Chapter 485: Proof of Existence (73)
Chapter 485: Proof of Existence (73)
The firewood crackled as it burned.
In the deep of the night, with my back to the moon, I sat and stared blankly at the flames. The fire rising in the middle of the Mountain Court's vast clearing was high and fierce.
Inside those flames, a nameless woman would soon take her place.
It was a 'Purification Trial.'
A last resort where one throws their body onto the pyre to demand an answer from God regarding their guilt or innocence.
Naturally, no sinner had ever returned alive. Though she surely knew this, the Saintess had insisted on choosing this difficult path. And the reason for it was almost absurd.
"Ian, there is no need for you to die as well."
It was around the time I had finally managed to pull myself together and sought her out, pleading for us to stop this madness. The Saintess had drawn a firm line between us.
Her tone made it clear that no amount of persuasion would work.
I found myself resenting her stubbornness.
"I won't die... You saw it yourself, didn't you? The Saint has no intention of killing me! If I can just... if I can just endure it somehow...!"
"It's because I saw it."
With a calm voice, the Saintess spoke as she gently took my hand.
My body stiffened at the soft, warm touch. It hadn't even been an hour since my skull had been crushed and my internal organs pulverized repeatedly.
It was only natural that such an affectionate touch felt foreign.
Perhaps sensing my state, the curve of the Saintess's lips turned profoundly sorrowful.
"Do you know how many times you died before my eyes? Every time, my heart... it felt like it was being torn to pieces..."
Her voice was thick with unshed tears.
Feeling as though she might break into sobs at any moment, I pulled her into my arms without a word.
I could hear whispers breaking out around us, but I didn't care. Comforting the trembling Saintess was far more important.
Even covered in dirt, the Saintess was still the Saintess.
She still smelled wonderful. Her voice, soaked in tears, washed over my ears mournfully.
"...Don't ever, ever do that again."
"Saintess..."
"No, I won't let it happen again."
It wasn't a request; it was a declaration.
In truth, that was enough. I quickly realized the depth of her resolve.
No matter how much I tried to dissuade her, she wouldn't listen.
By all accounts, it was better to give up on trying to convince her.
And yet, I couldn't let go of my lingering hope until the very end.
"Just for one day... can't you lean on me for just today?"
"I have already been leaning on you every single day."
"Just once more, if you would just trust me..."
"...Ian."
The low call of my name possessed an irresistible pull.
I kept my mouth shut and looked at her with sorrowful eyes.
Sometimes, a single look can convey more than a hundred words.
Meeting my gaze, the Saintess squeezed my hand. A soft pressure was added to our joined palms.
Then, a faint smile touched her lips.
With a light dew clinging to the corners of her eyes, she slowly shook her head.
"Even if you look at me like that, I can't."
"Then what am I supposed to do? Am I just supposed to stand by and watch you stake your life on a gamble with such an obvious end?"
"I will return alive."
Her persuasion continued in a tranquil tone, as if she were soothing a child. Despite that, I could only look at her with a face full of incomprehension.
Return alive?
That was impossible.
No one could survive a night atop burning logs. Such a miracle was reserved only for a few superhumans; the Saintess, on the other hand, was merely a priestess dedicated to healing.
The end of this trial was all too predictable.
The pain of one's entire body being consumed by fire was beyond imagination. Even if death was the end, there had to be a better way to go.
I grew more anxious by the second, but the Saintess remained stubbornly unmoved.
"Ian, I have lived my life having discarded my name. I don't have the face to reclaim the name of those days now. The girl from the orphanage who lived through her spite... she has changed too much during these past few years living only as the 'Saintess.'"
I wondered what she was trying to say.
As my gaze turned hollow, the Saintess wore a faint smile.
Once more, and for the last time.
She slowly released my hand and pulled me into a firm embrace. The hand patting my back was warm.
"I don't want to live as a shell anymore."
"So you're saying you'll burn to death instead?"
"I want to ask."
Even at my harsh retort, her answer remained peaceful.
I bit my lip in frustration.
"Whether God exists, and whether He still loves me even after I've cast off this shell of a 'Saintess'... wouldn't it be a relief to demand an answer at least once, even if I die?"
"Please, Saintess..."
"Do you believe in me?"
The words I was about to utter, ready to fall to my knees and beg, were cut off instantly.
A question I had heard in some distant memory.
The very problem I had once asserted was being thrown back at me.
Did I believe in her?
