Chapter 4: The Records of the Goddess

< Mitchell >

I opened my eyes, feeling the fluctuating mana settle down. We had safely arrived at the familiar sight of the flower garden in the center of the temple. In principle, it was impossible to enter the temple directly through teleportation due to the defensive barriers surrounding it, but Zeimer brought everyone to the heart of the temple in one go, as if proving why he was called an unprecedented genius.

“Cough—,”

“Hero!”

Perhaps due to the strain of magical travel, Ian coughed up dark red blood. He didn’t seem to have regained consciousness; after that single cough, only clumps of blood poured from his mouth. Because I had kept my hand on his chest trying to heal that horrific wound even a little, my sleeves were completely splattered with blood. Sizzle—Ian’s blood contained a wicked demonic energy strong enough to melt a priest’s robe woven with divine power.

“Zeimer, open that door! It’s the Prayer Room where the Goddess resides!”

As soon as the massive door was opened by the mana extending from Zeimer’s hand, Claire ran toward the Prayer Room holding Ian in his arms, but he stopped and looked back at me as if blocked by an invisible force.

“I cannot go in. Mitchell, you, the servant of the Goddess, must go with the Hero.”

A gaze full of conviction fixed upon me. Zeimer, who had been panting on the ground, exhausted from piercing the temple’s barrier, used magic to pull me to my feet and pushed me forward.

Zeimer dry-heaved, perhaps having used the last of his magic. His expression was distorted with desperation, and his voice came out as a cracked, metallic rasp.

“Go quickly, Mr. Priest. Are you going to just stand there dazed and let Ian pass away like this?”

I wrapped divine power around my arms and took Ian from Claire. Ian’s heart, visible through the wound, was still beating, though weakly. I used divine power to stabilize his nearly severed leg and his arms—which were literally just hanging on—and I scraped together my remaining divinity to plug the hole in his chest where blood continued to flow. Everything will be fine. Once I cross this door, once I show Ian to the Goddess…

As I entered the silent Prayer Room, the door closed behind me. It was likely the Goddess’s will. I adjusted my hold on Ian and walked slowly toward the altar on the opposite side. Every second was urgent, but for some reason, it felt as if time had stopped.

On the altar stood a statue of the Goddess and a fountain of holy water. The fountain, which usually remained quiet and only bubbled with holy water when the Goddess delivered an oracle, was now gushing like a waterfall as if the Goddess herself had descended.

In the quiet and solemn Prayer Room, the sound of the flowing holy water and the sound of my footsteps climbing the stairs toward the altar echoed.

It was the first time these twenty or so steps felt so long. My heart fluttered as I walked up alone, leaving black bloodstains in a place I had always climbed with other High Priests while praying with a reverent heart.

I laid Ian on the altar and knelt down prostrate before him. To allow Ian to fully accept the Goddess’s divine power, I withdrew my own divinity that had been plugging his wounds; immediately, the blood flowing from Ian dripped down below the altar.

At the sight of that blood, tears of relief burst forth. Ian’s blood was no longer tainted by malice. It was red, not black. Ian’s soul might not be back yet, but it was too early to abandon hope if the Goddess’s touch reached him directly.

Suddenly, a soft breeze blew warmly. Feeling the wind tickling my hair and light beyond my eyelids, I opened my eyes and looked up.

Ah, Goddess…!

It was the first time I had seen the Goddess in such a clear form. The Goddess, who had always appeared as a cluster of light or a sparkling mist, was now looking down at Ian in a complete form.

I met the eyes of the Goddess, who wore a benevolent smile. Vivid violet eyes, beautiful white hair waving in the air as if underwater, and a transparent yet firm nude form.

A purple holy aura filled the Prayer Room. I looked up at the Goddess, weeping as I was intoxicated by that beauty. Time had certainly stopped.

After peering into my eyes for a long while, the Goddess reached out. When her fingertip touched the tears flowing down my cheek, the tears turned into sparkling light and vanished. I felt a refreshing and comfortable energy enter and circulate through my body.

[Child. Thank you for protecting the Hero all this time. He is like a sore thumb to me. Though he is broken, he has become all the more precious because of it. All those shattered pieces are part of the whole. Thank you for making it possible for him to return to me.]

[Do not worry about the citizens of the Empire affected by the Demon King’s malice. At the final moment, the Demon King attempted to plot his resurrection by exploding himself as a last resort to spread wicked demonic power across the entire continent, but the Hero blocked it all. He emptied all the blessings I gave him from his body and imprisoned the Demon King’s power within himself. All the soldiers touched by the divine power the Hero scattered will have been healed.]

