WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Natty

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◈ The Regressor and the Blind Saintess ◈

Chapter 8: The Holy Kingdom of Elia - 2

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Trevo's wailing continued, and Vera's expression grew darker still.

"This fool is throwing another fit."

A second voice joined the conversation.

Vera and Trevo turned toward its source at once.

An elderly figure with a bent back was walking out from within, leaning on a cane.

He had clearly reached the twilight of his life.

His faded white hair was tightly tied back.

His skin was covered in age spots and deep wrinkles.

He wore plain white clerical robes without a single ornament, and at first glance, he could have seemed shabby. Yet the moment Vera saw him, tension ran through his entire body.

Though his back was bent, his frame seemed far larger than Vera's own, and divinity burst forth with every step.

Trevo, who had been wailing, sprang to his feet in alarm the moment the elder appeared. After leaving Vera with a single remark, Trevo disappeared.

"Then I shall take my leave, hoping we may have a deeper conversation next time! May you be at peace!"

Vera frowned at Trevo's rapid farewell, then turned back to the elder.

'Who is he?'

Judging by his presence, and by the way that madman had fled in fright, he was no ordinary person.

The elder clicked his tongue at Trevo's retreating back. Then, narrowing his eyes at Vera's blank stare, he spoke.

"You impudent brat. Isn't it polite to greet your elders first?"

It was a rebuke. Vera flinched.

"...I am Vera."

"Too late, you brat."

The elder chuckled, shoulders shaking. After laughing for a while, he slowly approached with his cane, stopping only after leaving around three paces between them.

"Let me see..."

It was close enough for either of them to attack.

Vera tensed as the elder entered his range. Then the elder grinned widely enough to reveal every yellowed tooth.

"You smell of blood, you dark little brat."

Vera flinched at those words.

There was, of course, something on his conscience.

The scavengers Vera had killed before leaving the Gutter a week ago.

That was why his body shook.

'...He saw through my killings.'

Over a week had passed. There was no way the scent of blood still remained, yet he had seen through him.

Vera lowered his head, realizing who this elder might be.

"...I greet Your Holiness."

There was no doubt.

'Vargo Saintlore.'

The Apostle of Judgment. The Lord's mace. The father of all paladins.

This elder was the Holy Emperor of Elia.

It all fit.

'Divine Eye.'

The authority possessed by the Apostle of Judgment, eyes that could see through the karma engraved upon one's soul.

The insight that had seen through Vera's killings must have come from that ability.

Vargo's smile alone confirmed that Vera's deduction was correct.

"So, you're this generation's Covenant?"

"I was granted such undeserved grace."

"Undeserved? You were given it because you were worth giving it to. Follow me. This old body can't stand here much longer."

Vera watched Vargo turn away, a small tension rising within him.

In his previous life, Vera had avoided the Holy Kingdom his entire life and had never once met this person.

Yet the Holy Emperor he met only after living one full life was...

'...A monster.'

A monster stronger than anyone Vera had encountered in his previous life.

* * *

Vargo Saintlore.

The Holy Kingdom was such a closed nation that few had met Vargo in person. Even so, whenever someone named the strongest person on the continent, Vargo's name was always mentioned.

Fifty years ago, Vargo had traveled the continent during Apostle's Trial, and the deeds accomplished then were still spoken of as legends.

The Dragon Slayer who crushed the skull of Skaza, the Demon Dragon, with a mace.

The nightmare of vampires who slaughtered every vampire secretly expanding their forces at the northern edge of the continent.

The mace of the weak who shattered the skull of Haman, Tiger King, who had exploited weaker races in the lands of the beastkin.

Vargo was the living legend of this age, whose countless achievements could not be told even in a night of storytelling.

When the Demon King rose in Vera's previous life, everyone on the continent said the same thing.

If Vargo Saintlore had not died of old age, the Demon King would have had their skull smashed before they could even build up their forces.

Only after meeting Vargo today could Vera confirm whether those words were true.

'...Certainly.'

Strong.

That was the first thought Vargo inspired.

Vera could not tell whether Vargo released it unconsciously or intentionally, but the divine power flowing from him made every sense in Vera's body scream in warning.

Never fight him.

That was what those senses screamed.

Vera had never seen the Demon King and could not compare them directly, but judging by the aura pouring from the Holy Emperor, the words Vera had heard back then were not mere exaggeration.

"Well then. What brought you all the way here?"

At Vargo's question, Vera bowed again and quietly answered.

"I came to fulfill the duty befitting the miracle bestowed upon me."

His tone was utterly respectful.

Naturally.

If no one else, Vera had to make a good impression on this elder.

As long as Vera bore a Holy Mark, he would not be cast out. Even so, the Holy Emperor approved every dispatch of the Holy Kingdom, including the Saintess's escort retinue. Vera had to behave as faithfully as possible to earn Vargo's favor.

When Vera answered with that in mind, Vargo replied in a voice full of amusement.

"Do you know something?"

"Those who say they will grind their lives away for faith fall into exactly three kinds. The first are fools. The second are madmen. The third are swindlers."