"I am nothing more than an insignificant girl. I thought I had achieved everything on my own, but in truth, I was standing atop the sacrifices of countless others without a second thought... Do you still believe in me, even now that I've lost the title of 'Saintess'?"
My lips opened and closed.
I debated whether I should cry. But I felt that if I did, I wouldn't be able to send her off with a smile.
I simply tightened my arms around her.
"......Immanuel."
At my faintly trembling voice, the Saintess closed her eyes quietly, as if relieved.
I could only pray that this moment would last forever.
But time flowed on, and eventually, the Saintess knelt silently atop the stacked logs.
With her hands clasped in prayer, she looked like a figure from a holy painting.
While the flames flickered and licked at the moon, was she still offering her unanswered questions with joined hands?
My eyes suddenly drifted to the side.
Perhaps as a reaction to the long battle, none of the tens of thousands in the crowd wanted to come near me. Or perhaps they were trying to be considerate in their own way.
To anyone watching, I looked to be in an incredibly foul mood after sending the Saintess away.
Then, I noticed a single blade of grass.
As if proving that life could sprout even in this parched clearing, it was a weed that had timidly raised its head. It had long since lost its former vitality after being trampled countless times.
It suddenly occurred to me that it resembled the Saintess.
Just as my hand reached out toward the grass.
"...Isn't life a marvelous thing?"
A voice as gentle as a spring breeze tickled my eardrums.
Startled, my frozen gaze snapped toward the source. There stood a boy with silver hair.
His face, wearing a faint smile, was nothing short of warm. Furthermore, his sky-blue eyes looking down at the trampled weed were so full of compassion and affection that it was hard to believe he was the same man who had killed me hundreds of times.
My body, wound tight with tension, instinctively took a combat stance. My hand fumbled at my waist for my sword hilt, but the Saint didn't spare me even a glance.
Only the withered weed was reflected in his retinas.
"Life blooms even in the harshest of environments. And no matter how much it is trampled, it stubbornly clings to its existence... Great Nature is truly that tenacious and strong."
With that, the Saint knelt and lowered his upper body. Only after he was nearly prostrate did the boy gently blow a breath.
With a soft whoosh, the blades of grass fluttered.
And then, a miracle occurred.
The trampled and torn leaves were restored. The weed, standing tall once more, grew rapidly until it finally formed a small flower bud.
Then, with a soft pop, the petals unfurled.
It was a modest flower, as expected of a weed. But the Saint wore a thin smile, as if that tiny white flower was the most beautiful thing in the world.
"This is the path I pursue. I sought to serve the Lord and follow His providence, and in the end, I achieved this small feat... Is 'Great Nature' not truly wondrous?"
"I found it terrifying."
The words tumbled out of my mouth without passing through my brain.
I realized my mistake immediately after speaking, but the Saint didn't seem particularly angry. Instead, he looked at me with an amused expression.
It was the look an old man might give a cute child.
Well, he was a figure who had lived for hundreds of years, so considering my age, it was only natural.
Still, I felt somewhat awkward and cleared my throat.
"The Great Nature you strive to resemble... when I faced it head-on, I found nothing more frightening."
I averted my gaze slightly. It was a sentiment that could easily be taken as sarcasm depending on the listener.
The Saint who pursued Great Nature.
His strength was terrifying. Even the fighting spirit he displayed during battle was bordering on madness.
To be honest, I was afraid.
Who wouldn't be? When an irresistible flow of power was tearing me to shreds.
The Saint only let out a soft chuckle at my rude remark.
"Yes, I suppose so... It is only natural. Nature is, at times, ruthlessly cruel."
"Is that also the Will of God?"
Another question escaped me unintentionally.
Staring blankly at the burning logs, I asked back with a hollow heart.
"Why does the Heavenly God give us trials we cannot overcome? We did our best, we struggled so hard... so why...!"
"Brother."
The Saint called to me in a low voice. His tone was so warm that I almost let out the tears I had been holding back.
"Expressions like 'beautiful' or 'cruel' are merely human sentiments. Is there a wind in this world that blows with a purpose? Or is there water that flows with an intention?"
"Isn't that just sophistry?"
To hide the tears that were about to overflow, I asked with even more thorns in my voice.
"Did the Heavenly God not say He loves us... If the Creator's intent is clear, why was the world made in the exact opposite way?"
"Then, what should be done?"
I found myself completely at a loss for words.