WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Natty

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◈ The Regressor and the Blind Saintess ◈

Chapter 14: Revelation - 3

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Vera returned to the cabin, sat before the table, and continued to think blankly.

The revelation had ended amid commotion. Vargo had dismissed everyone.

Before leaving, Vargo had told Vera to come see him alone the next day.

It had been obvious. That revelation had not been ordinary. Vera was not stupid enough to miss that much amid the commotion.

Once again, the word that had appeared over the spring came to mind.

‘Pass...’

It must have meant that he had passed the trial.

He had passed a trial without doing anything at all.

Through that, Vera had partially resolved one of the questions that had arisen in his mind. Who had interfered with his regression?

‘The heavenly gods.’

They were involved.

He still could not know why.

However, by informing him that he had passed despite his proving nothing yet, they had shown that they already knew about him.

Vaguely, he could infer what they wished to tell him through that word.

‘By saying I passed...’

Were they trying to tell him he was on the right path?

A hollow laugh suddenly rose in his throat. A sense of helplessness had come over him without warning.

Before, he had said that if the Lord had truly sent him back to save her, he would gladly go along with it.

That had not changed.

Yet questions still remained. He was not certain that simply following the path they laid before him was right, and that uncertainty left him feeling so powerless.

He remembered what Vargo had said when they first met.

-You are like a puppet with no will of your own, aren't you?

His fist clenched.

He could not think of anything to say in reply.

Vera slowly closed his eyes and looked into the soul dwelling within him.

A dark gray soul, and the golden covenant engraved upon it.

[I will live for the Saintess.]

It was a covenant he had made in a haze of anger, with death looming before him.

He did not regret it. Even if he returned to that moment again and again, he would make that covenant in the end.

How could he not?

After living like a beast, after living only as his instincts led him, was she not the light that had finally shone upon him?

Was she not a light that made him thirst simply by thinking of her?

Still, was this truly the right path to fulfill that covenant? Was it enough simply to obey their words? That question remained.

Vera still did not understand faith.

He did not believe in the gods, nor did he believe in their glory.

He might even have been called an apostate. Though his life had been turned back, his Holy Mark was still no more than a useful tool to Vera.

What Vera believed in was his own ability and that faint light which had shone upon him.

Nothing more.

The questions grew deeper. His thoughts churned and threw his mind into disorder.

Was following the gods' intentions necessary for a life devoted to her?

Unable to answer this question on his own, Vera thought of someone who might.

Slowly, Vera opened his eyes.

‘...The Holy Emperor.’

Perhaps he knew the answer.

* * *

The next day, Vera found Vargo sitting on a long bench in the middle of the Grand Temple's southern garden. He approached after making his presence known.

Vargo had been staring blankly at the flowerbeds with a somber expression. Noticing Vera, he spoke.

“You came.”

“Yes.”

Vera lowered his head.

“Judging by the look of you, it seems you slept well.”

“I was under the Lord's care.”

“Are you some little brat who can't even sleep properly unless the Lord looks after you?”

Vargo chuckled as he spoke. Vera flinched, feeling his body tremble, before raising his head to look at Vargo again.

“Why did you summon me?”

“Here. Take it.”

As soon as Vera's question left his mouth, Vargo took something from his robes and tossed it to him.

Vera caught the object flying toward him, then opened his palm to inspect it.

Resting there was the platinum-colored rosario that had once caught his attention, the one that had hung around the Saintess's neck.

‘The mark of an Apostle.’

When Vera looked back at Vargo, the old man spoke with a chuckle.

“I don't much like the way you conduct yourself... but it says you passed, so I'm giving it to you.”

Vera looked at Vargo, then down at the rosario in his hand. His lips moved slightly.

“Is that all?”

“Why? Did you think I'd throw you a banquet? What is there to like about you?”

His words were as provoking as ever, but this time, they did not anger Vera.

Vargo's words from a moment ago still lingered in his mind.

“...Your Holiness, when the gods command you, do you simply obey?”

“Hm? What are you talking about?”

Vera raised his head. His fists clenched tightly.

He gave voice to the question that had been weighing on him and constricting his chest ever since the revelation.

“Is it enough just to obey? If I question their will, does that mean I am wrong? Why don't you question their will?”

The words poured out one after another, and indignation slipped into them without his realizing it.

The life he wished to live was a life for the Saintess. A life pursuing the nobility that had embraced even a vile creature like him.

But if he had to act according to the gods' intentions for that purpose, if he had to blindly believe and follow them, then what kind of life was that? Whom was it for?

Should it be called a life for the Saintess, or a life for the gods?

It was a laughable, indulgent question.

It was a question he had never considered when he had been so desperate for food that he rummaged through trash bins and lay flat on the street to beg.

Yet the unease constricting his heart would not allow him to suppress the question that had already arisen, nor simply walk the open path before him.

Vera's face twisted deeply. Questions of the same nature continued to leave his mouth.

“Do you truly believe that is right, Your Holiness?”

With that question, silence settled over the garden.

Vera pressed his lips together and stared at Vargo. Vargo examined him with eyes whose depths could not be known.

Only after some time did Vargo finally speak.

“I will ask you this. Did they show you a path through that revelation?”

Vera froze.

Had they shown him a path? Could he say that?

There were too many uncertain points to answer yes with confidence.

Had they been involved in his regression? To that question, he could answer, ‘It is likely.’

