Chapter 488: Proof of Existence (76)
Chapter 488: Proof of Existence (76)
Religion is rooted in blind obedience.
Faith is an irrational emotion. There is nothing rational about the decision to throw away one's life for an invisible god. Nevertheless, religion has always endured throughout human history.
It has been utilized for the sake of the community, to forge a broader sense of solidarity.
Or perhaps, religion has been mobilized to give form to the realm of morality, which cannot be governed by laws and regulations alone. Yet, putting aside the specific arguments of scholars, for the vast majority of believers, the truth of religion was only one thing.
God exists.
One's own irrational circumstances, and even unexplained natural disasters, are all controlled under the will of a great God. The truth of the world that those who believe in religion so desperately desire lay right there.
At times, criticisms were leveled that these functions of religion were exploited by the establishment. However, no one could deny the fact that the existence of God was sustained by the aspirations of the believers.
Thus, the proof of God's existence became the long-cherished desire of every religion.
The Heavenly God Religion was no different.
Every believer wanted their faith to be rewarded. They hoped that their sacrifices and prayers were not in vain. And the people who wanted to believe more than anyone else that salvation awaited at the end of this cruel reality were the citizens of the Holy City.
Therefore, having witnessed a miracle with their own eyes, how could they not fall to their knees?
A brilliant radiance shone down from the heavens. The warm sunlight embraced the earth soaked by the downpour, and the believers, whose clothes were drenched, shed tears along with the rainwater.
Were these truly the same people who had tried to burn an innocent woman?
Even the Pope remained on his knees, showing no sign of daring to stand. For the first time in the decades since he had entered the priesthood, his body trembled with deep emotion and rapture at the response sent by the Heavenly God.
It seemed as though he might faint at any moment.
Tears flowed incessantly from his eyes, which had lost their light. No, it wasn't just the Pope; the entire crowd of tens of thousands was in a similar state.
All before a single human being.
The sight of everyone bowing their heads in worship created a majestic landscape.
In this sacred scene, which would one day become one of the great records of the Heavenly God Religion, only two figures stood with their feet planted on the ground.
Ian and the Saint.
Looking at Ian, who stood frozen with a bewildered expression, the Saint asked in a low voice.
"Are you flustered?"
Ian’s startled golden gaze turned toward the Saint. It seemed as though he had momentarily forgotten the man's very existence.
That was how overwhelming the miracle shown by the woman had been.
Ian was still standing there, dazed.
"Ah, yes. Yes..."
"Or, are you displeased?"
Ian remained silent instead of answering.
Either way, he needed time to organize his thoughts. In truth, Ian didn't feel much of anything regardless of how the crowd reacted.
He was simply profoundly grateful for the fact that the Saintess had returned alive.
Even if the one who brought her back was the Heavenly God, who had plunged the world into a fate like a pit of fire.
But looking back, he did feel a sense of bewilderment. Among that crowd were surely those who had screamed for the Saintess to be hung on the cross.
The Pope, who had led the charge, and the leadership of the Holy Kingdom, who had tried to sacrifice the Saintess, were also not free from that guilt.
Yet, they all wore expressions as if they had been granted salvation.
While Ian hesitated, the Saint let out a soft laugh.
"Humans are cowardly beings. The more anxious they are, the more extreme they become... They do not hesitate to trample on a dog that has unluckily fallen and become covered in dirt. They want to believe that justice has been upheld that way."
"That is quite..."
Before the man could offer an awkward reply saying he didn't know what to say.
"That is why I love humans," the Saint said.
"Isn't it interesting? The fact that faith in humanity resembles faith in God to some extent... Even if an answer does not return immediately, I believe that one day they will make the most brilliant decision."
It was a confession uttered with a calm smile.
It likely wasn't a lie.
A faint sense of pity and affection dwelt in the Saint's eyes. He seemed to truly find them pitiful.
Because they were weak, because they were not strong.
Beings who were cowardly and had no choice but to hold others responsible.
Seeing that look, Ian suddenly became curious and asked back.
"......What do you think the Saintess feels?"
It was a question that even omitted the honorific 'Lady.'
It was not the attitude one should show to a figure who had just ascended to the rank of a Sage. The man belatedly realized his slip, but as always, the Saint didn't seem particularly concerned with worldly etiquette.
He simply stood with his hands behind his back, quietly watching the Saintess kneeling upon the wood.
"Both judgment and mercy are the will of the Lord... How could I possibly know?"
It was an enigmatic answer.
However, Ian did not press the Saint. Inwardly, he thought the man was right.
The remaining choice now belonged to the Saintess.
She had placed her own body upon the wood and asked for the will of the Heavenly God from within the pit of fire.
