the heart most was sickness of the soul.
"Stop overthinking, Noassppi. Don't think too much."
In the corner of her vision, a man with ideal muscles and physique lounged in midair. A healthy body. Good muscles didn't always guarantee health, but those illusory ones seemed capable of warding off even invisible germs. She could feel that much intense vitality radiating from him.
"Get some solid sleep. For tomorrow's miraculous morning."
"Illness strikes without regard for day or night, and mishaps come in pitch-black darkness. If the doctor sleeps, the patient has nowhere to lean."
"The only one you can lean on is yourself."
"I am fine. My body can overcome mere drowsiness."
Noah blinked. She examined herself through dialogue with this... hallucination born of her own mind. This was a sickness of the heart. If it was a sickness, she could overcome it. If she could overcome it, it couldn't kill her. If it couldn't kill her, there was no reason to suffer.
"You Fucking Asshole. Cut the bullshit. You can't overcome yourself."
"The tongue is an unceasing evil, a poison that kills the soul. Better to avoid crooked words. They lower your dignity."
"Fuck!"
"......"
Gigachad laughed and barked, while Noah fell silent. What a vulgar hallucination. The mere existence of such a thing within her was undignified.
"Father, I have sinned much in thought."
"Forgiven."
"I wasn't apologizing to you."
"Of Course. No matter who you seek forgiveness from, only you can forgive yourself. Your suffering is entirely yours. So, I forgive myself."
"......I understand. That's not wrong."
"Good job. Now get some sleep."
"I refuse with my honest heart—no."
"Ha. Now you look a bit Fucking alpha? Clearly voicing what you want is important. Ditch the pussy doctor shit and Bible metaphors."
Noah began to grasp how to deal with this vulgar hallucination. It was a sickness of the heart. A disease that valued her own 'heart' above all else. So, she just needed to assert her heart. Simple. Follow your heart without overstepping bounds. Her heart aligned with heaven's will. Asserting it posed no problem.
"Understood. No metaphors when talking to you."
"Good job."
......Somehow, it felt like defeat.
Twice a week, she made house calls beyond the village. The truly critical patients lacked even the strength to seek a doctor. Adventurers lost in dungeons, elders dying under floorboards, cripples unable to walk toward salvation. If patients couldn't come to the doctor, the doctor had to go to them.
It was her divine calling to save lives.
"Thank you! Saintess!"
"Lucky your internals are unharmed. Stop the bleeding properly and avoid strenuous activity for a week."
"Yes! How can I repay this grace......"
"Your gratitude is enough. If you really want to repay me, visit the hospital. I'll treat you to restorative soup."
"Of course! I will!"
Today's visit was to the city's slums, derisively called the 'ghetto.' Poor security, rife with injuries and crime. Dangerous for a woman alone... but.
"They all like you, huh?"
"People here rarely get proper treatment. Without me, many would die."
"Good job. Alphas naturally draw followers."
She was one of the few doctors who didn't charge exorbitant fees. Messing with her was tantamount to making enemies of every slum dweller. In other words.
"You're that doctor called the 'Saintess' in the slums lately?"
Someone who didn't care about turning the entire slum against them.
Someone who could mess with her.
A noble in expensive attire grabbed the wrist of the Saintess treating a slum dweller. Instantly, a chill settled over the slums. Some dwellers moved to protect her, but armored soldiers with spears blocked them.
"......Please release my wrist."
"Hm, looks like a kid. This is the Saintess?"
The man eyed her up and down appraisingly, nodded, and released her. He pulled a document from his breast pocket and held it out. Stamped with the seal of the city's lord.
"Count Hats' order to bring an excellent doctor. His lady is ill, but no doctor in the city knows a cure."
"......You seek treatment?"
"Heard you handle divine medicine. No illness you can't cure, no wound you can't heal."
"......"
Divine medicine. The name some patients gave her 'blood.' When standard drugs or treatments failed, or death loomed with no time, she fed them her own 'blood' to heal.
"Consider it an honor to be invited to his mansion."
"......I don't make house calls for patients who can visit the hospital. It's always open—come yourself."
"The lady is too ill to walk."
"Count Hats has power and wealth to command people. If it's not immediately fatal, have someone carry her."
She never closed the hospital except on scheduled days. She only visited where house calls were essential. Those were her principles.
