Chapter 432: A Gift from Above
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 432: A Gift from Above
"Sister, I have sinned."
Wins Church was an utterly unremarkable little chapel in the Holy City, a place already overflowing with countless cathedrals and convents.
Stone walls, wooden pews, and aging windowsills—everything about it breathed an air of ancient simplicity.
The believers who came here were ordinary folk, mostly the poor who had braved great hardships just to make their pilgrimage to the Holy City.
If the chapel had any redeeming quality, it was its elevated location. From here, one could look out over nearly half the streets of the Holy City, offering a rather pleasant view.
Because of this, once the final prayer service organized by the faithful had concluded, the nuns quickly tidied the chapel, extinguished the candles, and waited with bated breath for tomorrow to arrive.
Tomorrow, the new Saintess would pass through the streets just two blocks away. At that time, these lowly nuns might be able to gaze upon her holy countenance from afar and receive the Goddess’s blessing.
However, just as the chapel doors were about to be bolted, a travel-worn figure pushed open the door to the confessional and sat upon the creaking wooden chair.
He waited to be heard.
The priest had already departed to treat a sick child in a destitute family. Left with no choice, a newly arrived nun stepped in to receive him.
The weary traveler was unaware of this change. Inside the confessional, a black veil hung between them, obstructing their view.
Only by remaining unseen can the truth be spoken.
"Sister, I have sinned."
In the dim room, the man lowered his head and repeated the words.
He wore a tattered black trench coat, the hem stained with faint flecks of red. His hair and beard were a tangled mess, and his eyes were filled with an ultimate exhaustion.
It seemed as though a thousand words wanted to squeeze through his cracked lips, yet they trembled, producing only those few pale syllables.
"I have sinned."
"...Of course. Everyone has sinned."
After a moment, a gentle voice drifted through the veil. The nun did not seem surprised by his opening; almost everyone who came here began with those exact words.
She leaned forward, adopting a posture of closeness, trying to make the atmosphere in the confessional more relaxed.
"As long as a person is born into this world, they will inevitably be tainted by sin. In truth, everyone is a sinner. You need not lose yourself in self-reproach."
"Is that so? That’s... a relief."
The man seemed to let out a sigh of tension. He continued, "I have done so many wrong things. They haunt my sleep and my meals. Every time I close my eyes, those images replay uncontrollably in my mind. I’m on the verge of a breakdown..."
"And yet, I had to do them. I can’t stop. For the sake of this world, for all the beauty in it, for the flowers and the landscapes I love—and for the dog who stayed by my side for fifteen years—I must do it. And I will never stop."
"It sounds like you are a good man, sir."
The nun nodded slightly, a smile in her voice.
"Then, speak to me. You can tell me everything you have ever done. It will lighten your burden. By the Goddess, no one here will judge you for your past. I am only here to listen."
"A good man... that’s the first time anyone has described me that way."
The man’s gaze softened, as if these few lines of dialogue had already eased his soul.
But he shook his head and said, "However, I shouldn't tell you everything. It’s not that I don’t want to, but there’s just too much. I’ve forgotten most of it. Yes, come to think of it, I really have forgotten. I’ve always been a forgetful person."
"Is that so?"
The nun’s voice carried a hint of confusion. "But if not to confess, then why have you come here?"
"I..."
The man thought for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Sister, may I hold your hand?"
"Of course."
Without a hint of hesitation, a slender, porcelain-white hand reached out from behind the black veil, palm facing upward.
"Thank you."
The man’s voice choked up. He used his large, rough hand to gently grasp the nun’s.
What a warm, soft, and lovely hand it was. It felt like salvation itself, making one instinctively want to clutch it tight.
"May I ask one more question?" the man asked through his tears.
"You may."
The nun watched him through the veil as if looking at her own child. She replied, "You may ask anything here. I will answer as best I can."
"Thank you, Sister."
The man’s bushy beard trembled.
"Then, I shall ask."
"Please."
"Sister, you said everyone has sinned. If humanity has so much sin, who is supposed to purify it?"
"The Goddess, of course."
The nun answered without a second thought.
"Ah, the Goddess... how wonderful. The merciful Goddess forgives all the sins committed by humanity, providing redemption and purification. It sounds just like a fairy tale."
The man swayed his head as if admiring the beauty of the story.
But in the next heartbeat, his voice turned abruptly cold.
"Then... who is supposed to purify... the Goddess’s sins?"
The man’s grip suddenly tightened, his strength making the nun wince in pain. He craned his neck forward, trying to peer through the black veil to see the nun’s eyes.
