The Church
"....I think I'm gonna die."
"Not much farther."
If Besia — who hadn't so much as whimpered about dying under torture magic — was coming out with something like that, it meant she really was on the verge of death.
The one mercy was that the way back was close. The Black Magic Tower where Ambrosia had made its nest sat remarkably near the Capital.
Even with the royal family shielding them, the Church would have gone into convulsions the moment that place was discovered. They had some serious nerve. Thanks to that proximity, walking back to the Capital was entirely feasible. Half a day, more or less. Given the state we were in, we wouldn't be making any kind of speed, so it would take longer — but it was a familiar road, and that was enough.
I planned to hand Besia over to the Church in the Capital and head back to my territory. Considering the distance between the territory and the Capital, the trip would take a solid two months — but there was a way to get back in a day or two.
The teleportation magic circle in the Capital. Of course, it wasn't something just anyone could use — reserved strictly for high officials, nobles, and royalty — but I could always raid the place and force my way through.
Clip-clop, clip-clop—
After walking for quite a while, the sound of hooves striking the ground reached us. Besia stopped dead and tensed, sensing danger, but I wasn't particularly worried. I could feel Holy Power coming from somewhere out there.
Besia, being a cleric, was equally sensitive to Holy Power, so she relaxed as well. Holy Knights in full plate armor came into view, and they spotted us in the same instant.
"There are people over there!"
They probably didn't recognize Besia right away, given that both of us looked like beggars — but Besia seemed so overwhelmed at encountering people from the Church that she just stood there, eyes wide, unable to move.
They were of the same essence. The same priests, the same Holy Knights, the same clergy. A Holy Knight who had been hanging back a few steps, still on guard, recognized the Holy Power dwelling within her.
"Could you be... Priestess Besia?"
"....Y-yeah. That's me."
Those few words opened the floodgates. One of the Holy Knights shouted in a voice thick with emotion. That was the beginning.
"We've found Priestess Besia!"
"We've found the Priestess!"
"Are you all right?"
Every Holy Knight who had come riding in rejoiced and cheered at having found her. Besia spoke in a trembling voice.
"Q-quiet down and just give me some water first...."
At that, one of the Holy Knights hurriedly pulled out a waterskin. She drained the entire thing in one go, and when she lowered her head, she saw the middle-aged man standing before her — and the strength left the hand holding the waterskin.
"...Bishop."
"Besia."
He smiled with such kindness. And at the same time, his face was filled with boundless joy as he pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Thank the heavens. You've come back."
"Bishop Revega...."
Besia parted her lips, trying to say something. But even the Bishop didn't seem to catch it.
"Hmm? What did you say?"
"I think I'm actually gonna fucking die...."
"Priestess!"
"Besia!"
She went slack, her body folding, and passed out cold. She'd been at her limit for a long time already. She'd just been gritting her teeth and holding on. The moment the Church arrived, collapsing was the natural next step.
The only problem was me, sandwiched among dozens of Holy Knights and priests. For a body that had once been humanity's greatest enemy, it was a rather harsh environment.
A Holy Knight drew his sword.
Shiiing—
"Who are you?"
"Please identify yourself clearly."
The Holy Knights pressed in like that. Their words were polite, but they were waving blades in my face. They were really asking to die. Look at them — infinite, boundless trust for their own flock, but not a drop of blood or a tear to spare for an outsider.
I was considering how to explain myself when, fortunately, Besia managed to get one last thing out.
And with that, she actually passed out for real.
The Holy Knights sheathed their swords with bewildered expressions, and I approached the Bishop. I found myself wondering why I didn't recognize the man's face. A Bishop with a post in the Capital. A man of enormous real power and an even greater future — so why didn't I know him?
"Are you the one who saved Besia?"
"I am."
"Then I must offer you my deepest thanks. May the blessing of God be upon you."
