Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

57 – Master of the Body

“Saintess, so this is where you were.”

“Ah?! Jenison, you haven’t left yet… aaah!!”

Finding the Saintess was not difficult.

Her location data was available from the start.

It was only that the path was overflowing with trash,

So he had been a little delayed doing the recycling.

Having run about, sweating, to finish the sorting,

He finally found her, only for her to scream in shock.

“…Is something wrong?”

“Something wrong?! What’s with all that blood!!”

“Ah…”

Come to think of it, people had been staring at me the whole way here.

So that was why.

A minor, drenched in blood, like this was a rare sight, indeed.

“Father Pinn!! Could you please heal this man?”

“Hm? Heal who… Hah! Ah, understood!!”

Perhaps the priest thought my condition looked dire,

Because he rushed over and started infusing me with holy power.

But before long, he ceased the infusion.

Looking tense, he pulled the Saintess back behind him.

“Oh? Is he all healed?”

“Saintess, there isn’t even a scratch on his body… only a few minor abrasions.”

“..Huh?”

“All that blood…”

The Saintess, hearing those words, snapped her head towards me, quick.

I merely shrugged once, a gesture devoid of expression.

Immediately, the priests and knights surrounding us grew even more wary.

Clearing up their misunderstanding took longer than expected.

Too many parts of my story were difficult to believe.

A child, not even a Saint, having killed at least several Saints?

And each time, with a perfectly coordinated surprise attack?

It was a tale hard to swallow, but

thanks to the Saintess vouching for me, we managed to dispel their doubts, with difficulty.

As the people’s suspicion lessened,

the Saintess finally asked me why I was here.

“Saintess, I’ll get straight to the point. We need to escape.”

“..Didn’t I say? I have no intention of─”

“That was when you could be of help.

In the current situation, all you can do is run errands, isn’t it?”

“….”

“I know your divine power isn’t working.

I don’t know why, but I can’t feel that sickly… no, that aura.”

“….”

“Unable to help anyone, unable to accomplish anything, the only thing you *can* do

is ask for help from someone else, right?”

As if agreeing with my words, the Saintess’s head drooped.

Assuming she’d understood by now,

I grabbed her wrist and pulled, intending to get her out of here.

The only problem was, her body didn’t budge.

“Please… help me…”

“…?”

“Just as you said, I’m nothing but a useless fool right now.

Pathetic, idiotic, stupid.

So I have no choice but to ask for help…”

“Ha, so if you know that─”

“There’s no time!!”

“….”

The Saintess’s tear ducts opened again.

Nuns around her dabbed at the tears streaming down her face.

Waving away the priests, she stared at me, her eyes red-rimmed,

her voice wet and choked.

I listened quietly to her story.

A massive explosion had ripped through the cathedral,

and the Pope seemed to have been caught in the blast.

Her voice, already beautiful, now laced with such desperate emotion,

lent it a persuasiveness, an appeal that deepened, and having heard her entire plea,

I, of course, refused.

In a situation that had escalated to such an explosive degree,

there was no guarantee the Pope was even alive,

and my ultimate objective was the Saintess’s rescue.

But she clung to her request, unrelenting.

It made little sense. There were other knights, surely.

“If it is such a matter, surely other knights could—”

“Regrettably…that cannot be.”

As I tried to persuade her, to get her to leave with me,

a knight, with the sound of heavy footsteps, strode up and countered my point.

A knight of impressive bearing, even at a glance.

“The Pope’s last command was…

to save as many people as possible.

All of us, myself included, respect the Pope above all others…

but we cannot abandon this many people and recklessly go to his aid…

Therefore, I, too, must implore you, Holy One.

Please…can you not save the Pope…?

I beg you.”

“””We beg you!! Holy One!!”””

“…May I ask just one question?”

I was curious.

What did they see in someone like me, barely more than a child, to trust me so,

to expect so much, to send me to the Pope?

Why did everyone, now gathered behind him, their heads bowed,

believe in me with such certainty?

The knight’s response, given as though it were the most natural thing in the world,

elicited a dry laugh from me,

and I was about to refuse once more, with apologies.

I had no desire to be swayed by sentiment, only to suffer losses.

Above all, I had no desire to live like a pushover—

≪A Quest has been generated!≫

*

The first feeling that struck the Pope upon seeing it was, frankly, admiration.

