The Saintess and the Hero (1)
Isis was special.
"My goodness..."
"The wound... it's healed."
It wasn't a sudden realization that had struck her one day. Just as one didn't need to learn how to breathe or drink water, Isis had always known there was something special inside her. From the very first time she saw someone's wound, she had harbored a premonition that she could do something about it.
The first person Isis ever healed was a child her own age who had tripped and fallen while they were playing together.
"This child is special. Did you say her name is Isis? As her parents, you must already know, but her mana possesses properties incredibly similar to holy power, even without any formal training. It is as if she has been chosen."
The rumors spread like wildfire. The Holy Kingdom dispatched a priest directly, pleading to be entrusted with the education of this 'chosen child.' A massive reward, high-quality education, and even the promise of regular visits—there was no reason for Isis's parents to refuse.
"Isis, what did you think when you saw that injured person?"
This was a question asked by Priest Andre, before he became a bishop, once Isis had fully adjusted to life in the Holy Kingdom and the church. Isis had looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling, and answered in a bright voice.
"I wanted to help them!"
The lisping words of a young child. The priest smiled warmly and knelt to meet Isis at eye level. Seeing his proud expression, Isis beamed even brighter.
"Good. In the future, the power you hold will be able to help and heal many more people. Isis, do you want to become someone who helps others like that?"
"Yes. I want to heal people who are hurting."
Isis nodded vigorously. Bishop Andre's hand gently stroked her hair.
"That is a wonderful thought, and a very noble desire. Isis, you are going to grow up to be a splendid adult."
I want to heal people who are hurting. Why had she forgotten that until now?
Isis's hands met violent resistance. The flesh and tentacles disrupted her mana. Her divine power refused to gather, constantly threatening to scatter. She had to focus. She had to break through this resistance and channel her mana, no matter what. Ignoring the burning pain in her hands, Isis pressed down.
"It's getting noisy outside," Georg said, frowning.
I, too, could sense the commotion. It had been about twenty minutes since Isis began the treatment. If things went as expected, there should still be plenty of time left, but things rarely went according to plan. While it was hard to imagine anything going wrong with the Bishop, Aryen, and Marianne out there, variables could always arise.
"Should we keep our presence hidden, or would it be better to just go outside?"
I looked toward the makeshift cot in the corner. Beads of sweat were trickling down Isis's forehead.
Thud. Thud. The sounds of things colliding and shattering echoed from outside. Doors slamming open and shut, buckets being kicked over, water spilling. Along with them came the shouts and footsteps of an angry mob. The noise was gradually drawing closer.
"If they're going to storm this place eventually anyway, it might be better to go out, assess the situation, and then act..."
Knock, knock, knock. A knock sounded on the door. It was the signal we had agreed upon. I rushed over and threw the door open, my eyes widening in surprise at the person standing on the threshold.
"Marianne?"
"We don't have much time, Hero. The villagers are spreading throughout the town, trying to round up members of the Blue Church."
Marianne glanced back before looking at me again. The clamor of the mob spilled through the open doorway. She urgently grabbed my wrist. It seemed holding our breath and hiding inside was no longer an option. I turned to Daphne.
"Daphne, can you cast a protective spell over this entire house? Like a barrier?"
Daphne nodded. "Yes, I can... but keeping it up for more than thirty minutes will be difficult."
"Understood. If it looks like the crowd has found this house, erect the barrier immediately."
I picked up my hood. Daphne looked at me, bewildered. "What are you planning to do, Elroy?"
"Draw their attention."
I tossed a cloak to Georg. He frowned but caught it, hastily throwing it over his shoulders.
"Right. It's better if I help cause a distraction too. There's no guarantee they'll only focus on you. If you, Marianne, and I draw them in three different directions, it should disperse them."
Georg grumbled that running wasn't his strong suit, and I gave a bitter smile as I stepped out the door. Marianne gave a slight nod when she saw Georg and me with our hoods pulled low.
"Let's go."
