TLWCL 56

Chapter 56 ….

Yelena reflexively wrapped one hand around her head. For a moment, her skull rang loudly.

A voice echoed inside her mind—the ascetic’s voice.

{Do not be afraid. Wherever this voice reaches, peace shall follow. Beloved ones, still your unrest and find rest within me. No further pain shall remain in this place.}

The humming voice felt as though it were bursting out from deep within Yelena herself.

He had an ability like this…?

Her surprise was short-lived. The words ringing insistently inside her head were far more forceful and oppressive than the ascetic’s usual polite speech.

{Protect the most fragile lives first. Raise the white cloth high and guide them inward, wrapping them in warmth. Let the strong become walls and establish order. When every soul is prepared, gather them at the center where the radiance of light lingers, and ready yourselves to receive glory.}

The oppressive atmosphere and subtle pressure nearly overwhelmed her for a moment.

Get a grip.

If she had intended to become a mere obedient hound wagging her tail beneath him, she would have knelt before her mother long ago.

If she felt this much pressure, the others must be experiencing something far stronger—overwhelming sanctity and awe.

Yelena lightly furrowed her brow and pressed firmly against her throbbing temples. At that moment, the ascetic spoke aloud.

“Yelena. Have you found the culprit?”

It was courteous, respectful speech. Masking her complex emotions, Yelena swept her gaze across the plaza.

Two people. Their movements were suspicious.

They had to be the ones who caused the terror. If she was going to cut off their escape, now was the only chance.

“Yes. Just now.”

She replied curtly and hurled herself into the crowd.

The two men, realizing she was headed straight for them, drew their daggers. Yelena instinctively reached for her beloved halberd—

Then stopped.

She couldn’t swing a halberd in a crowd like this.

Not only was it impossible to wield properly, but civilians could easily be hurt. Yelena halted her hand and moved fluidly toward the enemies.

“…!”

“Yah.”

She snapped forward and seized one man’s wrist.

With a sharp twist, she broke his grip. The dagger clattered to the ground.

Before his scream could fully escape, she twisted her waist and struck upward with her toes beneath his chin.

“Ugh—!”

The second man, seeing the hopeless disparity, tried to flee—but it was already too late.

Yelena drew her own dagger from her waist and hurled it.

She had never been a novice who relied solely on a halberd. Anyone wielding a massive weapon knew to carry a secondary arm.

The blade buried itself into the man’s back. He screamed and collapsed forward.

One captive was enough.

Yelena closed the distance in a few steps, yanked the dagger free, and swung it without hesitation.

Slash—

Blood sprayed high into the air, a crimson arc painted across the sky.

Civilians who were splattered with blood shrieked in terror.

Without even catching her breath, Yelena immediately assessed the situation.

The ascetic was already standing atop the platform. Once more, his voice echoed through her mind, spreading across the chaos-stricken plaza.

{Do not be afraid. To all who hear this voice, peace shall be with you.}

Moments later, white cloths began to rise high throughout the plaza.

Those who had been panicking and trying to force their way through the narrow temple entrance stopped, seeing the cloths, and began to follow others instead.

People raised the white fabric and guided the crowd. The sick and children were led inward, toward the center of the plaza.

“Follow the white cloth! Injured people, this way!”

“Children too—bring the children inward!”

The scattered masses reorganized, and the plaza quickly regained stability. With just a few words, the ascetic had dispelled the chaos.

With nothing but his voice and presence, he had seized control of the entire situation.

“Your wounds—I shall now take them upon myself. In this moment, with the power granted to me, I will show you a glorious mission!”

Flash.

Light burst forth from him.

*

Imperial Year 275.

He slowly spread his arms and spoke in a majestic voice, as if embracing the earth itself.

Before his words had even ended, dazzling light surged up from beneath his feet, flooding the entire plaza.

All who witnessed the sight cried out as one:

“This is no saint—this is the reincarnation of Lady Lumencia!”

Wherever the light lingered, miracles bloomed.

Wounded flesh was instantly covered with new skin. Broken bones realigned themselves perfectly.

Those bleeding stopped bleeding. Hearts burdened by lifelong suffering found tranquil peace, as though awakening from a long dream.

