Even Without Grand Salvation (4)
Sara headed to Balt's house. The slums were a labyrinth of tangled alleys, but for Sara, born and bred in poverty, finding her way was no great feat. She took the quickest route and arrived without delay.
Balt jumped in surprise at Sara's early morning appearance.
"How did you even get here?"
"Hehe, I, the goddess Sara Lorojin, could find my followers blindfolded!"
"Wait, weren't you supposed to head to the chapel during the day? I could've sworn we agreed to meet there."
"Huh? Oh! You're right!"
Her enthusiasm had made her forget. Right, they were supposed to meet at the chapel in the daytime. She scratched the back of her head. Well, good was good, wasn't it?
Sara got straight to the point.
"Looks like we can't heal him right away!"
It was a firm declaration. But hardly a hopeful one. Balt flinched for a moment before forcing an awkward smile.
"Yeah, figured as much? Even for a goddess, a disease this expensive..."
"It's just a matter of time!"
"...Huh?"
"If we have enough time, I can totally cure it! I got a guarantee on that!"
Sara grinned wide. Lenoir had said it would be possible someday, so they just had to hold out until then.
She explained it all: how the church was still too small for her authority to fully awaken; how once it grew big enough, her power would swell and heal that illness; and how Lenoir himself had vouched for it. By the end, Balt's face was a mix of shock and hope.
"...Is that for real?"
"Why do you believe it just 'cause he said so? You trust him more than me!? I'm the goddess here!"
"No, no, that's not... uh..."
Balt struggled to find words. It must've hit him hard. Sara, who'd been playfully grumbling, smiled warmly at his expression.
"Pretty great, right?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"Of course, I won't make you just sit around waiting. I'm a goddess—I gotta grant my uncle's wish."
Sara reached into her money pouch and pulled out three precious gold coins, pressing them into his hand. Balt startled.
"So, use this to buy medicine."
"But these are gold coins..."
"Buy medicine and hang in there just a bit longer."
Then surely tomorrow would be better than today. The worry wouldn't turn to pure sorrow.
"Pray hard, and I'll make it happen for sure. I might not do much right now, but it'll definitely come true. I'll push extra hard for you and Joseph."
She meant it from the heart. She hoped that intention reached him. How much strength did it give to have someone believe in a possibility even you doubted? Sara knew that well—thanks to Lenoir.
"Got it? You gotta hang in there, okay? Oh, and no using this to gamble and multiply it! This is straight from the goddess herself!"
Balt stared dazedly at the gold in his palm, then chuckled at her last words—though his face was still tear-streaked.
"As if I'd do that. It's got the goddess's scent all over it."
"No scent! I wash my face super thoroughly!"
If it comforted him even a little, that was a relief. With that thought, Sara added,
"Before I go, let me show off a bit in front of Joseph!"
It wouldn't change much, but even token gestures mattered. Heck, even street hustlers had to loosen up their hands with flashy moves to keep customers from tensing up.
Balt nodded. He led her inside to Joseph's bedside, where the boy lay sleeping. Sara knelt and took his hand.
"Okay, uncle, put your hand here too."
With their three hands stacked, Sara spoke.
"Close your eyes and pray. He'll get a little better every day, and when Joseph's all grown up, he'll be riding horses and running wild!"
"Anything goes. As long as Joseph's healthy."
"Then pray for that!"
Balt closed his eyes. Sara watched the pathetic middle-aged man praying for his son.
"Get better. You can do it. Right, Joseph? The goddess is blessing you."
His mutterings dripped with desperation—paternal love. Sara listened quietly. A pure emotion welled up inside her: a longing whiter than the first winter snow, love. It made him beautiful. How radiant was one who laid down everything purely for another? If you weighed that heart on the scales, how heavily would it tip?
She felt the depth of his feelings, how vital this was to him. Unthinkingly, Sara wished,
'Please get better. Fast.'
