Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

35 – Midterm Evaluation (10)

“Isn’t it obvious? The one I serve is none other than…”

Ignoring the Saintess as she droned on about that b*stard’s greatness before me,

I struggled to contain the rising tide of murderous intent.

My fists clenched tight.

Fingernails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

I gritted my teeth, applying pressure.

The sound of cracking enamel reached my ears, but I paid it no mind.

I could feel my heart pounding.

It was as if I could feel the blood rushing through my veins.

Though my mind screamed for calm,

my body was poised to leap forward, teetering on the edge of frenzy,

and as if sensing this unease within me, she

ceased her praise and approached.

“…You… what’s wrong? Your hand is bleeding…”

A serene divine power washed over me.

I could feel the bleeding staunch, new flesh forming.

I never truly harbored resentment for divine power itself.

The source of the power was that b*stard,

but it was others who wielded it.

Of course, a certain aversion lingered,

but those who used it usually did so with the intention to help.

So, until now, I hadn’t paid it much attention.

But “I am needed”?

Because your proxy is in danger?

To speak so calmly, as if it were only natural

that you would seek my aid.

The very notion was revolting.

Even the divine power healing me felt like the will of that b*stard, not the Saintess.

As if I were merely a tool, mended only because I was useful.

Suddenly, gooseflesh erupted across my skin, a wave of nausea washing over me

as if bile were rising in my throat.

I wrenched free from the Saintess’s healing touch,

tearing open the already healed skin anew.

With a vengeance, I slashed, ripped, and gouged,

as if to tear apart even the sealed blood vessels.

I ignored the searing pain.

I ignored the cold blades sinking into my flesh.

I wanted to purge every last trace of that damned energy

that had invaded my body.

The more blood I spilled, the less of that divine power remained within me.

I drew my blade, plunging it back in, hoping the feeling would fade.

“J-just a moment! Why… why?!”

Even if I felt the horrified gazes around me,

I couldn’t bring myself to care.

The number of times I ripped open my arm passed one, two,

then five, before someone seized my wrist.

No, to be precise, it was some people.

I tried to shake off the hands that held me,

ready to simply sever the entire limb when,

“C-calm down!”

“Why are you suddenly doing this?! You!”

“W-wait, Jenison!”

Albert grabbed my arms from behind, and Lianna locked her arms around my waist.

I saw the Saintess, still healing my wounds.

And beyond her, the Princess with her hand over her mouth, her face pale,

and Isabella, eyes wide with panic, rushing towards me.

The voices of the cadets, murmuring as they watched the blood

drip, drip, drip from my hand, grew louder and louder.

Normally, I would have awkwardly avoided their stares,

but I couldn’t spare a thought for that right now.

The divine power returned to my body.

It felt so utterly repulsive.

“Don’t!”

The sound that escaped me was wretched.

Like a wounded beast howling in its final struggle.

My voice, cracked, broken, and hardened, barely making it out,

froze the Saintess in her tracks.

Albert and Lianna, who were holding me,

seemed stunned, their grip gradually loosening.

“Why… why…”

“Haa… haa…”

With the Saintess stammering before me,

I resumed hacking at the defiled arm.

Screech—screech—

The blade caught on the bone, unable to cut through cleanly,

but I sawed back and forth a few times, until it came away, ragged and torn.

The pain of bone grinding, muscle fragmenting, flesh being mashed,

coursed through my arm. Yet, in contrast,

I felt a surge of exhilaration and relief in my heart.

“Eeeeeek!!”

“A… An arm?!”

The surroundings became noisy again, but I paid it no mind,

and just like that, grew a new arm.

The Saintess, witnessing the severed limb sprout anew,

and the other disciples were struck dumb.

“Saintess…”

“Y-Yes?!”

She hadn’t expected me to address her, it seemed,

her face showing clear bewilderment as she answered.

A hint of fear flickered there too, but that would have to wait,

I had to make my demand clear.

“From now on, do not use your divine power on me.”

“B-But…!”

“Do. Not.”

Figuring she wouldn’t listen otherwise, I glared at her as if to kill,

and only then did she seem to back down.

Once I calmed down a bit, I looked around,

feeling everyone’s gazes fixed on me once more,

gazes that held bewilderment, fear, and aversion.

I sighed at the persistent stares,

then turned my gaze to the Saintess, catching a glimpse of her own confusion.

She’d acted out of good intentions, as she saw it,

so she likely didn’t understand my actions.

“Saintess.”

“…Yes.”

“Are you able to speak with… Him?”

This was important.

If the Saintess could communicate with that b*stard,

it meant that this world and the Divine Realm were connected in some way.

And if that were the case, a hope of meeting the God, that b*stard, was born.

I didn’t know what I could do once face to face,

but at least I wanted to hear the reason why.

Why he’d done this to me.

If I could, I’d charge at him with a sword.

“…I can’t initiate it… He’s the one who speaks to me… you see.”

“But you *can* answer, can’t you, Saintess?”

“Y-Yes…”

Then it didn’t matter.

For some reason, God treasured the Saintess,

and believed that He needed me to protect her.

That is to say, if I didn’t act, she would die.

Finally, for the first time, in my relationship with that b*stard,

an opportunity to be the one in control.

“Saintess.”

