Chapter 6
By the time a rumor reaches you, the truth is only just getting its shoes on. An old saying of the Tower.
It is practically inevitable that countless rumors spring up between a Tower as vast as the sea and the people pouring through it like grains of sand.
But no matter what the rumor is, there's a limit. This one had crossed the line long ago.
‘There’s a saintess who can heal any wound for just a small payment? On the Starting Floor of all places?’
Injuries are a badge of honor for adventurers. It's a common sight to boast about one's accomplishments, scars and all, in a tavern.
The problem is that quite a few adventurers are forced to retire because of those badges. Thomas was one such case.
There was nothing below his right shoulder. The scar was far too extensive to dismiss as a mere badge of honor.
“Every last one of those bastards... trying to bleed desperate people dry. I ought to stone them all to death.”
Starting Floor. The starting point for every adventurer. In other words, it was also a tragic floor where adventurers could never break past their limits.
There wasn't even a priest, let alone a professional healer, so people on this floor had to rely on potions amateurishly brewed by herbalists.
What? A saintess who could heal any wound for a little money? The idea was utterly disgusting.
‘Those pieces of trash exploiting the desperation of people grasping at straws, all just trying to make a quick buck.’
What was even more miserable was that, despite knowing all this, he was still heading for the Starting Floor.
He'd desperately saved money to get his lost arm restored. But it was nowhere near enough to hire <Miracle>.
A fallen former ranker could only earn so much. That was when he heard the rumor.
“Is this the place?”
Old habits die hard. As a former ranker, Thomas had no trouble finding the place from the rumor.
Sure enough, a building he'd never seen before stood before him. A small chapel built on a stone foundation, with walls of carved wood.
Compared to the temple built by the guild <Church>, led by the high ranker <Miracle>, it was pitifully shabby.
“Welcome. Lost lambs are always welcome here.”
‘...An NPC?’
A veil of black and white rested atop her silver hair, and beneath it were cross-shaped pupils.
The pitch-black nun's habit she wore followed the curves of her body, making it hard to keep his eyes off her.
At the sight of an NPC with such an extraordinary appearance, Thomas felt the ember of hope in his chest flare back to life.
“I heard a rumor and came here...”
“Yes, that's right. I do my best to treat any kind of wound. I do accept a small offering in return, though.”
“How much do I have to pay?”
Offering or not, it meant he'd have to pay something in the end. But Thomas had no intention of calling her out on that.
In the Tower, anyone who helped others without asking for anything in return was one of two things: a fool or someone with an ulterior motive.
From that perspective, it was cleaner to ask for payment. Of course, if she was lying, that would be another matter...
“You can pay as much as you'd like.”
“...What?”
“I mean exactly what I said. It's an offering, after all. I can't decide how much someone should offer to God.”
Thomas was thrown by this approach he'd never encountered before. If she'd claimed to perform a miracle and scammed him, he could at least understand...
But the way she put it made it seem as though the rumor might actually be true. Thomas fell silent for a moment, lost in thought.
According to the nun, he could be treated for the price of a slice of bread or a few coins. But...
“Could I decide after I've been treated?”
“Yes, whatever you're comfortable with. Recovery.”
“...Huh?”
He'd expected her to at least hesitate a little. But the girl accepted without a moment's hesitation and immediately reached out.
Pure white light flowed from her hand and entered Thomas's body. A blinding flash soon filled his vision.
Had about ten seconds passed by his estimate? Thomas reflexively raised his right hand and rubbed his still-dazzled eyes.
“Wait.”
Thomas's expression went blank. He'd definitely lost his right arm. But which hand had he just used to rub his eyes?
Only then could he see clearly. Beneath his right shoulder, which had been empty for so long, his right arm had been completely restored.
Unable to believe what he was seeing, Thomas tried moving his right arm. It obediently responded to his will.
“Ah.”
“Um... are you all right?”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
A tear slid down his cheek.
Perhaps memories of all the hardships he'd endured came flooding back. Thomas's eyes began to fill with tears.
Before he knew it, he was on his knees, his head bowed as well. He couldn't think of any other way to express his gratitude.
And he had no choice but to admit it.
The rumors about the Saintess of Beginnings were not lies at all.
◇
‘Phew, thank goodness. I never expected the severed arm to grow back...’
Left alone, Zion could finally let out a sigh of relief. She'd treated quite a few patients over the past month, but...
This was her first patient with an amputation. That was why Zion hadn't asked Thomas for any payment upfront.
She hadn't been sure whether Recovery could heal an amputation. As it turned out, everything worked out fine.
‘Still, thanks to him, I made a pretty decent profit.’
[Thank you so much. This is a token of my gratitude.]
[A-are you sure you can give me this much?]
[I'd been saving this money tooth and nail to get treatment from <Miracle>, but... thanks to you, Saintess, I don't need it anymore.]
Thomas's pouch contained a whopping 800 gold. Judging by the prices she'd seen firsthand in town...
It was enough to live comfortably for several years. Zion smiled contentedly and tucked the pouch inside her robe.
It had already been a month since Zion had fallen into this mysterious Tower, and she was surprisingly well-adjusted.
“Zion! Are you inside?”
“You've come to visit again today, Ifrit.”
“I can't help it. I'm worried about you, Zion... Besides, there's a warning this time.”
“A warning?”
“A warning issued by the <Church>. It says an unidentified monster has been roaming the Tower for the past two weeks, so we should be careful.”
“You said monsters couldn't leave their floors.”
“That's right, I did. But this unidentified monster seems to be able to move between floors. Just like an ‘adventurer’...”
Ifrit handed Zion a wanted poster listing a bounty. It depicted a pitch-black swordsman.
A monster with black skin, wrapped like a mummy in dark red bandages, nearly the color of blood. The name written beneath it was Sword Demon.
The bounty was a whopping 3,000 gold. Zion's heart had pounded at 800 gold, and now she almost screamed.
“I understand what you mean. Still, surely it won't come all the way down to the Starting Floor, right?”
“Well... I can't be sure. For some reason, it seems to be descending nonstop.”
“...”
“I'm kidding. There's no way it'd come all the way down to this empty Starting Floor, right? The rankers will probably hunt it down before then.”
“I suppose so.”
Zion nodded. She was tempted by the 3,000 gold, but... she didn't want to risk her life for it.
Of course, Zion had already easily defeated an adventurer who'd once been a ranker. But that had only been an adventurer.
She'd never once experienced a real battle against a monster. And she was supposed to fight a Sword Demon right off the bat, not even a slime?
‘Surely that won't happen.’
◇
It itched.
So she scratched it. Until her fingernails broke and the bones of her fingers showed. Until the sword stuck fast to her palm.
But even as she scraped away her skin with a sharp blade and tore her flesh to shreds over and over, that loathsome breath would not stop.
[This isn't an injury. It's a curse.]
[And a very powerful one, at that. I've never seen a curse like this before...]
[I'm sorry, but I can't take you to <Miracle>. But I can at least make it painless for you.]
‘What had I despaired over... and where had I been going in the end?’
Maggots fell from her rotting flesh. But more terrifying than the stench were the memories constantly wearing away.
She was gradually forgetting everything: who she was, why she'd taken up a sword, and even where she was going.
And yet, even through her hazy consciousness, she clutched the old pendant around her neck with her rotting hand.
‘I have to go back. To the place where my adventure began.’
She'd forgotten even the reason she had to go there. Even so, she kept moving her rotting body.
Though she'd been worn down until she no longer remembered herself, there was still one name she remembered to the very end.
The Saintess of Beginnings.
She had to find her.