“Bastard, do you have no conscience? Who’s calling who the devil?” spat Eugene as he raised the Holy Sword higher. His eyes were fixated on the Fount of Light. Eugene wasn’t sure if Sergio knew the truth about the Fount, but even the ceremony itself was highly abnormal.
Eugene couldn’t help but wonder at what age Kristina had started being subjected to this cruel ceremony. When had she gotten used to the ritual enough to stop crying?
He couldn’t help but think back to the girl crying and bleeding.
Sergio had put a blade against a girl who was just over ten years old. He had slowly instilled a saintly personality into her, as if to exterminate any semblance of the actual person that she was. Not a minute ago, this man had ordered his loyal subordinate, Atarax, to blow himself up as a bomb of divine power.
Sergio no longer reacted to Eugene’s accusations. Just like the martyrs before him, he had also designated Eugene as the devil. After all, what other word was fitting to describe the existence before him?
This devil could no longer be allowed to violate the Holy Sword. It was a pity, but... the Holy Sword needed to be recovered as quickly as possible, even if it meant killing Eugene. If it was possible to subdue him and stop him from rampaging any further, Sergio could perhaps somehow bring him to the light, but.... In all honesty, Sergio wasn’t confident in overpowering the devil before him.
So he had to kill him.
Boom!
A cross of light emerged from behind Sergio, and he held out his fists in front of his chest as he stood in front of the brilliant halo. It was a common boxing stance. However, it was clear at first glance that he was no ordinary fighter. In particular, the halo behind Sergio was much brighter and more intense, even compared to the Sword of Judgement summoned by the Paladins and the Inquisitors.
Eugene focused on the cardinal’s stigmata. Even in his past life, only Anise had been capable of conducting so much divine power. Although Sergio’s divine power was no match for Anise’s, Eugene could definitely sense that Sergio was on a completely different level from the other priests.
Eugene riled up the Ring Flame Formula in response to the halo. His Cores rotated even faster, amplifying his mana.
Fwooosh!
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Flames surged with even greater intensity than before. Applying the Empty Sword to the Aura Shield was burdensome. No matter how proficient Eugene was at manipulating mana, the best he could do was to elaborately control and apply multiple coats of mana only on his sword.
Therefore, Eugene divided his flames into two: a white-blue flame amplified by the Ring Flame Formula, and a dark blue flame devoured by the black spots formed from condensed, overlapping flickers of the former.
The maximum output he could achieve with the Ring Flame Formula still paled in comparison to his peak power from three hundred years ago. However, once he condensed and overlapped two layers of the Empty Sword to form black spots, his sword-force was comparable to the power he possessed in his previous life.
Obviously, it would be impossible for even high-quality, famous blades to contain such dense and violent mana, but the Holy Sword was no ordinary sword. The Holy Sword was a useless, redundant wall decoration, but the good part about it was that Eugene’s mana would never break the blade.
Thus, Eugene raised his sword while focusing on the spots of black spreading along the blade. Double layers.... Was it enough?
‘Let’s test it.’
Eugene leaned forward just as Sergio punched. The distance between the two disappeared instantly, and the two fighters collided as if they had been relocated to a different time and space. Not even sound could keep up with their outrageous acceleration.
Sergio’s fist, which was wrapped in a red cloth, was crushed instantly. The densely packed flames burned away even the blood of the enemy. It was clear that Eugene was by far superior in terms of strength, but although he pushed forward with all he had, he failed to completely sever Sergio’s arm as he intended.
A bizarre sense of resistance greeted him, and the sword was forced to stop in its tracks. Even more blood dripped down from Sergio’s stigmata, and the brilliant halo radiating from his body pushed back on Eugene’s sword with enormous force. And that was not all, either. Sergio’s wounds started recovering at an unbelievable speed, as if he wasn’t regenerating but actually rewinding time. His forearm had been cleaved in half straight down the fist, but it quickly reattached itself, and his crushed fist reformed.
Incredible as it would have been otherwise, it did not come as a surprise to Eugene. The ability of the stigmata etched on Sergio’s right arm and the blood that drenched his scar only caused Eugene’s blood to boil more and more. The image of Anise bleeding with a bottle of alcohol by her side throbbed in Eugene’s mind.
Sergio leaned to the side, and the fist wrapped in red immediately rocketed upward. His attack was accompanied by a trail of light that contained the power of the Signum Crucis Barrier. Mere contact with the light caused mana to dissipate, and under normal circumstances, it was impossible for a normal opponent to maintain sword-force while facing the light. This light would not allow a fair battle to take place.
However, Eugene could still keep his mana under control even while fighting against the divine light.