That day, the plaza trembled with awe and weeping, ecstasy and praise. Shouts and prayers surged skyward, shaking the earth and even making the heavens resound.

Not a single person who witnessed it raised an objection to him attaining the position of Saint.

If he was not a Saint, then who could possibly be one?

Cernuan Lumière—no, the Ascetic—was the being destined to inherit Lady Lumencia’s will, descend upon this land, uproot despair, remove suffering, and create a paradise on earth!

Even the prestigious House of Aldeirion and the rising star destined to become the next Archmage did not hesitate to stand by his side.

Compared to the hollow Saints and Saintesses promoted by the Central Church, this Ascetic truly seemed sent by Lumencia herself.

Otherwise, how could one explain such overwhelming holy power and charisma? That strange aura and appearance? That gentle, compassionate nature?

Everyone accepted him as a Saint. No one dared claim that some nobody had stolen the title.

And even if such voices arose, they vanished quickly.

A single glance from him—or merely meeting him in person—made all negative opinions fade away. Truly, it was the living descent of Lumencia.

When he even announced the formation of a delegation to negotiate a truce and finally end the long war with Centa—

The cheers of the war-weary Imperial citizens grew louder still.

He personally visited temples throughout the Empire, tending to illness and soothing wounds. Under his touch, despair retreated and hope blossomed.

At first, the Central Church regarded him with suspicion…

But as the days passed, faith in the Central Church deepened under his name, and its reputation soared. Massive donations and boundless goodwill followed.

With so much benefit flowing into the Church, it could no longer afford to oppose him.

Thus, one by one, people seeking to rely on his sacred authority gathered at his side.

Only the incompetent high priests clinging to outdated power, and a handful of greedy nobles, harbored dissatisfaction.

Even so, the Empire itself could not move against him lightly.

Merely speaking his name stirred public sentiment like thunder. To resist him was to face a raging typhoon head-on.

And so, the miracles, praise, ecstasy, and worship of that day spread beyond the Empire’s borders—reaching even Centa, the neighboring land shrouded in cold war clouds.

Thirteen days later—

As Centa prepared to welcome the Ascetic, having heard tales of his exploits—

“I am the Saintess…! I heard Lady Lumencia’s voice! She ordered me to descend and eliminate the Ascetic who is falsely posing as a Saint!”

A woman claiming to be a Saintess—bearing a mission to destroy the Saint—arrived at the Grand Temple.

*

“A Saintess has appeared.”

“She was killed, I assume?”

“Yes. She was taken underground and executed immediately.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

The Widow sent her subordinate away and tossed the newspaper in her hand into the fireplace.

Compared to the ‘previous’ world she remembered, progress here was slow.

Reforms had only just begun, and literacy was spreading. It would be a long time before automobiles ever appeared.

“Demonic corruption…”

The crackling newspaper soon vanished into ash. The flames greedily devoured it.

At the center of the page was the Ascetic’s face.

The image slowly burned away.

“How far should I let this go?”

The Widow twirled her red hair around her finger. Soft curls spilled forward.

Knock, knock, knock.

Click.

“I’m back, Widow.”

The one who entered was an Inquisitor, her blond hair tied high. The Widow warmly welcomed her daughter.

“You’re back? The weather’s been unpredictable. You didn’t catch a cold, did you?”

“No. With the Ascetic nearby, I won’t be getting sick.”

Green eyes—similar in hue to the Inquisitor’s—curved into a smile. The Widow lightly tapped the sofa beside her.

“You must be moving around a lot since the Ascetic’s been so active. It seems exhausting.”

“It’s nothing. This is easier than the training I used to do.”

Yelena sat down. The Widow slid a dish of candied violets toward her.

“Now then… shall we have a little mother-daughter talk?”

Those green eyes pierced straight through Yelena. She thought they resembled plants.

Not symbols of life or peace.

Plants, no matter how solid the stone, would take root in even the smallest crack—and shatter it.

“…Yes.”

I can’t give her any openings.

Just like I’ve always done.

*

Yes!

Everything was falling perfectly into place!

When I suppressed the terror attack during the Saint Announcement Ceremony, the number of believers had already far exceeded the 500 listed in the quest.

Completing it leveled me up, too.

