Miracles: God's Deeds Performed
A miracle is said to mean that God's deeds have been carried out. Priests receive miracles through sacred petitions to prove God's existence. But often, God Himself works miracles by borrowing the body and mouth of a priest. Those chosen by God are praised as saints.
That's right. A miracle. The lame rising to their feet, river water turning to wine, walking on water as if it were solid ground! Countless priests toil away even today, digging holes just to make these miracles a reality. They hurl themselves off cliffs on purpose, leap into pits of fire, travel through plague-ridden lands... Of course, there's no way the heavens would pay any mind to such mad antics.
Yet the priests desperately wanted to become saints through their craziness. Chosen by God! What a badass title!
"Mage Ian has awakened a dormant holy relic!"
"If this isn't a miracle, what is?!"
Already burning with longing for sainthood, the priests couldn't sit still for a second the moment something miracle-like happened right in front of them—like hyperactive ADHD patients.
"Hmm. Is that all?"
"What?"
"Isn't making a fuss over just hatching one egg a bit much? Maybe it was simply time for it to hatch anyway."
Some said it was a miracle. Others said no. These were people who usually just ate their meals and read scripture, so when it came to anything holy-related, they wouldn't yield an inch.
"Mage Ian did not perform a miracle, brothers!"
"Takarion!"
At that moment, atop the hot potato of [Ian's Miracle], the eye of the storm named Takarion appeared.
This was an actual potato storm!
"Last night, I received a revelation from an angel in my dream."
"Ooh!"
"The voice of the angel said to have dictated the Gospel of Marcus!"
Takarion had stuffed the Gospel of Marcus with all sorts of nonsense (but entertaining stuff). A prime example: Marcus firing a death beam from his finger. When skeptical priests asked, "How the hell do you know what happened back in the Golden Empire days?" Takarion would spit out the same canned response like an auto-reply bot: "An angel told me in a dream~"
It meant sleep-talking, basically. But there were no issues when writing the gospel. In a world where dragons flew the skies and mages heard the voices of the winds, couldn't a saint shoot a death beam? Deny it all you want—just insist, and you're good. In this medieval fantasy world with no way to verify the truth, even baseless rumors were taken as solemn fact by plenty of people.
"The One in Heaven spoke to me! That egg was actually prepared for you, Takarion!"
"Ooh!"
This place was crawling with monks who hung on Takarion's every word. So Takarion... did what he always did and started insisting his own thoughts were divine truth.
He couldn't let some random mage—whose origins no one even knew—steal the spotlight of the miracle's protagonist!
"Does that mean Takarion performed the miracle?!"
"Saint Takarion! Saint Takarion has appeared!"
"What the... this is ridiculous..."
Ian was baffled by the absurdity unfolding right before departure. He'd already been floored that the supposed holy relic was just a bird egg. Now the priests outside were yapping about whether he qualified as a saint or not.
Ian had zero interest in sainthood. He was a mage, not a priest. Being called Saint Ian wouldn't do him any favors. Sure, there might be perks, but he had no need to chase the title aggressively. Becoming a saint would just drag him deeper into religious entanglements. And who knew if it was even possible.
Ian wanted to focus on the matter at hand. A fluffy-downed chick was rolling around right in front of him.
"Any idea what this is?"
Belenca had rounded up hunters to identify the bird, but they all said it was something they'd never seen before.
"No clue."
"Won't know until it grows more, right?"
Hunters who caught adult birds often didn't know much about chicks. Ian wasn't a bird expert either, so he had no idea what species it was. Hell, what do you even call a bird hatched from a holy relic?
"[What species are you?]"
"Cheep! Cheep!"
He tried speaking in the Maronius Language, but it was pointless. It's like asking a newborn baby, "What species are you?"—no way it'd reply, "Yep! I'm human!"
"Ian. You gonna raise this bird?"
Kira asked with sparkling eyes. The moment she saw the baby bird, she'd wanted to keep it. With no mother around, someone had to raise it. But Ian found the idea of bird-rearing a hassle.
"Nah. Gotta give it back to that Takarion guy. It hatched from his relic, right? Makes him the owner."
"...Yeah, fair enough."
Kira nodded reluctantly. Even if Ian wanted it, the monks probably wouldn't hand it over. It hatched from Takarion's relic. If they lost the relic, at least they'd take the bird back. The abbot would love hearing they'd lost both the relic and the bird to Ian.
"Mage Ian! Come out—we've got words for you!"
The owner of that awkwardly social tone was, predictably, Takarion. Ian sauntered out into the corridor.
Takarion stood there with a horde of fan-monks, looking smug as he waited for Ian.
"My bird! When are you giving it back?!"
