No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!?

No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!? – 34

EP.34

Chapter 3

Faith and Status (8)

“Eeek!?”

A startled cry escaped my lips as I followed behind the Cardinal. It was because Ria, walking beside me, had jabbed me in the ribs again.

When Sophie and a few other clergy members walking ahead turned to look at me, I quickly clapped my hands over my mouth. I glared at Ria with a resentful look, but she simply grinned and sidled even closer to me.

…Hmm.

Even though we shared a room, having her cling to me like this felt a bit overwhelming. Not that I disliked it. I had no problem with pretty women, and I liked women with good figures even more. Ria was a little younger than my typical preference, but that wasn’t an issue—age was something that could be solved with time, wasn’t it?

As for the whole “minor” thing… Well, depending on the laws here, she was technically considered an adult starting this year. Still, unfortunately for me, I didn’t have much resistance when it came to women. In both my past and current lives, I hadn’t had much of a connection in that regard.

“What’s with you?”

I asked in a hushed voice.

“That talk about gods earlier.”

Ria gave a mischievous grin as she replied.

“That thing you were saying earlier about God.”

“Which part? The entire discussion was about that entity, so unless you’re more specific, I can’t tell what you mean.”

I whispered back, exasperated.

“You know, that part about the types of gods and whatnot.”

She said, nudging me playfully.

“…Ah.”

The part where I asked if the word “God” would be discarded after defining that being’s true name.

“Did you come up with that because of what I said?”

“……”

“The spoon thing.”

The spoon thing. The idea that if people call a spoon a spoon, then it’s a spoon—so by the same logic, if people call something a God, then it’s a God, and the classification doesn’t really matter.

“…No.”

I lied, averting my gaze.

It was true, though.

I’m a rational and logical person, so after any debate, I like to reflect on what was said and refine my arguments. isn’t that normal? Without a scriptures to rely on, an atheist like me has to build their arguments from scratch, tailoring them to fit the time and situation. Of course, it was very frustrating, and I ground my teeth thinking I would never lose again.

“This country’s religion is monotheistic, after all.”

I muttered.

Indeed.

The term “heresy trial” existed here for a reason. In this country, being declared a heretic was treated as a crime—though not to the extent of executions by fire or hanging like in the Middle Ages.

“And so, strictly speaking, your spoon theory is wrong, Ria. Other gods aren’t supposed to be gods in the first place.”

Besides, there were fairly rational reasons for treating heresy as a serious offense.

In this fantasy world where divine power existed, there were naturally opposing forces as well—dark powers and those who worshipped them.

While magic was an invaluable tool for humanity and not entirely banned, there were individuals born with incredibly powerful innate magical abilities—both in this world and beyond the Gate.

And humans, being what they are, tended to flaunt their power.

Some people preferred to serve someone who wielded immediate, tangible power rather than a distant, unattainable divine force like divine power.

Look, even in a world without any fantasy phenomena, there were people who claimed to be ‘wise men’ or ‘saviors,’ and there were people who believed in them, dedicating their bodies, minds, and possessions. Entire nations had risen and fallen based on religions centered around such figures.

Now imagine if someone possessing an extraordinary, mysterious, and almost scientifically unprovable power openly declared themselves a God.

And what if, suddenly, such individuals began springing up like mushrooms after rain?

The world needs a “standard.” That was one of the lessons this world’s people had learned during the chaos of over a decade ago.

Therefore, strictly speaking, the argument that “it’s called God, so it is God” was fundamentally flawed. If we followed that reasoning, the world would end up with far too many gods.

Damn it. Why hadn’t I thought of that at the time?

Judging by Ria’s expression now, she had likely already considered that point back then.

“Geez, our little dummy.”

She teased, placing her hand on the veil covering my head. I frowned, my pride stung. I swatted her hand away, but Ria simply chuckled, amused.

“Ahem.”

The Cardinal, walking ahead of us, cleared his throat as if he had overheard our chatter. Ria and I immediately fell silent.

*

“…I heard what you said earlier. It gave me a lot to think about.”

