Chapter 13
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Angel
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Thud. Thud. Thud.
The man walks. Slowly, with a sword plunged into his chest.
He walks toward the terrified English settlers and natives.
In the silence, the Spanish soldiers part ways for him of their own accord. No, some follow at his side as if entranced, or drop to their knees.
One Spanish soldier collapses to his knees and speaks.
"Lo, Lord... Lord... forgive us... F-forgive us...!"
The man's indifferent, transcendent gaze brushes over him, and the soldier trembles as if electrocuted before collapsing.
"Lord, we have sinned greatly against You. Please forgive these sinners, these ignorant sinners...!"
"Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors... And lead us not into temptation..."
The Spanish wail and desperately try to grasp even the hem of his garment. When a finger—severed and just regenerated—brushes a man's face, he weeps like a baby.
"Lord, Lord...! Please, please!"
"Uwaaaah...!"
But the man only glances at them fleetingly, saying nothing more. He simply advances quietly, one step at a time, toward the English.
The Spanish make every effort not to hinder his path, yet they flock to him desperately, like children wailing for their mother.
But where there are believers, there are always unbelievers among them.
"Wh-what the hell, everyone? Crazy? Calling some filthy Indian savage the L-L-Lord? The Lord taking the English side? Bullshit (Mierda), no way!"
An unbeliever staggers toward the man. At the sudden furious shout, everyone's gazes turn icy, but those about to strike him down halt...
"Stop."
...at the man himself.
"Kuaaaagh!"
At his command, everyone freezes. In that moment, the unbeliever finally draws his sword from his belt and swings it at him.
With it, the man revs the chainsaw in his hand and thrusts the blade straight into the unbeliever's neck.
Vrrr-vrrr-vrooom!
The chainsaw's ultra-sharp teeth grind against the Toledo steel breastplate, sparks flying everywhere.
"..."
"..."
"..."
It was but an instant.
The unbeliever's flesh and blood turn to mush, and he collapses.
Thud.
The man looks at the fallen corpse, then slowly pulls the sword from his chest. He slams it into the dirt and surveys the surroundings.
"...Do I frighten you?"
Everyone flinches at his words. Not just the gathered Spanish nearby, but the English, and even the natives who don't believe in Christianity.
Only then do they realize.
Everyone here had understood the man's words perfectly.
To the Spanish, it whispered in Spanish; to the English, it murmured in English; to the Algonquins, it spoke softly in Algonquin.
"My, my God..."
The last shred of doubt about the miracle before their eyes vanishes. Thus, the surviving Spanish cling even more fervently, more desperately, to the one manifested before them.
"Enough."
At that single word, they scatter like light driving out darkness. Yet they sob, begging him not to abandon them.
After watching them for a long while, the man approaches Eleanor first. Kneeling, she sees his chest through the torn fabric of his clothes.
A chest pure white and flawless, without a single wound.
"Ah, ah... I humbly beg forgiveness for my past rudeness..."
"You have never been rude to me, Eleanor."
Ahh.
His voice reaches me.
Eleanor weeps uncontrollably, staring at the ground, and the man wipes her tears, helps her stand, and says,
"Those people..."
"Th-the Spanish, my Lord?"
"...Please tend to them. Gather the wounded, wash them clean, and place them in the sheds. I'll handle the rest."
"B-but, just now they tried to kill You..."
"Eleanor, didn't I say?"
"..."
"If saving a person requires a reason, wouldn't that be too sad?"
"...Ah, aah."
"Save them, Eleanor. Just as I saved you all."
"I'll help too!"
"Me as well!"
As Eleanor clutches the man's hand and weeps, others rise first and approach the Spanish. They willingly support the arms and shoulders of those they were trying to kill moments ago, helping them up.
And another kneels and approaches the man.
"Mr. Huet?"
"Yes, it's me. This sinner of a lawyer before You..."
"Calm yourself."
"How can I calm down now?"
"..."
"..."
Lawyer Thomas Huet falls silent, trembling all over as he rises. He then walks to where the forklift had just belched smoke. The man follows behind.
Along the way, Huet carefully picks up the sword embedded in the dirt—the one that had pierced the man's heart.
He approaches the soldier still trapped between the chain-link and the forklift and asks,
"What is your name?"
A trivial question, yet the soldier weeps at it.
"...R-Romulo, from Seville..."
Huet nods solemnly and raises the sword.
"...This holy blade belonged to Romulo of Seville."
He removes the scabbard from the soldier's belt, sheathes it, and offers it to the man.
"And now... it is Yours."
"...What are you doing?"
"This place is now holy ground; this sword, a holy sword. One among us may become a saint, and this sacred tale will be retold endlessly."
Huet kneels again, eyes gleaming.
"Thus, nothing of this moment shall be forgotten—not the sword, nor the name of its bearer."
"..."
