Chapter 253
Chapter 253
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The First Saintess
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Rishir still couldn't quite believe it.
Tara Dollin.
That she was standing right in front of him.
A member of the hero's party that saved the world and the very first Saintess. Her story was known to virtually everyone on the continent.
Even Rishir, as a child, had often played hero's party games with his little sister Roera.
He was the hero. She was the Saintess.
'Roera would splash water on me all the time, claiming it was holy water.'
A wave of nostalgia suddenly washed over him.
At some point, they had started arguing over who suited the hero role better... and now both he and Roera had become wielders of holy swords.
And here he was, a descendant of the hero, standing before the actual Saintess.
Ever since meeting her...
The legends of the hero's party kept flooding his mind.
Rishir had to struggle not to be overwhelmed by the presence of this Saintess, who was a living part of those legends.
It wasn't easy.
A member of the hero's party. A great hero. The First Saintess.
True to her legendary name, the aura emanating from her was profoundly immense.
Rishir was astonished once by that immense aura—
And again by the fact that it was being kept in a state of utmost serenity.
'My Grandmaster... at night... and now members of the hero's party...'
One transcendent being after another.
Rishir was starting to seriously worry that his senses might go numb from all this.
"So—..."
With that in mind,
Rishir was explaining the full story to the Saintess while tense as a coiled spring.
The reason his injuries had suddenly healed—
The ability behind it all.
"In other words, you periodically experience a surge in your realm, while your body simultaneously adjusts to an optimal state. The most likely cause, from what we can guess, is that it triggers in response to positively influencing certain events."
"That's right."
Rishir replied in a half-resigned tone.
Based on his experiences so far, he could already picture how this would unfold.
Himself, unable to explain this irrational power.
The other person, unable to accept this irrational power.
Sure enough, it would end in that same frustrating stalemate, fizzling out inconclusively.
By now, it was a routine as familiar as breathing.
Rishir planned to just let the flow carry him and quietly wait for the process to end.
"That doesn't make any sense..."
As expected,
The fairy chimed in from the side.
'Right on cue.'
Rishir was just about to chuckle at how predictably things were going.
"You had an ability like that too!?"
"Huh?"
This was unusual.
Whenever Rishir talked about his abilities, it was always the other person doubting their ears.
This was the first time he was doubting his own.
The fairy's words.
They carried more weight than simply taking his ability at face value.
"You had one too? Do you know someone else with a similar ability?"
His pupils dilated.
Rishir stared in disbelief.
The fairy let out a small laugh at his reaction.
It was like an adult humoring a child.
"Of course. The world is vast, you know. Especially in our era—it was even more so. Rishir, it's hard for you to imagine now, but back when we were active, there was all sorts of stuff out there."
"Molting."
As Rishir listened raptly like a man possessed, the Saintess continued.
"Just as the name implies, it's the ability to shed worn-out limits like old skin and achieve an optimal state."
Rishir's heart was pounding wildly by now.
It felt like actually encountering the heroes from legend.
The vast knowledge that flowed so naturally from their words!
It casually incorporated his own world into a grander whole.
In other words, it was like a frog in a well suddenly seeing the ocean!
Normally, that would feel belittling and unpleasant—
But right now, Rishir felt an incredible surge of elation.
'As expected of the hero's party!'
As their earlier attitudes had shown.
Rishir had largely given up on getting answers about his abilities.
He didn't even understand them himself—how could anyone else?
So.
He couldn't rely on others for this.
Magic or swordsmanship aside, this ability at least—he had to pioneer it alone.
Resignation disguised as acceptance!
That was Rishir's stance toward his abilities.
He figured he'd be eternally alone in this regard.
But what was this?
They appeared.
Beings who knew the truth behind his inexplicable power!
'That era really did have all sorts of things. Makes sense—natural magic was just regular magic back then...!'
Rishir thought.
The most chaotic era in history—the great heroes at its center.
They could surely identify his inexplicable powers perfectly.
And guide him further!
"Molting... so that's its name...!"
The legacy of the original hero's party!
This boded well.
