Chapter 39: Church without Missionaries (4)

 

“Alright, did you understand up to this point?”

When the middle-aged priest finished speaking, Aiden quietly nodded.

“…..”

To sum up what he had just heard…

The “Saintess” of this church had somehow performed a miracle and cured his Cybernetic Overmodification Syndrome.

‘What kind of…’

He wanted to question how absurd that sounded, but instinctively, he knew it wasn’t a lie.

It was his own body, after all. If he couldn’t sense the change, it would be ridiculous.

The severe discomfort that had plagued him ever since his first cybernetic implant.

The unpleasant gray noise that constantly gnawed at his mind, even when he used narcotic painkillers.

The headache that never went away, no matter what he took…

Now, all of it was gone, as if washed clean.

‘Is this a dream…?’

How long had it been since he’d felt this kind of peace? It was nothing short of a miracle.

Even experiencing it firsthand, Aiden still found it hard to believe.

‘Wait a minute.’

Suddenly, a cold worry surfaced in the corner of his mind.

Why had this incredible opportunity come to him? And at what cost?

A sudden sense of fear washed over him.

Seeing Aiden’s uneasy expression, the middle-aged priest let out a chuckle.

“What? Are you worried that the church will use this as leverage to put a leash on you and make you a lifelong s*ave?”

He spoke in a playful tone, but his eyes remained serious.

“Don’t worry. The Saintess granted you a new life purely out of goodwill, driven by her desire to help those in desperate need. The church won’t force you to do anything.”

Aiden swallowed dryly.

“Then… what were those three choices you mentioned earlier?”

“Ah, that. Those are the possible paths that the mercenaries brought here with Overmodification Syndrome, like you, can take from now on. The decision is yours.”

The priest raised his first finger.

“First, you can retire from mercenary work. Thanks to the Saintess’s grace, your syndrome won’t progress any further. You can live a normal life without suppressants. This is your golden chance to step away from the reckless path you once took, to dismount from the blade you’ve been riding.”

This was exactly what Aiden had wished for—the dream he’d longed for.

But now that the opportunity had arrived so suddenly, he felt more bewildered than relieved.

It felt too abrupt, too… unreal.

Even as Aiden remained confused, the priest continued speaking without a care.

“Second, you can continue your mercenary work as before. Now that your body has returned to normal, you can push it a bit more if you want. But remember this: even if a miracle healed your ruined body, if you poison it again, the result will be the same.”

His tone carried a cold warning.

“Those implants grafted onto your body are exactly that—implants. They might be fine for daily life, but if you keep pushing them in fierce combat like before, the symptoms will resurface. If you keep repeating that reckless behavior and a second Cybernetic Rage incident occurs… No one will save you next time. There’s no second salvation for repeating the same mistake.”

That final statement sent a chill down his spine.

His body, rotting from immune rejection.

The uncontrollable fury that devoured his sense of self.

It had been hell. A torment he never wanted to endure again.

In that sense, giving up the mercenary life right now seemed like the wisest choice.

He was lucky to have survived at all. He should be grateful.

Yet, deep down, something gnawed at him.

It was the fact that the priest hadn’t yet mentioned the third choice.

“….Then, what’s the last one? You definitely said there were three options, didn’t you?”

The words came out almost involuntarily, with a sense of urgency.

The priest leaned forward slightly from his reclining position, a meaningful smile on his face.

“The final option is….”

==============

“…….”

A young man stood awkwardly in front of the mirror, adjusting his outfit.

He was dressed in a black clerical robe.

Though it still felt unfamiliar, it oddly fit his body quite well.

Aiden looked at himself one last time in the mirror, straightening his clothes before stepping out of his quarters.

“Good morning, Father!”

“Hello, good morning~.”

As he walked down the street, passing residents greeted him cheerfully, recognizing him one by one.

Aiden accepted their greetings with a slightly awkward smile.

‘Father, huh.’

It still felt strange to hear that title.

He had never given religion much thought in his life, yet now people were calling him a priest.

It was hard to wrap his mind around how things had changed.

The reason Aiden was walking around in this outfit was because of the middle-aged priest’s final suggestion.

[“The last choice is to become a ‘Guardian’ like me.”]

It was a kind of employment contract to stay at the cathedral and maintain order within the diocese.

Of course, it wasn’t about being forced to do unpaid service—he would receive a proper salary from the church.

Although it was less than half of what he made as a mercenary, surprisingly, his actual earnings ended up being much higher than before.

That was because he no longer needed to buy expensive immune suppressants, get his unstable software recalibrated, or spend huge sums on repairing his worn-out cybernetics.

But more than the money, the most noticeable change was how people looked at him.

Before, just walking down the street made everyone panic and avoid him.

His intimidating cybernetic implants as a back-alley mercenary were enough to inspire fear.

However, as soon as he put on the black priest’s robe, everything changed.

Now, people looked at him with warmth and trust.

Sometimes, they even treated him with a level of kindness that made his heart tickle.