To Huet's impassioned words, the man simply wipes the dying Romulo's eyes.
"Don't cry."
"S-sins..."
"Sins will be judged by the Lord in heaven. Do you fear the Lord?"
"...Ah!"
"Fear not."
The man takes Romulo's hand.
"I will stay by your side."
"..."
"..."
Romulo soon sheds tears and closes his eyes.
They would never open again.
Yet he looked utterly at peace.
Finally...
"I-I... I never imagined this..."
Manteo approaches slowly, head bowed, then drops to his knees. The other natives following him dare not lift their heads in fear.
"I repent...! Yes! I was only baptized but never truly believed in You! Even without believing in the great spirits the Europeans speak of, we lived well for generations. But..."
Bam!
Manteo pounds the ground, weeping.
"The English were right. Tell me. Are You truly, truly the great God they worship? Or..."
"Shh."
"..."
"I am not a god. Merely another created being."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Only then do all the kneeling people raise their heads to look at the man's face.
An utterly ordinary man.
Like Melchizedek in Genesis, without father or mother, a mysterious figure whose origins no one knows.
Nemo.
His name would not be forgotten. His traces would not vanish. The flame of faith he ignited would never fade or extinguish.
"...Eleanor?"
"Ah... Y-yes?"
"Have all the patients been moved?"
"Yes, Lord Nemo!"
"Then let's go."
He is the one farthest from the powers of death, the most noble being on earth, who cares for enemies as kin and wanderers as dear friends.
He shall be immortal.
So everyone present believed without doubt.
I've killed a person for the first time in my life...
Huuuuh.
Calm down.
I thoroughly wash the blood from my hands and scrub my ragged clothes with cold water. The bullet holes and sword gashes are a mess. Will the clothes fix themselves by midnight?
I grip the sink and stare into the mirror for a moment.
More precisely, at the spot over my heart.
"...It's really clean."
The sensation of the blade piercing exactly here is still vivid. The feeling of blood draining from my body, the burning pain where it went through—I can't forget it.
My insides writhing against the blade, the cold steel stirring my hot blood and flesh, slicing...
Gulp.
I swallow again.
"Fuck... I'm really buying that thing."
-'O immortal one who transcends eras, now a new world calls to you.'
-'Immortal, will you become the pioneer of the New World amid infinite blessings? Or the slave of fate?'
The opening text flickers before my eyes again. I knew something was off with all the immortality talk...
'...But I didn't think it meant this literally.'
True 'immortality.' No metaphor, no hint—just real immortality.
I don't die.
Not even with a pierced heart, severed limbs, or bullets.
I've just realized this, and on top of that, committed my first murder. Born in 21st-century Korea, when would I ever kill someone? In a country where executions haven't happened in over 20 years.
I wasn't in my right mind earlier.
Adrenaline surging, fear and reality half-numb, I wandered about, blurting whatever came to mind and acting on impulse... Uh...
What did I even do?
First, some soldier said something to me, so I killed him. Then the one who stabbed me wept with the world's most agonized expression, so I comforted him... Yeah...
After that, I treated the Spanish. Treatment meaning basic first aid: aligning bones, splinting, applying antiseptic alcohol nearby, feeding antibiotics.
Literal emergency care.
But when I bandaged them, that Spanish governor or whatever started saying something...
...Probably cried?
...
...
...
-"Ah! The Lord's love that embraces even enemies! Truly great! Oh, our Savior..."
-"I-I'll convert from Catholicism right now! I, Vicente, have finally seen the light like the late Apostle Paul—please accept my repentance! Ah, Lord! Lord!"
...What did I reply?
-"I wasn't attacked because you're Catholic. We even have natives here who don't believe in Christianity, right? Religion isn't the issue."
-"Th-then... why...?"
-"If I'd done nothing, the powerless English and natives would have died. Now stay still. You'll reopen the wound."
So the governor's reaction was...
-"Aaaah! Aaah! Aaaaaah!"
...Not really words.
Whether it was ecstatic cheering or groans from the bandaging pain, honestly, I don't know.
The others were similar.
Normal patients—especially ones who've never seen modern medicine—might question the weird procedures. But they gulped down the bitter meds like honey, even crying.
And while Eleanor and I tended patients, others refused to rest despite being told to. They prayed and sang hymns outside the sheds at the top of their lungs.
Even the natives performed traditional rituals out of confusion, and the so-called Christians didn't say a word. The scene of racial harmony...
...
What is this.
So, what I've done so far...
1. Rise from death.
2. Kill an unbeliever.
3. Comfort the enemy who stabbed me.
4. Treat the soldiers who attacked me.
...
...
...
Thinking about it, that's how it adds up.
...Uh, uhhh?
I feel cold sweat pouring down my back like a faucet left on.
What do they think of me now?
What happens to me next?
What... am I?