She hoped the boy tormenting his sleeping father would wake soon. She hoped to see Balt beaming as his son rose from that sickbed after the long winter.
Nothing else mattered—she pictured only that scene.
And then—
Whoosh—!
"Huh?"
Light burst forth. From Sara's body, golden radiance enveloped Joseph. Balt's eyes snapped open in shock.
"G-Goddess! This is..."
"Wha-what...?"
Sara floundered in confusion. She had no idea. Meanwhile, the change continued. The light seeped into Joseph—sss—turning the blue veins of mana poisoning to gold.
Balt and Sara alike were dumbfounded. Only one person came to mind.
"L-Let's go to Sir Lenoir! Hurry!"
"R-Right! Joseph! Hang on!"
Balt scooped Joseph up, blanket and all. They dashed barefoot through the slums to the temple. That's how urgent it was.
They finally reached it and faced Lenoir. He glanced at Joseph's golden-veined body and said casually,
"Divinity has taken root in him. He received your baptism."
Sara tilted her head.
* * *
Divinity is absolute. The halo proving a god's existence, the foundation of all authorities. But setting that aside, its most special trait was that it could be bestowed.
"So, my divinity settled in Joseph and mutated his mana?"
"Mana is ultimately the blood of gods reverted to nature. 'Tis akin to returning to its original form."
"Anyway, does that mean the mana poisoning is cured?"
"Mana poisoning afflicts mutants with exceptional affinity for divinity who lack supply. It arose as a problem only after the Mythic Age."
Of course, the full explanation was more complex. Not everyone suited to divinity could bear it. Their hearts needed purity, illuminated by pure faith as a lantern, until the god accepted it gladly. Easy to say, but an arduous path.
"By rare fortune, all aligned perfectly. Born frail, kept from the world's taint—thus his purity. His father's prayers burned so fervently, lighting that purity's true path. And finally, little Sara, thou beheld the scene with such joy, wishing their happiness."
"...Did I?"
"That was the final piece. Mana poisoning troubles him no more."
"What about Joseph from now on?"
"Those bestowed divinity thus are ordained apostles after training. If he chooses otherwise, he may serve as a mere follower. 'Twill be the awakened boy's decision."
Speaking "apostle" stirred longing in Lenoir—for the subordinates who'd served Immaculate Fate's reign. Yet such positions held meaning only if self-aspired. He offered no firm prophecy for the boy.
Balt, meanwhile, seemed dazed by it all, finding everything surreal.
Sara beamed.
"Hear that? Joseph's cured! The goddess's power fixed him right up!"
He still couldn't process it, face blank as if unsure if it was dream or reality. Then a tear dropped.
"Whoa! Uncle's crying!"
"I-I... ugh..."
Balt flushed with shame but couldn't contain himself, trembling as he clutched the peacefully sleeping Joseph. Ecstasy overwhelmed him. Like mortals when a long-prayed miracle slipped in like a night visitor, acceptance came slow.
At last, he choked out thanks—labored words.
Lenoir spoke.
"Thou sinner among followers."
"Y-Yes...?"
"Thy life held little purity. Yet thy love for thy child burned so true, worthy of miracle."
For the first time in ages, he pronounced judgment as the proxy of divine voice.
"That sliver of purity within thee wrought the miracle. Rejoice."
Balt heaved sobs that echoed through the temple. Coincidences woven into inevitability. Fate had brushed the man this day. Lenoir felt a swell of sentiment.
"...Sir."
"What troubles thee, little Sara?"
"Does this mean I can get my money back?"
"?"
"I gave him three gold coins for medicine, but now..."
Relief had revived her merchant instincts. Lenoir's sentiment evaporated at the sight of her eyeing the money while Balt wept.
"...We shall consider it later."
"Better to take it back, right? A goddess handing out cash left and right—people'd follow the handouts, not the goddess..."
"Later."
A slight dizziness came over him.