Chapter 7: Saint Rock Spirit

3129 people.

It’s hard to grasp the number just by seeing it written.

It just feels like “a lot.”

It’s too many to call it small, yet too few to call it massive—a vague number that feels both large and small.

But seeing it with your own eyes, you’d be overwhelmed by the sheer number of heads, just like Erjena on the platform right now.

***

The vast southern plains of the continent were once so empty that they felt almost desolate—a space where only grass, dirt, and the occasional tired bird could be seen.

But once the flag marked with the rose-patterned cross was planted into the ground and the pilgrims made it their temporary camp, the empty field was instantly filled to the brim with people.

Now, as dew settled on the grass in the early morning, Saint Erjena stood in silence, facing the 6,258 eyes staring back at her.

Even though the platform was slightly elevated, the field was so densely packed with people that she could see them all at once.

-Whooosh.

Her breath caught.

Most people feel pressure when just ten pairs of eyes are on them—imagine 3,000.

Her heart pounded with tension, to the point where it almost seemed to leap out of her chest.

Her mouth felt dry.

Nobody spoke.

Despite the overwhelming number of people, the heavy silence felt almost eerie.

Yet, the saint did not feel fear.

She did not shrink back.

Slowly, she surveyed the crowd.

Children and the elderly.

Men and women.

Humans and elves.

Wolfkin and countless other races.

Horses and carriages—even a crow circling above her head.

For quite some time, Erjena looked at each one of them.

And for just as long, the pilgrims quietly watched her in return.

Even after a long pilgrimage, they did not appear weary.

Rather, they looked at her with a sense of expectation, even longing.

After briefly meeting the gaze of the band behind her, Erjena finally gripped the long, slender staff placed in front of her with both hands.

“Hoo…”

With a deep exhale, white breath escaped her lips, carrying all her fear and tension out of her body.

“Inhale,”

She tilted her head back as far as she could, letting the cold morning air fill her lungs completely.

And then—

“Good morning, everyone!!!”

Her clear, ringing voice, amplified by divine power, burst forth, carrying beyond the horizon without obstruction.

Instantly, thunderous responses echoed back.

“Good morning!!!”

“Erjena! Saint Erjena!”

“She looked at me! She looked at me!”

“No, she was looking at the horizon! At the future and the Lord!”

Voices rose, some incoherent with excitement.

A few even fainted from overwhelming emotion.

Erjena let the responses ripple through the silence for a moment before calling out to the believers and pilgrims with an even louder voice.

“Is everyone ready to praise our Father in Heaven?!”

“Yeeessss!!!”

“Come on, with a voice loud enough for Him to hear! Shout loud enough to reach the whole world!”

“Woooaaaahhhh!!!”

***

In the early morning, the earth-shaking roar of enthusiasm echoed high into the sky.

The crisp air grew hot with excitement.

Just then, as if on cue, the sun rose over the horizon, casting a brilliant halo behind the saint.

“The sun has risen! The Lord has heard us!”

“The Lord is shining upon the saint!”

Erjena did not miss the moment.

Her sky-blue hair gleamed in the sunlight, and divine power surged forth.

“We’re starting with hymn number 174, ‘Slay the Unbelievers’! You all know the lyrics, right? Here we go! Everyone, jump!!!”

As the piercing melody erupted from the band, all 3,129 people without exception plunged into a frenzy.

They called her the “Rock Spirit Saint”—the one who shook souls.

Since her rise to sainthood, the Holy Church had entered an unprecedented period of revival.

***

After singing 22 songs to the point of losing their voices, the raving performance finally came to an end.

Originally, they planned for about five songs, but with the fervent response, the saint had lost herself and given 17 encores.

Thanks to this, Commander Mohaim of the Holy Knights had to endure an hour and a half longer than expected, earplugs firmly in place.

-Flap.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted. Mohaim, it’s over.”

A completely drained Erjena staggered into the tent.

“Good work—uh…”

Mohaim froze the moment he turned to look at her.

Her appearance was indescribable.

Across her forehead, the words “Heaven for the Faithful, Hell for the Unbelievers” were boldly written, and both her cheeks bore bright red crosses.

Her face was painted like a fanatic.

And in her right hand, she held a guitar, now a pitiful wreck, dangling limply.

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, well…”

To a stranger, she looked less like a saint and more like a crazed performance artist.

Mohaim hesitated, searching for the right words before finally speaking.

“Um, it seems you’ve broken another instrument.”

He decided not to ask about her face.

Judging by her clueless expression, she had no idea what looked wrong.

“Oh, the believers were just so into it—I couldn’t help myself.”

This was already the sixth instrument she had broken during a performance.

One look at her clothes was enough to tell how wildly she had moved.

Her white attire was drenched in sweat, clinging so closely that it looked more like underwear, completely revealing her skin underneath.

Her sky-blue hair was soaked and plastered against her neck, shoulders, and back, glistening with sweat.

“Every morning, you’re so full of energy. Well, first… let’s remove your makeup.”

With a snap of his fingers, Mohaim gestured, and a maid, who had been waiting in the corner, hurried over to wipe the saint’s body and face with a towel.

He walked behind the partition, leaving the saint changing clothes, and shifted his gaze to the map on the table.

“We’ll soon reach the border of the Crossroad Kingdom, Saint. We’ll be there in two days.”

“Oh, already? I thought it would take about five more days, but it seems like we’re moving faster than I expected.”

“Thanks to your divine power that you spread over the pilgrims every morning, Saint, everyone seems full of energy.”