His ability had been named right from the start.
Rishir looked up at them with uncontainable excitement.
"Were abilities like this common in your era? How much do you know about it!?"
Whoa, whoa.
The fairy calmed Rishir with her tiny hands.
"I get why you're excited, but calm down first."
"Ah, sorry. I got carried away—"
"Looks like no one's ever explained that ability to you before, huh?"
"That's right!"
"Well, yeah. Even in our time, it was a rare ability possessed by only a tiny fraction of people."
"A tiny fraction... that rare?"
"Even if you put all our kids together, we couldn't name more than five with that ability."
Five.
Just five.
That stark, realistic number gave Rishir a twinge of unease.
'Isn't that too little data?'
But he quickly shook his head.
'No, no! You're full to bursting already, Rishir. Data even existing is a miracle!'
Rishir composed himself and asked them.
"If you know anything about this ability—Molting—could you tell me?"
"We were just about to."
Hm?
The excitement in Rishir's eyes sharpened.
He spotted the shadows they hadn't fully hidden on their faces.
Fairy. Saintess.
"Let's move somewhere else first."
The Saintess beckoned to Rishir.
His body, covered in bloodstains, was instantly cleaned spotless.
Even the clothes he wore.
"Whoa..."
What.
What kind of magic was this?
Different from Cleansing somehow?
As Rishir inspected his body with sparkling eyes, the Saintess beckoned again.
"This way."
Leaving the cathedral where the Saintess had been praying, they were greeted by a serene field bathed in sunset hues.
Rishir looked around once more.
A small wheat field lay on the opposite side.
Ripened stalks bowed their heads, flaunting their golden splendor.
Where the stalks bowed was a fence-enclosed area.
Dairy cows. Sheep. Chickens.
Various animals spent their time freely in that leisurely space.
"..."
Maybe because he'd just come from an intense battle?
Rishir felt that pastoral scene seep deep into his heart.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The Saintess approached, pleased by his reaction.
She pointed somewhere.
Below the field.
A small village had formed there.
Even as the sun set, children energetically roamed the village.
Peace.
The village embodied the concept itself.
As Rishir began assimilating into that peace, a strange sense of déjà vu hit him.
The village air touching his skin. The warmth. The atmosphere.
It felt familiar.
Then it clicked.
'Lady Bella's forest...?'
Like his Grandmaster's forest.
This village was also a space crafted by the Saintess's mind.
"I've already experienced death. A very long time ago, in fact."
As if reading his thoughts, the Saintess began her tale.
Her brown hair, golden like the wheat in the field, was dyed by the sunset.
Rishir was newly surprised.
The Saintess.
Her extraordinary aura had obscured it, but this great hero had surprisingly ordinary looks.
Like a pure village girl beloved by all.
Separately, the atmosphere she exuded, as if cradling the sunset, was undoubtedly mystical. Perhaps holy.
"But..."
The sunset deepened. A faint shadow crossed the Saintess's face.
"I couldn't accept my death so easily. It wasn't some grand regret. Just lingering attachments. Right before dying, things I hadn't done came to mind. Not duties or fates—just small wishes."
The Saintess gave Rishir a mystical smile.
"Disappointed?"
"Pardon?"
"I know how people talk about me. Especially the church—they treat me in ways I'm sick of hearing about. The church says death isn't a curse but a blessing. It's the most fundamental law of this world. Isn't it ridiculous for a Saintess to defy that?"
It was a pretty deep question to answer.
But Rishir didn't agonize long.
"Dunno. Never died before."
"Pardon?"
The Saintess hurriedly covered her mouth.
A small chuckle escaped.
"Guess death's too tough a concept for a kid like me. But that's why I get where you're coming from."
"You get it—"
"If I faced death when I didn't want to, and there was a way to delay it? I'd do it without hesitation. There's this saying I know: Better to roll in shit and live."
Above all,
Rishir added softly.
He was thinking of his reunion with his Grandmaster.
That precious meeting he hadn't even dared hope for.
"I'd be happy."
"Happy..."
