Ch.7This District’s Crazy Bitch

The reason I awakened Christine’s abilities was partly because I worried her mana nullification might interfere with my super-regeneration, but it was also because of holy power.

The power of god that manifests in priests who believe in religion—clearly different from mana.

I wondered if holy power might be different somehow, so I got branded a heretic and underwent inquisitions from countless religions, but there was nothing special about it.

No matter what torture device they used or how holy power twisted my body, I regenerated perfectly as usual. The more this happened, the more priests went mad trying to condemn the heretic before them.

Later, I tried with the Holy Church, the continent’s largest religion. After I committed some sacrilege, even the Pope came to try to kill me.

After three days and nights of attempts, he asked me, gasping for breath, which demon had given me my power. I didn’t know what to say. I truly wanted to know myself what madman had given me such an ability.

After even the Pope failed to kill me, there was a period of meaningless torture followed by relative calm.

I had committed so much blasphemy to get branded a heretic that they couldn’t just let it go, but they had no suitable means of punishment, so they were probably racking their brains.

There was talk of binding my limbs and throwing me into the sea, but the Pope insisted that only execution was appropriate for heretics.

It was around that time that I met Christine and awakened her abilities. The first thing Christine did upon awakening her power was to establish a religion that worshipped me as a god.

More precisely, due to her fanatical belief, a separate holy power descended upon Christine using me as a medium, even though I hadn’t done anything special.

It was the moment a god was created by a human.

The doctrine of this religion with one deity and one follower was simple: God desires death, and all humans other than herself are non-believers.

Yes, the “God desires death” part was the problem. It could be interpreted as either me wanting my own death or wanting the death of other humans.

I naturally took it as the former, but Christine apparently didn’t.

At first, Christine desperately followed my words and searched for ways to kill me, but within a few years, she began wandering the continent and massacring other religious groups, driven by whatever notion she had conceived.

The testimonies that came from those incidents were horrific beyond compare. Limbs torn from living bodies, arms and legs broken and nailed to crosses while prayers were offered until the screams died down.

The Holy Church suffered the greatest damage.

The Holy Church was so powerful that they openly talked about breaking away from the kingdom to establish their own country centered around the Pope.

After Christine persistently slaughtered their followers and burned their churches, she eventually took the Pope’s head, causing them to lose all their former power and authority.

Of course, knowing what they had done to Christine, I couldn’t offer any assessment other than that they had reaped what they sowed.

Perhaps that was also why the king was reluctant to arrest Christine.

From the king’s perspective, a group talking about establishing their own country couldn’t have been viewed favorably, and Christine had taken care of them.

Moreover, when the Holy Church’s power was greatly diminished, all the corruption they had been covering up with their authority was exposed. The fact that their true nature was rotten beyond imagination contributed to the growing criticism.

From the king’s perspective, he had eliminated the seeds of rebellion while gaining the justification of rooting out corruption, so he could treat everything else as “collateral damage.”

Christine would return to me after killing a thousand people and try to kill me. When she failed, she would wander the continent again, kill another thousand, return, and try to kill me once more.

I asked her why a thousand, and she only answered that it was my will. I had asked her to kill me, not to kill others.

After the collapse of the Holy Church, Christine became somewhat quieter, and recently there hadn’t been any rumors about religious facilities being destroyed, so I thought she had stopped such behavior.

“…You killed another thousand?”

“Yes, my God. Having fulfilled my promise of a thousand sacrifices, this humble lamb has dared to come before you to fulfill your long-cherished wish.”

My head spun. I forcibly controlled my lips, which were trying to twist on their own.

“Please do not worry too much, my God.”

Seeing my expression souring, Christine continued. A faint smile still hung on her lips.

“As my God once told me, I did not prepare sacrifices by harming innocent people. They were all sinners who deserved… who received what they deserved.”

“Didn’t I mean for you not to kill people at all?”

“Blood requires blood, death requires death. Please set aside your concerns.”

“How can you say that so easily…”

Christine took my hand and gently caressed it. Like a craftsman handling a fragile glass bead, her slender, delicate fingers slowly traced the back of my hand.

