Tutorial (10)
When good fortune smiles upon people for reasons entirely beyond their comprehension, they often call it a miracle—something wrought by an immense, unfathomable power far beyond mortal reckoning.
Yet Danas had always believed that a great miracle could never occur without a price. To a man who had spent his entire life relying solely on his own strength, the very word “miracle” was something meant for others, never for himself. And even if a true miracle did occur, he was certain that a heavy price would inevitably follow in its wake.
“Ah…”
He could see.
The world that had once been steeped in shadow, that had been visible only in half-shrouded fragments, was now laid bare before his eyes in crystalline clarity.
His body, once heavy enough to drag him straight into the dirt, felt weightless, as if gifted with wings. His flesh, crushed beyond all endurance and sensation, had fully knit itself back together.
Dazed, Danas clenched his fist.
Not a single wound remained. The catastrophic injuries that even low-rank potions could not touch—injuries so hopeless that he had resigned himself to death and waited for the end—were entirely gone.
Yet even amidst this disbelief, a terrible clarity seized him.
He knew. He knew that this was utterly abnormal.
A miracle had occurred? No.
This was…
As if possessed, Danas turned his head.
He, who had undoubtedly been on the brink of death, was alive. That should have been a cause for wonder. It should have been a moment of celebration.
Yet every set of eyes in the clearing was fixed upon a single spot.
There, lying motionless upon the dirt, was a girl.
“Aria…”
Her body was already cold.
Though she must have suffered agonizing torment, though her face had drained of all color as she choked up blood, a faint, contented smile lingered on her lips—as if the mere fact that she had saved someone’s life was more than enough.
An apprentice acolyte could never restore a lost limb, let alone snatch someone back from the jaws of certain death. Everyone present had thought such a feat impossible without a miracle.
Yet the girl had unhesitatingly performed that very miracle, as if to prove them wrong.
And the cost…
Step. Step.
Danas dragged himself forward and sank to his knees before the fallen girl.
He knew. He understood, with absolute certainty, that his life had been miraculously saved by this fragile child lying before him. She had prolonged the adventure of a rough-hewn man whose story should have ended right then and there.
Yet not a single soul present felt joy.
Calt had his face turned away.
Mirna pulled her pointed hat low over her eyes.
And Melina, who had treated the girl with colder hostility and suspicion than anyone else—
“Ugh… hic… sob…”
She was pounding the earth with her fists, utterly shattered by remorse for what she had done.
With trembling hands, Danas reached out toward the girl’s cold, still body.
Lest he somehow hurt her—though such a concern was meaningless now—he gathered every ounce of his focus, carefully slipping his hands under her back to lift her up.
“Wake up…”
His raspy plea received no answer, drifting fruitlessly into the empty air.
Still, he did not stop.
Danas kept talking, as if desperately conversing with a stone wall. He begged her to wake up, pleaded with her to stop joking around… and apologized over and over for everything that had come before.
His voice steadily lost its strength.
In the end, it broke down into a strained, hollow whisper:
“Aria…”
The more he spoke, the more he was forced to confront the merciless reality: the heart that should have been beating inside her chest was completely still.
From the right hand supporting her back, not the faintest pulse could be felt.
Aria was dead.
For a complete stranger like him. For a rough, unremarkable adventurer who had done nothing his whole life but struggle in the dirt just to survive…
“Ah… Ahh…”
Shoulders shaking uncontrollably, Danas pulled Aria into his arms.
Why?
Why on earth did you do this?
She lived without sight and without hearing. Having lost only a single eye himself, Danas knew all too well how suffocating and agonizing the loss of vision was.
Yet this girl had walked through the world with her eyes forever closed.
Though he could not know what it felt like to be deaf, having never experienced it, he could easily imagine how torturous a world of absolute silence must be.
Aria had always communicated in that peculiar way, projecting her thoughts directly into the minds of others.
Beneath the Goddess's embrace, having surrendered herself as a servant of the divine, she had been denied every single blessing that even ordinary mortals took for granted.
If he had been afflicted with even one of those disabilities, would he have been able to endure it without cursing the world?
No.
He was certain he would have succumbed to bitter hatred. He would have cursed the world, cursed the gods for burdening him with such cruel afflictions.
