Ch.476Those Useless Burdens

What should I do?

I stared at the scale symbol engraved on my chest with a dazed feeling, like a soldier who received a new draft notice immediately after being discharged.

I would have been less stunned if I had woken up drunk in an unfamiliar bed next to a naked man.

Stigmata. The symbol of a divine representative conveying God’s will, and a mark proving one’s qualification as a candidate for sainthood.

This golden tattoo was irrefutable proof that I had been chosen as Astraea’s saint.

…To me, it seemed no different from a slave brand like the ones Hush used.

Saint Haschal? What nonsense. It’s as contradictory a phrase as “plump Leopold.”

This was completely incomprehensible.

Lady Astraea, who raised all those brats to be lunatics, why put me through this trial…?

Were you that displeased that I cut off your followers’ limbs?

To bestow a stigmata—something rarely given even to the most devout followers—upon someone like me who doesn’t have a shred of faith? This goes beyond a bad joke…!

I got up from the bathroom floor, walked out dripping water, and retrieved the cigarette pack I had hidden among my pile of clothes before returning to the bathroom.

As always, this was something I couldn’t endure without smoking.

Postponing drying myself off, I sat naked against the bathtub wall and began chain-smoking.

It was bleak.

Unbelievably bleak.

Feeling like my insides were burning up, I relied on the mint flavor filling my lungs to somehow organize my complicated thoughts.

“Haa… what were they thinking, giving me this…”

I muttered to myself, staring at the ceiling.

As if speaking to Astraea, who I presumed was looking down at me from the high heavens.

Of course, no answer came.

Gods are all like this. They do incomprehensible things and never explain themselves to those affected.

I disliked every single one of them.

The smoke I inhaled escaped as a sigh.

Only after smoking three cigarettes in a row did my mind calm down a bit.

Enough to stop lamenting what had happened and cursing the gods, and instead accept reality and consider what to do next.

—-

After drying myself with a piece of Rurik’s torn skin, I also rubbed off the bloodstains on my armor and clothes.

The blood smell and red stains weren’t completely gone, but this was the best I could do for now.

I just burned my underwear. Judging by both color and smell, it was beyond salvageable.

I could raid a clothing store for a new one later.

I put on my somewhat cleaner top and leather pants, pulled on my boots, and carried the rest of my clothes and belongings into a randomly chosen inn room.

The smell of dust and a stale fishy odor.

The old inn room contained only a small shelf and a lone bed.

I sat down on the crude bed made of straw covered with thick cloth, struck a match to light a new cigarette, and sighed.

A stigmata… what am I supposed to do with this…

I wanted to down some alcohol, something really strong.

I hadn’t touched it since killing someone while drunk, but that’s how bleak I felt.

—-

Right. Let’s review my situation.

Though incomprehensible, I had become the representative of the Order deity that the Church of Astraea so desperately wanted. Terribly so.

…Isn’t that a good thing? No way. Quite the opposite.

If I were to show this stigmata to Astraea’s followers, do you think they would prostrate themselves and follow my every word?

Not a chance. If that were the case, would I have compared this stigmata to a draft notice?

The position of saint candidate is essentially the face of the church.

With great authority comes great qualification requirements.

Those honored with a stigmata must study the church’s scriptures until they can recite them by heart, and be careful that even their speech and conduct don’t contradict the doctrine.

Look at Lacy or Agnes.

Though they may seem to act recklessly, they’ve actually memorized all the scriptures over several years and never attempt anything that goes against doctrine.

Revealing the stigmata means I’d be forced to live like that too.

It’s a matter of the church’s—no, the goddess’s—dignity and prestige.

So the moment it becomes known that I have a stigmata, priests from the Church of Astraea will come running with piles of scriptures to teach me doctrine.

Until when? Until I can recite scripture passages fluently and manifest holy light.

…In other words, for the rest of my life.

I tried it once earlier, but perhaps due to my lack of faith, I couldn’t manifest holy light despite having the stigmata.

Refusing would be pointless.

A saint of Order appearing after a hundred years, maybe hundreds of years—do you think they’d simply give up if I rejected the church’s intervention?

