The Ritual of Resurrection
Licht's eyes widened. His gaping mouth refused to close. The pure white book he had drawn out instinctively transformed in an instant amid black flames. Even now, faint light flickered alongside red letters on the black cover.
Licht lifted his gaze to the top of the first page. There was the very first word written there.
Resurrection.
"Resurrection...."
He muttered the word as if in a daze. His mind blanked for a moment. No, it was more like he couldn't accept it. What the hell was this?
The book wasn't written in the continental common tongue. It was inscribed in the sacred language used within the Isteria Church. He could read it, but grasping the full meaning was difficult. Even though the Isteria Church wielded the greatest influence among the three creation gods and boasted the most followers, the sacred language was employed only by a select few—priests under the Papal Court and noble families devoted to Isteria.
Moreover, the sacred script in this book seemed over a century old, differing slightly from the modern version. It was only natural that Licht, whose grasp extended only to basic conversation, struggled to decipher it.
Even so, he slowly turned the pages. Bizarrely drawn ritual formulas were accompanied by numerous annotations. With each page turned, red letters etched themselves into the black blank pages as if by prior agreement.
Halfway through, Licht stopped turning the pages.
The resurrection ritual, said to be nearly forgotten even within the Holy Kingdom, was actually a rite to revive the dead by offering souls to a demon.
"......"
His mind became a tangled mess. Questions flooded in.
Why.
Why would a book related to a resurrection ritual be in the archive of this remote convent? Did it make any sense for the Holy Kingdom's highest cleric, known as the proxy of Goddess Isteria, to contract with a demon?
The convent had a long history. It wouldn't be strange to have a forgotten ancient tome or two. What didn't sit right was the Pope. Palenia's Pope was preparing a resurrection ritual. To revive the previous Saintess, who was already dead.
The notion of using the hundreds of thousands of believers gathered on January 1st, Creation Day, as sacrifices no longer seemed like pure nonsense.
The price.
Every miracle demanded a price.
Human souls....
Used as sacrifices. It wasn't impossible. Miracles had categories: the possible and the impossible. Reviving the dead was akin to time reversal—an impossible miracle.
Licht had never heard of someone returned from the grave, turned fully to dust. Not in the past, present, or future.
Or perhaps it had simply been erased from history.
The book in his hands now was proof.
It detailed meticulously how many sacrifices were needed and how to conduct the ritual. It didn't feel like fiction. It seemed a similar ritual had succeeded once in the past.
It's different from time magic.
Time magic literally rewound time. Licht had returned to the past by rewinding time via the Dragon's Oath used by the Emperor.
It wouldn't be much different for a person. Reversing one individual's time would be far easier than defying the world's timeline.
But this resurrection ritual differed from time magic.
The reason for abducting 3rd Circle mages and above....
Offer fresh souls in sufficient quantity to recall the departed soul of the deceased. The number of sacrifices increases based on the target's stature.
For someone of the previous Saintess's caliber, how many would be required?
They had captured relatively high-caliber souls from mages, but even that fell far short, so they exhausted them in test rituals and shifted the sacrifice target to the hundreds of thousands of believers gathering on January 1st.
That explanation actually made everything fit.
But Licht had never heard of all the believers in Light Square dying in his previous life.
Such an event.
Had it happened in his past life?
No.
It hadn't. The ritual must have failed due to some circumstance. Or perhaps the past had already drastically changed since his regression.
He surely would have known about an incident of that scale.
What was certain was that the current Saintess, Stella Evgenia, was dead. Rather than the past changing, it was more accurate to say the ritual had failed.
Licht quickly flipped through the remaining pages.
"...She dies in the end, then."
Only after reaching the last page and closing the cover did Licht murmur as if chanting.
The girl who had nursed him devotedly for over a week. The current Saintess, Stella Evgenia.
She ultimately dies.
His thoughts reached that point, and Licht inexplicably felt a strange unease.
But that feeling didn't last long.
"Just kill her."
It was simple. According to the world's laws, the dead don't return to life, so killing the root cause—Pope Franz Evgenia—would resolve everything.
"...There are plenty of reasons anyway."
He was pursuing Licht. It wouldn't end until one of them died.
There were many reasons to kill Palenia's Pope. Kidnapping and killing Elzion's mages without permission. Planning to use hundreds of thousands of Isteria believers on Creation Day as sacrifices.
Even without those, Licht would kill the Pope.
Grace is like the sea. Vengeance is like a blade.
If the girl who saved his life died before repaying her debt, his nights would be restless.
Licht didn't want her to die.
"Hoo...."
Clutching the book, now shifted from white to pitch black, Licht leaned back against the bookshelf. His unhealed wounds made his body ache all over.
He ignored it. Closing his eyes slowly, he introspected inwardly.
His five mana rings were a tangled wreck. In stark contrast to his rapidly healing body.
Still, thanks to his efforts during spare time, they had improved vastly from the start.
Starting with the fifth ring at the outermost, Licht carefully nudged the fourth, third, second rings aside. He used the very first ring woven, draped right over his heart.
Rotating it slowly stirred a faint mana flow. Rigid and weak compared to when all five rings were active.
Recalling the moment he first wove the ring after regressing, Licht gathered the mana in his palm.
1st Circle common magic.
"Ignite."
Whoosh!
With the short incantation, the mana in his palm burst into vivid red flames. The crimson fire enveloping the jet-black book soon turned to pure white.
