Chapter 5
In my previous life, I was the “Great Saint.”
It was an honorific title bestowed on a Saint with extraordinary power—specifically, the ability to heal any wound in an instant, restore missing limbs, and cure nearly every illness.
While I was alive, I was the only one ever given that title.
I think I was revered as the “Great Saint,” but being a “Saint” was never a respected profession to begin with.
That was because there were so many Saints.
At the time, more than half of all women were Saints.
Unlike offensive magic, healing magic required a contract with a spirit.
And contracts with spirits were easily granted.
According to legend, the Spirit King was present at the founding of the kingdom.
The Spirit King fell in love with a human girl, had a child with her, and that child became the founder of the royal family.
For this reason, the kingdom was loved by the spirits.
Spirits would only deal with women, but whenever they were asked, they always formed a contract.
In this close bond between spirits and humans, people loved, revered, and cherished the spirits, and in return, the spirits lent Saints the power to heal.
In my previous life, I was a princess.
I had inherited the spirits’ power more strongly than anyone, and from a young age, I spent all day playing with the spirits in the mountains and forests, deepening our bond.
People said spirits couldn’t speak, but I could hear their voices.
By listening to the spirits, I learned how to use my power as a Saint.
I had thought that a Saint’s role was to heal wounds, restore missing limbs, cure illnesses, and make healing potions for minor injuries. The spirits’ teachings left me astonished.
A Saint could...
heal status ailments such as paralysis and charm.
Enhance the body, increasing speed and attack power.
Cast defensive magic, such as protection against physical and magical attacks.
Imbue weapons, armor, and accessories with magical effects.
And infuse potions with healing magic, status ailment recovery magic, physical enhancement magic, and defensive magic.
I used every power I was taught to the fullest.
Hailed as an unparalleled Great Saint, I was urged to join the effort to defeat the Demon King, a long-cherished goal that was no longer just a dream. So I set out with my older brothers, the princes.
Though we were battered and bruised, we succeeded in sealing away the Demon King.
When the battle ended, my magic power was at zero.
Using healing magic required magic power as well as the spirits’ power.
With my magic power depleted, I couldn’t use any healing magic at all.
My older brothers left me behind in the Demon King’s castle.
“You’re seriously a pain in the ass. You got called the ‘Great Saint’ and let it go to your head, didn’t you?!”
My eldest brother, the First Prince, shouted.
“Hah! There are more Saints in this country than you can shake a stick at. You’re nothing but expendable!”
My second older brother, the Second Prince, hurled the insult.
“You were planning to return in triumph and be praised by the whole country, weren’t you? Too bad. You’re going to be hacked to pieces by those demons here and die alone. Haha! You’re a woman, after all, so maybe those filthy demons will rape you first. ...We were the ones who fought with swords and axes and defeated the Demon King, even while wounded. You just stayed in the rear and cast healing magic from somewhere safe! Die here!”
My third older brother, the Third Prince, spat out.
I... I...
I’d used healing magic until my magic power was gone, drenched in sweat and so exhausted I couldn’t lift a finger. Lying on the ground, I stared at my three older brothers.
They drank the advanced healing potions I’d made and given them beforehand, tossed the empty bottles down in front of me, and left without a second glance.
I have to hide...
The demons’ hatred for me, the one who had sealed away their king, must have been boundless.
If they caught me, they’d surely kill me horribly.
If I could hide and recover my magic power, there might be a chance I could escape.
Thinking that, I tried to crawl away, but before I’d gone even a little way, one of the demons stepped on one of my hands.
As I looked up in despair, an astonishingly beautiful demon stood before me.
Among the demonfolk, beauty and strength were directly proportional. That meant despair itself had taken shape and appeared before me.
The one standing before me was the demon known as the Demon King’s right hand.
The demon tormented and tortured me, taking its time as it killed me.
The demon bound me and carved demonic symbols all over my body. Whenever I tried to escape, the demon laughed at me and hurled contemptuous insults.
“You’re suffering like this because you’re a Saint.”
That demon must have hated the Saint who had sealed away the Demon King it revered.
At every opportunity, the demon mocked me for being a Saint, insisting that I was bound and tortured because I was one.
I was tormented because I was a Saint.
I was tortured because I was a Saint.
I was humiliated because I was a Saint.
As the demon did those things, it murmured those words, and they seeped into me little by little, like a slow-acting poison.
How long had I been held captive? By then, my sense of time had gone haywire, but at last, I understood.
That’s right. It was because I was a Saint.
Because I was a Saint, I was tormented, tortured, humiliated, and killed.
And the moment I understood, the demon killed me.