Chapter 132: The Lord is With Us (53)
Chapter 132: The Lord is With Us (53)
Humans cannot be trusted.
The Saintess had believed this for a very long time. Growing up in an orphanage, being chosen as the Saintess, and navigating the politics of the Holy Kingdom, she had witnessed every conceivable form of human ugliness.
Every time she did, that twisted conviction never once betrayed her. It was because she trusted no one that she was able to reach her current position.
The director of the orphanage, who preached philanthropy, was only interested in lining his own pockets. The bishops, who shouted of faith and obedience, were consumed by greed and never hesitated to sow seeds of suspicion to protect their power.
Even the Saintess herself was no different.
Only those skilled at hiding their true intentions and deceiving others could survive the cutthroat struggles of the political world. The Saintess was no exception.
There were only two people to whom she showed her true, unadorned self.
One was Yuren, her escort knight, who had grown up with her since childhood and was like a biological brother.
The other was Ian Percus, with whom she had recently begun bickering like a cat and a dog.
In truth, the former was someone she couldn't deceive even if she wanted to, so it was fair to say that Ian was the first person to whom the Saintess truly revealed her real self.
At first, he was nothing but an annoyance.
Anyone finds the unknown fearful and unpleasant. This was especially true for politicians and merchants, for whom the unknown could cause significant setbacks in their plans and calculations.
Naturally, the Saintess also disliked the mysterious. And in her eyes, Ian was a man who defied common sense.
He used the secret martial arts of the Holy Kingdom, yet handled the secret techniques of the Sword Circle with mastery.
He was even a man who had been granted Dragon Blood Magic, a power reserved only for those closest to the Imperial Household.
His identity was a mystery, and his limits were unknown. Judging by the skill with which he had suppressed her and Yuren in an instant, she could only guess that he was a powerhouse who had reached at least the level of a High Expert.
To be honest, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Even if her initial kindness had been calculated, she was resentful that it was returned with threats and violence. When she had to admit total defeat—whether in martial prowess or the war of information—she felt utterly wretched.
Thus, it was inevitable that she would snarl every time she encountered him. Ian, who seemed flustered at first, quickly began to strike back, and before they knew it, the two had developed a rapport of constant bickering.
But deep down, she knew.
The image of Ian she had seen that day remained deeply etched in the Saintess’s heart. A man who had unhesitatingly abandoned a fortune just to save a single commoner girl.
At the orphanage, Ian had acted exactly as he had that day.
He did not shun the parentless children as "dirty." He worked for them and sometimes even gave up the profits that fell into his lap.
She was confused. Yet, the reason she couldn't stop bickering with him was likely because people she could treat without any pretense were so rare.
When dealing with Ian, the Saintess felt a strange sense of liberation.
Somehow, she ended up being checked by two cheeky juniors, and her natural competitiveness made it look like they were fighting over Ian, but it wasn't bad.
It was all just a facade, as usual. The Saintess trusted no one.
Because she did not trust, she could not love.
To the Saintess, human relationships were nothing more than placing pieces on a chessboard. It was a process of reducing pawns as much as possible while increasing the number of bishops and knights.
If she landed a rook, it was a jackpot; if it was a queen, she had to capture it at all costs.
Such was the cynical perspective of a woman who could trust no one. Though a terrible loneliness often visited her, it was fine.
After all, other people likely viewed her as nothing more than a piece on their own chessboards.
There were no exceptions. This was a conviction she had maintained her entire life.
She thought it would never waver.
The Saintess’s pink eyes turned toward the man lying silently on the hospital bed.
His faint breathing was fragile.
He looked so weak that it was hard to believe he was the powerhouse who had struck down demonic beasts and fiends, and even wiped out a monster from myth.
But it made sense. As the price for that heroic bloodbath, the man had been pushed to the brink of death.
When she saw him again, his condition had been nothing short of horrific.
Even the Saintess, who had dealt with countless patients over the past few years, had gasped and covered her mouth. That was how grave the man’s state had been.
As the poison spread, his veins were stained a dark, murky color, and blood and pus oozed from his festering wounds. His internal organs were so torn that he vomited blood and gore.
If not for the potions he had carried on his person, he would not have survived.
Potions to slow the heartbeat, to enhance natural healing, and even to increase resistance to toxicity.
It was enough to make her wonder where a mere lower noble had managed to make such thorough preparations. It would have been impossible unless he had a very close friend in the Alchemy Department.