[Now, leave Ian to me. I shall deliver an oracle soon.]

[You have worked hard. Now, rest deeply.]

The Goddess finished speaking and kissed my forehead. As her lips touched my brow, ancient events flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern. As the records of the world flowing backward reached the beginning, my soul suddenly felt distant. Ending with meeting the eyes of the Primordial Dragon, I likely lost consciousness. When I came to, I was back in the flower garden in the center of the temple.

And the tightly closed door of the Prayer Room did not open for a year after that.

< Felix >

Early in the morning, an urgent message came from the temple. My aide rushed into the office holding a communication tool, saying that High Priest Mitchell had personally delivered the news that an oracle had been received.

“Mitchell, it’s Felix. What is it?”

[Your Majesty, it is Mitchell. An oracle was delivered at dawn today. The Prayer Room is scheduled to open at noon today. You must come to the temple along with Ilya, Claire, and Zeimer.]

“If it’s the Prayer Room, then Ian…?”

[Yes. The Goddess said she would open the door today when the sun is at its highest.]

“I shall depart now. Tell the three of them the news and have them gather at the main gate of the Imperial Palace immediately.”

The distance between the Imperial Palace and the temple was an hour’s journey by a four-horse carriage. In my heart, I wanted to use magic or Dragon Words to move to the front of the temple in an instant, but Ilya stopped me. There was plenty of time left until noon. Furthermore, since an oracle had been delivered, the Emperor’s visit to the temple would already be known throughout the Empire.

As the key figures of the Imperial family were making an official procession, it was better to travel by carriage for the sake of Imperial prestige. And Ian… I had to bring Ian back.

It had been a year. Since I last saw Ian.

Had his wounds healed? Had he regained consciousness? Since the Goddess said she would personally tend to him, perhaps he had already left this world to follow her.

However, I could not bring myself to discard the hope that I would meet Ian again. Everyone had endured the past year holding onto that stubborn hope that we would surely meet Ian again.

Since carriages were not allowed inside the temple grounds, I stepped out onto the ground. I felt like I could finally breathe. I had been so restless inside the carriage for the past hour that I even thought it would be better to run.

Stepping out of the carriage, I saw Zeimer, who had arrived first via magic. Zeimer was irreverently leaning against a temple pillar. Soon after, when Ilya and Claire had all disembarked, Zeimer stood straight and offered a greeting.

“I greet the Emperor. There, I’ve greeted you, so we’re good, right? I did it properly, so don’t nag me, Ilya. Felix, I thought my insides were going to turn waiting for you. Mitchell was stubborn, saying he wouldn’t open the door until everyone arrived.”

Leaving Zeimer’s grumbling behind, I followed the Paladins who came to meet us and entered the heart of the temple. The center was not only a place directly touched by the Goddess’s protection but also where holy relics used for the relief of the citizens were kept, so it was not a place one could enter lightly. After having all the guards and servants wait in the waiting room provided by the temple, we were able to move to the garden in front of the Prayer Room under a priest’s guidance.

“I greet the Sun of the Empire. Ilya, Claire, Zeimer, it has been a long time. I have been waiting.”

For the first time in a long while, Mitchell’s expression was bright. Had Mitchell’s expression been this bright even once during the past year? As a faithful servant of the Goddess, he was always at the forefront of showing love with a benevolent smile, but since the war, he had always looked gloomy.

In truth, no one had been fine during that time. We had just been trying our best to act fine while knowing the others weren’t.

Claire said that a horribly broken Ian often appeared in his dreams, and Ilya’s hands shook every time he handled matters related to the war. Zeimer, who was already prickly and sensitive, had become even more violent, and I, too, was not fine.

Because Ian’s expression as he looked back on the path toward the end of the long war was so painful; because that selfless sacrifice as he walked into the jaws of death was so brilliant; because his smile, given as if to reassure us even in the midst of it all, was so kind.

Together in the pavilion set up in the garden, we waited for noon and shared stories from the past year. Ilya, Claire, and I were like sworn brothers who had been close since we were very young; Zeimer was originally an arrogant man who showed no courtesy to anyone; and Mitchell was someone we had all known for nearly twenty years. Thus, there was no need for awkward formalities, and I felt at ease.

While I had been floating and unable to settle my heart since hearing the news of the oracle, being with my friends actually made my heart more peaceful as noon approached.

