Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: A Seminarian's Day
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Returning to the seminary from the Academy in a rattling carriage.
Feeling a slight touch of nausea from the jolting sensation of the carriage, Matthew closed his eyes for a moment.
Fortunately, the motion sickness wasn't too severe, so he was soon able to open his eyes again and gaze at the scenery outside the carriage.
The Washing of the Heart ritual was over.
His first practical training had been postponed due to an earthquake, so this was Matthew's first experience with the Washing of the Heart.
From beside him came the voice of a fellow student who had completed the ritual together.
"Whoa... Seriously, I can't remember the 'Prayer for Healing' at all. So this is what it means to stray from the Word."
"The Word is always within us. How could we stray from it just by forgetting a prayer? Even if you close your eyes and dark clouds block the sky, even if all that sparkles is shrouded in the shadow of death cast over the valley, the fact that light is there does not change."
"Aah. Stop. Enough with the textbook answers. You're too serious, Matthew. That's your problem."
For this ritual, the two had returned the entire 'Prayer for Healing' to the Lord.
No matter how diligently they had memorized prayers and scriptures in the secular world, now all seminarians could no longer remember the 'Prayer for Healing'.
No matter how many pages they had studied, it was now zero.
The seminarians stood at the same starting line as 'Healing Priests'.
"You must have forgotten a lot, so it'll be tough for you, Matthew. You're the top admit, after all. It'll take time to study it all again."
"Haha..."
"Still, your practical scores will be high because of it."
In the Washing of the Heart ritual, they literally returned the entire 'Prayer for Healing' to the Lord.
It might seem unfair since the amount forgotten varied, but scores were determined by the amount each person had forgotten.
And Matthew's mentor, Priest Dori—who had been the top of the seminary—had shown exceptionally high scores in this practical.
This 'Washing of the Heart' was the most useful for making money.
Of course, he had ended up becoming a bishop rather than a 'Healing Priest'.
Matthew, too, had treated numerous students at the Academy through the 'Washing of the Heart' practical.
Getting the top score in practicals was a given.
"You even treated the Hero, right?"
"Yes. I did."
The Hero. The archenemy of the Demon King, blessed with the 'Blessing of History'.
It was an era where even soldiers trained in tactics could fall to convenient weapons like guns,
but the Hero would never die to a stray bullet.
He was at the center of the story called 'history'. Thus, he was guaranteed to survive until the final page of that history.
Heroes do not die in vain.
History does not allow it.
A hero's death is only permitted
if it occurs in a 'final battlefield' so grand that even the death itself becomes part of history.
Like that great general of old
who said, 'Do not announce my death'.
"What was the Hero like up close? Did he have the aura of a great hero destined to go down in history?"
"A great hero..."
Matthew recalled the Hero's appearance from the practical training.
The Academy's practicals were intense.
Following the tradition of 'philosophers and heroes' passed down from ancient times, they tempered people physically and mentally to forge the complete individual.
They threw people into all sorts of dilemmas
and forced them to sacrifice or choose something within.
And.
Within that, the 'Hero' shone particularly brightly.
He always made the right choice.
Even if it carried greater risk, he ultimately broke through every obstacle to achieve 'perfect success'.
Some students envied that brilliant figure,
some admired it,
and some... even fell in love.
A hero. Or perhaps, an idealist.
That description suited him perfectly.
"...He seemed like a man moved by duty."
"Duty?"
"Yes. He has a firm standard of justice and is more captivated by the duty to do what is 'right' in this moment than by utilitarianism. He has decisiveness and decent situational awareness, but he doesn't consider the risks of failure or the aftermath of success. In that sense, whether good or bad, he comes across as an idealist."
"That... sounds truly heroic."
"Yes. That's why I'm a bit uneasy about him. He burns like a torch, leading those around him, but he doesn't show them the pitfall at their feet."
And Matthew's assessment of such a Hero was rather cynical.
If it were the old Matthew, he might have been captivated by the Hero like the other students.
He might have admired that fiery figure who decided without hesitation, driven by the 'right motivation'.
But.
To the current Matthew, such a Hero just seemed immature.
How could wielding and imposing morality like a sword be the mark of a mature adult?
"You're so cynical."
"Isn't an idealist different from an ideal person? There are ways to pursue ideals without imposing them on others."