Though she didn't know the details, it was a relief that Ian had survived thanks to those potions.
Only then did the Saintess let out a sigh of relief. With hands still trembling from the lingering shock, she took out the half-blood essence she had previously given him.
That was the only way to save Ian.
Only after consuming a sacrifice worth the price of a castle was the man fully healed. Even then, he remained unconscious for several days.
It had been a week since his visitation had been restricted, as he was still considered a critical patient.
The Saintess visited Ian’s room whenever she had time, even resorting to the ridiculous excuse of being his "assigned priest."
She knew she should separate public and private matters, but she simply leaned her head on her hand and let out a soft sigh.
She couldn't even understand her own heart. She merely looked down at Ian with eyes full of pity.
His breathing was so steady now; why wouldn't he wake up?
There were so many things she wanted to ask.
Why did he risk his life to protect those children? They were just orphans.
There were countless dying orphans across the continent. At least hundreds must have lost their lives this very day.
Lives like mayflies that no one cared about—that was how the world treated orphans.
And she wanted to ask how he could fight without breaking.
His injuries were at a level where continuing to fight should have been impossible. Nevertheless, the man had moved somehow and destroyed the Flesh Nest. It was a feat impossible for anyone without extraordinary willpower.
Just as she was looking down at Ian with such complex emotions...
A small groan began to escape the man’s lips. The Saintess’s eyes widened.
Had he finally regained consciousness?
Suddenly, her mouth felt bone-dry. her fingertips grew stiff, and her tense pupils repeatedly dilated and contracted. She didn't even know why she was acting this way.
She clearly had so much she wanted to say, but the moment she thought about facing him one-on-one, her mind went blank.
In that fleeting moment as she swallowed hard...
The man’s eyelids slowly opened.
Golden eyes, holding a profound light, were revealed to the world. He frowned slightly as if the light was too bright, then soon turned his gaze toward the Saintess.
The Saintess’s heart rate reached its peak.
Stammering, her lips parted and closed several times.
Just before she could get a word out, the man’s mouth finally released a dry voice.
"……Holy Power Pouch?"
The Saintess’s hand dug into the patient’s side.
Naturally, a mournful scream followed.
"So, the children from the orphanage have moved to a new home."
That was my only comment after listening to the Saintess’s long explanation of what had happened.
At my dry reaction, the Saintess’s expression turned sour.
I don't know what kind of reaction she expected, but she seemed to think I would show something more dramatic.
But there was nothing I could do. That was the only thought I had, and I couldn't exactly act like a clown and play along when I’d only been conscious for a few minutes.
The Saintess eventually let out a sigh as if giving up and added more detail.
"Don't worry too much. I handpicked the place and sent them somewhere proper."
"I expected as much from you, Saintess."
"Hmph," the Saintess responded with a disinterested attitude.
"Weren't you just convinced that I had run away?"
"I didn't expect you to actually issue a mobilization order to the temple. Isn't that an obsolete regulation?"
Even at my words, the Saintess made it very obvious she was sulking, her heart not yet softened.
It was true. As soon as she arrived at the temple, the Saintess had suddenly cited an obsolete regulation to draft priests and guards.
And she had rushed straight to the forest. I heard that they played a big part in suppressing the Flesh Seeds that were running wild after losing their Flesh Nest.
If I had known that, I would have waited a bit before entering. But the Saintess only gave a scoff of disbelief at my grumbling.
"It was only possible because you were holding the Flesh Seeds back there. Wasn't that what you wanted in the first place?"
She certainly had a silver tongue.
I shook my head and stared out the window in silence.
The gap was too vast.
Until I lost consciousness, I was inside that hellish cave, but when I woke up, the familiar scenery of the Academy was spread out before me.
That was why I was even more confused. It felt as if I had been dreaming.
Perhaps it was because of that whisper I heard just before blowing up the Flesh Nest. At that moment, an unidentified voice had given me advice.
Thinking back, I might have just been hallucinating. I had inhaled too much of the gas emitted by the Flesh Nest at the time.
As I was lost in these thoughts, the Saintess spoke up cautiously.
"……Is there nothing else you're curious about?"
I turned my eyes toward her, wondering what she meant.
My companions were safe, and the orphans had gone to a good place, so things couldn't be better. I didn't have any particular questions left.
Then, the Saintess thumped her chest in frustration. Her prominent breasts boasted their elasticity with the movement.
"The amount from selling the demonic beast corpses, the rewards from the Holy Kingdom or the Empire, how many extra credit points the Academy gave for the practical… aren't you curious?"