I’d be lucky if they didn’t pack their bags and come after me to prevent my return to the Empire.

So for me, this stigmata was nothing but a troublesome brand.

Moreover, even if I revealed that I had received the stigmata, I couldn’t force my own opinions while ignoring the church’s views.

While it’s true that a saint candidate’s words carry strong influence, that’s only after proving sufficient qualification and authority.

Who would follow a saint candidate who can’t even properly manifest holy light?

If I were to make claims contrary to the church’s consensus, rather than yielding to my will, they would insist that my learning was insufficient and try to educate me.

Just look at Lacy—she was suspended from her duties for creating a general parish against the Holy State’s opinion.

On the grounds that she lacked the education required of a saint candidate.

She’s sitting in the position of Acting Cardinal after sending Drexler away for recovery, but if not for that, Lacy’s official status would still be “Saint Candidate (In Training).”

Oh, speaking of which, I wonder if Drexler is still alive.

He looked like he didn’t have many days left.

…Anyway, unless recognized as qualified by the church, this stigmata was just an awkward burden.

I might have the authority of being chosen by a deity, but practically speaking, I had no real power.

—-

After crushing the finished cigarette butt, I took out a new one and continued my contemplation.

If the stigmata were completely useless, I could just hide it and live without ever revealing it, but the problem was that it did have some limited usefulness.

Especially when dealing with the Church of Astraea’s forces that would arrive soon.

Without the stigmata, I would have had no choice but to subdue them all by force, but now that I had it, I could show them this tattoo and persuade them to abandon their suppression and return.

That way, I might be able to prevent the bloodshed in Arad without clashing with them.

Because the moment they witnessed the stigmata, they would transform from a riot suppression unit into an escort unit intent on accompanying me to Astraea’s cathedral!

I sighed involuntarily at the bleak future ahead.

Of course, they wouldn’t be able to forcibly drag me away, and even if they tried, I wouldn’t meekly comply… but it was clear that things would become incredibly tiresome either way.

Ah, what am I supposed to do with this? It’s driving me crazy.

Even if I clutched my head and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes, no answer would come, so I finally gave up thinking and got to my feet.

I needed to head out soon anyway.

—-

The clothing store had no underwear.

Some lunatics had taken all the women’s underwear—not even secondhand items—leaving the place completely empty, without even a scrap of cloth.

…If I’d known this would happen, I should have just closed my eyes and worn my old underwear again.

Regretting and longing for it now was pointless; my underwear had turned to ash and wouldn’t come back.

I had no choice but to walk around the city without underwear.

Thankfully my top and pants were thick; if they’d been thin, it would have been obvious.

“Ugh…”

The sensation of my nipples and groin rubbing against the leather was oddly ambiguous to describe.

Not an unpleasant feeling… but not exactly welcome either.

I walked through the midday city with smaller steps than usual, moving demurely toward the cathedral of the Church of Kranus visible in the distance.

Archbishop Radenis was completely untrustworthy, but since he had driven away Astraea’s followers, I needed to meet him. I had things to tell him too.

As for the stigmata… I’d covered it by pulling up my top, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

Though this left the lower half of my chest exposed.

—-

“You’ve come. I was waiting for your safe return.”

“I’m sure you were.”

Archbishop Radenis had even prepared hot tea and was waiting in the reception room as if he knew I would visit.

Without touching the tea, I briefly told him about the battle that had taken place this morning.

He showed interest in the sacred artifact Wilhelm had used, but when I told him it had burned up and was ruined, he sighed in disappointment.

Something about wanting to research it.

…I should go find it later and completely destroy it, just in case.

Anyway, I hadn’t come to boast about my exploits, so after finishing the story about my fight with Wilhelm, I got straight to the point.

About Valkers, the instigator of this riot, who had visited me last night.

“Valkers…? That name sounds familiar…. Wait, no, could it be… could it be ‘Valkers of Discord’? That Mage is in Arad…?!”

Wow, his eyes are about to pop out.

Radenis dropped his teacup onto his thigh and widened his eyes in shock.

It would be hard to be this surprised even if his dead mother came back to life.

His face looked similar to mine when I discovered the stigmata while bathing.