A Powerful Martial Artist Reincarnates as a Nun Knight

The news that Ezio Ecclesius Emmanuele, a Jesuit priest, would be visiting for an exchange was sufficient to enliven the atmosphere of the Dominican monastery in Plymouth, typically engrossed in a repetitive daily routine and tranquil silence.

In truth, despite its Dominican affiliation, the Plymouth monastery could not be considered particularly active in external exchanges. After all, from a continental perspective, Caledonia was merely a remote rural kingdom on the fringes. Traditionally, the intellectual meccas attracting scholars were the capitals of the Eastern Constantine Empire and the Lotharingian Kingdom of Bologna, with Hamburg generously included – those hailing from rural island kingdoms like Caledonia rarely ventured forth for such exchanges.

Hence, a visit from a Jesuit priest, a member of Sophia’s continentally acclaimed group, presented a rare and warmly welcomed opportunity for the Plymouth Dominican monastery.

“I wonder what sort of person Ecclesius is?”
“Based on his name, he seems to be from Lotharingia. I can’t quite picture him, honestly.”
“Brother Deacon Bevin mentioned that the Jesuit priests are just as remarkable as our Dominican brethren. Moreover, he is a priest-monk like Father Owain, so he must be an esteemed figure.”
“I’ve heard he’s vanquished numerous demons and monsters too.”

While digging a path through the soil washed down by the previous night’s heavy rains, the youthful Brother Jack Morgan and Sister Iseult Railach speculated about the visiting Jesuit priest with idle chatter.

It was at that very moment.
“Hey, you two! Now is hardly the time for such idle gossip!”
“”Eek…!””

Startled by the familiar voice from behind, Jack and Iseult stiffened, slowly turning their gazes. There stood a man clad in a monastic habit with a stole draped diagonally from left to right, and a dark dalmatic robe over it – none other than Brother Deacon Bevin Allen, the disciplinarian of the Plymouth monastery.

“Ah, haha. Brother Deacon. We were just about to resume our digging.”
“Hahaha, you know Brother Deacon is well aware of your shoveling prowess. Clearing a blocked road like this should be no trouble at all.”

As the two monks forced awkward laughs, Bevin inwardly sighed. Perhaps due to the secluded monastic environment, some of the younger monks tended to be a bit impetuous, struggling to temper their excitable natures.

‘It seems I should recommend they experience the outside world, at least once. I shall have to propose this to the Father.’

Of course, this matter would require a cautious approach. With hazards lurking across the continent, the foremost task would be to plan a reasonably safe itinerary that could be suitably guided according to circumstances. Bevin made a mental note to discuss this with Father Owain Powell, the monastery’s acting abbot.

At that very moment:
“Brother Deacon! Father Emmanuele has arrived! Father Powell requests your presence!”

A monk came running from the monastery hill, relaying the message.

“Understood! I’ll be right there!”
With a booming reply, Bevin hurried toward the monastery’s main hall to welcome the guest. However, he suddenly paused, puzzled.

“But how did Father Emmanuele arrive? There’s no other path leading to the monastery besides this one.”

+++++

What appeared was an eccentric sight – a muscular barefoot priest-monk striking a peculiar pose. His twitching biceps, protruding pectorals, sharply defined abdominals, and wing-like lats all radiated a sacred luster, exuding an undeniable presence.

However, none of the Dominican monks found this appearance strange.

“Ah, a Jesuit priest indeed. It seems one must become ‘peculiar’ to be a true priest!”
“Don’t you understand yet? ‘Peculiarity’ is a ‘necessary condition’ for deepening one’s priesthood. It’s just ‘common sense’!”

Among those deeply immersed in the Jesuit Spiritual Exercises, it was a well-known fact that many tended to develop peculiar habits.

Well, the very essence of monastic asceticism involved directly confronting one’s nature, embracing both the pure and impure aspects. It was unsurprising for eccentric habits to emerge from such a process. Even among the Dominican Contemplative practitioners, similar cases were common, so there was no need to be disconcerted by a slightly peculiar appearance.

‘But isn’t this a bit too peculiar to overlook? In a monastery, of all places…’

The one forming a wry smile at this sight was Hildegard, who had accompanied Ezio to the monastery. Yet as someone visiting explicitly to tour the distillery, she could hardly claim any higher ground regarding propriety. Unbeknownst to her, the atmosphere of her own Order of Saint Veronica was hardly in a position to criticize monasteries.

She might be unaware, but among the ascetics Ezio had trained with in the Alven Mountains, eccentrics were prevalent across both monks and nuns – some even shared Ezio’s peculiar fashion sense…

However, one lingering question did trouble the minds of the monks:
‘Just how did he arrive here? There’s only one path leading into the monastery from the outside. And that path was blocked by the previous night’s landslide.’

Due to the torrential rains overnight, soil runoff had obstructed the path, prompting many monks to toil with shovels even at this very moment. Yet this priest-monk and nun knight had appeared without being witnessed traversing the construction site.