It was a miracle she had achieved herself.
Naturally, the price of that miracle was hers to claim. For the man, the fact that she had returned alive was already enough joy.
It was then.
The woman slowly rose from the wood. With her hands clasped together, the way she moved with light, graceful steps was exceptionally beautiful.
It was as if the world itself were clearing a path for her.
The charred logs collapsed in sequence, forming a set of stairs. With every step she took, the Saintess drew closer to the Mountain Court.
"O-Oh, ohhh...!"
The Pope had already crawled down from the high cliff and was prostrate on the ground below. Every time the Saintess took a step, a shimmering line of light spread out behind her.
It looked like the shape of wings; the Pope, even more moved, struck his head against the ground.
Thump.
That was the signal.
Thump, thump, thump!
The earth shook every time the crowd of tens of thousands struck their heads against the ground. The woman's face remained perfectly serene amidst that artificial earthquake.
Finally, the woman's feet stepped lightly onto the earth.
Walking on and on, the place where the woman's steps stopped was right in front of the Pope.
The old priest, bowing his head, asked through his tears.
"T-This humble servant..."
Exhaling breaths thick with emotion and regret, the old believer gasped.
"......What should I do?"
It wasn't even a plea for forgiveness.
It meant he would endure whatever punishment was handed down. It wasn't a decision a sly old fox who had rolled through the politics of the Holy Kingdom for years would make, but he was a clergyman.
There was nothing he could say in the face of a divine miracle.
He was simply overwhelmed with emotion by the fact that the faith he had held his entire life had not been wrong.
The Saintess spoke in a low voice.
"Rise."
"But, how could I..."
"Do you wish for everyone kneeling in this place to become sinners?"
The Pope fell silent for a moment, as if at a loss for words.
However, the choice he would make was as good as decided.
The Saintess's words contained both a carrot and a stick.
The carrot was, of course, the invitation itself to stand up and face her as someone who was not a sinner.
And the subtle threat that everyone kneeling in this clearing could become a sinner was the stick.
It wasn't just the leadership of the Holy Kingdom that had wanted to hang the Saintess on the cross.
The irrational crowd had also wanted to kill the Saintess cruelly. As a leader, the Pope was not a man so shameless as to turn tens of thousands of people into sinners.
As the Pope hesitantly rose, only then did the woman show a faint smile.
"How could there be a soul in this world that does not sin? I prided myself on living without sin, but when I realized that everything was accomplished through the hands of the wicked... I was in despair and regret. I even denied and insulted God."
The Pope could only listen to the Saintess's words with a tense expression.
To think that a person who had ascended to the rank of a Sage had denied and insulted God.
He should naturally control this information, but for some reason, the Pope couldn't even bring himself to give such an order.
It was because he was overwhelmed by the golden radiance blooming from the Saintess.
Or perhaps, because the Saintess, with the light at her back, was so beautiful.
"I ask you, did you hate me? Did you deny me as an enemy and try to hang me on a cross and throw stones at me?"
"......I did."
"Then I forgive you."
Her tone was refreshing, without a single point of lingering attachment.
Tens of thousands of pairs of eyes stared blankly up at the Saintess.
"As the Lord did, so do I."
Leaving behind an indulgence for everyone, the Saintess turned her back as if her business was finished.
It was around the time the flustered Pope's hands were flailing in the air.
"......Ah."
The Saintess's eyes glanced back over her shoulder again. Toward the Pope—no.
Toward someone at the summit who had still not descended to the clearing.
A golden radiance was burning atop her pale pink pupils.
"Please exert yourself in the task of rooting out the Dark Cult that has infiltrated the Holy Kingdom. The right person for this would be... Archbishop Aindel?"
At the very edge of the high mountain's summit stood an old priest.
He was an old man with an impressive, rugged face despite his short stature. His blue eyes, silently looking down at the ground, seemed at first glance to be worn down of all emotion.
Only then did Ian remember his existence.
The political landscape of the Holy Kingdom was divided in two; he was the giant leading the conservatives against the Saintess, the head of the reformers.
Archbishop Aindel.
Ian had heard that name once before.
From the mouth of Leoric.
Had he told him to be careful?
For a long time, the old priest did not answer. In fact, it was an absurd situation.
No matter how high the Saintess's status was, it was not comparable to that of the Archbishop. She could not simply give orders to someone who was, at best, her equal in status.
Furthermore, wasn't there a clear superior, the Pope, present?
Nevertheless,
"......I shall humbly follow your will, Saintess."
Archbishop Aindel slowly knelt and bowed his head. The Saintess was no longer just a figurehead for the Cult.
