A Powerful Martial Artist Reincarnates as a Nun Knight

‘Why did it come to this?’
The young girl Maria Francesca wondered numbly.

For street urchins, life inevitably followed one of two paths: conscripted into panhandling or peddling activities, or driven toward petty crimes like pickpocketing and robbery. And for a relatively comely young female, prostitution frequently awaited on that same depraved road.

Some might question why they endured such existences, but those individuals lacked any alternative choices. Unfamiliar with different lifestyles and lacking anyone to provide benevolent guidance, their impoverished environments universally shunned them as outcasts.

Whether orphaned, abandoned by parents or abducted into involuntary servitude, the surrounding world treated them with unremitting cruelty. The backstreet kingpins exploiting them saw no reason educating disposable slave labor. Ordinary citizens simply spat upon these confirmed or potential future criminals with utter contempt.

Maria Francesca epitomized one such vagrant urchin. When or how she arrived at that station remained unknown – perhaps abandoned as an infant, maybe abducted, her memories retaining no parental traces whatsoever. Raised collectively by slightly older children suffering similar fates, the sole identifier affirming her name derived from an inscribed plaque clutched when originally discovered.

Apparently some semi-literate local deciphered the ‘Maria Francesca’ inscription adorning that bejeweled plaque before promptly selling the trinket within the local black markets. Certain cantankerous residents joked about her ‘mysterious birthright’ – insinuations Maria utterly disregarded. Her harsh daily realities overshadowed any indulgent curiosities regarding obscured origins.

Once achieving a basic cognitive grasp, she found herself promptly conscripted for generating income contributions – yet lacked any resources for effective earning potential.
Begging required staking prior claims over territorialized patches, trespassing upon which prompted severe beatings from established panhandlers.
Pickpocketing proved equally unviable for a complete novice unfamiliar with crowded streets.
Mercifully, a few relatively sympathetic individuals occasionally permitted her tagging along during sanctioned begging shifts or larcenous outings, possibly earning marginal allowances from shoeshines or other menial hustles. Enough for intermittent sustenance from leftover stew scraps – but only just.

That marginal situation rapidly deteriorated as Maria approached her tenth year – the impending onset of pubescent physical maturation filling her with escalating trepidation.
Despite her disheveled, malnourished appearance conforming with typical street urchin deprivations, an undeniable prettiness distinguished Maria from her equally indigent peers within that squalid environment.

Among the unruly denizens comprising that particular underclass, few could afford discriminating patronage from professional courtesans. Their sexual indulgences predominantly involved the same untrained vagrant girls Maria associated with – judged by those crude standards, she represented a comparatively premium commodity coveted for her feminine prospects once blossoming into womanhood.

Her own keen instincts inevitably detected those circulating predatory undercurrents. Desperation mounted toward securing any alternatives avoiding that same impoverished fate befalling so many of her peers once reaching physical maturity. Yet no ready solutions presented themselves within their ruthlessly circumscribed environment.

Hence when Maria spotted an approximately ten-year-old boy exploring those very streets, she unthinkingly attempted employing her rudimentary pickpocketing skills – only to faceplant gracelessly before her befuddled would-be mark could even react.
Not only nursing fresh injuries, but her prospective victim unexpectedly treated those abrasions before offering to buy her lunch – an unprecedented outlandishly surreal experience compounding her already turbulent emotions.

Meanwhile, that particular ‘mark’ named Conra had returned to the establishment procuring his own bocadillo sandwiches and tortilla espanola omelettes before emerging with an additional straw basket – undoubtedly containing Maria’s portion judging from the aromatic wafting scents.

“I ordered the same items for your share too. But I should have asked beforehand if you dislike either dish.”

Conra chided himself belatedly before distributing that supplemental meal – his thoughtful concerns representing an entirely alien cognitive dimension within Maria’s previous life experiences.
Having never previously tasted authentic cuisine apart from scavenged stew dregs, the very concepts of personal taste preferences held no conceptual associations. Bocadillos, tortillas – simply hearing those terms uttered in Conra’s generous offer conveyed an almost farcical incredulity within her psyche.

Of course, that visceral skepticism itself derived more from residual survival instincts than any rational assessments – the latter cognitive faculties having long atrophied from sheer existential deprivations.