After the terror incident and the ceremony, my life became so busy that I didn’t even have time to visit the Marquis.

The remnants of the Marquis’s faction were dragged to the Central Church, tortured, and publicly executed—that was the end of it.

Using “taking care of citizens” as an excuse finally gave me a breather.

Thud!

I was sprawled on a sofa, watching Calebrin enthusiastically beat the Marquis senseless at Antonio’s villa.

“Aaaagh!”

“T-Talk…”

Even if the Ascetic condoned torture, he was undeniably a major criminal.

If I hadn’t had purification powers, I’d have died from poisoned food. And even if I survived, doing nothing would have gotten me killed in the terror attack.

Someone like that deserved no sympathy.

“Ghk… I have nothing more to say!”

“Th-that sword… where did you get it…?”

Turns out the Marquis had been under the control of a demonic sword. I knew that sword well—it appeared as an important quest item.

Still, I needed to know how it ended up in his hands.

“Wow… brutal.”

I had no excuse to separate Yelena, and half intended to make her an accomplice anyway, so she came along.

“Isn’t there a magic spell that makes people confess automatically?”

“Th-that kind of thing… isn’t my specialty…”

While torturing the man, Calebrin explained why he couldn’t just use sorcery to force a confession.

Naturally, fake Saint scammer me and ‘strength solves everything’ Yelena didn’t really understand.

“So you’re saying his head could explode if you try that?”

Calebrin nodded vigorously. Even maxed-out utility had its limits.

I turned to Yelena.

“You’re an Inquisitor. Don’t you know interrogation techniques?”

“If I did, I’d be an Interrogator~ I just respond to tips, confirm heresy, capture them, and hand them over.”

Ah. That explained it.

I nodded. The Marquis was already foaming at the mouth.

Since his terror attack resulted in only death notices—no missing persons—he likely had no home to return to anyway.

A pointless terror. A pointless end.

Even the Marquis himself probably didn’t understand why he’d done it.

Such a sloppy plan—likely driven half by impulse under the demonic sword’s influence.

A weapon that amplified desire naturally lowered intelligence as a penalty.

Even Calebrin only knew rumors about the sword.

Yelena hadn’t even known it existed.

In the end, the only way to learn where it came from or when he obtained it was through the Marquis himself.

Even reading his mind won’t work—his level’s surprisingly high…

Compared to me—just Level 9—it wasn’t even close.

Antonio said the man earned his title by rampaging across battlefields like they were his backyard.

Yet he collapsed from a single curse—his curse resistance or anti-magic stats must’ve been near zero.

“Hmm…”

As Calebrin layered another curse, blood poured from the Marquis’s eyes, nose, and ears. I healed him again.

Seeing his body restored perfectly drove him into despair.

Purification isn’t very effective… probably because it’s a curse, not poison or contamination.

“Just… kill me…!”

“Marquis Bernator, we don’t want to kill anyone. Just tell us where the sword came from and when you got it, and we’ll let you go!”

Yelena smiled brightly and tried negotiating.

“Nonsense!”

The Marquis snarled.

Clean-shaven or not, he was gaunt and unkempt—there was no dignity left.

“You won’t spare me! Damn Lumencia’s bastard! Die! Go rot in the abyss—”

I rose from the sofa.

As I approached, he snapped his mouth shut.

I crouched in front of him and met his gaze.

“Marquis Marges Bernator. Aren’t you curious why you’re in this position? I truly wanted a good relationship with you. I swear it. How could I lie to a neighbor?”

“Is this revenge because I treated you harshly at the banquet?! How vile…! Truly vile! You’re a demon—no doubt about it!”

I listened to his ravings, then looked into empty space.

No choice. Dragging this out helped no one.

“Your comrade is waiting for you over there. His name is… Jackal.”

Bernator flinched violently and shook his head.

Of course he saw nothing.

I was lying.

I had simply picked a name from Antonio’s list—someone close to Bernator who had already died in battle.

“Jackal says that you became a Marquis using that sword—”

“Ggh—Aaaah! Stop! Don’t say it!”

His reaction was more intense than any torture.

Partly because his mental fortitude had weakened under sustained curses, and partly because my divine aura worked extra well.