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No matter how bright Sergio’s light was, it could not overshadow the Moonlight Sword. Since Eugene had practiced his control of mana by using the fragments of the Moonlight Sword, it was no wonder that Sergio’s light could not cause his mana to scatter. On the contrary, thanks to the resistance displayed by Agaroth’s Ring, Eugene’s mana flame only burned with even more vigor and intensity as Sergio’s light became brighter.
Booom!
The flame and the fist collided once more. And again, the result was no different from before, and Sergio was pushed backward.
Sergio raised his arms as his wounds sealed again. The cross of light shot into the sky and illuminated the dark sky like the morning sun.
Laaaaaah!
A chant resonated from the source of light, as if celestial voices were intonating an hymn.
Eugene took a few steps back and stared at the sky. Three angels with unfolded wings were descending to the ground. These were the same angels that Anise had summoned in his previous life.
It was impossible to communicate with the angels. They were summoned by the call of a believer, and they performed miracles with the faith offered by the believer. Three hundred years back, Anise had performed similar feats to seize the battlefield and create miracles where necessary.
However, Sergio did not use the angels in a similar fashion. Instead, he leaped at Eugene while leaving behind the three descended angels. Simultaneously, the angels joined hands and started praying, causing the light in the sky to beam down on Sergio.
The highest level of sacred magic now blessed and protected Sergio. It was a battle blessing, and Sergio accelerated at a pace incomparable to before.
His attacks also became heavier accordingly. Although Eugene raised his blade in time, he could no longer push Sergio back. Rather, Eugene was the one forced back as his sword was smashed aside. However, he allowed the flow to take control instead of resisting, then twisted his hips, and in one fluid motion, let the sword slash at his foe.
The Holy Sword dug into Sergio’s flesh at a speed that left behind afterimages.
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Booooom!
A fiery explosion engulfed Sergio.
Eugene could see Sergio’s body disintegrating, but to his dismay, the high-speed regeneration blessing started to repair Sergio at an equivalent speed.
Sergio was at even more of a loss. Even with this degree of protection and blessing... he was still losing in plain old close-quarters combat?
Close combat had been Sergio’s specialty since his time as an Inquisitor. Even the Paladins who specialized in battle had never been his opponents. Even after resigning as an Inquisitor and stepping up as a cardinal, he had never neglected training.
He was a warrior as much as he was a priest. Where he stood now was a result of long years of training and countless battles, and he was even blessed with the highest level of protection from angels. Sergio was ahead of Eugene in terms of physical abilities, yet... he was still being forced back.
What was it that he was lacking?
‘We see differently....’
In truth, he already knew, but that knowledge only made it harder for him to accept the fact. If Sergio could see only a few moves ahead, Eugene was calculating dozens. He controlled his movements with eerie precision. He calculated and responded to any and all moves that Sergio made.
“...Huh.” Sergio let out a long sigh. He stopped momentarily and rolled down his sleeves to hide his stigmata. Eugene responded likewise and stood still, holding onto the Holy Sword.
“Please go back,” asked Sergio as a clattering sound approached the two.
Kristina was staggering along the temple, ruined by the fierce battle. She had a dreamy expression, as if she was only half awake, and her eyes were dim.
“What’s... going on...?” stammered Kristina. It was as if she had been drugged, and her tongue wasn’t quite in tune with her brain. She could not understand what was happening before her eyes.
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How long had it been? She wasn’t sure either. The sky was... dark, there was no sun to be seen, but the surroundings were somehow...bright? Kristina stumbled in her dizziness and leaned against the wall before asking, “...What are you... doing?”
Kristina saw three angels with stretched wings and Sergio’s back. Her stepfather, whom she kept a respectful distance from, was bleeding. She could not see the two who had been assisting with the ceremony, Atarax and Giovanni, and the temple was in terrible shape. No...it could not even be called a temple any longer, but rather a ruin.
It wasn’t hard to understand what had happened after looking around.
Kristina stared straight ahead, struggling to catch her breath. She saw Eugene holding the Holy Sword. His indifferent eyes were peering straight at her, and she felt as if her heart was struck when she met his gaze. Kristina closed her eyes tight, shuffling backward.
“Please return,” said Sergio once again. He turned around and glared at Kristina with a twisted expression. “What are you doing...!? The ceremony is not over yet. Miss Kristina, I’ve told you so many times how important this ritual is to you as the Saintess Candidate, so why have you come out of the Fount...!?”