“My humble body exists solely for my God. If you tell me to undress, I will. If you tell me to lick your feet, I will. If you wish to embrace me, I will gladly offer this worthless flesh. If you command me to seduce you, I will gladly obey, and conversely, if you wish to seduce me, I will do my utmost to play the woman you desire. Even if you consider me merely an object to be used and discarded when its purpose is served, I will serve as an object until my last breath. That I breathe, that my heart beats, that I feel warmth like this, that a mere woman named Christine exists in this world—all of it is nothing less than the grace you have bestowed upon me…”

Christine’s eyes flashed briefly.

“Blasphemously, all humans who covet my body are sinners.”

I was about to suggest she might want to cover herself up more, but decided to hold my tongue. Come to think of it, I had never seen Christine wearing anything other than her nun’s habit.

A form-fitting habit that emphasized her already large breasts, with slits cut to the waist and white garter belts beneath.

Whether in the scorching heat of midsummer or in winter when snow piled up to the knees, Christine always wore her usual nun’s habit.

When I, unable to bear it any longer, gave her a scarf to wrap around herself, she held it and prayed for three days and nights, weeping. The next day, she still came in her nun’s habit, and when I asked why she wasn’t wearing the scarf, she replied that she couldn’t dare use something bestowed by God. After that, I gave up.

Christine hadn’t grown at all since our first meeting, neither externally nor internally. The Christine who met me then and the Christine standing before me now were the same person.

The Christine from when she was 18, who, broken by all kinds of abuse and neglect, had accepted the only salvation offered to her.

Of course, if asked whether this fact carries only positive meaning, I would have to say no. Fanatic. If I had to define her in one word, no other would be more fitting.

“I understand my God’s concerns. You worry that I might repeat my past mistakes.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“However, the condemnation of sinners is not a mistake—did you not affirm this yourself, my God?”

By this point, I could guess what Christine was trying to say. In other words, she had only killed those who deserved it.

Compared to indiscriminately killing anyone related to religion, this was certainly better, but I wasn’t sure if I should praise her for it.

Christine’s left hand traced my chest. She felt along my ribs, touching the concave and convex parts, then stopped near my solar plexus.

“They were merely sinners who would have been caught and judged eventually, even without me. I simply hastened that time a little. So please, accept this lamb’s devotion.”

With a thrust, Christine plunged her hand into my chest.

Blood seeped out around her wrist as it burrowed toward my heart. When I let out a light cough, droplets of blood fell.

Ignoring this, Christine rummaged inside my chest and gently grasped my heart.

Serena, who had been sitting beside me in her own world, jumped up in shock, but I pressed down on her thigh to stop her.

Feeling the palm pressing gently on her thigh, Serena quietly sat back down.

I don’t understand why Serena is so fixated on me getting hurt. I’ve told her I can just take the hit and regenerate, but she says that as a knight, she can’t stand by and watch her lord get hurt. But can this even be called getting hurt?

My heartbeat gradually quickened. As Christine slowly increased the pressure of her grip, my forcibly squeezed heart screamed in protest.

Mana forcibly expelled from my heart ran wildly through my mana circuits. Christine muttered some prayer and increased the pressure on my heart.

A burning heat rose from my heart and spread throughout my body. It was Christine’s holy power. Soon after, blood flowed from my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

Though Serena didn’t move because of my hand still pressing on her thigh, I imagined her expression toward Christine wasn’t pleasant.

The rampantly poured holy power tore through all my internal organs and muscles. My bones twisted, unable to withstand the pressure from outside, and my internal organs began to melt, making my body stagger.

And just as Christine’s hand was about to completely burst my heart, my body rapidly recovered and was pushed outward.

There wasn’t a drop of blood on Christine’s hand. The red liquid that had fallen to the floor and the blood that had flowed from every orifice on my face had disappeared as if nothing had happened.

The sensation of warm liquid flowing down still lingered, causing me to unconsciously wipe my mouth. It was clean.

“Still doesn’t work.”

“Ah, my God, it’s because of my inadequacy…”

“It’s fine. You’ll have opportunities for the rest of your life anyway.”