Vargo leaned toward Vera and continued with a cackle.

"Let's see. From the way you speak, you don't seem like a fool. There is no madness in your eyes, so you aren't a madman either... Does that make you a swindler?"

"...That is not so."

"Are you saying I speak falsely?"

"...No."

"This is wrong, that is wrong. Then what, exactly, is right?"

Vargo kept latching onto every word.

Vera's teeth ground together.

For some reason, it was a familiar way of speaking.

The infuriating way of talking that Vera had experienced somewhere quite recently.

After thinking for a moment, Vera easily recalled someone else who spoke like that.

'...The Saintess.'

The source of the Saintess's way of getting under people's skin was immediately clear.

She must have learned it from this old elder.

'...As expected.'

Everyone in the Holy Kingdom was harmful.

* * *

Vargo continued with several more questions afterward.

Questions about Vera's identity, how much divinity he could use, and what position he sought. They were all conventional questions.

Vera answered as sincerely as possible, but the responses were far from pleasant.

"You sure can talk."

"So what do you want me to do about that?"

"I didn't ask that, little brat."

Every remark was mocking, as if Vargo had developed a taste for teasing Vera. His provoking tone seemed designed to test the limits of Vera's patience.

Throughout the lengthy exchange, Vera began to understand Vargo's intention.

'...A snake of an elder.'

Vargo was trying to make Vera angry.

He wanted an answer filled with emotion rather than a conventional response.

Vera understood because he had lived his life intimidating others.

Words filled with emotion came out raw and unrefined. They emerged without the minimum safeguards needed to sustain a conversation.

In most cases, such words put one at a disadvantage in negotiations or exposed one's weaknesses to the other person.

Of course, if those weaknesses were insignificant, Vera could reveal them freely. But to lay bare what was truly in his heart, to explain the real reason he had come to the Holy Kingdom, Vera would have to explain the Saintess, who had not yet even received her Holy Mark.

He would have to speak of his vow to live for the Saintess.

And to explain that, Vera would naturally have to explain his regression as well. It was not something Vera wanted.

Vera had no intention of telling anyone about his regression.

Not even the Saintess.

The continent ahead would be filled with every manner of incident and disaster, enough to call it a raging storm.

They were not causal events that would be twisted merely because Vera's path had changed. They were calamities that could truly be called natural disasters.

To create as few variables as possible within them, and to bring about results that benefited Vera, every variable besides Vera needed to remain in its original place as much as possible.

It was for the Saintess's safety, and for Vera's own sake as well.

The Saintess from his previous life appeared in Vera's mind, dead in the filthy water of the Gutter.

Vera never wanted to see the Saintess die like that again.

Even if the Saintess had chosen to enter the Gutter of her own will, even if she had been content with such a death, Vera could not accept it.

It was a selfish feeling, but Vera had no intention of letting it go.

She had been so noble, so capable of reforming even someone as vile as Vera. Her ending ought to have been more radiant.

No matter how much Vera had bowed his head beneath her light, he was still a selfish person.

Someone who could become as ruthless as necessary to achieve his desire.

Vera lightly bit down at the emotion that had arisen without his notice, then calmed himself and faced Vargo again.

"I came because a Holy Mark descended upon me, and because I believed there must be a role given to me."

"Heh. You're like a puppet with no will of your own."

"How could a mere creation defy the will of the gods?"

"If intelligent life died whenever it defied even one divine command, the continent would have gone extinct long ago."

"...That is a cruel joke."

"Your way of talking is cruel. I tell you to speak, and you recite a script."

Vera and Vargo's gazes met.

Vera did not say anything further.

He thought that if they continued, the same words would only repeat in circles.

Besides, there was no need to say more.

Vera could feel it clearly now.

Even if he remained silent until the end, Vargo would not press further or cast him out.

'Confidence.'

That was what Vargo displayed.

The confidence of a superhuman who had created countless legends.

The confidence that no matter what Vera might be plotting, Vargo could crush him.

Because of that confidence, the Holy Emperor would eventually let it pass without knowing, even if Vera kept his mouth firmly shut.

After their gazes remained locked for a moment, Vargo, who had been grinning all along, answered.

"Fine."

It was settled.

A small relief rose within Vera.

"Then get up and follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to become a paladin? Then I must first see your swordsmanship."

It was an approach that could be called straightforward, or haphazard.

As Vera nodded slightly at the thought, Vargo wore that characteristic mischievous smile and asked a question.

"So, can you use a sword?"

Vera looked at Vargo again.

'Use a sword...'

A faint laugh escaped Vera.

It was a funny question.

Vera had been born a beggar from the Gutter with nothing to his name, then swallowed half the continent.

Naturally, countless armed conflicts had marked that journey.

Until the end of his life, Vera had never once lost in any of those conflicts when it came to the sword.

Otherwise, why would those great heroes have bound Vera with a curse?

Using a sword was what Vera had the most confidence in.

Vera met Vargo's gaze directly, maintaining the smile that had appeared, and answered.

"I'm decent at it."

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