This was clearly not a weak or easily shrugged off attack.

The proof was the wall that had been struck – not merely dented, but utterly breached.

What was more, the remaining edges of the breach hissed and dissolved slowly,

as if touched by some potent acid.

Every wall within the Order was constructed to be exceedingly durable, and…

Even though it was crafted from “Holy Stone,” imbued with high magic resistance.

In other words, that attack just now could melt even Holy Stone,

and possessed power commensurate with that.

And yet, this man deflected it.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Even though his dagger, his entire hand, could have been melted away.

Doubting what he had just witnessed, he replayed the man’s actions.

He hadn’t brought the blade to the very tip of the spear.

Had he done so, the contact surface and force would have been insufficient, and he would have been pierced through.

Nor had he deflected it with the side of his blade.

Unless his blade was made of Mithril, it would have shattered instantly.

A strangely curved dagger, of unknown make.

Small holes, appearing as if tiny indents, riddled along its spine.

He forced the black spear’s blade into those holes, twisting his wrist.

A fleeting moment, a minute movement, a meager force.

With just that, the black spearhead changed direction.

Of course, it only deviated by a hair’s breadth,

but if he’d delayed even a moment longer, it would have been his dagger, his arm, that melted.

It was a swordsmanship unlike anything he had ever seen.

Unlike the martial prowess of Holy Knights or other knights.

If the swordsmanship of others was structured, bound by regulations,

filled with etiquette, respect, and brimming with dignity, this man was the opposite.

He focused only on how to disable the opponent, how to parry their attack.

Movements devised solely for killing the opponent and surviving.

In the silence, his weary breaths could be heard,

and here and there, sighs laced with admiration.

The man himself seemed dissatisfied, exhausted from merely deflecting a single attack,

but the reaction of everyone watching him was different.

“Wha…what…”

“…I don’t know the last time I was this genuinely surprised.”

Antonio released his nose, which he had been clutching, and gaped.

Even the usually composed Hercal’s eyes widened.

The attacker himself, Grid, displayed a reaction that was not so different.

Except that his serrated teeth were bared in a wide grin,

as if he had met someone he had been waiting for for a long time.

As if tears of joy had welled up slightly.

“Ah, I’ve finally found you. Oh, Moon.”

“…?”

“Finally… after circling back and back, the chance has arrived…”

Jennison, despite knowing that he failed to stop the attack and save the Pope, frowned, confused by his pleased expression.

Only then did the Pope snap back to his senses.

“Yo…you! Why are you here?!”

“…”

“It’s dangerous here, you must leave quickly…!”

Their numbers were already spread thin, and these… *men* were relentlessly pressing him, the Pope. And the full extent of that fellow’s power was unknown. He was truly grateful for the rescue, but he wouldn’t dream of sending such a vibrant young man to his death. Especially a man he personally favored. Even if it meant his own demise, he intended to drag at least that dark figure down with him. He steadied himself, grimacing as he pushed his weight on his useless knee to stand up.

It was that moment, the entire form of the Pope lifted off the ground.

“Yo…you! What do you think you’re – “

“Silence, and only think about surviving right now…”

Jennison, who had been facing off against Grid, abruptly rushed toward him, hoisted him onto his back, and began to run.

“Wha…what? Wait…!”

“…Inconvenient.”

Antonio and Hercar, naturally expecting Jennison to join them in a fight to the death against Grid, were taken completely by surprise. While they stood there, momentarily stunned, the distance between them widened rapidly. Jennison was not slow, and he believed he could outrun them easily.

But that thought shattered when a man appeared in his path.

“Where do you think you’re running off to? I believe we have much to discuss, still.”

“….”

Even Grid felt a flicker of surprise.

Though, it was only for a moment.

His quick-thinking mind, combined with his speed, made catching up to Jennison, who was carrying the Pope on his back, far too easy.

Jennison’s mind raced. From the moment they first met, the man had acted as if he’d been searching for him. He needed to find a reason why he should let them go.

But the thought was cut short.

“How many times has it been now? Masters of the Divine Body, that is?”

“…?”

He spoke aloud, and though I couldn’t grasp the words,

the shape of his lips, silent as they were, I understood.

Life.

That’s what he surely said.

“..Who the hell are you, you b*stard?”

“Haha, finally deigning to converse, are we?”