I gently stroked Christine’s head. Yes, there will be opportunities for the rest of her life. Since it’s an attempt to kill me, naturally there will be opportunities until I die. If I don’t die, it really will last a lifetime.

“My lord, just now…”

“It’s the same as what I asked of you. Why?”

“…It’s nothing.”

It didn’t seem like nothing. Serena clung to my arm with an expression that suggested she had a lot to say.

Her lips were pouting, and I could feel her puffed cheeks pressing against my arm as she nuzzled her face against it.

“Serena,”

“Yes, my lord.”

That’s unexpected. I thought she’d be too sulky to answer.

“Would you like to—?!”

Before I could finish speaking to Serena, a magic circle appeared beneath my feet.

Christine’s face, who had been praying while holding my hands, crumpled, and Serena, who had risen and reached for World Eater’s handle, noticed who had cast the magic circle and frowned deeply, just like Christine.

Did I really have such bad luck today?

Serena came during the day, Christine at night, and not long after they had a fight, I have to meet the remaining one. Something has gone seriously wrong.

As I stood up, Christine also rose behind me. There was no emotion in her eyes as she looked at the magic circle beneath our feet.

Serena was the same. Her stiff expression spoke volumes about what she must be feeling.

A wall of light enveloped the perimeter of the circular magic circle. As the light gradually intensified and then suddenly dimmed, the surroundings had changed.

A continent-spanning teleportation spell taking just about 10 seconds. She had claimed there was no room for improvement, yet somehow it had become even faster.

The ceiling stretched so high that one had to crane their neck to see its end, and from it hung several chandeliers with golden wave patterns that gleamed brilliantly.

That alone would be enough to make one’s eyes spin from the price, but the jewels decorating them here and there seemed to elevate the value of the chandeliers even further.

Just one of those chandeliers would be enough to make an ordinary person’s jaw drop.

Golden candleholders with patterns similar to the chandeliers were arranged in rows on marble pillars carved without a speck of dust. The subtle fragrance permeating the air likely came from the scented candles atop those holders.

Behind the marble pillars, large glass windows were visible. Had it been daytime, sunlight would have poured in through those windows.

The red carpet beneath my feet extended for quite a distance before ending just in front of the steps leading to the throne.

On the throne, positioned at the highest point in this vast room, a woman sat with her legs crossed, her chin resting askew on the armrest, leaning slightly forward as she looked at me.

Below the crown that spoke of her status, silver hair that sparkled in the light hung long, protruding on both sides of her waist, and her glowing red eyes seemed filled with a single emotion.

Beneath her form-fitting black uniform top sat a chest so large it would barely fit in one hand.

Her gray-black uniform pants, which clung to her thighs and calves just like the top, showcased her near-perfect curves, and on her feet, which were rhythmically tapping, were deep black boots that reached up to her calves.

“Royal First Knight Commander Serena Elizabeth. Have you nothing to say to your sovereign?”

The first to speak in an authoritative voice was the woman seated on the throne.

Despite being directly addressed by the woman known as this country’s monarch, who was also the most powerful magician, Serena remained impassive.

“No.”

“You’re a woman of few words.”

With a brief movement of her finger, a spear of fire flew toward Serena, but Serena, who had already drawn World Eater, cut the fire spear into pieces with a movement too fast to see.

Small sparks scattered chaotically before dying out.

Both the one who had fired the flame spear, said to pierce even steel, with an invisible spear, and the one who had cut it down without blinking an eye, were formidable monsters.

“Why should I use honorifics with you when my lord is right here?”

“Lord… Lord, is it.”

The silhouette reflected in those bright red eyes was still me.

“I suppose so. It has been truly a long time, my dear.”

With those words, the corners of her mouth lifted into a faint smile, and her finger snapped.

In that instant, my vision lurched.

My ankles separated from my body, causing me to lose balance, and as my calves touched the ground instead of my ankles, they crumbled with a dry sound.

The detached body parts had already decayed into rotting flesh before my body even hit the ground.

The last thing that remained in my ears, which were about to rot and collapse, was the authoritative voice of the woman.

“In the name of Charlotte de Gargantua, I shall welcome you.”