“…?”

“Just one thing, please relay to Her.”

“…Yes?”

“Tell her to meet me when this is over.”

Upon hearing my words, the Saintess, and even the cadets around her,

displayed expressions of doubt, as if to ask what kind of nonsense I was spouting.

“W-wait a moment!! Do you understand what that means…!”

“So, what does She say?”

“No!! I mean, that’s…!! …Yes?”

It seemed I’d received an answer.

Judging by that vacant look on her face.

“Th-that’s… just a moment…”

“So… what does She say. What does She say?”

“S-She will meet you…”

At those words, from Rianna and Albert behind me,

to the Princess and other cadets far away, mouths hung agape.

Because it was that significant.

A being that even the Pope, the ruler of the Order, hadn’t met,

a being only known to exist in reality, that being was God.

What did it mean that a commoner like me would meet such a being?

Depending on the interpretation, it could be construed as God favoring me especially,

and in the worst-case scenario, I could be canonized as a Saint.

A person chosen as a Saint would receive benefits so great they could be called privileges,

but I didn’t need any of that right now.

What mattered was the chance to meet that b*stard.

At her reply, the corners of my lips turned upward, forming a jagged smile.

That expression of mine seemed twisted, like a degenerate consumed by madness.

“..Jennison… are you alright?”

“Is he alright…?”

Someone spoke to me, as if pitying me for having smiled like a madman

even after slicing my own arm, and

Rianna and Albert’s expressions, unlike my giggling self, looked serious.

I gave them another smile, a sign that I was fine, and

Somehow, their expressions shifted. No, not just theirs, but everyone’s.

“Isabella… Can you inscribe…?”

“Yes… I will.”

Albert, who had been watching my face intently,

whispered something to Isabella.

As if in response, she began to weave her magic.

Intricate circuits of mana, curves and lines, began to connect.

The completed circle pulsed with a cerulean light.

At the same instant, a sudden exhaustion washed over me,

my eyelids heavy as lead.

Suspecting some trap of the creatures, I tried with all my might

to resist, but I could not overcome the encroaching slumber.

Slowly, I began to drift into sleep.

*

“So… what happened, Holy Woman?”

“….”

“What have you done to make Jenison like this…!”

‘I don’t know!! I don’t know anything!!’

The Holy Woman, Hildegard, felt driven to distraction with injustice.

She had only wanted to heal him!

After becoming the Holy Woman, her purpose had been as good as set.

To save others.

She believed it to be the destiny laid upon her,

that this was the very reason she had been chosen as Holy Woman.

And so she had saved countless people,

but there were certainly those she did not *want* to save.

The middle-aged man who had violated a child not much older than her own daughter.

The youth who extorted money by beating children weaker than himself.

There was even the harlot who abused her own child while dallying with other men.

But, they too were creations of the Divine.

The object of salvation must be equal to all, without regard to criminal, child, or elder.

She could not discriminate against someone simply because her own feelings were involved.

And so, she had healed even *him*.

The man had made a face as if seeing vomit,

then sliced off the healed flesh with his own knife.

Too startled, she poured holy power into him once more,

but the man simply tore off his entire arm and threw it to the ground.

Then, suddenly, a new arm sprouted from his shoulder, and

A terrible rage emanated from his face.

Why? For what reason?

What action had he taken to warrant this sudden outburst?

He who had so readily received treatment in the infirmary.

But even that, one could endure.

Yet, the words that followed were beyond impudent.

To speak of meeting the Divine?

He, whom even the Pope, even I, had never beheld?

Until this point, not a speck of piety had he shown;

He seemed, instead, to harbor hatred for the Divine.

And now this man, who had never met the devout of the Order, sought

to encounter the Divine himself?

Stunned by the sheer audacity of the request, I was left speechless for a moment, but

I collected myself, ready to refute his claim.

To explain how insignificant beings such as ourselves could not dare meet the Divine.

That was what I intended to do.

[Yes… Convery that I shall.]

If not for the voice that echoed within my mind.

A voice that elevated the spirit with a mere utterance,

A voice that every believer yearned to hear.

The Divine had agreed to meet this man.

I was paralyzed by the immensity of the revelation,

but my lips were already conveying the words to him.

“The… They shall meet.”

The moment the words were uttered, the corners of his lips stretched skyward,

tracing the curve of a crescent moon, yet it evoked in me a sense of dread.

For his eyes remained completely still.

Like a lake untouched by any ripple,

his black irises were so still that it felt as if I might be sucked into them, a stark contrast

to the way his lips were stretched in a unnerving grin.

The uncanny sensation of a broken doll attempting to mimic a human climbed up my spine.

Judging by the expressions on the faces of those around me, I was not the only one who felt it,

and when his face twisted into that distorted expression once more,

Lady Isabella, unable to bear it any longer, cast a sleep spell upon him, bringing us to the present situation.

My mind is already occupied, trying desperately to understand the will of the Divine,

and now this man, arguing before me, only adds to the growing maelstrom in my head.

“I did nothing. Brother Albert…”

“..Then why is she convulsing so, Holy Woman?”

‘I ALSO!!! DON’T KNOW!!!!!’

Unheeding my silent scream,

that man, sleeping soundly, was more hateful today than ever.