Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Scar-1
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"A headwind, huh."
Walking along the well-trodden path wasn't easy for her, but she had no choice right now. He was walking this path.
Born into nobility from the moment she drew breath, she was now devoting her entire sense of smell just to catch one man's scent.
It wasn't an ideal situation, but she had no other options.
A whiff of blood and flesh caught between teeth drifted from up ahead. In the distance, a pack of wild dogs came into view.
Even if they were just dogs, they were seasoned hunters.
A well-equipped adventurer party could handle a pack of wild dogs without issue when in top shape, but they couldn't stay at peak condition every moment they moved.
To a group of adventurers battered and weary after battling a formidable foe, reveling in their hard-won victory, those wild dogs would charge in without mercy and tear into their throats.
"...Should I kill them?"
Nerwen pondered for a moment. Enemies of that level wouldn't pose a threat to Enel.
But she didn't have a good impression of wild dogs.
Wolves that lived true to nature's cycle were one thing, but these dogs were creatures that embodied humanity's malice and the beast's cruelty.
Besides, she hadn't yet agreed with him on how many enemies to take out. If she underestimated those dogs and they lunged at him, who knew what punishment he'd give her.
"Hmm..."
Having made her decision, Nerwen raised her bow. It was a distance where an ordinary human would see them as mere dots, but her bow didn't waver.
As the arrow flew, one wild dog collapsed. The others scattered in frenzy, but Nerwen felled them one by one, each shot striking a throat.
The distance was no inconvenience to her.
She had hit far smaller, faster-moving targets from even greater ranges in far more urgent situations.
If anything, being able to drop enemies with just the slightest adjustment of her arrow-holding hand felt convenient.
But the faint smell of wild dog blood now masked Enel's scent.
It wasn't taxing work, but it was mentally draining.
"I'm used to solitude, but this..."
She had rejected countless comrades in the past, but this was the first time she'd been rejected.
She'd rarely felt the need for companions among others, but this was the first time she'd wanted to join one.
Miscellaneous thoughts crept in, but her arrows didn't miss. The pack lying in wait far off fell one after another to the ground.
Animal carcasses littering the road weren't ideal, but there were no real dangerous beasts or monsters nearby that might be drawn by the sight.
"Ha."
After one final check for any survivors, Nerwen let out a sigh and pulled out a marker arrow.
But as she rummaged through her half-empty quiver, she realized her task wasn't over.
She had to retrieve her arrows.
An elf in the forest could always whittle quality wood into arrows anytime. But considering their path, she didn't know when she might run out.
On journeys away from the Hero Party, he had picked up her arrows for her.
"Mm..."
It was tedious work, but not something she couldn't do. No matter how noble her birth, as a warrior, she couldn't avoid dirty, boring tasks.
Still, trudging over to the wild dogs, pulling bloodied arrows out by hand—it was repulsive and dull.
It felt suffocating, like she couldn't breathe. Their destination was the same, but she wasn't part of their group.
It was better than being locked in a cell. She could help him in some way, even if faintly catching his scent was a small mercy.
And yet, worries piled up: Could she keep doing this? Would she be happy living like this? Could she fulfill her duties as the World Tree's Great Warrior?
Putting everything else aside, she hated the headwind. His scent wasn't riding the breeze.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Hypocrites!"
"You frauds!"
Celia was trembling with rage. Even inside her room, the crowd's jeers echoed through.
"People who serve the gods let the Hero end up like that?"
It was something she had to endure. But the responsibility weighed far too heavily on her.
Celia, who had been meditating alone, dragged her weary steps to the door and opened it.
"Whoa... Are you feeling any better?"
"...I need to go out."
A young nun, barely a year or two older than Celia, stood guarding the door. Celia expressed her firm intent with a hardened face, but the nun gently pushed the Saintess back inside.
"No can do. The head nun got direct permission from His Holiness the Pope. You have to stay here."
"By what authority!"
Celia roughly shook off the nun's arm. Small in stature, frail and delicate, that was the old Celia before setting out on adventure.
Regardless of size, she had the basic stamina to endure hours of prayer.
During their journey, she'd often moved under her own power, without relying on holy magic.
"To protect you."
"Eut..."
"It's not your fault. Everyone knows it's all baseless rumors. What, that porter guy who tagged along was actually the Hero? You didn't do anything wrong."
The Saintess was trusted. Her friend and fellow nun believed in her wholeheartedly.
"No..."
The nun was one of the people who'd known Celia the longest, but the Celia she knew was ultimately the church's Celia.
The one who could always meet the Goddess, traveling with supporters at her side—that was all she knew.
Not the Celia endlessly criticized on the battlefield, clashing against a reality that defied her common sense, despairing, and ultimately choosing the ease of blaming someone else.
"It's my fault... I need to apologize..."
"You sure you're fully healed?"
"Eut..."
Priests' healing wasn't infinite. Even those wielding miracle-like powers could suddenly lose all ability at some point.
"You used your own body."
"..."
Some, like the Princess, had wounds too deep and severe for healing to keep up. But the Saintess's case was different.
The wound Enel had given her wasn't that severe. If anything, the one she'd inflicted on herself was worse.
Like sorcery, holy spells could draw on a price. Unlike mages who used various valuable materials, priests' "prices" were limited.
Their own emotions, or their bodies.
Normal movement was fine, but her body couldn't properly wield holy power yet. Her eyes hadn't fully recovered either.
"And do you really think those people are crazy with righteous fury, out to judge you? They just need someone to vent their anger on."
"Uh..."
The nobles resisting the Emperor hired people and started protests through them.
But no matter how outraged the citizens, directly raging against the Emperor was tough.
His popularity soared to the heavens, and insulting the imperial family was a grave crime. One misstep could ruin their entire condemning atmosphere.
The Magic Tower was a closed space. Protesting there got no response. Mages' moral standards weren't socially trusted, and there was fear they might curse the protesters in anger.
Protesting to elves? No one knew who to approach or where to shout.
But the cathedral was different.
By nature, the grand capital cathedral drew crowds who came and went. No matter what corruption or greed the priests hid behind the scenes, outwardly they had to appear pious and virtuous.
"They said someone shouted during today's service again. If this keeps happening..."
"Just endure it."
One by one, the crowds had gathered into mobs, and the only place left for them to protest was here, where the Saintess resided.
"It's my fault."
"Even if it's your fault, at least apologize to the person involved!"
Celia couldn't bring herself to look straight at the nun desperately defending her. It wasn't just because a white cloth covered her eyes.
"...Okay. I'll endure it."
"Good, smart decision... Huh, where are you going?"
"The prayer room."
Seeing Celia shuffle along, leaning on the wall with her exhausted body, the nun hurriedly offered her shoulder.
"I'm fine. I can walk alone."
But Celia stubbornly refused the help and made her way to the underground prayer room.
Once the door closed, no sounds reached her. She knew this was escape.
Distancing herself from the throngs gathered to unearth and condemn her sins, seeking refuge before the safe Goddess.
"Goddess..."
She collapsed to her knees before the statue. Flickering candlelight danced, illuminating the Goddess and her.
"What should I do? What..."
She'd thought she'd die. At least, she believed she couldn't survive.
It would have been easier if she had. If she'd vanished into her own holy spell, sacrificing her life to leave him even a sliver of "a chance to be happy again."
But here she was, surviving in this wretched, repulsive way, fleeing once more.
"Please answer me..."
But just like midway through the journey, the statue said nothing.
"Please..."
Only Celia's sobbing prayers softly echoed through the room.