And yet…!
“Why… Why did you have to do this?”
He was no fool.
He remembered the abnormal surge of divine power that had gathered in that moment, and the sickening contrast of the girl withering away as though every drop of life was being violently siphoned from her body.
And…
Danas brought a trembling hand to his left eye—the eye he had believed was lost forever.
Sacrificed in the brutal struggle to survive, his missing left eye was whole once more, opening the world to him anew.
Yes. She had said that.
It had not been long ago, back when they had only just met…
Knowing all too well how painful and lonely a darkened world was, she had told him that she wanted to heal his sight one day. Rather than seeking to mend her own broken body, she had worried about a man who had merely lost an eye.
At the time, he had laughed it off as the innocent bravado of an overconfident novice acolyte.
If only he had known it would come to this…
You fool…
How could you surrender your very life for someone you barely even knew?
Why couldn't you cherish your own life more? Why throw it away for a bastard like me?
Danas buried his face in his chest.
“Calt.”
“…”
“Please.”
He had fought his entire life just to live, watching countless comrades fall in death; he had thought there were no tears left for him to shed.
Yet his voice was thick, choked with raw emotion.
Calt looked upon his companion with a wrenching expression, then let out a heavy sigh.
It was heartbreaking.
It was a sublime, holy sacrifice.
Yet they could not afford to drown themselves in sorrow. Aria had chosen to sacrifice herself for Danas of her own free will. And had she not departed for the Goddess’s side with a smile free of all regret?
To weep endlessly now would be an insult to her resolution. No matter how much it tore at their hearts, they could not allow grief to overwhelm them.
Steeling his resolve, Calt took a step toward Aria’s body.
It was at that moment.
Shwaaaa—
“What is this light…?”
A gentle radiance began to descend from the heavens.
It was an ethereal glow, far too extraordinary to be mistaken for simple sunlight, suffused with a tender, enveloping warmth as it draped over Aria.
And then…
“What… What is happening…?”
“The plants… They’re coming back to life…?”
Withered petals began to unfurl one after another, and the trees and shrubs that had been destroyed in the wake of battle stirred with sudden vigor, blooming anew.
Frozen in place, the adventurers gazed around in utter disbelief before their eyes were naturally drawn back to the center of the light—to Aria.
Countless blossoms burst into bloom around her, weaving themselves into a brilliant wreath of flowers beneath her body.
Animals that should have had no reason to be near—squirrels, songbirds, deer, and countless other woodland creatures—emerged one by one from the thickets, circling peacefully through the forest where the divine power had washed over the land.
Cold sweat beaded on Mirna’s brow.
“Could this be… divine power…?”
Was all of this truly sacred energy?
Nothing else could explain it. Nothing else could account for withered flora springing back to life, or the overwhelming pulse of pure, vibrant life suffusing the air with such gentle warmth.
“She’s… She’s coming back to life…?”
The pallor of death receded from Aria’s face, replaced by a soft, rosy flush. The bloodstained vestments cleansed themselves until they were radiant white once more, and every drop of blood she had spilled vanished without a trace.
A whirlwind of sacred, life-giving power swirled gently around her, until at last, the girl lay upon the bed of blossoms with an untroubled, serene expression—not a single scar remaining upon her flesh.
“What in the world…”
From the girl’s resting form emanated a presence of sacred power unlike anything they had ever witnessed—an overwhelming, thrumming vitality so profound it felt as though the Goddess of Life Herself had descended upon the earth.
Mirna channeled her mana, checking the girl’s vital signs.
“She’s… alive…”
She was alive.
The heart that had surely ceased to beat was pulsing with steady, rhythmic life.
“This is impossible…”
They were adventurers who placed no faith in the gods.
Of course, they knew deities existed; religion could not flourish without them, nor could priests display the miracles that proved their devotion. But as adventurers, shaped by the harsh trials and bitter grievances of their pasts, most among them held no piety in their hearts.
Yet today, with their very own eyes, they had witnessed two unmistakable miracles.
The first was the magnificent miracle wrought by a small, pitiable girl who had sacrificed herself.
And the second…
“A Saint…”
It was the birth of a Saint.