But trampling others' principles was called 'privilege.' And 'Count Hats' clearly had privilege.
"You insolent wench... You dare defy his lordship's order?!"
"Considering power or wealth in saving lives breeds corruption. My calling is to save people, not sell skills."
"A mere doctor dares—!"
The count's agent raged. Not the lord himself, but a high noble still. Bearer of a Divine Name. Being ignored was humiliation.
"Sigh... No. Right. Rumors say this woman's 'blood' is divine medicine infused with life's authority. Thought it nonsense, but worth verifying. Soldiers."
"Yes!"
"Grab her and draw blood."
"Pardon? How much blood..."
"Is that canteen at your waist decoration?!"
"Ah, yes!"
Soldiers seized the Saintess's arms. The clumsy one tremblingly slashed her arm with his sword. She didn't resist. Just bowed her head in prayer.
"Father, forgive them. They know not what they do."
"You Fucking Idiot! Enough stupid prayer. Fight back. Looks like that 'Father in heaven' doesn't tell his daughter 'protect yourself' either?"
"......"
"Protect yourself. My Daughter."
Her blood flowed endlessly without clotting. Astonishing that a human could bleed so much. The soldier filled the canteen with shaking hands and offered it to the noble.
"Hm. Just blood. No fishy smell is odd... but let's test."
"Pardon?"
Suddenly, the noble thrust his sword into the soldier's shoulder. The man blinked dazedly at the shock, then screamed belatedly.
"Gaaahhh—!!!"
"Drink it. See if it works."
The noble forced the soldier's mouth open and poured in the blood. Soon, miraculously, the wound began healing.
"Wh-what? It doesn't hurt..."
"Ho, the rumors are true. Useful. Soldiers, take her."
The noble grinned like a child with a new toy and ordered. But then, a halo shimmered above the blood-drinking soldier's head, blocking the others.
"N-no! She—"
"What?"
And as if resonating with the halo, slum dwellers emerged one by one, weapons in hand. As if to oppose the noble.
The noble backed away. The mood felt off.
"H-how dare slum trash point weapons at me unscathed—"
"Please leave. You've gotten what you wanted."
Amid the menacing air, the Saintess spoke calmly. The noble glanced at the canteen in his hand, swallowed dryly, and fled. Soldiers escorted him as he ran. Dwellers swarmed the Saintess. The blood-drinking soldier stayed by her side.
"Saintess! Are you alright?!"
"I'm fine. Everyone, calm down. No problem."
"......Yes."
Soon, the crowd dispersed into the slums. The remaining soldier headed after his fleeing noble. Quiet returned, as if nothing happened.
"Strange."
"What is?"
"The slum dwellers and soldier worrying for her... backed off too easily, didn't they? They saw her arm slashed, yet vanished so obediently despite their concern."
"Noah said herself 'no problem.'"
"Pardon?"
"Most in the slums have drunk Noah's blood at least once. They have no choice but to believe her."
Noah's blood wasn't a panacea. Bearing another's 'suffering' meant more than taking illness or pain.
"Noah—owns the lives of those who've drunk her blood."
Life is suffering. Birth, death, aging, sickness, attachment, aversion, choice, flight—all suffering. Noah could bear it all in their stead.
In other words, Noah could bear others' entire lives.
"If Noah willed it, they could become idiots or cripples. What they see, believe, think, choose... all decided by Noah."
"That's... brainwashing?"
"We don't say the brain brainwashes the hand because it follows orders. They're just subjugated to Noah."
No unchanging 'self' exists. Self and others are undivided.
"So Noah doesn't take her own suffering seriously. She is others, and others are her."
Hive Mind. Eroding collective consciousness. That was the true nature of Saintess Noah. Truly not an 'individual' but a 'multitude.'
"......Can that be stopped?"
"Well, easiest is kill everyone who's drunk her blood and lock her in a dungeon... but too evil, not worth it. Hero rescuing tower-imprisoned saintess is fate anyway."
In the end, as always, one way: Noah abandons all her powers herself. Make her doubt herself endlessly, until she believes she has no right to decide others' suffering.
And Noah's absolute goodness comes from the gods.
"Let's turn the Saintess into a heretic once."
"That... sounds fun."
To borrow Nietzsche's words...
God is dead.