From the monastery’s perspective, the route Ezio and Hildegard had taken to arrive was a far more significant concern than Ezio’s peculiar attire.

Since ancient times, monasteries and convents had safeguarded valuable possessions like books and sacred relics, as well as stockpiling considerable resources for self-sufficiency. Evidently, this must have made them appear as ‘treasure troves’ to unscrupulous raiders, for the Church’s history was rife with incidents of such facilities being attacked.

Consequently, monastic and conventual structures tended to be situated in easily defensible terrain, which explained why the Plymouth monastery was only accessible via a single path. This precaution stemmed from a similar context.

Hence, the monks needed to ascertain the ‘route’ Ezio and Hildegard had taken to arrive at the monastery. Of course, after generations of guarding the monastery, they were unlikely to have overlooked any terrain features. Nevertheless, the possibility of unforeseen factors could not be dismissed.

Yet inquiring about their arrival route too directly could come across as accusatory toward their esteemed guests – hardly an appropriate demeanor for the monastery.

Ultimately, it fell to Brother Deacon Bevin to broach the matter.

“Pardon me, Father Emmanuele. May I ask how you arrived here?”
“Of course. We simply came on foot.”
“Hm!? You came on foot, you say? But through where…?”

Taken aback by Ezio’s nonchalant response, Bevin repeated his inquiry. ‘On foot’ implied the existence of an unknown path the monks were unaware of. To the deacon’s frantic question, Ezio maintained his peculiar muscular posing while benevolently replying:

“We came through the cliffs.”
“Pardon?”

Unable to comprehend the contextual meaning, Bevin raised a perplexed eyebrow. Undeterred by the deacon’s reaction, Ezio maintained his dynamic yet somehow static pose, his benevolent countenance unfaltering as he reiterated:

“We came through the cliffs.”

Ezio’s statement prompted Bevin to gesture toward the near-vertical cliffs encircling the monastery like a natural fortification, their smooth rock faces appearing almost insurmountable. He walked up those sheer cliffs?

“You came through there?”
“Yes, precisely that direction.”

Faced with Ezio’s calm affirmation, Bevin asked again in disbelief:
“On foot?”
“Indeed, on foot.”
“???”

As Bevin’s confusion deepened, Father Owain Powell, the monastery’s acting abbot, stepped forward. Having observed numerous priest-monks throughout his career, including those who had attained extraordinary realms, he maintained his composure without bewilderment at Ezio’s words – a testament to his seasoned experience compared to the younger Bevin.

“In any case, thank you for your journey to visit us. Please, come inside.”
With a playful grin, Owain added, ‘The monks of this monastery await you.’ Catching Owain’s mischievous tone, Ezio responded with a smiling retort:

“Indeed. We cannot keep our brethren walking the same path waiting. Let us proceed.”
“Hehehe, they are but inexperienced novices. Please, impart as much wisdom as you can during this opportunity.”
“I am but an unremarkable individual, but I’ve heard the brethren of Plymouth are of exceptional quality. So even from one such as myself, they will surely find something of value.”

The chuckling Owain and the stoically posing Ezio exchanged such cordial banter, the warm atmosphere befitting their monastic kinship. Suddenly, Ezio introduced Hildegard, who had accompanied him, inquiring about the reason for her presence.

Upon being introduced, Owain’s gaze shifted to Hildegard, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Ah, I see. You’ve brought a companion with you.”
“Hm? Why, is she not a nun knight of the Paladin Order?”
“Oh? You discerned that at a glance?”

Surprised that Owain had immediately recognized her affiliation, Hildegard studied the priest with newfound interest. Now that she looked closely, Owain, too, possessed a distinctly trained physique, though differing from Ezio’s – reminiscent of a wrestler combined with a boxer.

Despite his imposingly built frame, Owain replied to Hildegard’s unvoiced query with a gentle smile that seemed incongruous with his stature.

“There are few clergy who exude such a refined aura of devotion. Typically, priests tend to emanate a more gentle, mellow feeling.”

Hildegard suppressed an impulsive urge to retort, restraining herself through sheer force of will. After all, a certain peculiar priest stood right beside them, radiating an aura entirely antithetical to Owain’s description of ‘gentle’ and ‘mellow.’ Yet she was no mere child to blatantly point that out.

Moreover, Ezio was her guarantee for legally touring Plymouth’s brewing and distilling facilities. Unless one was a deity, it was unwise to needlessly antagonize one’s benefactor. Of course, Ezio was magnanimous enough to brush off such trivial nitpicking, but that was beside the point.

As if responding to Hildegard’s expectations, Ezio promptly made a request of Owain:
“If possible, could you arrange for Lady Wolfstein to tour your distillery facilities?”
“Certainly! While the interior of the monastery may be off-limits, the distillery should pose no issue. I shall assign a dedicated monk to guide you.”

Hildegard’s expression brightened at Owain’s ready approval.

“Really? Oh, what a relief!”
Letting out a sigh of genuine relief, Hildegard’s demeanor prompted Ezio’s eyes to narrow mischievously.