"That a chance exists to meet loved ones again."
Death.
His shallow, personal view was too light to debate its heavy value.
Especially compared to those close to the Saintess.
Yet.
Maybe that's why.
A light smile appeared on the Saintess's lips.
A very casual smile, unburdened by faith or philosophy.
She looked at the fairy on Rishir's shoulder and nodded.
"You're right."
Was it his imagination?
Rishir felt the Saintess's aura lighten compared to before.
That once-inapproachable holiness had softened.
The Saintess continued in a somewhat upbeat tone.
"These children are the ones I'm watching over for a bit."
She pointed at the kids playing in the village.
"Watching over—"
"Loss of consciousness. The boundary of death. Strong will and faith. That's how they're connected. I'm helping them regain their original energy and true selves."
"...!"
Rishir's eyes widened.
'So that's it. Not just helping people who prayed to her here recover their health—'
Interpreting her casual words naturally evoked the word 'miracle'.
'What is this, heaven...?'
For a moment, Rishir recalled a church statue he'd seen.
The statue embodying the Lord God—
It shared similarities with the Saintess beside him now.
This place.
Her space. Maybe the result of those saved returning to reality and speaking out?
He had no way of knowing.
He could only marvel anew at the transcendent power of this great hero.
"We're here."
The Saintess led him to a small house on a hill overlooking the village.
"You've been through a rough time. Rest easy tonight. Time flows leisurely here."
After washing in the hot spring in the backyard.
Enjoying a simple but warm meal.
Rishir spent the time as comfortably and leisurely as she said.
He felt the mental fatigue that even Molting couldn't fully wash away finally cleansed.
The next morning.
Rishir shared another meal with the Saintess.
He used the opportunity to chat with her about various things.
His personal history. The state of the world.
Their conversation started on those topics but gradually grew heavier at some point.
"So, about that 'Molting'."
The topic that had kept Rishir up all night with anticipation came up naturally.
And this time, Rishir didn't miss it.
"..."
"..."
Here it comes.
The grave expressions on the Saintess and fairy's faces.
"Right now, I'm receiving guidance from many great people. They generously teach me what I seek. Except for my unusual abilities. They don't know about this one either."
"In that era, countless heroes and villains met different fates. And with them, various powers and techniques were lost."
"Yes. That's why I'm boldly asking you despite the impropriety. If you know anything about this ability, could you teach me? And if possible, guide me on the right path forward?"
"Yes."
The Saintess answered readily.
"Of course."
The fairy agreed.
Rishir's attempt to express joy was halted by their demeanor.
It wasn't the solemn look of imparting wisdom—
More like delivering unwelcome bad news.
The Saintess and fairy exchanged glances.
Who would speak?
In the end, it was the Saintess.
"Molting. The power to shed clinging limits like skin and advance forward. It's a mysterious force passed down as a secret among certain heroes. Even in our party, few could wield it."
The Saintess continued gravely.
"Rishir. Great power always comes with a price."
"...!"
Her eyes held the resolve to deliver cruel truth, turning Rishir's unease into reality.
In truth,
He'd vaguely suspected as much.
A sudden realm surge.
Body restored to like-new condition.
A phenomenon hard to replicate even with the finest elixirs—surely it couldn't come without cost.
Even temporary realm-boosting drugs caused bodily collapse if overused.
So a permanent realm-boosting 'Molting' with no side effects?
Maybe he just couldn't sense it.
Side effects accumulating unnoticed wouldn't be strange at all.
"Rishir..."
The Saintess's solemn expression soon filled with worry.
"How many times have you used that power so far?"
The Saintess and fairy recalled heroes who used Molting in their 'final moments'.
And desperately hoped.
Please—
May the number not exceed three.
If it did, he'd drop dead right now and it wouldn't be odd—
"Damn, even roughly it's dozens of times. What happens to me now?"
The meaningful mood between the fairy and Saintess peaked.
Rishir's anxiety peaked too.
"...Everyone?"
But suddenly, the Saintess and fairy clammed up.
Rishir was left stranded in the heightened emotions.