The sundial in the middle of the garden finally announced that it was noon. Just as the most impatient one, Zeimer, headed for the Prayer Room as if springing forward, the massive door began to open slowly. Despite not having moved for a year, the door opened very smoothly.

As we entered the Prayer Room, which was not bright even though it was midday, we saw a faint cluster of light spread around the statue of the Goddess. Everything was settled in a quiet stillness, except for the sound of holy water from the fountain trickling through the channels beside the stairs, giving the large space an even more grand feeling.

As if possessed, we climbed the stairs toward that purple light.

And what lay beneath the statue of the Goddess was—

Ian, submerged in holy water.

It was silent.

A raw Ian, who didn’t seem to have a trace of life in him, was within the transparent liquid, neither sinking nor floating.

The horrific wounds had all vanished, leaving only the scar on his chest.

Ian, floating in the holy water in the nude, was like a delicate and sophisticated illusion. As if he would vanish if touched…

Ian’s eyes, which had been motionless as if time had stopped, flickered and then slowly opened. The moment our gazes met through a layer of holy water, the faint feeling of walking through a dream vanished, and reality began to return.

“Ian!”

Splash—without even a moment to think it might be irreverent, I jumped inside. I hurriedly waded through the dense holy water and lifted Ian up. Very carefully.

“Ian, are you awake? Can you recognize me?”

“Are you regaining your senses?”

“Ian! You’re finally awake!”

The others must have felt the same, as they each spoke a word full of emotion toward Ian, who was held in my arms. However, Ian merely closed his eyes again without much of a reaction.

[My children, thank you for entrusting this Hero to me for the past year. It seems it is now time to return him to you.]

The purple mist sparkled as it spoke. No, it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that could be called speaking. A distant yet transparent voice filled the wide Prayer Room.

[I have done my best, but wicked demonic power still remains within the child’s body. However, my blessing remains as well. The remaining battle is now the child’s burden. Please help him much.]

[I pity the child who will continue this painful, difficult, and lonely battle alone. Yet, it is the path this child chose. He wished to remain in this world rather than go with me.]

[I bestow a blessing.]

[As long as the Hero lives, the entire continent shall be filled with blessings.]

[Please take good care of the child.]

Thus, the Goddess’s voice vanished along with the light, and we left the Prayer Room with Ian. A battle with demonic power… In Ian’s heart, divine power had returned, and in his core, the mana spring had been restored. However, centered around the chest wound, demonic power was swirling turbidly between the divine power and mana.

Contrary to his peaceful appearance, Ian’s interior was still a mess. I could see the divine power and mana constantly rushing in to heal internal injuries whenever the demonic power wriggled and caused havoc. At this rate, even breathing would likely be painful, yet I was so grateful to Ian for making the choice to stay by our side.

I was happy. Truly selfishly, I was even happy about Ian’s future pain. I had been suppressing my hope, fearing that the expectation of meeting him again would crumble. But to meet him again like this, to feel him with my fingertips and hold him in my arms.

As soon as we left the Prayer Room, a temple attendant brought over a blanket. I dried Ian’s still-wet body with Dragon Words and wrapped his nude form in the blanket. Claire and Zeimer reached out, saying they would do it, but I just wanted to do it myself. Once we returned to the Imperial Palace, I wouldn’t be able to take care of Ian personally like this.

That was the nature of an Emperor’s life. It was a position where one had to move forward for the future of the entire Empire rather than for the precious things nearby. I wanted to care for him personally, at least until we returned to the palace.

Even though he was born a commoner—an orphan at that—and the only thing he received from the Empire was likely a few coins of support made of cheap pity, I couldn’t bear how pitiful this young man was for willingly giving his life for the Empire.

I carefully climbed into the carriage to avoid any shock and held Ian’s body firmly as if holding a baby. Having lost all his fat and much of his muscle, Ian was incredibly light.

I let his head, which kept drooping from a lack of strength, lean against my chest and looked closely at Ian’s face. His breathing, which hissed faintly as if it could barely be heard, was precarious.

Is it said that for every hero, God plants a corresponding narrative and trial? The Hero, who had to crawl up from the lowest place toward the highest purpose, had lived a very tragic life.

For the past year, there was no dawn for the Emperor.

Without the Hero who saved everyone but could not save himself, how could the rising of the sun be welcome? The Emperor tried desperately not to look at that purple twilight that resembled the Hero.

The Emperor recalled how much salvation he had received from the Hero.

Now was the time to return that salvation.

Never again,

Would he lose him.

That evening, the Emperor removed all the curtains in his office.