Kidnapped the Saintess of the Hero Party

1 – The Hero’s Party has Returned.

The news of defeat reached us

on a day ten years after Lucia had left.

For me, who had been waiting just for the day to see Lucia again, it could only be shocking news.

If it had ended with a mere strategy failure, it would’ve been better.

But the Demon King demanded retribution.

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I express my profound regret.

Those pests have ravaged the lands I rule over.

If you do not rid of those repulsive things with your own hands, I will consider you as the same pests.

I hope you judge wisely, as I wait to hear good news.

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In short. If the Hero’s Party isn’t exterminated, it’s all-out war.

The sentence was decided in no time.

Those damn administrators seemed to have forgotten that they themselves were the ones who recognized the Hero’s Party as the only opponent against the Demon King, and also sent them to the battlefield.

Upon hearing the news, I immediately headed towards the kingdom.

But as I tried to enter the castle, the guard

The guard no longer stopped me. He must have instinctively realized that his action equated to death.

From the moment I passed through the castle gate, I moved straight ahead.

As I arrived at the square, what came into view were the warrior party and thousands of people.

Where the gaze gathered, the figure of the Saint could be seen. That too, only her neck out against the guillotine.

Lucia.

My only friend, first love, and the last person of my homeland.

Half of my life.

Her execution as a Saint was in progress.

#

“Stop!”

I screamed, gathering divine power throughout my body.

If Lucia had not been chosen, I would have been the Saint – my words carried that much strength imbued with holy power.

The square fell silent.

At this moment, there were none who obeyed the divine will. Wasn’t the Hero Party who had failed in their strategy right in front of them? There were no more people who trusted the Goddess.

The Chancellor had arrived.

“And what do you think this place is?”

Surrounding soldiers closed the encirclement and approached me.

I was in a situation in which magic should be used, but mana didn’t cluster in my body.

It seemed a barrier was laid on the inner city of the kingdom.

The blue magical circle appearing under my feet negated mana’s construction.

‘I can slaughter them even without magic…but…’

The magic circle was not all.

They were thoroughly prepared, knowing in advance that I would come.

Blue magical circles were even engraved in mid-air.

Believing him to be a friend, the sneering corner of Chancellor’s mouth was burning into my eyes.

The Chancellor, who in the past had called me his friend, now addressed me in this manner.

“He too, is a criminal.”

“So do it. Don’t hesitate, restrain him. That person is a sinner, he must be executed.”

In front, behind, on both sides. And in the sky. Chains extend from dozens of magic circles located in every direction.

The skin touched by the chains burns like fire. Arms and legs are bound, the entire body is tightly constricted.

The gaze that was directed towards the saint now turns towards me. The gaze of the crowd is different from before. The respect that was usually shown was nowhere to be found.

Instead, it was a hateful gaze filled with thoughts like “It would have been more convenient if you were dead.”

Yes. Humans were such beings. They forget their gratitude and choose betrayal till the end. They seemed to have no hesitation if it meant securing their own survival.

Rather, it seemed like they wished for my death and the death of the party of heroes who fought for them. As if they had fanatical belief that it would keep them alive.

In this place.

I had no one on my side.

“Resume the execution.”

Thunk!

I tried to use magic, but all it brought was the chains tightening around my body even more.

Suddenly, a question arose. The more I tried to move, the more I resisted. The demon-like magic that brought even more agony when struggling.

Why is this magic able to seal people? Isn’t it more malicious than the magic used by demons?

“Moreover, they had this level of magic power and yet they never fought directly.”

It is incomprehensible.

The executioners started moving swiftly.

The ropes that were holding the guillotine became thinner and thinner.

Now, there is really not much time left.

#

“Sia.”

Did I hear it?

Our eyes meet. An empty gaze is revealed.

In the golden eyes that were once filled with divine power, no brightness could be found anymore.

Why did you…

The saint appeared to have a look of ecstasy as if she were dreaming.

A priest who has exhausted their divine power is like a magician who has lost their magic or a swordsman who has lost their sword. They become mere empty shells, engulfed in helplessness, worse than ordinary people.

I couldn’t even properly spit out words. It seemed as though my vocal cords were ruined. Noticing that no sound was coming out, Lucia half-heartedly lifted her head up to gaze at the sky.

After staring at it for a long time, she looks back at me.

Her eyes carry an air of resignation.

Although I can’t hear her thoughts, her wish for me to continue living is communicated through her gaze.

Her firmly closed lips laboriously part.

But even then…

Lucia couldn’t finish her sentence.

She must have been trying to say, ‘it’s God’s will.’

I shook my head.

‘That’s not it.’

If there really was a god, his role would be nothing more and nothing less than to simply listen.

Isn’t he a god who observes his chosen saint facing execution without lifting a hand in aid? No gesture of help was given.

Every day, we prayed to him.