The Bishop clasped his hands together, expressing genuine gratitude. I had risked my life to save her, after all. Besia would explain the details herself. I needed to get what I could from the Bishop.
"Would it be possible for us to speak privately?"
"....We have a carriage. Let us speak there."
The Bishop agreed without any particular suspicion. The other priests were busy treating Besia, and the two of us entered the carriage alone. Of course, the presence of the Holy Knights guarding him outside was trying its best to crush me — but for someone who had endured even the Hero's pressure, it meant nothing at all.
"I will say it again: I am grateful that you saved that child. And so, I intend to do everything in my power to grant whatever you desire."
The Bishop's deep eyes turned toward me. He seemed to cherish Besia a great deal. I hadn't saved her with this relationship in mind, but either way, the situation worked in my favor. The Bishop was prepared to use the full extent of his authority to pay whatever price was asked.
"The Academy entrance period is coming up soon."
"Indeed. Another year has passed, and the cold of winter is drawing to a close."
"I'd like you to sponsor me there."
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
It was a question of whether something as small as a sponsorship would even suffice. If a Bishop wanted it, he could insert any student he pleased into the Academy. No exam required, placed wherever he wished.
But my goal lay somewhere else. A class that even students with the highest scores couldn't easily enter. The Academy's Class 1. A place reserved only for royalty, high nobles, the Hero, and students whose identities were guaranteed.
The most important figures in the kingdom were gathered there, which made it a difficult place for someone of mere baronial rank who also used Magi to enter. If I'd been a commoner with nothing at all, they might have slotted me in as a token gesture — but a middling noble was actually at a disadvantage when it came to Class 1. Those seats were already occupied by high nobles.
And the biggest issue was Magi. Even if I didn't store it inside my body, so I didn't look suspicious on the surface, I could still get caught in the screening process for black mages and demons. Besia had clearly found me strange, after all. At that rate, I wouldn't even get into the Academy, let alone Class 1.
But if I had a Bishop's guarantee? Those worries would become unnecessary. Nobody would imagine that a Bishop had vouched for a black mage. With overwhelming grades and a Bishop's sponsorship, I could get into Class 1.
"Let me ask you one thing. Are you making a trivial request simply to obtain my favor, or is this a request of genuine significance?"
There was no need to lie. As a Bishop, he would have to take on the risk of guaranteeing a black mage. He would piece together the circumstances through Besia anyway.
"It carries great significance."
"....Very well. I shall do as you say. And your name?"
"Argal Briten."
The Bishop nodded, as if committing it to memory. Then he looked me over and spoke.
"Besia's condition was so severe I failed to notice, but you are in no ordinary state yourself. Rest here comfortably."
There was no reason to refuse. I was starting to get tired, and besides, the Holy Knight order seemed to be heading back into the Capital. How great an advantage was it to enter the Capital comfortably, borrowing the Church's power?
The moment I lay down on the bed arranged inside the carriage, my exhaustion-soaked body responded — and I passed out as if collapsing into sleep.
When I woke again, it wasn't inside the carriage, but in a room of the Church. How much time had passed? They must have washed me and changed my clothes in the meantime; my body felt clean and fresh. To think I hadn't even woken while they were bathing me.
This is a little strange.
I was still Immortal, same as always — but had I ever slept this deeply? I wasn't sure, but now that I was awake, I needed to move.
A black mage, inside the Church. And not just anywhere — all the way into the innermost lodgings. It was a truly bizarre situation. My past self would have been pondering where to start burning the place down, but now there was no reason for that.
I was about to head outside and look around, but—
"Hey now, where does a patient think he's crawling off to? Get right back in there, chop-chop."
I was blocked by a priest standing watch and shoved back into the room.
...What?
"My clothes do seem to be patient's robes, I'll give them that."
I was a patient? Had my condition been that bad? Honestly, I couldn't really tell the difference. What was the point of a man who couldn't die trying to distinguish his physical state?
I don't really get it.
