Chapter 15
The next day.
After morning worship, Chris was waiting for me.
“You don't need to work today. Pack your things. When you're done, wash up and change into this.”
With that, he handed me a child's robe.
Unlike the gray robes worn by the monks, it was pure white, like the ones worn by the priests and Chris.
“Noah... you're a healer?!”
Philip's eyes widened at the sight of the robe.
“Yeah. Today is my last day at this temple... It looks like I'm moving to the cathedral.”
Philip stared at Noah's robe for a while, then quietly looked away.
His shoulders relaxed, and a faint sigh escaped him.
“I see...”
His voice held a mix of resignation and a little sadness.
“I won't forget you, Philip.”
I handed him a piece of wood I'd taken from my pocket.
“...What's this?”
I'd shaped a small piece of wood I'd borrowed from the woodpile.
“Hold it up to the sun.”
Light passing through the tiny hole I'd carved in it formed words of scripture.
“Beneath the light... we are... brothers?”
Philip turned the piece of wood over in his palm and held it up to the light again.
He stared intently at the letters of light spilling through the hole, as if confirming them.
Eventually, he smiled awkwardly.
“...That's not fair.”
Even as he said it, he gently clenched the piece of wood in his hand.
He drew it to his chest, as if it were something he couldn't bear to drop.
“As if I could forget.”
The reaction was excellent.
Not just Philip, but even the priest, who'd been watching from behind, had tears in his eyes.
—What a pushover.
These people worship the light.
The little trick of holding it up to the sun had worked better than I'd expected.
This temple was governed by a priest of the Grace faction.
But who knew what might happen at the cathedral?
Allies—the more, the better.
After an emotional farewell with Philip, I went with Chris to say goodbye to the priest.
“Noah, training to become a healer is no easy task. But the Lord always watches over you from heaven. Do not falter.”
The priest spoke with a serious gaze.
“Even along a difficult path, may the light protect you.”
I replied with a verse I'd only just learned.
“You will become a fine healer. 'May we gaze upon the light together and move forward.'”
The priest's smile deepened with satisfaction.
After leaving the priest's room, Chris and I rode in a carriage.
Outside the window, the same white streets stretched on.
Eventually, we reached the approach leading to the cathedral.
Neatly arranged trees lined both sides of the white stone road in orderly rows.
At the end of that straight road...
A great, gleaming gate towered before us.
Beyond it, several white stone towers rose toward the heavens.
Passing through the gate, we entered the square in front of the cathedral.
Perhaps thanks to the careful placement of the buildings, designed down to the reflection of light, there wasn't a deep shadow in sight.
It was as if the square itself were glowing.
The carriage stopped in the square.
When the door opened, the sharp afternoon sunlight poured in without mercy.
“Follow me.”
I followed Chris as he set off.
Rather than heading toward the cathedral, Chris made for a gate beside it.
Two guardian knights clad in silver-white armor stood there, their spears crossed.
Chris silently held up a golden medallion engraved with an insignia.
After inspecting it, the gatekeeper slowly nodded.
“You're here to see Bishop Aldric. Go on through.”
The crossed spears quietly parted.
We followed the cloister surrounding the courtyard, and another gate came into view at the far end.
It was a massive bronze gate bearing the shape of a golden sun.
“That's Bishop Aldric's residence. From here on, remain silent.”
Chris turned back and told me this.
Chris showed the medallion to the gatekeeper again, and a small door beside the gate opened to let us in.
After crossing a spacious entrance hall, we were shown into an antechamber.
“Wait here. Someone will come for you when the time comes.”
After inspecting our belongings, the guiding priest quietly left the room.
The room we were ushered into was small and had no windows.
The air within the stone walls felt somehow oppressive.
There was someone already waiting on the bench opposite us.
A boy a little older than Noah.
Judging by his white robe, he was probably another healer.
Chris fussily straightened his own robe, then turned to me.