We slipped into the narrow alleyway. Even amidst this chaos, there was no light. The people were like angry, blind beasts. They smashed, overturned, shattered, and threw everything they could lay their hands on. Kicks and punches flew wildly. Shoddily built wooden shacks collapsed helplessly. Villagers who hadn't joined the Doomsday Cult fled into the streets, trembling with fear.
"Damn kingdom! You bastards of the Blue Church! How much more are you going to steal from us?!"
"You took our homes, our land, our families, and now you want to take away the only place we have left to turn to?!"
The people wailed, unleashing their pent-up fury. At this rate, they wouldn't hesitate to drag the Saintess out and beat her to death. Georg shook his head, then leaped onto a roof, intentionally making noise. A group of people roared in anger and began chasing after him.
"I will head down that alley and draw their attention," Marianne said, taking off.
I watched Marianne's retreating figure. I waited until she was out of sight. Soon, shouts began echoing from the opposite alley. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the alleyway and onto the main street. I saw people running amok, destroying houses and belongings. One of them sensed my presence and turned toward me. His face contorted in rage as he screamed.
"There's another one of them over there!"
"Get him!!"
Still, I wonder if this will really be enough to draw everyone's eyes to me. I was about to let them get dangerously close before starting to run, but then I froze.
"I feel strong mana coming from over there! The bastards are hiding in that house!"
Damn it. It seemed worshippers of the Evil God were mixed in with the ordinary villagers. Losing all reason, the crowd stopped chasing me and rushed straight toward the man's house. Daphne's protective magic activated, manifesting a barrier of blue mana. Unfazed, the mob threw stones and hurled their bodies against the shield.
"It's their magic! Break it down!!"
The goddamned cultist shrieked. I could see a sinister energy writhing within his body. Every time it clashed with Daphne's barrier, the shield shuddered violently. If left unchecked, the barrier wouldn't last long. I pivoted immediately, locking my eyes on the cultist.
"Drag out the ones hiding inside—"
Crash! My kick sent the cultist flying through the air. I leaped after him instantly, wrapping my hand around his throat. His eyes stared back at me, wide with shock.
"You crazy..." I slammed him straight down onto the main street. The cultist choked and let out a grotesque shriek in my grip. He coughed, spitting out dark, clotted blood. He tried to gather his mana to retaliate, but before he could manifest it, I drove my fist into his chest.
"Cough—!"
"Don't be a baby. You didn't even reinforce your body," I muttered, slamming him into the ground. Half of the crowd stared at me in shock, while the other half, still blind with rage, continued to batter the barrier. Because the cultist had disrupted the shield, it didn't look like it would hold much longer. I grit my teeth as I watched.
"You... you're dangerous. You're no mere Heretic Inquisitor..."
He was still conscious? I looked down coldly at the cultist. The barrier was in critical condition. The shouts of the crowd grew louder. Stones, wooden planks, and tin buckets rained down upon the shield. Daphne seemed to be forcing more mana into it to repair the damage, but completely stabilizing a barrier that had already begun to fracture was too much to ask.
"But... do you really think you can stop that angry mob all by yourself? I don't know who is inside, but with that level of mana, they must be someone important within the Blue Church."
The cultist spat out a laugh. "My life doesn't matter. As long as we can clear away that obstacle..."
I pulled back my hood. Channeling my mana, I manifested a halo above my head. I wanted to make sure everyone could see me clearly. The cultist's jaw dropped in sheer shock, and one by one, the people battering the barrier began to turn their heads toward me.
"...It's the Hero." Someone's murmur fell heavily into the sudden silence.
Crack! Isis's body was thrown backward. She slammed into the wall opposite the cot, letting out a sharp cry. The hands she had used to heal trembled violently. Her right arm, which had been circulating mana, burned with searing pain. Yet, her mana had still failed to penetrate that thick, mutated flesh.
"...Saintess," the man watching her from the side called out, his voice laced with concern.
Isis shook her head, signaling him not to worry. Once more, she gathered her mana. I want to help those who are hurting. I want to save them. That childhood wish had, at some point, been overshadowed by her title as Saintess and the heavy duty of saving the world. Yet that very desire was the most essential quality for a Saintess. Why had she forgotten it for so long?