Every word he uttered was like a dagger piercing through Kristina’s heart. It had been a long time since she had last seen her foster father so angry. The last time was... twelve years ago. When Kristina had just turned eleven, she was blessed with the light and became a Saintess Candidate. She first came to this temple, and to her horror, her foster father placed a dagger in her hand with a kind smile. Cut yourself and enter the fount, he said. Kristina had failed to understand his command, mistaking his words for a cruel idea of a joke.
However, he had not been joking. When Kristina remained frozen, not cutting her wrist as ordered, he simply glared at her without a word. There was no violence, but a silent prayer instead. She remembered his eyes at that time. His eyes had been colder and sharper than the dagger placed in Kristina’s hand. It had been impossible for an eleven-year-old girl to reject the glare. She was afraid of what could happen if she disobeyed.
Kristina hated the mere thought of returning to the monastery. For her, it had been God’s grace for Cardinal Rogeris to take her in. It had been God’s grace for her to resemble the face of Anise the Faithful and for her to be illuminated by the Light to become the only Saintess of the era.
Her foster father had explained the ceremony as such — the ritual at the fount allowed her to embody the grace of God. To cut herself with a dagger was to offer her deficient flesh to the Light, and once her blood mixed with the water of the fount, holy blood would flow into her body and cultivate her as the Saintess. She did not think it was a lie. In fact, Kristina’s divine power increased exponentially with every ceremony.
However, it was only natural for an eleven-year-old girl to feel scared to slit herself. It wasn’t just once, either. She sliced again, and again, and again, but no matter how many times she slit her wrist, she could not get used to the pain. And despite spilling so much blood, her mind became clearer, and the sense of pain only increased rather than dulling.
So she cried. She cried because of her pain and reluctance. She attempted to escape the fount, begging for salvation. However, her foster father always pushed Kristina back with his praying hands, showing no mercy and submerging her in the fount. Then his lips parted, and he ordered her in a cold voice, “Please go back.”
Just like now.
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“Miss Kristina, you are an apostle chosen by the Light, the Saintess Candidate. You are the second coming of Anise the Faithful from three hundred years ago. Only you can succeed Anise and become the true Saintess,” Sergio said.
He was greeted with silence, but he continued. “There has been... quite a bit of trouble during this ceremony. However, we cannot allow it to halt the ceremony. We can still resume the ceremony, so please return. Go back, place yourself in the fount, and deliver your flesh and blood.”
Sergio’s deep voice caused Kristina’s heart to tremble. It restricted her thoughts. The faith he had engraved in her for thirteen years acted to bind her thoughts and control her actions. His words were irresistible, and her fear was simply fate.
“The Hero Eugene has been corrupted. Although this devil was chosen to become the Hero by the Light, he refused. So he must be exterminated. I will bear the burden, so please return and bear the burden of the Saintess,” he said. Kristina opened her mouth only to close it several times. The curse of thirteen years weighed heavier on her heart than the words she truly desired to speak.
“Kristina Rogeris,” Eugene called out.
Sergio scowled, and Kristina slowly raised her head.
“Don’t go,” Eugene continued. This time, he would say it with certainty. “Just stay there.”
Kristina’s eyes quivered. Eugene raised the Holy Sword to the side as if to show her. “Hero? Saintess? What does all that matter? You know me, and I know you. That’s enough.”
“You dare... to even deny the Saintess...!?” Sergio roared angrily. However, Eugene didn’t spare him even a single glance.
“You don’t want to go,” said Eugene.
“Shut up!” shouted Sergio.
“Are you worried about the future?” Eugene asked, then raised his sword towards Sergio. “That’s a useless worry. If you want, I’ll kill that bastard.”
“.....”
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“Actually, it doesn’t matter whether you want me to do it or not. Even if you tell me not to, I will still kill him.”
Kristina did not doubt his words. Eugene Lionheart was indeed this kind of man, a man whom she could never consider to be the Hero. He had no faith in the Light, yet he freely wielded the Holy Sword. He was a complete non-believer, yet the light radiating from the Holy Sword in his hand was brilliant and warm.
Her foster father had never shown her a similar light, despite rising to the rank of cardinal for his upright faith. His light had always been cold. At every service in the cathedral, her foster father had spoken about the grace and love of the Light. He had repeatedly hammered the idea into her as well.
However, Kristina had never once felt the grace and love of Light from her foster father’s light. She did not know what it felt like to have a family. Her foster father did not consider her his daughter, only an existence destined to become the Saintess. Likewise, Kristina did not consider him to be her father either.
Ironically, the only semblance of a family she had was the very object of her dread and fear. The resistance she attempted to put up was always weak and insignificant, only crude self-satisfaction.
