“Ah…?”
The Saint, Belial, felt as if she were dreaming.
She had given up on everything. Even with daily self-harm, she never thought that pain would return.
It was merely inertia. A timid rebellion against the Goddess who had created her like this. If she ended up dying, she wondered if they would still be able to ignore her.
With such thoughts, she harmed herself every day.
But then, her senses returned. From a place she could never have imagined.
“Jörmungandr…”
It was a journey to confirm whether Jörmungandr, the God worshipped by the Trelinia Kingdom, was truly a divine being.
In truth, Belial didn’t care much whether he was a God or not.
From the start, she was utterly fed up with the rules of the Holy Kingdom. Yet she embarked on the journey only out of the desire to escape from the Holy Kingdom, even if just for a moment, to confirm whether Jörmungandr was a divine existence.
Thus, even after realizing that Jörmungandr was indeed a godly being, she went to meet him directly and, miraculously, regained her senses.
It felt like a dream. Every sensation that made up her being was unfamiliar.
She discovered that she could feel the wind brushing against her skin for the first time—the warmth of the gently flowing air somewhere, and the rough coldness of the cave floor.
The Saint couldn’t even tell what was hot and what was cold.
That initial taste of “temperature” was a remarkably sweet and unique sensation.
Simply feeling warmth was a refreshing realization that she was alive.
And all these events unfolded when she met Jörmungandr, the God she encountered for the first time.
It was her first experience. It was the first time she felt these sensations, and also the first time she was regarded not from a lofty perspective but from an equal standing.
Therefore, she became a bit greedy. Without a thought for the dignity of being the Saint, she clung desperately to his words that he could heal her senses only while she remained in his realm.
As a result.
“Where have you gone…?”
He vanished as if he had never been there.
It was a fleeting moment. By the time she became aware, that colossal form was nowhere to be found, leaving only the empty cave to greet her.
“…Was it a dream?”
It wasn’t.
The sensations she had felt at the moment she met Jörmungandr were of a kind that could not be described as dreams or illusions.
That’s why she was confused. Where had Jörmungandr disappeared to?
[“I shall heal you.”]
His last words echoed in her mind.
Could it be? That thought took hold in her head.
She knew it was a futile delusion. Countless people had approached her upon hearing she had lost her senses, believing they could heal her.
But they all failed. They all only thought of the sweet rewards that would follow if they succeeded in healing her, embarking on their attempts without any basis, leading to unavoidable failures.
Nevertheless, the Saint did not give up.
Could it be? Maybe it would be possible this time.
What if she gave up, only to discover later that this person truly knew how to heal her?
Thus, she was swindled for ten years. In the end, there was no one and nothing that could heal her.
From that moment on, the Saint completely abandoned her hope of regaining her senses. If she couldn’t expect anything, then she wouldn’t have to suffer any longer.
That’s why negative thoughts surged once more.
However.
“If it’s Jörmungandr…”
The Saint felt hope stirring within her once again.
Regardless of whether he was a divine being or not, the clear fact remained that he had allowed her to feel sensations, even if just for a fleeting moment.
“It was the being who made me feel sensations that I thought were impossible.
Thus, his words echoed through the cave, continuously pounding against her heart.
Just when the Saint was filled with hope.
“Saint, you’ve been here.”
“…! Cardinal?”
“Yes, where have you been?”
A familiar voice reached her ears. It was a horrifically dull voice, void of any pitch.
As the Saint turned her head, there stood the Cardinal, staring at her silently.
He was drenched in bright red blood from head to toe.
“…….”
She could discern one thing, even if she couldn’t read the other’s mind: the gleaming, horrifying madness within the Cardinal’s pitch-black eyes.
The Saint’s body trembled. She was already well aware of the Cardinal’s cruelty.
His punishment was not painful. After all, she was the Saint who could not feel pain, so it made sense.
But.
“How many must I kill this time…?”
“…….”
The punishment he delivered gnawed away at her mind, bit by bit.
He killed people. If the Saint made a mistake, he would brutally and horrifically murder innocent souls right before her eyes.
She had no choice but to watch.
The Pope had framed all his actions as the will of the Goddess.
‘That can’t be true…’
No matter how much ill will the Saint had towards the Goddess, she knew the Goddess wasn’t that depraved.
The Saint understood. The leadership of the Holy Kingdom had already rotted away.