I'd made it to the Capital, and my plan was to use the teleportation magic circle here to return to my family. I had a promise with Caron, after all. But what did that matter if I couldn't get out of the Church? On top of that, my dagger wasn't in my possession. I'd need to get that back too.
"Excuse me."
I opened the door and called out, and a priest from across the way approached with the utmost kindness.
"How may I help you? Shall I bring you some delicious rice porridge? Would you like some healing? Or shall I fetch you a book?"
...Was this the same priest who'd just shown the pinnacle of unkindness by stuffing me back in the room for crawling out?
Whatever. I cut to the point.
"I'm not actually that sick."
"Right, sure."
The priest suddenly changed her attitude and held out her hand.
"Give me your hand."
"Pardon?"
"I said give it here."
When I held out my hand, she poured Holy Power into it.
"Full-body musculature, about half wrecked. Honestly, it's weird you're even standing."
Then she placed her hand over my heart. This was even worse — the priest's face properly scrunched up.
"Life force, practically scraping the bottom. If you overdo it, you'll have a heart attack."
"That's, well...."
"And you're telling me you're not a patient? You wanna die?"
A few things felt a little unfair, if I was being honest. I'd had to move my body so many times right after dying and coming back that I'd developed a technique for moving even with wrecked muscles. And it wasn't as if depleted life force recovered the instant you resurrected. Some aftereffects were only natural.
Of course, to a priest's eyes, I probably looked like a walking corpse.
...The more I think about it, the more I actually do sound like a patient.
"Now be good and stay put. I'll bring you a decent book, so read it if you get bored."
Thus forcibly confined to my room, I felt a strange sense of helplessness. No dagger, and no physical means of getting past that priest. Wrecked muscles could at least still move — but they couldn't generate strength that wasn't there.
"I really do need an alternative."
Without a dagger, I became far too useless. I let out a long sigh and lay on the bed. And then a visitor arrived.
"Besia is asking for you."
The Bishop had come to find me. He looked a layer older, but he seemed to have found some measure of peace. The priest shot a disapproving look at the patient heading outside, but even she couldn't do anything about the Bishop.
Following him down the corridor, we arrived at a place with a somewhat different atmosphere. Entering the room, I saw Besia lying in bed.
I hadn't really noticed when we were escaping the Black Magic Tower together, but now that she'd been thoroughly cleaned, her appearance was properly visible. She was so thin right now that even that was diminished. If she put some weight back on, she'd become someone anyone would praise as beautiful.
The Bishop looked at Besia, then gave me a small nod. A look that said to go to her. I approached without much thought.
"Hold out your hand."
That was what she said. She grabbed my hand, poured Holy Power through it, and then quietly muttered.
"...I'm sorry."
"For what."
It came out of nowhere. What was she apologizing for?
"...You burned through almost all your lifespan. I brought you back, but with this little life force left.... you won't live long."
The life force scraping the bottom after resurrection. Was she misunderstanding because of that? It would come back soon enough anyway. I spoke without concern.
"It doesn't matter."
"...Doesn't matter, my ass! Because of me, you ground down almost your entire lifespan...!"
She looked devastated, as if the outcome had gone terribly wrong. I could tell what she had misunderstood.
I had simply died and come back to life. But by a stroke of coincidence, she had been pouring Holy Power into me. So it was a misunderstanding a cleric might well have. She thought she had revived me. And seeing that the lifespan hadn't returned even after the revival, she was drowning in guilt.
Besia's eyes wavered. Just as I thought. She was under the illusion that she had saved me with her own power. Then let her think that.
"That's more than enough for me to be grateful."
It wasn't empty words. I was genuinely grateful. She had hidden the fact that I had come back from death. The one thing an Immortal most needed to conceal was that he could not die. She had covered my most critical weakness.
Whether that brought her comfort, or whether it came crashing back as boundless grief — I couldn't say.
Besia broke down sobbing right then and there.