In the end, Kristina could not resist her foster father. She had never been allowed to do so, and she had subsequently suffered for thirteen years, the prayers and destiny devouring her like a curse.
‘Ah...’ She came to a realization. She was at a crossroads.
She cupped her hands in front of her hands without realizing it. Whenever she found it difficult and unbearable...she always prayed like this. She pictured a light in her head, the Light that watched over everyone from somewhere in the high sky.
She liked the warmth of the morning sun. Ever since she was a child, she favored the sunlight that peered through the window of an empty room over the pillar of light in the Great Cathedral of Tressia. She felt more comfort and warmth from the light of a small candle than the great brilliance of divine power coming from the Fount.
“...Sir Eugene,” she called out.
It was the same now. The angels standing behind Sergio, the pillar of light descending from the sky, the cross, and the brilliant halo — all were magnificent and imposing. However, more than all of them, the flame Eugene surrounded himself with felt brighter to her. She felt warmth from the white and blue flames.
Instead of praying, Kristina clutched her chest and forced her voice out with a gasp. “Even... if I really am not the Saintess.... Are you truly fine with that?”
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“Kristina!” Sergio roared and turned back towards her. Fierce anger filled him and prevented him from any formalities. “You dare! You dare!? Are you truly denying your nature!?”
Anger transformed him into a murderous spirit. The horrifying energy caused Kristina to shrink and tremble even more, but she looked straight ahead without turning her eyes. However, she wasn’t facing Sergio’s gaze.
Eugene stood behind Sergio. She stared at Eugene’s face in tears.
“...Sir Eugene,” she continued. Sergio took a giant step towards her.
“...You,” she whispered. She had been chosen as the Saintess Candidate by the Light after receiving the name Rogeris. Since then, her life had been marked with pain and despair. But she could never figure out why she had to endure this pain to become the Saintess. She failed to comprehend why a Saintess, the Apostle of Light, had to cut their own body with a knife in this bizarre ritual.
Why was she prohibited from shedding tears of pain, running away, or screaming? Why did she have to recite the Bible each day, locked in a confession room? Why did she look like Anise the Faithful, and why was she chosen?
Why couldn’t she express her pain and despair to the merciful God?
Why did she have to always display a beautiful smile instead of showing her hatred?
Why did the light not shine on her in the darkness?
“...Will you still save me... even if you are not the Hero?” she asked.
She did not want to doubt the existence of God. She was worried that she could no longer sustain herself if she started harboring doubts. She had no choice but to think that it was a trial... that God showed her no care to temper her as the Saintess. At least, that was the only way Kristina could convince herself.
Although she felt only pain and despair now, one day.... One day.... She was convinced. Pain and despair always existed in the world. Although the light certainly illuminated the world, it could not save everyone.
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However....
However, death would lead them to salvation and heaven. Regardless of how plagued and hellish one’s life was, one could enter heaven if one lived a good life and served God.
She remembered reading the story of the Hero.
The Adventures of the Great Vermouth. She indulged in the famous tales of the Hero, the one who was also mentioned in the Bible of Light. The Hero was the Incarnation of Light. The Hero illuminated the darkness of the world, helped people in despair, and saved the world....
Kristina liked the story. It allowed her to believe that the absence of light in her life was because the Hero, the Incarnation of Light, had not yet been born in this era.
When she first received a revelation about the Hero, she was overjoyed. The Light that failed to bring warmth to her despite her prayers had given her a revelation about the Hero’s birth.
—If we die like this, will we go to heaven?
Kristina knew well that the ritual to become the Saintess was terrible. She knew it was abnormal for her to repeatedly do such things to become the Saintess.
“...Even if I am not the Saintess.... Will you still save me?”
She was afraid, afraid of everything.
She was afraid that the Hero, Eugene, would come to know about the ceremony in the Fount of Light.
She was in pain. She felt despair.
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She was afraid of returning to Tressia, afraid of her forced fate, and afraid of her foster father’s gaze.
The life she led to become the Saintess had only been a path of darkness. She was afraid that the Hero would not save her.
“I’m not the Hero,” said Eugene.
Sergio jumped at Kristina and reached for her throat, unable to control his anger any longer. He attempted to grab her by the neck and throw her back into the Fount of Light.
“Eugene Lionheart...”
The flame penetrated the light.
Kristina’s blonde hair fluttered backward. Accompanying the gust of wind, Eugene stood in front of her and blocked Sergio. The Holy Sword denied Sergio’s extended hand.
“...is here for Kristina Rogeris, not the Saintess.”
Eugene did not look back.
“I am here to save you.”
Tears tumbled down Kristina’s cheeks.
Eugene’s broad back was obstructing the light.
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