The Cardinal began.

“…Thank you.”

I replied, though I was somewhat puzzled.

It was true that I didn’t outright deny the existence of that entity, which was why I could use divine power so freely. However, that didn’t mean I agreed with the concept of a “God” as they envisioned it.

From my perspective—and likely from the perspective of many other atheists—the word “God” wasn’t particularly important.

Evolutionary theory, for example, could always be proven wrong. The positions of countless human subspecies within it had been revised repeatedly. New discoveries could rewrite established narratives, adjust reconstructions, or even render some ideas obsolete.

Believers sometimes pointed to this process and said, “See? It’s wrong.” But scientists typically saw it as evidence of the field’s capacity for improvement.

In religion, however, the term “God” carried a vastly different weight—especially in monotheism. In such faiths, to use the word “God” was inherently to challenge its authority.

Even if they were to revise their scriptures to align with my arguments—which, of course, would never happen—that one word, “God,” would remain untouched. Without it, anyone could claim the position, after all.

“I still believe that God watches over us.”

The Cardinal continued.

See? Just like that.

“But at the very least, I’ve come to understand that you hold a deep faith in Him.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s not just faith. It’s knowledge, isn’t it?”

“……”

“Frankly, that alone might not be enough for you to become a Saintess. Many would likely disagree with your perspective, even if they were convinced of your sincerity.”

“Oh.”

I muttered before slapping a hand over my mouth.

Wasn’t he basically saying I wasn’t qualified? That I didn’t have a solid reason to ascend to the position of Saintess?

Well, wasn’t that how religion and politics usually worked?

Even if someone said something idealistic or correct, it often didn’t align with the group’s practical interests, preventing full acceptance of their ideas.

Which meant I—

“Very well. For now, let’s restore your rights as a Saintess candidate.”

Huh?

My jaw dropped in disbelief. The Cardinal glanced at me and offered a faint smile.

“Ah, but this doesn’t mean the evaluation process is over. You still have a long way to go. You haven’t even passed the first stage yet.”

Of course, the process normally took years.

I knew that, but still…

“So, I’ll grant you an opportunity to prove your thoughts.”

The Cardinal declared.

“…An opportunity?”

“Yes. Sister Sophie.”

“Yes, Your Eminence.”

Sophie responded promptly.

“What rights does a Saintess candidate originally have?”

“The right to move relatively freely outside, Your Eminence. The right to help people as much as they want and prove that they are qualified to be a Saintess.”

“That’s correct.”

So, it’s essentially a voluntary service?

My ears perked up at the prospect.

Noticing my face lit up, the Cardinal gave a bitter smile and spoke.

“But as I mentioned, those rights are given because of your position as a Saintess candidate. While I previously thought your views to be somewhat dangerous… well, I may have been mistaken. Although, I still cannot agree with the notion of scientific nomenclature being applied to God.”

He said, rising from his seat.

And then—

“Eek!”

I jumped up from my seat in shock at the Cardinal’s next action. Judging by the sharp looks I received from those around me, my reaction was far from appropriate.

In other words, he was formally apologizing.

This wasn’t some casual, private setting. The Cardinal stood flanked by his entourage, including a designated devil’s advocate, in an exceedingly formal context. This moment would undoubtedly be recorded for posterity.

High-ranking officials don’t apologize easily. A personal apology might be one thing, but this was tantamount to the Church admitting a mistake.

…Could that have been the purpose of summoning me here all along?

Straightening his posture, the Cardinal addressed me.

“This is my apology. I hope you will use this opportunity to freely pursue the work you were unable to do as a Saintess candidate.”

“……”

“And may my restrictions on your actions not have caused harm to this world.”

“Ah, um, no, that’s….”

Completely unprepared for such an apology, I stammered incoherently, unsure how to respond.

Glancing around for help, my eyes landed on Ria, my closest confidant in this moment. Yet all she did was flash a mischievous smile, offering no assistance whatsoever.

In the end, I could do nothing but lower my head slightly to the Cardinal in silent acknowledgment.