Had they conveyed their intentions to him through the Holy Kingdom's revelation? To that question, he could answer, ‘Yes.’

But had they shown him a path? To that, the answer that came was, ‘I do not know.’

Had that revelation truly pointed him in a direction he ought to take? The answer was, ‘They said nothing.’

“...I don't know.”

The gods had remained silent. They had only presented him with a situation.

“Did they decide what was right or wrong for you?”

At the next question, Vera lowered his head slightly and answered.

“...No.”

Not once, neither in his previous life nor this one, had they told him what was right or wrong.

“Then why do you say they showed you a path?”

“...”

“Why do you ask why you must follow their will?”

Vera could no longer answer.

Why had he thought that?

Only that question continued for a long time.

“Kid.”

Vargo's voice rang out. Vera looked up at the call.

“...Yes.”

“Let me ask you. Why did you think your own judgment belonged to someone else?”

At that question, Vera felt as though his mind had gone blank.

It was as though every thought in his head had been bleached white.

Vargo continued.

“Do you know? The gods are not ones who grant answers.”

Vera looked at Vargo, at the strange old man who chuckled as he said something entirely unlike a Holy Emperor.

“You could say they are the opposite. The gods are ones who cast questions at you. They ask you what you will do in this situation.”

Vera's thoughts continued at Vargo's words.

What had they thrown at him?

‘A situation.’

What did they seek to achieve through it?

‘...I don't know.’

Who had made every judgment about their intentions?

‘...I did.’

It felt as though his chest were tightening.

It was an absurdly simple question, yet he had never doubted it until now.

Vera wondered why that doubt had never occurred to him. Only after a long while did he finally find an answer.

It was all because of his narrow-mindedness.

Vera did not believe in their omniscience.

But...

‘...I believed in their omnipotence.’

He believed in the authority they possessed, in the power of the Holy Mark that had descended upon him in physical form.

Vera thought they would toy with him.

They were beings capable of doing so. And by Vera's standards, shaped by a life in which he had only taken from others, those with power were those who took.

Vera continued to think.

Who had made every judgment?

Who had made the covenant, turned toward the Holy Kingdom in this returned life, and sought to rise as an Apostle?

‘All of it...’

Had been his decision.

“I will ask you.”

Vargo continued.

“Among the gods' revelations you know, was there ever a revelation where they decided right and wrong? Was there ever one where they gave an answer?”

Again, Vera expanded his thoughts.

The revelation given to Vargo. Judge the evils of the world.

That revelation never said what evil was. The judgment of evil rested entirely with Vargo.

The revelation given to the twins. Understand the true meaning of protection.

That revelation did not answer what protection was. The judgment rested entirely with the twins.

The revelation given to the Saintess. Bestow the Lord's authority upon the continent.

That revelation was the same. It gave no answer for how it should be bestowed. That judgment, too, was the Saintess's alone.

Only then did Vera vaguely realize how narrow-mindedly he had viewed the world.

Why had he judged it so?

He could answer that.

‘Because I only knew how to resent.’

Because he wanted to excuse himself by saying that not all the sins of his previous life had been his fault.

‘Because I wanted to run from responsibility.’

Even though he had sworn to bear that weight, he still wanted to turn away from it.

‘Because I wanted to think the world had made me this way.’

Cowardly, he had hidden behind the name of fate because he needed someone to blame.

His thoughts became clear.

The strange unease that had plagued him all along seemed to fade somewhat.

Yet he still felt trapped in a hazy fog. Vera looked at Vargo and moved his lips.

“Then... how should I make my own judgments?”

He did not know the answer for certain, so he asked in the hope that Vargo might know.

“Why are you asking me that?”

What came back was a mocking chuckle.

Vera lowered his head more deeply and continued.

“Please teach me.”

The words that came out were an earnest plea.

Vera realized something.

Vera did not know what lay beyond his own understanding. Only what he had seen and experienced made up his world.

For the first time in his life, Vera thought that he needed another's teachings.

He needed a teacher who could show him a world he did not know and broaden his understanding.

Vera's knees touched the ground. Kneeling there, he bowed his head deeply and continued.

“...There is something I desperately wish to know. There is something I wish to pursue. Yet I am far too inadequate to follow it.”

He was not yet worthy to stand beside the Saintess.

If he met the Saintess as he was now, he would meet her as the same vile creature he had been then, a fool whose heart had not changed at all.

He would not even be able to stand at her side. He would struggle merely to follow behind her.

“There is something I wish to protect for the rest of my life. My strength is far too weak to follow it.”

He still did not understand the Protecting Sword. Vera's sword still had the nature of a wild beast.

“Therefore, I earnestly ask you.”

So that he could become someone worthy of standing beside her.

“Please teach me.”

He had to change.

A long silence followed.

Without raising his head, Vera stared at the ground for a long while as he waited for an answer.

Then...

“You really are a kid who needs a lot of looking after.”

Vargo finally answered.

Only then could Vera raise his head.

At the end of his gaze, Vargo was clicking his tongue, a smile on his lips.

What he said next made Vera bow his head once more.

“I will not teach you. So follow me around and come to understand on your own.”

Words that could be called permission.

At that, Vera clenched his fist so tightly that the rosario pressed into his palm, and answered.

“Thank you.”

Only after living one entire life did Vera learn how to seek instruction.

...And then, four years passed.

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