"Humanity’s sins are purified by the Goddess; she is the redeemer. But what about the Goddess? She sits high above. What is there... above her?"
"The Goddess’s sins..."
The nun’s voice remained just as gentle, yet it was now infused with an unshakable firmness.
"How could the Goddess have sins? She is the Goddess."
"Is that so? Ha... haha! That is exactly the kind of answer a church nun would give."
The man began to laugh, a sound of pure, unbridled mirth.
"Thank you, Sister. Talking to you has truly been the highlight of my recent days."
"If I could help you forget your troubles, it is but a meager contribution. There is no need for thanks."
The nun responded with a smile, seemingly unbothered by the man’s transgressive behavior.
"So gentle. However... because of that, I must say I’m sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Yes. I am very sorry, Sister. Because now, there is one more thing that will keep me awake at night."
The man continued to stroke the nun’s palm gently. It was so small, so delicate, so white and tender without a single blemish.
Surely the nun herself was as pure and flawless as this hand.
He truly hated to do it.
But he had to.
For his goal, even if he had to shoulder even heavier sins and consequences, he had to act.
Without hesitation.
A frigid aura began to pulse from the man’s palm. Like a venomous serpent, it raced up the nun’s smooth wrist, spreading rapidly.
Like the kiss of the undead, it stripped the nun of all ability to move in an instant.
So frail.
The man regretfully rubbed his fingers against the nun’s palm, her fingers, and the ring worn on her ring finger.
Whether it was this hand, this poor nun, or even the ring on her finger—everything was so beautiful.
Pity that beautiful things always—
Hmm?
Wait. A ring?
As if sensing something, the man’s movements stiffened slightly.
Why would a nun be wearing a ring?
And why was it that he only just realized she was wearing a ring that looked incredibly valuable?
After a moment of silence, the man silently flipped the slender hand over.
Finally, the back of the hand—equally flawless—entered his sight.
And then, he finally saw the face of the ring.
Ancient and solemn, crafted from gold and gemstones. In the center of the arcane patterns was a holy cruciform inscription.
This was no ordinary ring. This was...
An Authority Ring.
It was the symbol of a prestigious status within the Church, second only to the Pope and the Saintess—the mark of one who governed a Great Cathedral or a Temple.
In the Church, those qualified to wear an Authority Ring were known by a title everyone feared.
—A goddamn Cardinal Archbishop!
"Ha."
The man lowered his head in silence, then suddenly burst into laughter.
"Why are you laughing?"
The nun asked, her voice still perfectly gentle.
From beginning to end, her tone had not changed once.
"Why wouldn't I laugh? I’m laughing at how wondrous fate is. I’m laughing at what a clown I am, pouring my heart out to an Archbishop for half the night."
The man stared fixedly at the Authority Ring, his lips curling into a grin. From that ring, he smelled a scent of blood even thicker than the one on his own body.
"Or perhaps... I’m laughing because the legendary ruler of the Judgment Temple, the one who strikes terror into the hearts of countless people, is actually a woman?"
"Is that so..."
The Judgment Archbishop chuckled softly in response.
"I thought you were laughing because the great Fourth Seat of the Salvation Society is going to die here tonight without having killed a single person."
"..."
The man’s lip twitched violently. He said, "According to my intel, the Church was only supposed to deploy an ordinary Bishop tonight."
"Indeed, that was the plan."
"Then you..."
"I was bored."
"What?"
"I said... I was bored."
On the other side of the veil, the Judgment Archbishop, dressed as a nun, let out a melancholy sigh. "In the recent events, every other Temple had work to do. Even those old fossils who returned from abroad were given important tasks by His Holiness the Pope.
"But I alone had nothing to do. I was bored to tears. Since it seemed lively today, I figured I’d come out for a stroll."
"..."
The man froze for a moment, then sneered, "I see. After all, your so-called 'Judgment'... only works when you're dealing with your own kind."
"Correct."
Faced with the man’s mockery, the Judgment Archbishop accepted it without the slightest offense.
"The reason the world fears me is precisely because... I can only judge humans."
Evil Gods.
Pollution.
Monsters.
None of those fell under her jurisdiction.
The so-called Judgment was meant to sweep away... humanity itself.
"So, Lord Fourth Seat, as a human, you should have plenty to tell me."
The man’s face paled. He tried to wrench his hand back and retreat.
But the tender little hand he had been stroking so gently moments ago had turned into an indestructible iron vice, pinning him in place.