“Listen, Noah. His Excellency the Bishop judges only by results. Show him beyond a doubt that my judgment in recognizing you was correct.”
Rather than encouragement, his voice betrayed an ambition he couldn't quite conceal.
Seeing through his intentions, I nodded dutifully anyway.
Just then, a plain little wooden door at the back of the antechamber opened.
“It's time. Come in.”
An attendant priest appeared and informed us in a businesslike tone.
Following Chris, whose fingertips trembled with nerves, I also passed through the door.
It was a corridor with a high ceiling.
At the end of it stood a massive pair of double doors.
Knights clad in silver-white armor stood motionless before the doors, which were adorned with gold and silver.
As we approached, the heavy doors slowly swung open.
A dense heat and silence, emanating from dozens of people, poured out.
――The audience chamber.
Most of the vast space was submerged in the shadow of a deep silence.
Only in two places did sharp shafts of sunlight, as if drawn down through skylights, pierce the floor like stage spotlights.
At the far end, directly ahead.
A bishop sat upon the sacred throne, with a pillar of light at his back.
His silhouette was reduced to a radiant outline, exuding the awe-inspiring presence of a god.
“Step into the circle of light.”
At the attendant's urging, Chris and I stepped into another beam of light falling in the center of the room.
In the shadows of the colonnades to either side stood the leading figures of the factions that moved the Church.
Their cold eyes, sizing us up, pierced us as we stood in the light.
“Raise your head, beloved child of the light.”
I raised my face reverently.
The bishop's expression, silhouetted against the light, was impossible to read.
Only his low voice, rumbling like the earth, echoed through the vast chamber.
“Cleric Chris. Your report has brought me great joy. Is it true that this child has been granted the power to heal?”
The bishop's gaze turned to Cleric Chris beside me, rigid with tension.
“Y-yes, Your Excellency! I have confirmed it with my own eyes, many times. This child is overflowing with light!”
Chris gripped the hem of his robe and spoke in a rush, his voice raised with excitement.
“Very well. Then let us see whether this child can become a new pillar of support for us.”
The bishop spoke gently to me.
“Show us the power within you, as you believe it should be shown.”
As the bishop slowly raised his right hand, the boy who had been with us in the antechamber stepped forward.
He took a black, glossy whip from the cleric standing beside him and, without hesitation, pulled his monastic robe off one shoulder, exposing his back.
His exposed back was layered with old, white scars, like contour lines on a map.
——Whoosh!!
A sharp whistle of wind cut through the silence.
The next instant, a hard crack echoed off the marble walls.
“...!”
The boy didn't make a sound.
But in an instant, a dark red line appeared on his pale back, and fresh blood slowly seeped from the split skin.
Each drop of blood lit by the column of light gleamed luridly, like a ruby.
“Noah, now...! Show His Excellency!”
Chris's voice went shrill. His fingertips dug into Noah's shoulder, and I could feel his desperation.
I held my hand over the boy's back and sent my mana into him.
Then the scars on his back began to glow faintly and slowly faded from view.
Even the old, deep marks disappeared, as if time itself were being rewound.
In the pillar of light, the boy's back returned to smooth, white, and perfectly healthy.
It was like watching a miracle quietly come into being.
“Wha...”
“That mana... isn't Light Magic.”
“A rare attribute?”
A murmur spread, cutting through the silence.
“...The wounds... they're gone?”
The dignitaries of the various factions lurking in the shadows leaned forward a step or two, almost involuntarily, toward the edge of the light.
“How can someone do something like that without Light Magic...?”
A few sharp glares came my way as well.
“Noah... what kind of child are you...!”
Chris's fingers clamped down hard on Noah's shoulder, trembling with a mixture of joy and fear.
“...Wonderful.”
The bishop's low, solemn murmur rippled through the silent audience chamber.
“This child is the very light God has bestowed upon us.”
Those words were, in effect, a declaration of ownership, meant to claim Noah as the Church's greatest treasure.