Ian instantly clocked what Takarion wanted. The moment the egg hatched, Ian had snatched the chick for protection. As a Summoning level 3 summoner, he had a knack for animal care. Letting a hard-hatched chick die would be too pathetic. So everyone had left it to him. If anything went wrong, they could dodge blame—win-win.
"Eh, was gonna return it soon anyway."
Ian brushed him off lazily since Takarion was annoying. Once the chick stabilized, handover time.
A newborn chick was like a baby fresh from the delivery room. Gotta dry off before handing back to Mom, right?
But Takarion thought Ian was lying. Simple reason: he was nervous as hell.
'Can't let him hog the credit for hatching the relic!'
He had zero social experience. Raised in a monastery his whole life. Bullied as a kid, no real friends; after starting writing, just worshipped by fans. Takarion straight-up didn't know how to deal with people.
"Th-the relic... I hatched it! So give it back to me—that's only natural!"
Is he rapping? Ian eyed the stammering Takarion weirdly. Maybe he really did fall from that apple tree as a kid and bang his head.
But he'd just said something odd.
"You hatched the relic?"
"That's right!"
Takarion struck a majestic pose. The surrounding monks erupted in enthusiastic applause.
"As expected of Takarion!"
"The one loved by God!"
Heh heh. What now, Ian? Takarion smirked inwardly. In fights, first strike wins. A medieval influencer like him had seized initiative by claiming, "I hatched the relic!"—more than enough to crush Ian. Any excuse would still be his victory!
"For real?"
But contrary to Takarion's expectations, Ian was grinning inside.
Whoa! Thought I broke it, but nope! Thank god!
Takarion had blabbed that he hatched it, so the monastery couldn't pin blame on Ian now. Takarion fretted over Ian stealing credit—a classic religious mindset. Ian the mage couldn't care less about miracles. Spotting Takarion's interest, he'd tossed it right over!
Your bird! I'm outta here!
"No wonder! That's why it hatched! Your fault, huh? Haha!"
"...?"
Takarion looked flustered. Fault? Makes it sound like I messed up...
"Take good care of it—here."
Ian ducked back to the room, grabbed the chick, and brought it out. The baby bird was nothing but trouble for him. It wasn't his relic to begin with. Brought from the monastery, so whether a bird or a dinosaur hatched, the owner was the abbot. Even a mage couldn't just eat monastery property and bail scot-free. No greed either.
"Kira! Hand over the bird quick!"
Ian called out cheerfully, burden lifted.
Kira, who'd been petting it, looked a tad disappointed.
"Here to take our Winnie?"
"Already named it?"
"Yeah... Guess we gotta. Sniff sniff. Winnie! Be strong in the monastery too!"
Ian wrested the bird from Kira and shoved it at Takarion.
"Here you go."
"Ooh! Thanks!"
Takarion steadied his pounding heart and reached for the bird. Once he had it, he'd be famed as the monk who hatched the relic...
That was when it happened.
"Keeeng! Keeeng!"
"???"
As Takarion's hand neared, the chick wailed pitifully, desperately!
No matter how Takarion tried to soothe it, no dice.
"Why's this bird acting up?"
"Yeah. It should be a divine beast hatched by Takarion's will..."
The monks' murmurs made sweat pour down his back. Crisis! Rejection here would make him look ridiculous!
"C-come to my arms!"
Takarion tried forcing it. The chick wailed even harder.
"Keeeng! Keeeng!"
...Is that normal? Even Ian worried. What if it breaks a bone?
Finally, Kira couldn't stand it.
"Come here! Momma's got you!"
Kira had turned full bird-mom somehow.
"No..."
Takarion tried guarding from Kira, but her beautiful face loomed close—and he froze solid.
The otaku monk... was weak to women...
Saint Marcus...!
The bird was in Kira's arms now. She petted it, and it calmed instantly, like the crying never happened.
"Heavens! Takarion rejected by the divine beast!"
"See! Ian's the one who hatched the relic!"
"Saint Ian! The mage loved by God!"
Takarion was stunned, Kira bird-obsessed, and Ian's head was spinning from the monks' chatter...
...Can I just travel already, you bastards!
"My bird! Give it back!"
"Dude, fuck. It won't come to you—what do you want me to do?"
Hand it over, and it'd die. Refuse, and they'd chase him to the continent's edge.
Thus, the fun negotiation time began.
"Ian. What if we go to the monastery?"
"Sounds like the right call."
Belenca and Kira voted monastery trip. Can't just toss the bird and bail—deliver in person, then leave.
Ian checked with the monks just in case.
"If we take the bird to the monastery—"
"That'd be perfect!"
No even pretending to refuse. Toss failed.
And so, Ian's next destination was set: the medieval monastery.