"I'll find out that information soon enough anyway."
"……S-Still!"
The Saintess, who was about to snap at me in a huff, soon let out a sigh and calmed down.
Her gaze said, 'Of course you wouldn't care.' I simply shrugged.
"Can I be discharged now?"
"……Well, yes, I suppose."
I heard that my body had already been fully healed for a long time; I just hadn't regained consciousness.
Now that I was awake, there was no reason to stay confined to a hospital room. Perhaps because I had rested for too long, my muscles and joints felt stiff.
It seemed I would have to focus on training for a while to return to optimal condition.
After getting confirmation from the Saintess, I gathered my clothes, threw on my uniform coat, and hung my sword and hand axe at my waist.
Come to think of it, what happened to Senior Delphine’s sword?
It looked incredibly expensive. For a moment, I almost broke into a cold sweat, but I soon calmed myself.
Senior Delphine was rich, so it would be fine. If worst came to worst, I’d just have to compensate her with the reward money from defeating the demonic beasts and the fiend.
Just as I took a step forward, a question from the Saintess caught me as if she had just remembered.
"What do you think Guildford was thinking?"
I glanced back at her. Without even looking at me, she continued muttering.
"He’s a fiend, right? A villain who sold off orphans. But why did he go out of his way to submit a request to solve the situation? And he had countless opportunities to kill us. He even trained you……."
"He probably wanted to die."
At my blunt answer, the Saintess looked at me. But doubt still lingered in her eyes.
"But if that were the case, he could have just let himself be killed or turned himself in."
"Maybe he didn't want to die, either."
The Saintess’s brow furrowed at my wordplay. She spoke in a voice that sounded a bit angry.
"What kind of nonsense is……."
"Isn't the human heart just that complex?"
I gave a bitter smile. The Saintess’s eyes went blank.
"And aren't you the same, Saintess?"
"……Me?"
"You called them 'those mere orphans.'"
The Saintess fell silent as if I had struck a nerve. A faint ripple of emotion began to stir in her pink eyes. Only then could I be certain.
The phrase 'those mere orphans' wasn't meant for others. Rather, it was a blade she used to stab herself.
"You use those words to belittle yourself because you're an orphan too. Even though you went to such lengths to send the children from Guildford’s orphanage to a good place."
The Saintess remained silent. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, avoiding my gaze. Regardless, it was time for me to leave.
Finally, I offered her a word of comfort.
"Whether you're an orphan or not doesn't matter. To me, you're just the Saintess. An insolent Holy Power Pouch."
The Saintess looked like she was about to snap at me, but when our eyes met, her gaze turned vacant. I didn't know why.
Perhaps only she knew. I didn't pay it any more mind and took another step.
One step, two steps. Just before I left the room.
"……Why did you do it?"
Her voice was desperate.
A torrent of emotion poured out, clothed in words. When I glanced back over my shoulder, the Saintess had stood up and was glaring at me.
"There was nothing to gain! Whether orphans live or die, there are plenty of people in the world who don't care. Most of all, you were on the verge of death! If you hadn't been lucky, we’d be holding your funeral right now!"
It was a cold cynicism toward the world, and a scream of anger.
So, I listened to her in silence. So that I could accept her sincerity.
"Did you want to play the hero that badly?! There were plenty of other ways! You could have just escaped and reported the achievement of defeating the fiend; people would still be praising you as much as they are now. One life-threatening battle is enough! The Flesh Nest or whatever, it would have been more rational to leave it to someone else……."
"Saintess."
My voice was low.
A single, extremely calm and grounded word was enough to silence her.
The Saintess’s confused gaze turned toward me.
There were many answers I could give. Because the Flesh Nest might have spread otherwise, because I wanted to protect the orphans, or even a general theory that not all humans can make rational choices.
But because a more accurate answer than all of those came to mind...
I replayed the whisper I had heard that day.
"……Immanuel."
That was all.
The Saintess’s eyes went blank again, and I walked away.
I heard her calling my name after she belatedly snapped out of it, but I didn't look back.
The sunlight was warm, and the weather was clear.
The bright sky seemed to bless this day.
As soon as I stepped out of the temple and met the clear, pouring sunlight, I instinctively looked up at the sky.
Was he watching from up there? Or perhaps he had already fallen into hell.
I decided to bury the memories of that old man deep within my heart.
Yes, it was a day the Lord was with us.
It was that night when I went to find Senior Delphine.