Mana used by mages was refined once through circles. The pristine white flames infused with Licht's unique mana properties incinerated the black book without a trace in short order.
As the flames died out, Licht furrowed his brow and exhaled deeply.
"...Still limited to 1st Circle common magic, huh."
It was worse than right after regression when he first wove the ring. His weakened body and the need to cast without interference from the other four rings made it inevitable.
Still.
The recovery speed was faster than expected. Both body and circles.
If it were another mage, they'd have to shatter all circles and rebuild from scratch, resigning to ruin or abandoning the path of magic.
Having room for improvement was enough.
Licht slotted the fallen book back into the shelf. In a month, he could wield up to 3rd Circle magic without issue.
"......"
Only after shelving the last book did Licht emerge from between the shelves.
Before opening the archive door, he glanced back once more and thought.
No time.
Anything could happen anytime. He had to kill the Pope before January 1st.
Five rings were woefully insufficient. He needed to fully restore all circles and weave a sixth.
And there was still the burden in his heart he hadn't shed: Jack and Ranin, already dead.
Jack had no remaining family, but Ranin had his one and only sister. Enrolled in the Burneck Academy, no doubt money would flow out endlessly.
Licht thought of the funds left in his subspace pouch and inwardly sneered.
Disgusting hypocrite.
The words he spat at himself. Licht silently flung open the archive door.
Send the remaining money to Elzion. Tuition and such were mere excuses.
In the end, it was just hypocrisy to alleviate his guilt.
Even so.
Disgusting hypocrisy or not.
He had to do it. For Ranin's sake, even if she already dead, his sister needed to learn magic at Burneck Academy.
Even if Ranin's sister learned the truth and branded him a murderer, Licht would accept it calmly.
It was all fact.
Gazing into the archive through the open door for a while, Licht soon crossed the corridor soundlessly.
***
The same old Hyeris Convent. This quaint convent nestled in the forest drew people from all walks of life with their troubles.
Orphans, abandoned children, nuns cast out by circumstance or longing for a home.
The abbess embraced them all without turning any away. Financial woes were no reason to reject them.
It had intensified since Saintess Stella Evgenia rejected marriage and came here from the Papal Court. Generous subsidies followed.
Thus, the abbess could offer more to her lost lambs. True to its ancient history, the buildings were grand and antique, hard to believe they lay in the rugged forest outskirts.
With plenty of empty rooms, they often sheltered wandering mercenaries or travelers lost in the woods.
Such was the convent's routine when an unexpected incident occurred not long ago.
"Heading out again today?"
"I heard his wounds haven't fully healed...."
"The Saintess nurses him personally. He might be fine now...."
"Where on earth did he come from?"
The convent was cut off from the secular world. Save for monthly trips to the city, outsiders were rare.
Then an unidentified boy arrived. A guest personally brought by the Saintess. She even nursed him devotedly every day. The abbess knew and approved.
Naturally, attention focused on him.
It worsened as Licht recovered enough to venture outside occasionally.
"Maybe a young master from a fallen noble house?"
"Could be a fugitive royal...."
"Enough nonsense—get back to work!"
The boy had black hair and black eyes. Unlike his refined features, he was tall and well-built. Whenever he emerged, a mystery sword hung at his waist. He rarely spoke first, but bowed politely when greeted.
The novice nuns and young sisters screamed inwardly each time. His manners screamed high nobility.
With only much younger boys, burly mercenaries, and merchants seen on city trips, they buzzed daily. Surely from some prestigious noble house. Or perhaps the son of a high Papal cleric.
Even scoldings from elder nuns couldn't quell the girls' chatter about the boy. With the abbess favoring him too, middle-aged nuns suffered most.
The children at the convent were no different.
"Oh, he's out!"
"Shh. Quiet."
The kids playing in the yard fixed their eyes on one spot. A boy emerged from the building with natural strides.
"He's so handsome.... The novice sisters talk about that brother every day."
"Handsome? Nonsense!"
"Why? He is!"
"Handsome my foot. He looks like some pretty boy gigolo."
"I heard he's a holy knight from the Papal Court...."
The last remark came from a short-haired boy. The children clamped their mouths shut as if by agreement.
As the boy said, he always wore a sword at his waist when venturing out. Cloth-wrapped, details were hidden, but the occasional glint of gold marked it no ordinary blade.
"A holy knight...."
"Knight Secreta."
"Wasn't the Saintess's escort from the Secreta Order? She brought him herself, and nurses him daily...."
"No!"
"No?"
"The Saintess said it clearly. When I become a holy knight, she'll definitely...."
"Oh, heading to the back yard!"
The boy glanced around briefly before heading behind the convent building. The children, blinking dumbly at each other, cautiously trailed him.
The back yard of Hyeris Convent. Right there, with no one around.
Shing.
The sword was drawn. In an instant, the cloth fell away, revealing the golden holy sword hidden within.
Even to clueless children, the boy's extraordinary stance as he unsheathed was apparent. Soon, he began swinging the blade.
"Whoa...."
Someone reflexively exclaimed. No other sounds followed.
The sword danced. One technique flowed into the next, forming a sword dance. Golden sword light etched the air, bright sunlight cascading beneath.
And then.
Hummm—
An intangible wave spread. A white glow arose from the boy's right hand, soon enveloping the golden blade.