Ch.162Sacred of the Past

Christine knelt in prayer, her eyes covered with blood-stained old bandages, secluded in a small temple deep in the mountains.

Though she had been in the temple for well over half a day, Christine showed no intention of moving.

She was plunged into extreme confusion, not knowing how to deal with the strange feelings she was experiencing for the first time in her life. With her mind frozen, her body simply followed instinct.

The reason Christine’s thoughts had stopped was because of a voice—a benevolent woman’s voice resonating directly in her mind.

During the three days it took to reach this temple, Christine hadn’t killed a single person.

Not only that, she hadn’t harmed anyone, nor shown hostility toward anyone. She had simply walked aimlessly, step after step.

This was a first. Never before had she left the hands of her god so empty for so long. The old Christine would have searched frantically for humans to offer as sacrifices to her deity, but now, for some reason, her heart was calm.

She couldn’t understand the emotions she was feeling. This confusion was all the more profound because Christine had lived a life stained and defined by blood and violence, her hands rarely dry of blood.

‘My divine power… hasn’t weakened…’

Christine stared down at her delicate, slender hands, which seemed too pure to have killed countless people. Having no use for them except in prayer, they were remarkably clean.

Yet her divine power hadn’t weakened. The holy energy enveloping Christine’s body still contained immense faith and belief.

However, the yellowish-white flames no longer burned everything except Christine and her god as heresy. This, too, was unprecedented.

Humans who approached Christine as she walked blindfolded like a madwoman didn’t get engulfed in divine flames—they simply became dazed.

And Christine, because of the voice constantly echoing in her head, didn’t bother to kill these stupefied humans.

The usual Christine, whose mind was filled only with sacrifice and faith, would have turned them into writhing masses of flesh with limbs torn off, offered as sacrifices.

But not now.

Whenever Christine tried to kill approaching humans to offer them as sacrifices, the voice resonating directly in her mind stopped her.

Instead, she drew divine power from deep within her heart to daze the humans and scatter their consciousness, defusing the situation. Christine merely watched as the would-be sacrifices walked away.

The strange thing was that despite her body being essentially controlled by the voice in her head, she felt no displeasure whatsoever.

Rather, it felt right. It felt natural to obey the voice and serve it.

The sense of fulfillment and comfort that washed over her when following the voice was an added bonus.

Perhaps it was because of the holy relic covering her eyes.

Christine reached out and gently caressed the worn-out bandages around her eyes as if handling a sacred treasure. She felt the rough texture of the cloth at her fingertips.

Simply touching the bandages filled her body with divine power. Her heart felt warm, and her faith swelled almost to overflowing. It was truly remarkable.

“Have you calmed down now?”

Christine was startled by the woman’s voice and immediately bowed her head. Her body moved before the thought of prostrating herself even crossed her mind.

She didn’t dare look directly at the woman.

It had happened about half a day ago. While praying in the small mountain temple, Christine had fainted the moment a golden female figure appeared before her.

After regaining consciousness shortly after, she had hurriedly knelt in prayer, leading to her current state.

“Please raise your head. I haven’t appeared to receive your worship.”

“How could someone as insignificant as I dare to do so?”

“You are not insignificant. You shouldn’t belittle yourself.”

Only after the golden figure’s voice kindly asked her several more times to raise her head did Christine finally manage to look up.

The golden light had taken the form of a nun. Like Christine, she wore an extremely plain, unadorned, simple and loose-fitting habit.

But unlike Christine, whose outfit was deeply cut at the sides revealing her slender legs and thighs, accentuated by garter belts giving a provocative impression, the nun before her had her lower body completely covered by the long habit.

“Are you still unable to calm your heart?”

“…”

Christine dared not answer the woman’s question. Even the act of opening her mouth to utter her garbage voice felt sacrilegious.

Besides, it took all her strength just to keep her head from bowing down to the ground again. She had no mental capacity to speak.

“It seems you’re not in a state to answer.”

The golden woman merely gave a bitter smile, but hearing those words made Christine’s heart sink as if she had committed some grave error.

“I-I’m s-sorry…”

“There’s no need to apologize. If you regard me this way, it must also be God’s arrangement.”

The once gentle voice became subdued. The woman’s expression took on a melancholic hue.

“…Even though my god no longer exists.”

At those shocking words, Christine found herself staring directly at the woman’s face. How could someone with such immense divine power say their object of faith no longer existed?

Noticing Christine’s gaze, the woman forced a smile. As the shock subsided, Christine’s head bowed down again.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m sorry.”

“N-no, no. How could I possibly…”

Her mind was in extreme confusion. She had many questions for the woman, many curiosities, many answers she needed to hear.

But she didn’t dare ask. The divine aura emanating from the golden woman before her was similar to, or even more brilliant than, that of Christine’s own god.

For Christine, who possessed the most devout faith in the world, it was absolutely impossible to question her.

Unable to speak first yet unable to maintain silence, Christine was caught in a paradox. As she struggled with what to do, the woman spoke first.

“What is your name?”

At that gentle voice, Christine barely held back the tears that threatened to burst forth. It was strange. She found it difficult to control the tears that kept welling up.

“C-Christine… Christine Hildegard.”

She had considered giving only her first name, but feeling that she shouldn’t hide anything, she hastily added her surname.

And as if that was the right answer, the woman’s eyebrows curved slightly.

“Christine Hildegard… is it…”

Seeing the woman’s reaction made Christine feel slightly anxious. The way her words trailed off ambiguously at the end made her think she had done something wrong.

“…I see. So…”

The woman muttered something while looking at Christine, and her gaze subtly changed. It was a minute change, but Christine noticed it immediately.

The woman’s form slowly descended to the temple floor. Christine could only stare blankly.

Then, with a trembling voice, as if entranced, she spoke.

“Who… who are you? Are you… an angel sent by my god?”

“An angel of God…”

To the question asked with a quivering voice, the woman gave an ambiguous smile. Though its true meaning was unclear, it remained dignified.

Soon after, the woman began walking gracefully toward Christine.

As the halo emitted by the light drew closer, Christine was nearly blinded. The light was so intense that she thought she might faint again.

The woman stopped right in front of Christine, knelt on one knee, and gently took Christine’s hands, which were clasped over her chest. An indescribable warmth flowed into her captured hands.

The yellow eyes behind the bandages and the brilliant golden eyes exchanged glances. The woman nodded slowly.

“That’s not entirely incorrect.”

Hearing the answer, Christine froze. Was this woman truly an angel sent by God? Was she, Christine, now holding the hand of an angel sent by God?

Just as panic-stricken Christine was about to convulse, the gentle voice added:

“But it’s not entirely correct either.”

The woman held Christine’s hand and stood up. Naturally, Christine followed, rising hesitantly. She couldn’t reject the hand or refuse to follow the gesture.

They remained like that for a moment, holding hands. A strange silence hung between them. Christine waited anxiously for the next words.

Finally, the woman broke the long silence.

“My name is Christina Hildegard.”

As if the world resonated with those words, brilliant divine power filled the small temple.

“Your distant ancestor.”

Behind her, the sun rose.

“And the Saint of the Benevolent Faith, whom your god once served.”