Could the water flowing from a decayed valley ever be clean? People looked up to those leaders like they were the heavens, but in fact, they were nothing more than rotten trash.
They were beings that should not exist.
“…….”
She felt powerless. What would happen if she returned to the Holy Kingdom?
Another cycle of the same things. They would once again shove their rules down her throat, carrying out horrific deeds in the name of punishment.
No more… she didn’t want that.
Normally, she would have accepted it.
She would have lived listlessly, turning a blind eye to the suffering of others.
But.
“……No.”
She didn’t want this anymore. She had come to understand how sweet sensations were, and how horrible and scarring the pain that brushed against her was.
She didn’t want to turn a blind eye to them any longer.
She didn’t want to return to living as their puppet.
“…What did you just say?”
No. She hated it all.
All of you who forced rules upon me. The rotten Holy Kingdom that treated people like insects.
She loathed it all.
She was fed up.
“I hate it! No more… I said I hate it!”
“……Ha.”
For the first time, she rebelled. The Saint shouted at him, a momentary wave of regret washed over her, but she pushed it back down.
It was something that had to be done.
It was merely the result of her indifference.
Thus.
It was time to correct it.
She didn’t want to be trapped in the facade of being the Saint any longer.
“…Is that… that bastard?”
“……What?”
“Well, it’s obvious. The way the Saint is acting out of nowhere like this, perhaps that so-called god, Jörmungandr, showed you a sweet dream or something?”
“You…!”
“Give it up.”
The Cardinal twisted the corners of his mouth.
“What, are you going to heal my sensations? So, you’re asking me to serve you?”
Ha, Saint.
“Do you really think your head exists for a reason? You still can’t let go of that? You must know by now that there’s no way to get your sensations back… Damn it, that’s just not possible!!”
“……!!”
The Cardinal’s pitch-black eyes gleamed as he took a big step forward.
As if reflecting his mood, the cave trembled violently.
He was the Cardinal of the Holy Kingdom, after all. His strength was enough to crush even the mightiest of heroes.
In an instant, he lunged at the Saint like an enraged demon beast and seized her arm.
“Agh!”
The Saint screamed at the pain seeping through her wrist.
And then, the moment her scream echoed through the cave.
“…….”
“…….”
Silence enveloped the two. Both the Saint and the Cardinal looked at her arm in shock. The wrist gripped roughly in the Cardinal’s hand was already bruised a deep, dark purple.
But that wasn’t the only shocking thing.
“Does it hurt…?”
“How do you… know that…?”
She felt pain.
The realization washed over her with both surprise and overwhelming emotion.
It was the very pain she had longed for. It wasn’t even from the mysterious realm of Jörmungandr.
And yet, she was feeling pain.
Even at this very moment, the dizzying sensation reaching her brain was, without a doubt, pain.
“That’s nonsense!!”
The Cardinal denied it, grabbing her other arm.
“AAAAH!”
The clear marks of suffering showed vividly.
The Cardinal’s expression turned bewildered.
That look was certainly not something that could be feigned.
Right now, the Saint was undeniably experiencing pain.
The fact astonished the Cardinal.
She was the foolish girl who had never felt pain in her life and had been treated like a puppet by him.
And now, suddenly, she was feeling the kind of pain that countless others had failed to endure?
That was impossible.
Such a thing shouldn’t exist.
As the Cardinal denied reality, he felt negative emotions surging deep within.
“Ha, feeling pain…”
The corners of the Cardinal’s mouth twisted upward.
“Well, this is quite fortunate.”
He chuckled.
Yes, it was a good thing.
There was absolutely no reason to frown like this.
“Now, I can truly give you a ‘proper’ punishment.”
“……!!”
“Haah… I was really tired of just seeing that expressionless face all this time…”
“Let go…!”
“I’m relieved. I’m eager to hear how sweet your screams of pain will sound, now that the so-called Saint is feeling it.”
The Cardinal laughed as he looked at the Saint trying to escape him.
“I guess I should thank the God too. Thanks to you, the Saint can feel pain, allowing for a much more ‘certain’ punishment.”
[Yes, it’s indeed fortunate.]
A low voice resonated through the cave.
Feeling a chill down his spine, the Cardinal quickly turned around.
And there, looming…
[A bow down, won’t you?]
Was an infinitely massive serpent.
Its piercing blue eyes were locked onto him with scrutiny.
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