The light of healing gathered in Isis's hands once more. Staggering, she placed her hands over the child's body. She decided not to think about how much mana she had left. Even if she lost consciousness and collapsed, even if her heart felt like it was being squeezed to death, she would keep healing.
'Let's say we lure the Kraken ashore, bind its body to the land, and defeat the Calamity. What about the survivors? Who will take responsibility for those sacrificed in the process?'
There was no one to take responsibility. We had to focus on defeating the next Calamity. In everything, the burden of responsibility fell solely on the victims. We were neither the victims nor the perpetrators. Had that fact blinded us, or was it the days spent fighting the constant fear of death? Forgetting those left behind had ultimately turned Isis into a sinner.
"I'm sorry."
She would have to carry this sin for the rest of her life. Isis resolved not to look away from the truth before her. Just as the Hero had marched forward to defeat the fourth Calamity without her and Aryen, the Saintess had to move forward as well. She could not pathetically console herself by claiming it was all in the past. She couldn't dismiss defeating the Calamity as a closed chapter. Because even now, people were suffering like this.
"Please, live."
You can resent me. You can blame me for what became of Vaktins. So please, just live.
Her divine power began to emit an increasingly brilliant light. The resistance grew more violent, rejecting the holy energy. Isis poured in more than just her mana. Her right hand truly began to burn. Yet, she felt no pain. Only one thought remained. The singular, burning desire to save this child began to elevate Isis's magic to a whole new realm.
Thud. Thud. The desperate, blood-curdling screams of the mob pierced through Daphne's barrier.
"Come out! You filthy dogs of the Kingdom and the Blue Church! Are you going to drive away our teacher now, too?!"
"What have you ever done for this land?! You kicked us out of the home you failed to protect, told us to do nothing but pray, and now you're here to drag us away?!"
I'm so sorry. Isis grit her teeth once more. Behind her, she could feel the father's desperate gaze fixed on his son. She did not want to cause any more pain. If there were wounds, she would heal them. It had nothing to do with her title as the Saintess. A responsibility in name alone was far too light.
The light shone even brighter. Isis opened her eyes and placed her left hand over her right.
"I won't run away anymore."
Whirrrr! The sphere of light blazed like the sun before suddenly bursting outward. Isis was not thrown back this time. The light swirled through the room in a warm, golden embrace. Like falling feathers, specks of divine dust drifted down onto the child. The fused flesh and tentacles began to dissolve and fade away.
"Ah... Ahhh...!" The man fell to his knees, sobbing. Crawling forward, he gathered his son into his arms. A brand-new arm had grown where the child's severed right arm had been. Color returned to the boy's face, and the soft, steady sound of his breathing filled the room as he slept peacefully.
"Thank you... Thank you so much..." The man wept, hugging his child tightly. Exhausted to her core, Isis let out a breath as she looked at the child she had successfully healed. Relief washed over her long before joy could. She pushed herself up, sighing as she confirmed the child was safe.
"This debt of gratitude..." When the man spoke, Isis quickly shook her head. This was not a favor bestowed. If anything, it was the repayment of a debt. Seeing the firm resolve on Isis's face, the man nodded and turned back to tend to his son.
Isis stepped back into the center of the room, but only Daphne was waiting for her. Daphne looked at her, her face pale.
"Saintess... the people pounding outside suddenly went quiet."
Isis grabbed Daphne's hand and flung the door open, stepping outside. There was no time to relish the sense of achievement from her new power, nor the joy of finally saving someone. An ominous foreboding stirred in her chest. Daphne, too, looked utterly exhausted from depleting most of her mana, but she stumbled along, guided by Isis's grip.
A commotion. The main street just past the narrow alleyway was loud. Isis quickened her pace. What if the people who went out to distract them...? On the main street, a crowd had gathered, shouting in protest at someone. Isis ran toward them frantically, but the people didn't even seem to notice her.
"Why..." And the one surrounded by this mob was Elroy, standing perfectly still with a hardened expression.
"Why?! Why did we have to end up like this?!" Someone's agonizing scream rang out, followed by the sound of something being thrown.
Thud. Elroy, who had been standing blankly, staggered as a stone struck him.