Happy Slumber

After the Healing Saint was confined in the Pantheon's underground prison, the Pantheon summoned High Priest Yodel of the Order of Grace.

"It has been a long time, Yodel. Perhaps because you have mainly stayed in the southern provinces and rarely come to the capital, I had almost forgotten your face."

Representatives from twenty-three of the twenty-four orders belonging to the Pantheon sat around the round table, silently watching Yodel, who stood in the center.

"Rules are rules, so I shall ask you. If the Healing Saint is a fake, please tell us how to determine that."

"He is no false saint. He is the Apostle of Grace! I can stake my faith on it!"

"We know. But Yodel, you are also aware of the procedures. Since a charge of heresy has been brought, we must be certain. If he is a true saint, this may actually be a better outcome."

"Indeed, Yodel. A saint recognized by the Heresy Inquisition formally has his name entered in the Pantheon's Saint Registry. He would become the first new saint to appear in three hundred years."

"The first saint in three hundred years, and from the Order of Grace's perspective, the first Healing Saint to appear since the order's founding."

At those words, Yodel let out a sigh and bowed his head deeply.

".......This, too, must be the goddess's guidance. Very well. Based on the Scripture of Grace, I will tell you how he would act if he were a false saint."

The scripture was already fully recorded in Yodel's mind.

He had devoted himself to the order since childhood and had not missed a single day of reading the scripture up to this day.

"A false saint would act in this manner."

Slowly, Yodel explained to the twenty-three order representatives how to recognize a false saint.

Tudel had been moved from the White Order's interrogation room to the Silence Order's investigation room.

She had risen from a criminal who had framed someone who was not an Abomination and tried to use the White Order to commit an indirect murder, to a position roughly equivalent to that of an accuser bringing charges against a false saint.

She was uneasy, but Tudel had conviction.

That so-called Healing Saint Amael or whatever was definitely a fake.

There was no way a man without holy power could possibly be a saint.

If she dragged him into the abyss, Erpa would naturally fall into the abyss alongside him.

Erpa might be expelled from the Magic Tower, but she would not be able to escape the Pantheon's punishment, and then Tudel would be able to watch as that woman, now a civilian, faced execution as an Abomination once again.

Just imagining it made her happy.

And it would not end there.

"The bastards who betrayed me."

Her faction. Those who had clung to her when there was something to gain from her, then betrayed her and ran the moment the situation turned slightly sour.

She had no intention of leaving them alone, either.

When the Magic Tower investigated them with the Truth Potion, it was revealed that they had been coerced and had no choice but to participate in Tudel's plan, so most of them had received significant leniency.

Nevertheless, it remained true that they had attempted to participate in murder and concealing evidence of murder, so they would most likely be expelled from the Magic Tower and left without its protection.

She would kill those bastards one by one, too.

Tudel never tolerated betrayal.

Of course, for that to happen, the saint first had to be declared a heretic.

And Tudel thought that would not be difficult.

A saint without holy power. No matter how she looked at it, it made no sense at all.

"Just wait a little longer, Erpa. I'll be laughing at you soon."

She let out a giggle, twisting a grin onto her face.

I was happy.

Even though it was a cramped room—a tiny space barely six square meters with nothing but a bed and a toilet—I was so very happy.

A smile came naturally.

Meals arrived on time without fail, and contrary to the worries that the name "underground prison" had stirred, the humidity and temperature were perfectly maintained.

There were no people bothering me, and no slum-dwellers crowding around and shouting at me to heal them.

The false-saint act I had started, saying I would deal with the Nuclear Bomb Witch, had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dragged on far longer than necessary.

Now, after the trial ended, I just had to rot here for one year, then go out into the world, and it would all be over.

Ahh. Truly, I was so happy.

I was so very happy.

"O Saint."

Perhaps because I was called a saint and received somewhat special treatment, a guard stood in front of my cell, keeping a close watch on me twenty-four hours a day.

A guard wearing the garb of the Silence Order carefully looked my way and called my name.

I waved a hand at him.

"I am not a saint. You may simply call me by my name."

Since I was going to reveal everything and say I wasn't a saint when the inquisition started anyway, I just said that.

At my words, the guard hesitated for a moment, then continued.

"I believe you are the true Eleos of Grace."

What kind of bullshit was that!! I wasn't!! I was just a bastard who had been born with erotic-game powers!

"I am nothing of the sort. As I said, I am not a saint. I bear no stigmata, and I cannot wield holy power. Everything Tudel said when she accused me is correct. I am not a saint."

"But are not the countless miracles you performed all true?"

"That may be so, but I am still not a saint. You are mistaken. You may simply call me by my real name, Jericho Amael."

When I said that with a broad grin, the guard suddenly looked at me carefully and knelt down.

"Could you help me?"

"......Excuse me?"

