Great Power, Great Recoil
Great power comes with great recoil(?). When Cheska opened her eyes, the first question that came to mind was, How am I still alive? Her last memory was a sword piercing the back of her neck—held in her own hand.
This place... A familiar ceiling. At the same time, a nostalgic one. The old infirmary of Entat Parish. A place where newly inducted holy knights or those gravely wounded in surprise attacks would end up. And there she lay.
Cheska had no memories of what happened, yet she knew she had suffered severe injuries before waking. The lingering, sharp aches throughout her body suggested every bone had been shattered.
“You’re awake.”
It was a voice she knew all too well. The one who had extended a saving hand to her, the one she had secretly harbored feelings for—Benedict.
Cheska’s lips opened and closed without forming words. Everything she wanted to say, everything she needed to convey, every question she had to ask—they all tangled together and refused to leave her mouth.
After struggling to choose her words for a long while, Cheska finally spoke.
“Since when did you know? No… when did it happen?”
Benedict gave a bitter smile and answered honestly.
“From the very beginning.”
“Ah…”
The day Cheska first met Benedict, the day he saved her—that was when it had already taken root inside her.
Then… the reason he allowed me to accompany him, the reason he suggested we go to Entat Parish together… was it all to monitor that thing?
When he said I was someone he could trust… was that just to put me at ease?
“Cheska.”
Benedict called her name. As if he had read her thoughts, he denied them.
“I did not keep you by my side to monitor you. What was planted in your body… cannot be monitored in the first place. That assumption is mistaken.”
He had only known that something had been planted. Benedict continued.
“I also had faith. I believed you would overcome it.”
Cheska had failed to live up to that faith.
“…I’ve disappointed you.”
“…So I need to know. What drove you to that point? Why did you hate Levia?”
Cheska couldn’t bring herself to answer. She couldn’t say that she had secretly fallen for him, that she wanted his attention all to herself, that she was jealous of the smile he showed only to Levia and not to her.
“…You won’t tell me.”
Cheska couldn’t meet Benedict’s eyes. She was sorry. At the same time, she was afraid. Though he didn’t show it, anger burned in his gaze. It was the anger of a father—rage toward those who had endangered his daughter. She was terrified to face that anger.
Cheska realized the weight of her mistake. She hadn’t forged the bow and arrow, nor had she drawn the string and fired. She, too, had been a victim. But it was still Cheska who had nocked the arrow and let it fly.
“There’s one thing I must ask. You have to answer this.”
“…Yes.”
“Can you still feel it inside your body?”
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Cheska could answer. What the Clown had forcibly awakened still remained deep within her.
“Yes. It’s… still there.”
Though it seemed harmless for now, there was every chance that some trigger could seize her personality again, just like before.
“What exactly is it?”
Benedict told her what he could. He couldn’t reveal everything.
“It has many names, forms, and methods, but within our order, we call it the Seed of Sin.”
“Seed of Sin…”
As Cheska repeated the name, Benedict spoke again. It was essentially a notice.
“Go to the capital, Cheska. Seek out the person I’ll name and ask for help. If I contact them in advance, there won’t be any issues.”
Benedict laughed lightly, saying he still had that much authority left. But Cheska knew—this “notice” was effectively an exile, and at the same time, his final act of consideration.
Before she knew it, Benedict stood at the infirmary door, his face a mixture of anger, regret, disappointment, and worry.
“Still, before you go, make sure you meet Levia. Now that she can express her emotions… she’s probably been hurt quite a lot.”
With those words, Benedict left the room. In the now-quiet infirmary, only the sound of a girl’s stifled sobs remained.
“…Hic… hic…”
It hurts. It hurts so much I feel like I’m dying. Why? Obviously because I overused my power. Of course there’d be recoil from that much strength. There’s no way a total newbie who just awakened her power could control it properly.
…Or could she?
Back when I was fighting that Clown bastard, I wasn’t thinking about controlling my power at all. Can I? Sure I can! Then let’s go! Charge! Time for some righteous education! Something like that?
Anyway, the result of that whole equivalent exchange law or whatever was that I’ve been stuck in bed for a week.
“…”
…If only I’d listened when they told me about holy power, none of this would’ve happened.
Let me rewind time a bit to that day a week ago. To the end of that ridiculously long day.
After I smashed the skull of the puppet corpse the Clown was controlling and reaffirmed my resolve never to become a Saintess in this life, I saw Cardinal Benedict and Archbishop Carlo rushing over. The timing was so late it felt like the police showing up after everything’s over, or the academy headmaster, or some hunter from whatever association. I was annoyed for a second, but I didn’t want to take it out on them when they’d come out of worry.
Instead, I was about to tell them I was fine and not to worry when—maybe because I unconsciously relaxed upon seeing them—my holy power unraveled and the recoil hit me.
“Cough…!”
A considerable amount of blood came up with the hemoptysis, and in the middle of the pain that felt like my entire body was being struck, I collapsed forward as the two of them ran toward me.
