This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

When people gathered around the prophet, they asked him:
"Prophet, how shall we know that the Saint has come?"

The prophet replied:
"You will see many signs and inexplicable events, but above all, know this—he will stand with those who suffer in the world and weep.
He will stand alongside those weary from carrying heavy burdens.

Therefore, depict tears as a symbol of his compassion, for the Saint will see the world's pain and weep with the weak and the broken.
You shall call him, the merciful one, Eleos."
 

Book of Grace 19:19-20
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As the curse began to erupt,

The Emperor was the first to summon the captain of the royal guard.
"Activate the magic and miracles set up in the Secluded Palace! Immediately!"
The moment the curse contained within Iomene burst forth, it would mean the destruction of the entire empire.

No.
It would be the same anywhere on the continent.
It was only a matter of time before the curse spread, leaving souls destroyed, living yet not living.

Thus, the Secluded Palace was equipped with various devices prepared for the worst-case scenario.
And now, that worst-case scenario had arrived.
If the miracles and magic of the Secluded Palace were to be enacted, Iomene would die.

But there was no other choice.
If the curse was palpable through the skin, then it was already too late.
There was no longer any way to save Iomene.
The captain hastily pulled out an artifact he always carried and activated it.

However, the sensation of the curse was still palpable through the skin.
There was no sound of the large-scale activation of magic and miracles.
Something had gone wrong.

"Is it working properly?"
"It must be, Your Majesty! There is nothing wrong with the artifact! The miracles and magic drawn in the Secluded Palace aren't activating!"
"Damn it! Of all times! What are the priests and mages on duty doing?!"

As the Emperor burst into rage, the captain's body twitched.
Black energy, like a snake, burrowed into his body and disappeared.
But as a skilled knight, he began to manage the pain of his soul being consumed by maneuvering the mana within him.

"Your Majesty. You must hurry. You could be cursed at any moment. Leave me and flee immediately."
The Emperor could no longer delay.
He rushed to the room of Almene, together with the Empress who was also shocked awake by the curse.

There, the couple witnessed a horrific sight.
Almene was convulsing, froth at her mouth.
As if trying to prevent the curse that had consumed Iomene from transferring to her, the magical sigil on her left eye was violently glowing.

But it was only a temporary measure. Her breakdown was only a matter of time.
"Almene!!"
The Emperor lifted her into his arms, and the family of three began to flee, strictly guarded by the royal guards and court mages who had not yet been infected by the curse.

As they fled, the Emperor shed tears.
In the end, the worst had happened.
He had employed every possible method to avert this worst-case scenario, but ultimately failed.

He would be recorded in history as the emperor who doomed the empire.
No.
That would be if humanity still remained by then.

After all, no one could escape this curse.
"God Almighty."
The Emperor clenched his eyes shut.

Why had it come to this?
What had he done so wrong?
He was not a tyrant.

Rather, he had been a ruler who led the revival of the empire.
Like other rulers, his hands were stained with blood, but that blood had come from fighting against worshippers of evil gods and demon cultists trying to overturn the empire.
He had sparked an industrial revolution and was the originator of numerous technological advancements.

Yet, it was also true that many citizens of the empire had died starving and suffering as factory workers and as the impoverished.
He had also inadvertently caused the evil god worshippers and demon cultists to act even more aggressively in avenging their slain comrades.
Was that his mistake?

Had the gods of the pantheon forsaken him for this?
It was excruciating.
The fact that the long-standing empire would fall because of his mistake.

The fact that his daughter, whom he tried to save out of greed, had suffered endlessly and had ultimately disappeared forever.
But no matter how angry or self-loathing he felt, all he could do was run.
At the end of a secret passage, they boarded a limousine prepared in advance and sped away from the imperial palace.

From afar, the sight of Iomene, with black wings spread against the bright morning sky, appeared.
The Emperor and Empress looked through the car window in despair at their daughter, suspended in the air.
In the end, no one was saved.

Not the empire.
Not Iomene.
Not Almene.

Crushed by deep guilt and despair, barely able to breathe,
Suddenly, someone appeared next to Iomene.
Clothed in familiar white robes.

It was the Saint, Amayel.
"Stop!!"
The Emperor commanded.

The driver hesitated.
"Your Majesty! We must not stop here! We must head to the shelter!"
"If this curse spreads, it won't matter whether we are in the shelter or the palace. Stop the car."

The car stopped at his command.
The Emperor, carrying Princess Almene, stepped out of the car.
The Empress, as if bewitched, also stepped outside.

As did the driver.
The royal guards and court mages, who had boarded the limousine to protect the Emperor and Empress, also stepped out.
Even the citizens fleeing the curse stopped.

Quietly, everyone watched the Saint and the fragment of the evil god battle in the sky filled with the brightening morning sunlight.
"Saint, save us."
Someone sobbed softly.

But it was quiet enough for everyone else to hear.
As one spoke, another began to speak.
"Saint, chosen of grace!"