In the morning, we expressed our gratitude for the blessing of a new day. At night, we prayed to get through the dark night.

Some days, we asked for survival from a dungeon we walked into on our own accord. Others days, we begged for the survival of a priest who failed his mission.

Even though all of this was a result of our choices.

All we could do was pray.

Unsurprisingly, there were no miracles.

Prayer is such a meaningless act. Yet, we still hope for miracles and continue to pray over and over because there’s nothing else we can do.

And so, I pray.

Still.

I prayed, and had prayed.

– Please, spare Shia’s life.

– I beg of you.

– Even if this body shatters into pieces, that’s acceptable.

– Even if my soul burns and perishes, that’s acceptable.

– I would gladly give my whole life.

– So please.

– Please…

Let Shia live….

A response could be heard.

The sound of a pulley turning could be heard.

The sound that was heard immediately after, was unfortunately a clear thud!

I did not open my eyes.

I could not look ahead.

Instead, I gazed at the sky.

I knew it clearly. The realization came too late – the bitterness was so intense that I loathed myself.

The saint who returned after a tiring journey was stoned by the people, shed blood and, in the end, was executed.

The efforts of the past ten years were not rewarded in any form.

The sound of an insignificant creature idly rolling around could be heard.

The sphere that was rolling without direction, having been kicked around here and there, willingly stopped at my feet.

My vision was filled with red.

No matter what Jaisang was saying, it was like my ears were blocked. I couldn’t hear it properly.

The lonesome beep was the only sound I could make out.

Nothing was changing.

I wanted to run over and cradle Shia’s head in my arms.

I wanted to hold onto the soul of Lucia who still lingered in this land.

I couldn’t give up on Shia’s survival, yet there was nothing I could do.

So,

This time, I hoped for the opposite.

If I can’t bring Shia back,

Even in death,

Even if I had to become a devil, I would remain in this land.

I vowed revenge for taking Shia away.

To an almighty who doesn’t even exist.

Snow was falling from the sky.

Like the day when Lucia was first selected as Saintess, it was a heavy layer of snow.

I recollected the moment when the symbol of sanctity was engraved on Lucia. A complex pattern in white appeared over her suddenly visible shoulder. At that time, Lucia said she heard the voice of the goddess. She said she had to follow the orders of the goddess.

If I could go back to that time, what choice would I make?

Of course, I wouldn’t send Shia to the battlefield. I wouldn’t believe in the confident warrior party promising victory. I would protect her with my hands till the end.

Ignoring the will of the damn goddess.

I would live by my will.

I would let Saintess Lucia live.

If I had to send Lucia to the bloody battlefield, I would be by her side.

The magic circle filled the sky.

This was my execution ceremony.

The baptism poured down on my head. The dazzling sight was like God’s answer to my prayer.

Pain ran through my whole body.

But this pain was nothing compared to the pain of losing Shia.

All that was left was the pure white world.

The pain I felt on my skin was gone.

Was this death? Right after I thought that, I heard a voice.

“The man who will become the emissary of God looks like a bum.”

It was a voice that made my mind dizzy.

#

At first, I had no intention of becoming a priest. It was just Lucia’s wish.

One day, I asked Lucia.

Lucia,

What do you want to do?

Lucia answered me like this.

“I like helping people.”

Lucia wanted that, and I liked it too.

In other words, I could say that I had no particular goal in life.

As an orphan, I had not lived a life rich enough to dream bright and hopeful dreams.

I just lived without any concept of planning for the future.

From the moment we left the orphanage, we were destined to live on our own.

Even so, I had a dream.

Because that dream seemed so dazzling.

“I don’t hate helping people either.”

When I answered like that, I still couldn’t forget the colorful expression on Shia’s face as she bloomed.

The face of a girl with the most beautiful smile in the world.

#

Helping others had always been a pleasant act.

I was used to receiving words of gratitude.

Lucia, who grew up closest to me, never hesitated to express her thanks. I remember the feeling of gratitude was never unpleasant.

As soon as Lucia turned 16 and gained the freedom of choice, we went to the church.

Five years after setting foot in the church, Lucia was chosen as a saint. Just barely in her 21st year.

I thought I was blessed because I had devoted most of my time to service and prayer.

But, I was not.

How ironic it is to be sentenced to death from the people I protected. I have become incapable of trusting people.

So I hoped,

“Lucia, I wish you didn’t trust people.”

Even me, the closest person to her, who was once hailed as a national hero and yet, I couldn’t save her. I had to help her survive on her own.

“The only one who can save oneself is oneself.”

I’ve learned this the hard way.

I thought about it,

overlaying Lucia’s distressed face and, Lucia’s face at the execution site,

“Naive girl.”

I will not let her repeat the same mistakes.

So, I say firmly,

“Lucia. I’ve told you. How is the buff used?”

“To… me?”

“Yes, that’s it. What’s the use of doing good for others?”

Lucia had to become a strong saint.