When I opened my eyes again, three days had passed since that day.
I tried to use holy power to heal myself, but this power that used to follow me around like an obedient golden retriever had apparently shown all its cards in that short time and gone into some kind of rage mode. It wouldn’t move according to my will at all.
If it had ended there, it would’ve been fine. But for some reason, my body that had awakened holy power now rejected other people’s holy power. It bounced off every bit of holy power Benedict and Carlo tried to use to heal me.
In the end, natural recovery was the only answer, so my bedridden life was extended until today.
Setting aside the pain, being stuck in bed all day was driving me crazy with boredom. Cheska, who would’ve been a decent conversation partner even if she was a pain, was apparently still stuck in the infirmary too. She’d taken a huge shock while completely defenseless and had every bone in her body except her head shattered.
…Uh… yeah, I was planning to hit her one more time later, but maybe I shouldn’t.
Ah. There is one person I can talk to. If I had to say who, it’d be the muscular old man who’s been sitting right next to my bed for the past few days, staring holes through me—Archbishop Carlo.
If this were a manga, there’d probably be sound effects like “gogogogogo” or “gugugugugu” around his face. Scary. I can’t even open my eyes properly because of the pressure.
Since that didn’t seem to get through, let me say it again. Setting aside the pain, being stuck in bed all day was driving me crazy with boredom.
Why is he doing that? Did I do something wrong? He’s been like that every day until the moment I fall asleep…
Finally reaching the limit of my patience, I had no choice but to speak up.
“Um… Archbishop Carlo… sir?”
“Yes, Saintess Candidate.”
Twitch! Carlo’s muscles twitched. Even as an old man, he had that much muscle… Honestly, I was jealous. No, that’s not the point.
“I have a question.”
“Yes, please ask.”
“Why are you staring at me like that? Did I do something wrong?”
“…This old man doesn’t understand what you mean.”
“Well… you’ve been sitting there staring at me for days.”
“This old man was simply watching because I was worried the Saintess Candidate might be hurt again.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…Don’t tell me?!”
We stared at each other, unable to understand one another, when Archbishop Carlo suddenly looked shocked. Then, pointing at his own face with his massive hand, he shouted.
“Does this ‘worried expression’ look like I’m angry?!”
That’s supposed to be a worried expression?! Don’t lie!
“It looks like you’re about to swallow someone whole…”
“!!!!”
Archbishop Carlo, looking utterly shocked, froze with a horrified expression. Honestly, this guy… despite his appearance, maybe he’s just a muscle-brained grandpa. The kind who only got the archbishop position through sheer strength.
“Ah. I forgot about this.”
Archbishop Carlo, still in shock, suddenly spoke as if he’d just remembered something.
“I have something to give the Saintess Candidate.”
“Yes?”
“You haven’t been talking much, so I didn’t know until now. I only found out recently and went all the way to the territory to buy it.”
Archbishop Carlo rummaged through his robes and pulled out a pouch with intricate patterns. Then he opened it and took something out—surprisingly, part of whatever came out of the pouch was much larger than the pouch itself!
“A subspace pouch!”
“Oho. You recognize it. But unfortunately, this old man’s gift isn’t the pouch.”
With those words, the item revealed its full form. What Archbishop Carlo held in his hand was a large… elephant plushie.
????????????? Countless question marks popped up in my head.
“Why… an elephant plushie…?”
“Hm? Didn’t you want an elephant? Live elephants are hard to get around here, so I bought a large plushie instead. Do you not like it?”
????????????? No, seriously, why? When did I ever say I wanted an elephant…?
“Uh… I never said I wanted an elephant…”
“Hahahaha! Of course the Saintess Candidate never said it! But you were even looking for one in your dreams, so this old man paid a little attention!”
Archbishop Carlo laughed loudly with his hands on his hips, as if asking how great he was. I still had no idea what he was talking about.
“Dreams? What dream?”
“Hmm..?”
Carlo tilted his massive body and began explaining the whole story of this sudden incident(?).
“The night before last, I was passing by the Saintess Candidate’s room to check if you were sleeping well when I heard sniffling sounds.”
“So I listened carefully. I thought some bastard had made our Saintess Candidate cry.”
“Fortunately, it was just you talking in your sleep while dreaming. The barrier is fully restored and there’s no magi, so it was just a normal nightmare.”
Archbishop Carlo joked that he’d almost had to dispose of a body.
“What does that have to do with this gift?”
I accepted the large elephant plushie he handed me. It was soft. Good enough to hug while sleeping.
“You were saying in your sleep, ‘My elephant…! My elephant!’ So I thought someone was stealing the Saintess Candidate’s elephant in your dream. And I decided—this old man will gift the Saintess Candidate an elephant.”
“…”
“Rest assured. As long as this old man is here, no one will take that elephant away.”
Archbishop Carlo winked with one eye and gave a thumbs-up.
“…”
The elephant I was talking about in my sleep wasn’t this elephant. It was a different kind of elephant. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.