She was a Sage recognized by the Heavenly God.
It was a symbolic scene showing that the leadership of the Holy Kingdom had completely passed to a single woman.
"......'Saintess,' is it."
The Saintess murmured, then let out a small laugh. She finally looked satisfied.
And then, the Saintess's path continued. The man located at the end of that path was none other than Ian.
He wore a somewhat troubled expression.
It was because tens of thousands of pairs of eyes had moved in sync with the Saintess's footsteps. Ian now stood at the center of countless gazes along with the Saintess.
Right in front of the man, the Saintess placed a hand on her chest and caught her breath.
It was a nervous appearance she had never shown before.
Ian's lips parted as he wore a faint smile.
"Saintess..."
But before he could speak, the woman's index finger blocked Ian's lips.
Ian had no choice but to look at the woman with questioning eyes.
Regardless, having finished her deep breath, the woman quickly continued.
"Ian, I have been the 'Saintess' until now. I didn't even have a name. I simply lived as if I were a human without emotions, fitting for that position. For the sake of my goals, I sometimes turned my eyes away from evil and sacrifice."
Ian didn't add any particular words to the woman's confession.
He simply looked at her with a somewhat relieved expression.
"But you changed me."
The golden radiance floating around the woman's body was slowly fading.
The Saint standing beside Ian wore a slight smile. Then, shaking his head, he slipped away, stepping backward.
Thus, only two people remained here.
"I've said it before, haven't I? Emotions are not permitted for the 'Saintess.' It is a position where one must make the most rational and reasonable choices. So at first, I was scared and flustered. Because my feelings were growing to an irreversible point."
It was the woman's true heart, which had been trapped in a shell.
The crowd of tens of thousands held their breath, listening to the secret story.
"But in the end, you... you..."
The woman's hand tightly gripped the silver rosary hanging from her neck.
A faint dew formed in her pale pink eyes.
The woman smiled softly.
"......You saved me."
It wasn't just today.
When she first met him, she thought there was such a thing as a naive noble who fussed over commoners.
She had pretended to be indifferent, but inwardly, she was impressed. She realized that day that there were those who did not care about social status.
Since then, you have saved the world several times as if it were only natural.
Leading up to today, you saved a woman who was to be hung on a cross.
From the flames, and from the shell of the 'Saintess,' you pulled out a single woman and stood her here.
How could she not love him?
So, the woman found it difficult to calm her trembling heart.
"I am not the 'Saintess.' That is just one of the many titles people call me, isn't it? I need something more fundamental."
"Then, what..."
"......A name."
Moistening her dry lips with her tongue, the Saintess spoke.
As if she had made up her mind long ago.
"You decide it. Because you are the one who made me no longer the 'Saintess.'"
Ian wore a blank expression for a moment at that request.
Then, he swallowed a hollow laugh. Surprisingly, only one name came to mind.
Containing a small wish, Ian brought out a name he had seen somewhere.
"......Lucia."
The end of the love letter from the future.
The name of the woman who would one day become his lover was written there. Ian then asked with a faint smile.
"How is Lucia?"
"Lucia, Lucia..."
As if she would never forget it, the woman repeated the name several times.
And then a clear laugh broke out.
"I like it, Lucia. I like it very much."
Is it finally over?
Just as Ian was about to breathe a sigh of relief.
A single, tense step was taken.
It was Lucia. A mixture of faint tension and trembling was in those pale pink eyes.
She had thought about this for a long time.
Once she cast off the shell of the 'Saintess,' she absolutely had to do this.
In front of a crowd of tens of thousands.
In front of the Pope, the Saint, and the many powerful figures who moved the Holy Kingdom, she would prove it.
I am no longer just a 'Saintess.'
I am a human with emotions. I am no longer an empty being living according to a shell.
So, let's do something that could never be done as the 'Saintess.'
Just one second.
Their breaths mingled, and the woman's lips, leaning forward, met the man's lips as if pouncing on them.
Then, golden eyes flew wide open.
The same was true for the crowd of tens of thousands. Their eyes were stretched as wide as they could possibly go.
Matching the man's body as he stepped backward, the woman's body overlapped as if folding over him.
In that collapsing landscape, the woman who had received a name finally showed a satisfied smile.
Yes, this is what I wanted.
Proof of existence.
*
The next day, the entire continent was abuzz with scandal.
There were no exceptions. Everywhere people went, they were busy talking about this touching love story, and soon the tale of the hero who would save the world and the Saintess's romance became so famous that there was no one who didn't know it.
Far, far away.
To the Lainella family, the Yurdina family, and even the Imperial Palace.
A new storm was approaching.