EP.125 Dummy
We were so afraid of the God leaving our side that we tore off our wings and smashed our bodies into the fragile girl’s form, stuffing everything in.
A strange last will mumbled by Bishop Ransel, who passed away years ago.
It was only recently that Beltein fully understood the true meaning behind those words.
Originally, the quality of a Saint was said to be determined by how well one could maintain a clean body and noble spirit worthy of receiving God’s grace.
This was one of the truths of the church widely propagated under the guidance of the Vatican, and Beltein, of course, once harbored not a shred of doubt about such teachings.
After all, she had practiced the archbishop’s teachings more than anyone else, claiming that only pure beings untainted by the dirt of the mundane could bear the name of a Saint.
But this was half right and half wrong.
It didn’t matter whether someone lived a pious life praying to God or whether they grew up as a street urchin who never heard the teachings of God; if one became enveloped by that callous light known as God’s baptism, they would undeniably transform into a perfectly spotless being.
The Vatican’s method for finding candidates to become Saints was remarkably different from what the public was aware of.
First, they went through a selection process.
A dungeon known as the “Pit of Evil,” which was filled with all the harmful things existing in this world.
They extracted high-purity Mage Power from it and refined it into a plague known as “Curse,” distributing it across the system.
The main targets were rural villages where many children of age were found, or impoverished areas teeming with orphaned kids.
A failing orphanage could be rightly called the ideal location.
Afterwards, they picked out the children who survived the areas ravaged by the plague, approached their parents, and convinced them that their child was qualified to become a Saint, thereby obtaining the child.
The idea of their child becoming a Saint was accepted as the supreme glory by those living in this system.
It was rare for parents to refuse.
Noble parents often bribed high-ranking clergy to recommend their child as a candidate for becoming a Saint.
Dummies.
When Beltein first discovered this fact, she couldn’t help but blurt it out.
Out of the handful of girls pulled together, selecting one with the greatest sensitivity to the Holy Power channeled through the remains of the First Saint was the ugly truth behind the baptism that everyone in the system revered.
In this process, from hundreds to thousands of children were sacrificed.
Yet, the higher-ups of the Vatican, armed with the justification of bringing peace to the world, felt no guilt whatsoever.
The opposition from bereaved families was a matter they didn’t even have to worry about.
It was impossible to bestow divine power on an ordinary human body without completely uprooting their soul, character, and identity that had taken root in this world.
Thus, aside from a very few cases, no one could wholly remember their existence even after the baptism was over.
Yes, it was as if they had never existed in this world from the beginning.
Their birth parents even forgot that they ever had children. So there was no need for the Vatican to exert effort on post-mortem handling.
That was a treatment more horrific than death. A so-called annihilation.
The Vatican’s atrocious act of depriving innocent girls of their bare minimum rights to life intensified Beltein’s fury.
But the anger of the powerless merely kindled the kindling of helplessness.
Even the so-called prodigy of the century, Beltein, could protect her life from the clutches of the Vatican purely by good luck.
To protect her one and only younger sister from the cruel crowd surrounding them, she clearly remembered stepping forward, declaring that she would receive the baptism first.
However, right after that, it felt as if her brain was being squeezed by some transcendent being, like a child incessantly fiddling with a water balloon, instantly obliterating her clear consciousness and determination.
The memories that followed became quite vague.
Concepts and knowledge she had never seen in her life.
While unfamiliar visions that could only be regarded as otherworldly devoured her very existence completely.
All she could see was her fragile younger sister standing in front of her, trying to protect her from the malicious actors.
“I’ll… I’ll go first this time!”
With that ringing echo, Beltein’s consciousness was completely engulfed by the creeping darkness in the corner of her vision.
But even now, years later, her sky-blue eyes continued to follow the ash-gray memory of that day, etched into them.
◈◈◈
How long had she been drinking?
With a body feeling dozens of times heavier than usual and a vision that refused to clarify, Beltein tried to gauge her physical condition.
For someone like her, who lived under chronic fatigue due to overwork, fainting while working had long been treated like a mere catnap.
Thus, Beltein’s thought process was more like checking how much longer a broken robot could move rather than worrying about her own body.
Ugh…
A momentary headache grazed her temples, contorting her brow.
As a faint moan intertwined with the eerie silence, the sudden pain began to dredge up memories she had briefly forgotten.
“Th-That’s right! Welna!”
With a head that shot up like a spring loaded with energy, Beltein hurriedly looked around as if she had lost something.
However, all she could find in the dim room was the faint moonlight seeping through the window cracks.
Using the desk beside her as a support, she struggled to push herself up.
But her thin, trembling arms were insufficient to support her entire body in replacement of her weakened legs.
Clang!
Ugh!
The sound of something breaking echoed ominously, and the dull pain blossoming in her palm threatened to scatter her thoughts once more.
But the clearer her consciousness became, the more vivid the memories from just before her fainting grew, granting her an unknown power that felt strange even in her deteriorated state.
“No, no! It’s a misunderstanding! Regis Priest… Welna… Our Welna didn’t do anything wrong!”
In a state where she could barely keep her own balance.
Her dry lips continuously poured out pleas to defend someone.
The shocking vision she had seen just before losing consciousness.
The horrifying scene where a man consciously rejected the Saint was the worst scenario Beltein had ever feared among all the possibilities she considered.
It was only that man.
She had searched high and low for clergy across the entire system, hoping to find someone who could replace him.
But those futile efforts only reaffirmed for her the reality that no such individual existed within this system.
Hah… Hah…
Her view began to reveal the blood on her palm as she became accustomed to the darkness.
The cut formed from shattering the cup resting atop the desk.
The sharp glass shards cruelly crossed the path of her blood, clearly showcasing that someone’s touch was desperately needed, even in the pitch-black darkness.
“No, no!”
Her sky-blue eyes trembled with intense emotions of agitation.
The unique lament of writhing in deep pain filled the air.
But everything she expressed now was not originated from her own wound.
Like a snake detecting prey, the dark, red blood seeping from her fingertips stained the white paper lying everywhere.
Suddenly, the tilted moonlight illuminated the black letters written in the center of the page.
Resignation Letter.
Recognizing that familiar phrase written in the man’s handwriting, Beltein urgently pushed herself up.
Her body, unable to move freely without support, occasionally bumped into midair and fell to the floor, but she didn’t mind at all.
It needed to be set right.
Before it was too late, she had to correct everything that went wrong as quickly as possible.
“Rei… Regis Priest!”
Her white hands grasped the cold doorknob tightly, as if trying to catch hold of something.
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