"Saint of Healing!"
"Saint Amayel!"
"Save us! Save us all!"

And soon, everyone was shouting the name of the Saint.
The Emperor and Empress were no different.
Everyone was cheering for the Saint.

"Please."
The Emperor too was praying.
With tears streaming down his face, he held Almene, who was convulsing with foam at her mouth, and prayed with a fervor unparalleled:

"Please, allow a miracle. Grant us a miracle."
At that moment, when everyone's hearts united in prayer, a light far more dazzling than the rising sun burst forth from the Saint.
It was so bright that everyone closed their eyes.

When they reopened them,
Beautiful lights were seen falling from the sky to the earth.
One by one, the lights descended upon the people.

Those who had been writhing in pain from the curse stopped screaming and stood up; those who had collapsed in terror looked up to the sky, awestruck and ecstatic.
"It's a miracle!! A miracle has been granted!!"
"Long live Saint Amayel!"

"Long live the Grace of Lilia!"
As the citizens' cheers began to spread,
The Emperor and Empress were running madly.

What had become of Iomene?
A mix of anxiety and hope.
With desperation and fervor intertwined, the rulers of the empire ran back to the imperial palace.

"I'm healed!"
"My body is healed!"
"How in the world!......"

Surpassing the astonished servants and royal guards, the Emperor reached the Secluded Palace where Iomene had been.
And then he witnessed it.
The Saint, floating in the sky with the princess adorned with black wings, stepping down to the ground.

After landing, the Saint, with tears in his eyes, placed his hand on the princess's head and performed a miracle of healing.
The monstrous black wings on her back began to slowly disappear.
The bruises all over her body.

The wounds.
All vanished.
Beautiful lights were still slowly falling from the sky to the ground.

Among those lights, two gently descended onto Almene and Iomene.
With that, the twin princesses both opened their eyes at the same time.
"Father?"

Almene murmured quietly as she rose from the Emperor's embrace.
The Emperor hugged his daughter tightly.
"I no longer feel the pain that was transferred from Iomene. How... What happened?"

The Emperor and Empress did not answer.
Almene no longer sought an answer.
She looked in the direction her parents were staring.

Princess Iomene, in the arms of the weeping Saint, slowly got up.
Worn clothes.
Clothes that were torn open at the back where the wings had grown.

But no one blamed the princess for her attire.
The guardians of the Secluded Palace, the holy knights.
The royal guards.

Magicians and witches, and various maids and butlers.
Everyone gazed at Princess Iomene, breathless.
Iomene carefully stepped away from the Saint and set foot on the ground.

She wobbled but carefully found her balance.
And then she looked at her father and mother.
At Almene.

"Fa...father?"
Iomene spoke in a faint voice.
It was a clear and clean voice, though halting, yet everyone could understand it.

"Mom? Almene?"
It wasn't a beastly roar.
It was still halting and stuttering, but clearly,

A human voice.
The voice that the Emperor and Empress had dreamed of; that was how Iomene spoke.
The Empress reached out her arms toward Iomene.

Iomene slowly walked into her mother's embrace.
The Empress, who had been staring blankly at the sky, suddenly began to cry.
"My daughter. My daughter Iomene."

"Mo...mother."
"God Almighty. Thank you. Thank you."
The Empress hugged Iomene as if she would crush her.

Princess Almene and the Emperor also cautiously approached and embraced Iomene.
Sobbing.
The family of four, unable to say anything due to the depth of their emotions, hugged each other and wept bitterly.

They wept for the 19 years lost, for the pain Iomene had endured, and for the guilt of being parents who had tortured their daughter.
All those around them watched this scene.
The priests, court magicians, royal guards, and servants all watched.

It was a new side of the Emperor they had never seen, but no one was surprised.
They too had been saved.
The radiant morning sun shone into the garden of the Secluded Palace as if it could not be more sacred.

The Emperor, the Empress, and everyone gathered in the garden turned their gaze towards the sunlight.
A halo.
A magnificent and holy halo surrounded the Saint, too dazzling to look at.

One of the priests, watching quietly, unknowingly knelt to the ground and murmured.
"The merciful one. Eleos."
At that, everyone gradually began to repeat.

"Eleos."
"For the weak and the broken, who sheds tears."
The Emperor, tears streaming, murmured the same.

"Our savior. Eleos."
As if enchanted,
"Our savior! Eleos!"

"Our savior! Eleos!"
They began to chant.
Savior Eleos.

In the fervent shouting, the Saint closed his eyes.
The tears from his eyes flowed even more abundantly.
No painter brought in could stage a scene of divinity more magnificent and beautiful than this, where he silently wept.

As if consoling the world,
He wept.
Everyone saw hope and salvation in that scene.

"Our savior! Eleos!"
"Eleos!!"
"Eleos!!"

Now, there was no one weeping in sorrow.
Everyone was smiling.
Tears of emotion and laughter filled the garden of the Secluded Palace.

The only one weeping was
Saint Amayel, the Healer.