Her physiological impulses reacted undeniably to those fragrant enticements at least – the gurgling abdominal rumblings accompanying uncontrollable salvitory responses despite that unfamiliar fare’s unprecedented presentation before her senses.

‘These will definitely taste delectable. At the very minimum, inconceivably more appetizing than those repulsive stew concoctions.’

Struggling to repress her instinctive yearnings, Maria’s solitary remaining hesitation involved that lingering life-preserving wariness toward unknown benefactors no matter how charitable their overtures may initially appear.

“What’s wrong? Go ahead and try it – I observed enough to judge this particular establishment’s excellent local reputation.”

Punctuating that encouragement by indulging in his own portions, Conra audibly savored those inaugural mouthfuls with audible relish:

“Oh, delicious! You can taste the fresh vegetable crunchiness alongside that savory cured meat essence!”

Immediately following with an enthusiastic bite from the tortilla omelette, he shuddered ecstatically before reaffirming:

“Scrumptious!”

His rapturous reactions ultimately proved irresistible – Maria convulsively lunging forward to seize her own bocadillo before devouring it in a single voracious inhale exactly like Conra had demonstrated.

“Mmmmffhh…?!!”

The explosive combination of sensations overwhelmed her completely:
The bread’s pillowy softness and yeasty aroma.
The crisp vegetal crunch alongside the cured meat’s deeply savory umami essence.
That vibrant interplay between tangy vinaigrette tartness and beguiling residual sweetness.
An utter revelatory epiphany surged throughout her entire being as Maria quivered uncontrollably while processing those unprecedented flavors and textures.

Her glazed focus inevitably shifted toward the remaining tortilla espanola – another unprecedented delicacy she had never previously encountered in any tangible manifestation apart from infrequent narrative hints that stew remnants may have once contained trace scrambled egg constituents.
That she required Conra’s explanation affirming its fundamental ingredients underscored her life’s appalling deprivations thus far.

‘Well then, I shall thoroughly subjugate this tortilla!’

Indulging that slightly unhinged thought process, Maria assailed the omelette with unrestrained ferocity:

“Haaaaaamph…?!!”

Like some ravenous beast savagely rending its prey, she emitted sounds more akin to dolphin shrieks or bestial grunts while that kaleidoscopic flavor-texture extravaganza exploded across her palate in firework eruptions of absolute euphoria.

Once somewhat sated while regaining lucidity, a sheepish blush colored Maria’s cheeks as she realized Conra had observed that entire unrestrained spectacle – his expression one of bemused fondness at witnessing her unabashed delight.

……

After concluding their luncheon, Conra inquired regarding her future intentions:

“Where to from here? Shall you be heading home then?”
“I…don’t know…”

Sighing heavily while ruminating that dilemma inwardly – despite enjoying her first truly delectable meal, failing to meet her quota imperiled potentially severe repercussions awaiting her.
Yet resuming unlawful activities felt equally unpalatable after receiving such compassionate benevolence, however transient this situation.

While unaware of her specific circumstances, Conra perceived her telltale desperation and reluctance to abruptly part ways. After brief contemplation, he proposed an alternative arrangement:

“If you have the time available, would you mind providing a tour exploring this city? My personal hobby involves observing new locations’ streetscapes upon first arrival.”

That suggestion instilled an indignant fury within Maria – her already fraying emotional state hardly requiring exasperating compounded stresses like impromptu guided tours for entitled wealthy brats.
Before voicing any scathing refusals, Conra’s subsequent addendum preempted her objections:

“I can provide generous compensation for your services.”
“How…generous, exactly?”

Maria’s guarded inquiry dripped with the impoverished resignation of someone long brutalized by life’s cruelties. Yet the prospect of risk-free earning potential represented a pragmatic consideration she could scarcely dismiss outright.

And once Conra quoted his preliminarily estimated figure…Maria’s demeanor flared with impassioned enthusiasm before emphatically consenting.

+++++

Upon returning to their lodgings after concluding ecclesiastic affairs within Valencia’s churches, Sophia immediately detected Conra’s troubled disposition despite his supposed ‘casual city touring’ that afternoon.

‘Something happened again, didn’t it?’

Experiencing so many unique interpersonal dynamics prompted periodic philosophical introspections questioning humanity’s fundamental compatibility for existing within communal societal structures. Perhaps solitary independence represented the more pragmatic path compared to embracing that inherent folly of interdependent congregations?