“Thanks to that, we’re not that hungry either,” he added, grabbing a piece of bread from the table.

At that, Erjena peeked through the crack in the partition, narrowing her eyes.

“Aha~! You didn’t hear my song again, did you? That’s not good. Mohaim, you’re at an age where you need to think about your health too.”

“Saint, your song isn’t quite to my taste. I apologize. I prefer quiet songs.”

Though he said that, Mohaim had already noticed something.

The sharp pain that had been tormenting his knee for years, ever since he had been struck by a spear from the Evil God Sect, had mysteriously disappeared.

‘It was a knee I couldn’t heal even after 15 years.’

No matter how much the priests and healers tried, the aching and limping had never ceased.

But now, he was no longer feeling the pain.

In fact, he felt as energetic as when he was younger.

That wasn’t all.

The 726 people who had initially formed the pilgrimage group had all been sickly patients.

But now, they had transformed into the healthiest among the group, leading the charge every morning.

It could only be described as a miracle, or the power of faith.

Mohaim glanced toward the partition, where the source of this power lay.

‘This is an unbelievable miracle.’

Saint Erjena’s divine power was on an entirely different level from anyone else’s.

“Hmm, hmm~.”

The abstract force that was said to be invisible still shimmered around her like a mirage or a halo.

There was no need for prayer or lonely meditation.

No need to engrave holy texts on one’s body or fight against the fallen.

All she had to do was sing loudly, noisily, and with a touch of fanaticism, and that was enough.

Just by doing that, Erjena had gained more power than any archbishop could collect through a lifetime of prayer and abstinence.

‘It’s just… the genre of her song is very different from traditional hymns.’

Though he had served two other saints in the past, he had never seen anyone as lively and, at times, even violent, receiving so much of the Creator’s love as Erjena did.

That’s why her role in this northern pilgrimage, which was disguised as a northern expedition, was so important.

“While I appreciate the fervent faith, let us not forget why we are heading to the north.”

Erjena, now dressed in more modest clothing, threw herself into a chair.

Thankfully, there were no traces of the markings on her face.

“I know. We’re going to the north to buy some amazing wine, right? What was it again, the Frost Dragon wine?” she said with a smirk.

“Yes, Saint.”

“Wow, you’re smiling, so it was just a joke. The eradication of the Evil God Sect remnants and the purification of the corrupted holy statues. I haven’t forgotten.”

With a nervous laugh, she drew a cross on the ground with her finger.

But Mohaim, seeing the grass sprouting from the dirt where her finger had touched, paused in thought.

‘If the power she wielded was overflowing enough to share with 3,000 followers and ordinary people, it would be a decisive weapon against the Evil God Sect.’

‘The information is clear. There are remnants of the Evil God Sect in the northern empire.’

The long-standing wish of the Holy Church had finally found a chance to come true.

Once they crossed into the north, they could join forces with their compatriots there and erase the Evil God Sect from this world.

But to do that, they needed to overcome one obstacle.

“So far, everything has been going smoothly, but I’m worried about the immigration officers at the Crossroad Kingdom.”

“Huh? Immigration officers? Why?”

“The kingdom despises war and conflict. They are especially wary of religious disputes. If they learn our true purpose, they might refuse us entry.”

The purification of the Evil God Sect.

This goal could never be achieved peacefully.

There would surely be resistance, and there would be countless attempts to harm the saint.

In other words, violent conflict was inevitable.

The northern brethren were already buying weapons and war supplies from all over.

If the immigration officers caught wind of this, the true purpose of the pilgrimage would likely be exposed.

“So, Saint, just tell them that we are visiting the northern holy site to encourage the faithful,” Mohaim said.

“Ahaha. So now you’re asking me to lie to the saint? You know, the Creator might punish me for that.”

“Of course not. On the surface, we are indeed visiting to offer encouragement. It’s just… we don’t need to reveal all our cards.”

“Hmm. If the commander of the Holy Knights is saying this seriously, then it’s not a joke.”

Erjena slowly adjusted her posture.

“So, you mean that we can’t let them refuse us just because of the ‘war deterrence’ excuse, even though we have a sacred purpose to drive out the evil from the world?”

“They are probably afraid that it would look like they paved the way for war.”

“Even though this isn’t just a fight of unbelievers?”

“In their eyes, there’s no difference.”

The cheerful expression on her face slowly faded.

“No difference.”

Her voice, repeating Mohaim’s last words, lost all its innocent tone.

“They know who we are, and yet they might try to stop the will of the Creator Himself.”

She stared down at the Crossroad Kingdom on the map.

A small country, smaller than other kingdoms or empires.

It was lucky to be nestled in the valley of the Urakalas Mountain Range.

She understood.

It was a country at the most important crossroads in the world, and had suffered from constant external invasions and coercion.

Simply opening the way for someone could be used as a pretext for invasion, and the moment they allied with one group, they would inevitably turn others into enemies.

Erjena understood that this country had gone through this harsh history.

However, she couldn’t accept it.

“It’s like something those heretics would think…”

We are different.

We didn’t embark on this pilgrimage for land expansion or trade routes, or any other trivial desire.

The Holy Knights raised their swords for a nobler, more sacred reason than the unbelievers’ greed.

The purification of evil.

The eradication of the heretics known as the Evil God Sect and the restoration of the Creator’s authority to its rightful place.

As creatures of the Creator, we have a sacred duty to fulfill.

And yet, they are trying to thwart us with something as petty as ‘war deterrence’?

Erjena gripped the edge of the desk as though she might crush it.

“I don’t like it.”

With that one sentence, her divine power surged.