Instead of hurting others, protecting them.

The sense of fulfillment from that was something he had never imagined.

The support and acceptance of the people around him felt even more valuable than the money he once earned from mercenary work.

“……”

Lost in thought as he walked, Aiden soon found himself at the inner courtyard of the cathedral.

At that moment, he happened to cross paths with a familiar middle-aged priest, who greeted him with a carefree wave.

“Hey, rookie priest. How have you been?”

Aiden lightly bowed his head in response.

“It’s been a while, Arthur.”

Arthur was the first priest to explain things to Aiden when he joined the church.

Only later did Aiden learn his name.

It was a rare chance to meet again. After chatting about various things for a while, Aiden suddenly asked.

“By the way, Arthur, aren’t you originally from a different cathedral? What brings you here today?”

“Oh, well, my immune hormone levels were a bit high during the regular check-up. Thanks to that, I get to see the Saintess again.”

Hearing the unexpected reason, a memory resurfaced in Aiden’s mind.

It was something he had heard when accepting the church’s offer.

‘If a Guardian serving the church gets injured on duty or shows signs of Overmodification Syndrome, the Saintess will personally perform a miracle to heal them…’

That was one of the main reasons why mercenaries who had once suffered from Cybernetic Rage remained so loyal to the church.

‘The Saintess….’

The mere thought of her name made Aiden’s eyes waver for a moment.

Noticing this subtle change, Arthur smirked slyly.

“Is our rookie priest interested in her, by any chance?”

Aiden, flustered, averted his gaze.

He couldn’t bring himself to answer, but his expression already gave away enough.

Actually, it wasn’t just him—anyone would feel the same.

After enduring hellish agony, being saved by someone so beautiful and kind-hearted… it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone lost their heart to her.

Especially for a man, particularly a young one, it was only natural.

‘Even if she’s someone I could never dare to desire…’

If the chance ever came, he wanted to properly express his gratitude again.

As if seeing right through Aiden’s thoughts, Arthur chuckled softly.

“Arthur, Arthur. Do you know how many people in this church have received the Saintess’s grace? If she acknowledged every single one of them, she wouldn’t have a moment to herself.”

Even so, Arthur left a subtle hint.

“Still, it’s not entirely impossible to be close to her.”

“Huh?”

Aiden’s ears perked up.

“From what I hear, the most devout and outstanding Guardians are selected for a special group called… The Saved Ones (Los Salvados).”

Arthur glanced up at the sky, carefully choosing his words.

“If you’re chosen for that, you might just get the chance to serve by the Saintess’s side.”

With those words, Aiden’s heart began to beat faster.

For the first time, his hazy future started to take shape, as if he could finally see a clear goal.

‘If I work hard enough… maybe I can meet her up close again?’

========

“The so-called Saintess… I’d really like to see her face at least once.”

The top floor of one of the only three five-star hotels in the suburban area.

It looked as if they had rented out the entire floor.

In the vast banquet hall, there was only one large, round table.

The table was laden with luxurious desserts and rare fresh fruits, but no one had touched them—they simply sparkled like decorations.

Only those who could enjoy such extravagance without a second thought were gathered here.

“The Saintess, you say?”

The voice came from a man in his forties who lazily tilted his wine glass, almost muttering to himself.

In response, a woman with a captivating aura sitting across from him picked up on the conversation.

With her long, delicate fingers, she elegantly played with a cherry from the table before continuing.

“I’ve heard about it, Chairman. There’s been some unusual… religious group? Popping up around 13th Street lately, causing a bit of a stir. They seem to be gaining quite a bit of influence out of nowhere.”

Another person, who had been silently gazing at the night view outside, mumbled briefly.

He was a Chinese man with sharp eyes, wearing a modernized red changpao.

“Truly an age of decadence. The end times are upon us.”

His low sigh carried a deep cynicism towards the world.

In this luxurious banquet hall where only three people were present, the noise of the outside world seemed completely shut out.

A light silence followed, as if they were each sorting out their own thoughts.

Eventually, the captivating woman spoke up first.

“Still, it seems there’s something to it, right? I heard that all the surrounding gangs have disappeared because of it.”

The middle-aged man responded to her words.

“You mean the gangsters?”

He scoffed.

“Just a bunch of punks who barely managed to take control of a single alley.”

“Well, that’s true.”

The captivating woman agreed.

“They never really caused much trouble, so we left them alone. But it’s not a bad thing that they’ve been cleaned up now.”

She casually examined her nails as she spoke, as if it were nothing.

None of the three took the topic seriously.

To those gathered here, the disappearance of a few street gangs was nothing more than passing gossip.

These people possessed the kind of power, wealth, established territories, and decades of tradition that made them fundamentally different from common thugs who extorted the weak directly.

All the truly profitable businesses, organizations, and key personnel were essentially under their control.

For decades, they had effectively dominated the suburban outskirts, far removed from the shadows of the city.

People called them the Mafia.