Chapter 70 : Prayer To The Goddess (Part-1)

The Lunia Church of the Transen Mountains wasn’t particularly large in terms of physical dimensions, but despite its modest size, it was filled to capacity with a multitude of people.

These were individuals who had engaged in a variety of criminal activities in their respective countries and found themselves here—some hailing from the Empire, while others came from a range of different lands.

Among the numerous criminals present in this space, those gathered here possessed at least some potential for rehabilitation.

According to what I had heard from various sources and conversations, it was said that only individuals who experienced at least a modicum of guilt for their transgressions, as well as demonstrated a sincere willingness to seek repentance for those actions, were granted the opportunity to enter.

In stark contrast, the truly vile criminals—such as murderers, rapists, and others who had committed similarly heinous acts—were not given the chance to enter at all.

“There are so many people here. Do you think they don’t know that criminals come here?”

At the sound of Ravi’s words, I couldn’t help but let out a small, internal chuckle, finding humor in the irony of the situation.

This particular location had gained a reputation solely among those involved in illicit activities, which meant that the average worshippers, who frequented more traditional places of worship, remained blissfully unaware that every individual offering their prayers in this space was, in reality, engaged in criminal behavior.

Upon stepping inside, it became evident that the atmosphere was anything but peaceful, as several security guards patrolled the area.

These guards exuded an air of toughness and resilience, resembling rugged bandits more than protectors of a sacred space.

But they too were individuals who had previously engaged in criminal activities and had undergone a transformation in their lives.

I approached one of these individuals and initiated a conversation by asking,

“I’d like to pray alone. Is there a space where I can be by myself?”

“Brother, are you seeking confession?”

This bandit—no, this security guard—had an imposing physique and a rough appearance, yet his tone was surprisingly polite.

“It’s a little different from confession. I just want to pray quietly by myself. If there’s a private room, may I use it?”

“It seems you have concerns even the priests cannot hear. Of course, we have a private prayer room. I will guide you. There will be no one listening, so feel free to confess your sins in peace.”

I had no sins to confess, but I nodded along anyway, managing to convey understanding and agreement despite the absence of any transgressions I needed to reveal.

Turning back to the three people waiting behind me, each of them adorned with masks and hats that served to obscure their identities and protect them from recognition, I said,

“I won’t take long. Just wait a moment.”

Following the clear and concise directions provided by the security guard, I found myself entering a modest and unpretentious room.

The room was sparsely furnished, featuring merely a single desk accompanied by a solitary chair positioned in front of it.

Flanking the desk were two candles, both of which were unlit and firmly secured to either side, contributing to the quiet, subdued ambiance of the space.

At the center of the desk, there was a small statue representing a goddess, elegantly placed to serve as a focal point, commanding a gentle presence within the otherwise simple decor of the room.

“I pray that you reflect on your sins with sincere repentance and prayer, and that you may be reborn as a new person, brother.”

As I settled into my designated seat, the vigilant security guards, with a sense of purpose, took the time to light the carefully arranged candles that flickered softly in the dimly lit room.

After performing this task, they bowed their heads respectfully for a brief moment—a gesture that signified reverence—before quietly exiting the room, leaving me in solitude.

At that moment, the only occupants of the serene, candlelit prayer room designed to accommodate a single person were myself and the delicate statue of the goddess positioned before me, exuding an aura of tranquility.

Reflecting upon my situation, it struck me that I had never actually engaged in a prayer directed to a goddess before.

The thought hovered in my mind, igniting a sense of curiosity and uncertainty.

What is the proper way to establish this connection?

Should I merely close my eyes, bring my hands together in a gesture of supplication, and begin conversing in a candid tone?

Lacking a clear understanding of the appropriate procedure,

I decided to simply fold my hands together in the traditional prayer posture that felt instinctively right, gently shut my eyes to block out the external world, and began to speak in a hushed voice, allowing my thoughts to flow freely.

“Goddess Lunia. Is this strange thing happening to me because of you?”

“……”

“Is all this talk about fate and backlash your doing too?”

“……”

“Fine, whatever. But why do you keep spouting nonsense at crucial moments just to mess with me? If you brought me here to do something, shouldn’t you at least stop getting in my way?”

“……”

“And that weird voice I heard in that illusion or whatever… what was that? It was saying something completely different from you. Do you have multiple personalities?”

“……”

“Also, where are those underground worm things, the Vectors or whatever? How many of them are left? Will I finally be able to live in peace once they’re all dead?”

“……”

Of course, there was no reply, as one would logically expect in such a peculiar situation.

It would’ve been utterly ridiculous if a statue, made of cold stone and lifeless form, suddenly started to speak with a voice of its own, disrupting the silence that surrounded it.

Feeling rather foolish for having entertained even the slightest notion that something so fantastical could occur, I let out a small scoff, a sound that seemed to encapsulate my disbelief and the absurdity of the moment.

“What the hell am I doing? Talking to a statue like some kind of idiot.”

Sure, this world had real goddesses.

However, from what I had observed during my time here, it appeared that no one was actually experiencing any tangible benefits or advantages that could be attributed to divine intervention,

And it did not appear as though the goddess ever played an active role in influencing events or intervening in the lives of mortals.

So why would someone like me, a person devoid of any belief or conviction, receive a response simply because I engaged in the act of praying?

Or perhaps… it would have been wiser for me to seek guidance from the bandit—no, the security guard—who was responsible for escorting me to this place on the proper way to conduct a prayer?

I arrived here with the intention that if I offered a prayer to the goddess, there was a possibility that I might receive some sort of revelation or answer in return.

Yet now, I find myself overwhelmed with a sense of guilt, feeling as though I have brought everyone along for this endeavor in vain and accomplished nothing.

What am I supposed to communicate to the three individuals who are patiently waiting for me outside once I step out of this place?

“Sorry! I thought I’d hear a response if I prayed to the goddess, but nope! Hah!”

…That would be way too irresponsible to say to the three who had followed me all this way, trusting me.

Maybe I should give it one more try before leaving?

As I put my hands together again in a prayer posture, I suddenly recalled what others had said to me.

— “Are you seriously asking? You’re a paladin, an apostle of the goddess. No point in denying it when you literally have her light within you.”

That was what the blue dragon Linian from Liberta had said.

— “We were searching for the leftovers stolen away by the goddess, and now you’ve come crawling to us yourself. Should I say thanks?”

That was from the underground vermin, the Vectors.

— “T-That light just now! It’s definitely the power of Lady Lunia!”

— “For so long, she has not answered our prayers… but has she finally chosen to listen?”

That was what the elves of Arvones had said.

Those who knew far more about the goddess than I did all seemed to say the same thing when they saw me.

If this statue acted as some kind of medium to convey messages to the goddess… then maybe this would work?

I summoned my lightsaber, but instead of destruction, I imbued it with the power of healing and lightly swung it toward the statue.

The light from the saber touched the goddess statue, and—maybe it was just my imagination—but it felt as if the statue was absorbing the glow.

And then—