"I know this is against regulations. But I am desperate. The god I serve, Le-Neri, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠God of Darkness and Secrets, is not a deity who bestows this kind of grace. He is solely one who deals with the filth that eats away at the realm from the shadows. I need your divine grace."

Just as I was staring at him, a little startled by the deeply earnest voice and attitude—

"My daughter......is sick." The guard spoke in an utterly sorrowful voice. "She is an infant, only three months old. She was born with a cardiac deformity, and I have been told she will not live long. I want my child to see the light of this world for just a little longer. O Saint. My wife spends every night in tears. I beg you. I heard you healed Abominations and Rot Disease. Please......please, my child too......"

A woeful sobbing sound came from behind his mask.

At those words, I had no choice but to swallow the anger I was about to let out.

Fuck. What could I do? If I treated the child, wouldn't this man also spread rumors that I was a saint?

No! Wait a moment! Wasn't this actually a good opportunity?

"Bring the child. I will heal her."

"Is... is that truly so?"

"Yes. I shall do so. However, I have a condition."

"Anything! Anything that is within my power!"

"Observe the process of my healing in detail. Then later, when I am tried on suspicion of heresy, please testify that I did not use holy power, and that I am certainly not a saint."

The mask paused for a moment. "......That would put you at a disadvantage. If the verdict finds you a heretic, you could end up in the underground prison for close to a year."

That was exactly what I wanted!! That was precisely what I wanted!!

"It matters not. Just speak only the truth. Can you do that for me?"

"But, O Saint......"

"There is nothing so vile as living amid lies. I wish for the truth to be revealed. Will you do this?"

At my words, the guard remained silent for a long while, then finally nodded.

"If that is what you desire, I shall do so. O Saint."

After saying that, the guard melted into his own shadow and vanished.

Miracles of the Silence Order were rarely seen.

Seeing them meant you had become entangled with the Heresy Inquisition, after all.

In any case, just as I was staring, surprised, at the guard who had disappeared into the shadow—in an instant, he surged up from the floor of my cell. In his hands, before I knew it, he was holding a small, fussing infant.

"This is my daughter. O Saint......I implore you."

"I am not a saint. Please give the child to me."

I received the baby in both hands. The wriggling little lump of flesh let out a faint, crying sound. She was so incredibly cute. But a cardiac deformity meant she wouldn't live long, he said. I couldn't let that happen.

I slowly placed a hand on the child's head and activated my skill.

It was exactly as the guard had said. The child's heart was grotesquely twisted. Even at a glance, it felt as though the blood could not move properly. I focused and worked the child's heart this way and that. I straightened what was compressed, shortened what was stretched, and patched the holes.

After I had worked at it for quite a while—

[Heart function operating at 100%.]

After checking the message that appeared on the status window, I smiled contentedly and stroked the child's head.

I wouldn't be able to do this sort of thing anymore once it was proven I wasn't a saint, I realized. Would the number of people I could save decrease because I quit being a saint? I felt a little worried.

No. No, get a grip!! Did I want divine punishment, a bolt of lightning to blast a hole through the top of my head? Quitting being a saint was the right call! I was just a selfish pathetic bastard, and this was the only way I could be!

"It's done."

I carefully handed the baby back to the guard.

Covered by the mask, I could not see what expression he wore, but from the faintly escaping sobs and his hands shaking uncontrollably, the look on the guard's face was obvious even without seeing it.

"Is she......all right now?"

"Take her to a doctor and check again. She will be healed. She will grow up healthy and without trouble."

"Thank you......thank you. O Saint."

I waved a hand at the guard who spoke those words in a voice thick with tears.

"Did I use holy power during the treatment?"

"No. You did not."

"Please testify at the inquisition later. You absolutely must testify that I am not a saint. Do you understand?"

".......But are you not a saint?"

I wasn't! I wasn't!! I wasn't a saint!!! For the love of god! Please!

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hate being called a saint. I am not a saint. I am a man unworthy of such a thing. I want to cast off the title of saint. So you must help me. You understand, yes? You must testify that I cannot use holy power, that I am not a saint."

At my words, the guard seemed to mull something over for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a long time, then finally nodded.

"I shall do as you say."

"I am counting on you. When is the inquisition?"

"It is a matter of judging nothing less than whether a saint's name is being falsely claimed. Representatives from the major orders across the country, as well as representatives from the Magic Tower, the Senate, and the Supreme Court, must all gather. It will be in two months."

"At that time, you must, you absolutely must testify."

The guard bowed his head politely at my words, then vanished from the cell.

I stretched out lazily on the bed. Good. Now I had secured one more witness. With this, I was undeniably, irrefutably disqualified from sainthood!

The underground prison was comfortable and nice! I grinned contentedly and sprawled happily on the bed. With nothing to be tense about, sleep washed over me. It was a happy sleep.