The 'ideal person' in Matthew's mind was, naturally, his master.
One who humbly bows before fate,
who knows to step back one pace so as not to block the ideal,
who, instead of swinging his own morality,
creates the soil for those around him to properly enact their own morals.
And thus,
allows everyone to move according to their own motivations and goals,
while forging the most important fate—their own—with his own hands.
Is that not truly great and heroic?
"The Hero's 'Blessing of History' will ultimately lead him to fulfill his own destiny, but if he relies solely on the blessing's aid, he'll face failure as a person someday."
"True. Those who depend only on divine help ultimately fail because they can't help themselves."
His classmate nodded in agreement with Matthew's words.
He was still a freshman and had some immature aspects, but as a seminarian who had studied theology, he was familiar with it.
Debates on justice and morality were routine.
Thanks to that, the classmate immediately grasped what Matthew meant.
It applied equally to theology, after all.
"So, you're saying I shouldn't rely too much on visible graces like divine power, but build my own skill and faithfulness?"
"Haha. That wasn't my intention."
"No, it's just hitting home for me. Ultimately... every time we borrow His divinity, we forget the Word—it's a reminder to be humble."
Divine power is the strength borrowed from the Almighty's authority.
In other words, it's the power to exercise authority on His behalf, in His name.
It does not belong to the person.
Yet many priests mistake the acts done in God's name for their own deeds.
At that moment, they become arrogant.
As if they are 'equals to God'—a horrific hubris.
Thus, He takes one word of scripture every time a priest uses divine power.
It is a call to humility.
You are not God, and all you do is merely borrowed from His authority.
That is why He is the true master of the soul,
and why man must always feel shame before Him.
"I was getting a bit carried away. Time to reflect. Alright. I'll start memorizing the prayers right now. By the next practical, I'll memorize every 'Prayer for Healing' in the Bible and prayer book."
"Right now? That doesn't seem like a good idea."
"Once we get back to the seminary and start assignments, there won't be time to memorize prayers separately. When do I even get to rest!"
"That's not what I mean..."
The classmate immediately pulled out his prayer book and began memorizing.
Matthew tried to stop him, but his ears were deaf to reason, caught up in enthusiasm.
And shortly after—
"Uwaaagh—!!!"
"...That's why I told you. Reading a prayer book in a shaking carriage is bound to make the motion sickness worse."
Matthew gently patted the back of his classmate, who had gotten out of the carriage and was vomiting up everything in his stomach.
Fortunately, since he hadn't eaten much, it wasn't too gruesome a sight—just a thick, sticky, white, well-ground liquid spurting from his mouth.
The smell was still horrific, though.
"Ugh..."
Even after emptying his stomach, the classmate was still dazed and staggering.
He must have been hit hard by the motion sickness.
At this rate, he'd be groaning the whole way back in the carriage.
Putting him back in like this would be cruel.
"Hmm... Good thing the day's not over yet."
"Huh...?"
"Lord, let my brother realize that dwelling in You is life, and departing from You is death. Thus, help him devote himself only to loving deeds, to things of value and meaning..."
"...Huh?"
The authority borrowed from the bishop for one day.
Matthew used that divine power to cure his classmate's motion sickness.
The recovered classmate stared blankly at Matthew.
"Matthew?"
"Yes."
"...Sorry."
"Let's study together when we get back, brother. There's a lot to re-memorize."
"...Yeah. Thanks."
.
.
.
Upon returning to the seminary, Matthew discovered a package had arrived for him.
"From Master... no, Your Excellency."
Inside was a small, round stone, neatly packaged.
Beneath the stone was a simple explanation and a label reading 'Pet Rock'.
"Pet Rock...?"
It was a gift whose meaning he couldn't fathom,
but soon Matthew chuckled and placed the stone on his desk.
'What metaphor is this? It'll be fun to ponder.'
A metaphor involving pets and rocks.
Was it about love? Or possession? A critique of humans owning lives?
It was an inconsiderate gift,
but that made it all the more intriguing to think about.
"Life and stone... Right. Maybe it's referring to the scripture: 'This stone shall be a witness to you'."
To decipher the gift's meaning, Matthew immersed himself in scripture study for quite some time.
It was only much later—after realizing this 'Pet Rock' was simply a new product his house had started selling—that he lay awake in bed, embarrassed.