"Let us continue our conversation. For instance, your sins. The things that keep you awake at night. Or perhaps... your method and purpose for infiltrating the Holy City.
"Of course, it’s fine if your memory is a bit poor."
As the man’s expression turned to one of pure terror, the Judgment Archbishop smiled tenderly.
"After all, my specialty is the Great Memory Recovery Technique."
That night.
Infinite holy light erupted from the secluded little chapel, blooming under the Goddess’s sorrowful gaze.
It was blindingly bright.
*
"Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
In a corner of a remote street, beside a faintly stinking sewer grate, a dust-covered Ariel poked her small head out. She watched the black-robed figures wearing hideous crow-beaked masks as they streaked across the rooftops, and she felt her head begin to throb even harder.
"It was just a bit of smuggling... just a simple illegal entry... Why are those freaks from the Judgment Temple out in force? What is going on!?"
Ariel wanted to cry, but no tears came.
By now, she had realized that something had gone wrong with the merchant caravan she had joined during the day.
But even if she knew, what could she do? It was already an established fact that she was being treated as an accomplice. No matter what she said, those people probably wouldn't believe her.
She just wanted to see Liya as soon as possible. Not only had she failed to find her, but she was now forced to hide in a deserted corner, curling up to suppress her aura so the knights and the black-robed men wouldn't find her.
Weak, pitiful, helpless—and still hungry.
Ariel took a large bite of her last piece of dry, hard black bread to keep her strength up. She rubbed the Voice Transmission Stone in her hand, her expression dazed.
After finding a temporary hiding spot, she had tried to contact Liya again, hoping her friend—an insider in the Church—could help clear things up.
But...
Why wasn't she picking up?
She had called several times, but no one answered. Liya, it’s so late, what are you still busy with?
"Curse it! Why am I so unlucky!?"
After moping for a while, Ariel swallowed the rest of the black bread in one gulp and stood up abruptly.
"But it’s just a bit of bad luck! I can’t give up yet!"
She had overcome so many hardships; how could a little setback like this stop her?
Besides, she wasn't completely out of options.
She still had a way.
"No matter what, I am the legitimate heir to a Count of the Leopold Empire. The Church trying to arrest me is a diplomatic incident! If I can just get to the Imperial Embassy and have them communicate on my behalf, everything will be fine!"
She was innocent, after all. A straight shadow doesn't fear a crooked light. She refused to believe that a ridiculous misunderstanding like this couldn't be resolved!
Yes, that was the plan!
Ariel balled her hands into fists, preparing to go knock on the Embassy’s door.
What? It’s late? Why don't you ask why those Church bastards aren't resting at this hour!
No sooner said than done. Ariel was a woman of action, she never dally—
BOOM!
A sudden, thunderous explosion caused Ariel’s expression to freeze. A wall not far from her blew inward, and a figure stumbled through the debris, collapsing near her.
"Wh-what’s happening!?"
Thinking the knights had caught up to her, Ariel jumped in fright and prepared to bolt. Fortunately, her habitual caution made her take a second look.
She realized it wasn't a knight.
A tattered black trench coat, singed and messy hair, a face filled with exhaustion and agony... he didn't look like a knight at all. He looked like... a fugitive?
While Ariel was observing the man, he struggled to open his eyes and spotted her nearby.
His wary gaze swept over the disheveled Ariel. He froze for a moment, and then his dull eyes suddenly lit up.
"You... cough... are you being hunted by the Church too?"
The man coughed several times, asking with great difficulty.
"Ye-yeah."
Ariel scratched her head awkwardly. "You too? Haha... what a coincidence."
"Ha... quite a coincidence."
The man forced a hideous, bitter smile. He reached out with a hand so mangled that white bone was visible and fumbled inside his coat for a moment. With a final, agonizing effort, he raised his hand and tossed something to Ariel.
"This... I’m leaving it to you."
"Huh?"
Ariel stood there blankly, looking at the pitch-black object in her hands. "What is this? Why are you giving it to me?"
The man didn't answer.
His injuries were far beyond saving. He had only held on this long through sheer force of will.
Now that his burden was passed on, the life force within him faded rapidly.
His pupils began to dilate. Staring into the empty void, he left Ariel with his final words:
"Remember... whatever you do... don't let the Church... find this."
As soon as he finished speaking, his head slumped to the side. He was dead.
Ariel was left standing there, utterly bewildered, clutching an object she didn't recognize, while the sound of alarm sirens grew suddenly louder nearby.
She stood frozen in the wind.
Tonight was going to be a long night.