The Priest Wants to Retire

EP.235 A Song for the Remains of Ashes (6)

Despite my resolute determination, my hands gripping the hilt of the blade trembled like shiver-shiver.

I have to do this.

No one here can take my place in this role.

Even though I was painfully aware of this fact, I had never felt as pathetic as I did today, hesitating as I always did.

“Priest. If it’s too hard for you, I can…”.

Unable to stand by any longer, I reached out to stop the hero, who was about to step in for me.

I was grateful for the sentiment, but without the blessing of the saint, our hero couldn’t possibly sever the lifeline of a person completely integrated with the core of the dungeon.

“I’m okay. Hero. Don’t worry about me.”

“Y-yes….”

Perhaps having read my emotions from the heaviness of my voice, the hero hesitated a bit but eventually followed my lead.

“Huff….”

Swish.

Exhaling a gloomy breath, I slowly drew the sword.

Though I had lived my life as a priest saving lives.

It was natural that this wasn’t the first time my hands had taken the lives of others, given my path as an adventurer filled with peril.

At times, it was to survive against rascals after my riches and life.

At other times, to alleviate the suffering of patients with irreversible wounds.

And sometimes, to punish criminals who had committed atrocious sins.

I had often stained this hand, which should protect the needy, with dark blood.

The day I first committed murder was vivid in my memory, marked by a week of painful days.

On the first day, I was too busy retching everything in my stomach—the bathroom was my best friend!

For the next three days, I didn’t even touch a drop of water, tossing and turning with sleepless nights.

Even after that, at any time, the horrifying memories flickered in my vision, and I desperately clasped my shaking hands to pray to the god, praying and praying again.

I killed a person who deserved to die. If I didn’t kill them, I would have died.

Such a ludicrous justification did nothing to alleviate the pressure choking my thoughts.

The comfort from those around me who assured me that I would someday grow accustomed to it was essentially useless.

The reason was simple.

I was purely terrified.

More than the act of taking another’s life itself, I feared becoming accustomed to such an act.

I was terrified of imagining a future where I could smile unconcernedly after having uprooted someone’s entire life.

Even now, in this very moment, that feeling hadn’t changed.

No matter how much the subject was a great sinner trying to harm my precious ones, or everyone in this world.

What I was about to do was an obvious act of murder cloaked in the name of justice.

No amount of flowery language could change that fact.

“Then….”

“W-wait…crack….”

As I adjusted the sword to point towards the ground, a woman’s pale voice quivered in sorrow.

“W-why…!”

Barely stitching together her shattered lips, she strained her voice.

For a moment, I thought she was speaking to me, but soon I realized she was not.

“W-why am I the only one in such a miserable state…! The ones who made me this way, they walk freely under the heavens…! Why…! Why…!”

A deathbed scream. A curse laced with resentment.

I could have given it a name, but I couldn’t bring myself to.

If I were the naïve me from before, maybe I wouldn’t mind.

But I was well aware of how she had ended up in this current state.

Poor souls betrayed by the faith they trusted, stripped of their names and existence, ultimately forgotten by the world.

No matter how much it was for the sake of peace, the sin we committed against her could never be forgiven.

If I found myself in her position, there was no guarantee I wouldn’t make the same choices as she had.

Her situation deserved all the sympathy.

I might be speaking words that would bring heavenly punishment on me, but at least I truly believed that.

“You all! You all have everything! Precious people! People who cherish you! Voices calling your name tenderly! The warmth wrapping around your skin! Dreams and hopes! You all have everything—!!!”

Even as she sank hopelessly into the swamp of death, the woman’s anguish grew louder.

“So this time, I tried to take it away! What’s so wrong with that! Why can’t we have anything!”

I now understood the obsession she held towards me.

It was, after all, the utterly human desire to reclaim what was taken from her.

A longing to be chosen as a saint.

A desire to regain her lost self.

The confluence of those two feelings morphed into an obsession directed at me, who remembered her name.

Just like how the saint once did with me.

Crack.

“…?”

“Saintess…?”

The saint who had been silently watching the situation suddenly gripped my sleeve tightly.

Her tiny hand barely clutched the edge of my robe.

From that faint tremor, a dark anxiety rippled through.

“I’m okay, Saintess.”

“…”

Gently, I spoke to her and patted her head a few times.

Snap.

The hero, who exhibited clear discomfort at my actions, stayed silent, as the situation called for.

How long had it been?

In the brief silence, my wandering heart finally found harmony for a moment.

Perhaps things had never been all that different.

This woman and the saint. Even the other saint candidates.

There might have been subtle differences, but the gaps were not insurmountably large.

In extreme situations, even the saint had stepped onto the wrong path.

The only notable difference was that the saint had someone around her who pushed her to confront her mistakes.

Thanks to that, she was able to correct her path before it was too late. That was all.

Why didn’t I notice that fact sooner?

Why hadn’t I met them sooner?

As pointless arrows of regret flew through my mind, I vigorously shook my head to regain focus.

Thud.

“…”

Once hesitation was brushed aside, the trembling of my hand gripping the sword finally settled.

I still believed she deserved sympathy for the past she had endured.

But it certainly did not mean I would grant her forgiveness.

The crimes she’d committed were not something I could lighten with my petty sympathy.

Her life. It was impossible to pray for her redemption or offer blessings in the name of the god.

All I could do for this woman was quietly wish for her malevolence to be justly judged in hell.

An overwhelming sense of helplessness weighed me down.

I never thought I would again be tormented by feelings that once bored me to the core.

“Curse you! Curse you! Curse you! Curse you! Every living being on this land! May you be cursed for eternity! May calamity befall your future! May a tragic end reveal itself!”

Even with no one listening, the woman’s curses grew increasingly venomous.

Initially, a few other saint candidates seemed ready to respond to her words, but now they only glanced over, frightened.

“Die! All of you die! Children! Adults! Men! Women! Old ladies! Mothers! All in horrifying pain—!!!”

Thud!

Before her soul could be further sullied, I decisively plunged the blade in.

“Cough…!”

A deadly wound precisely pierced the core that was violently throbbing like a heart.

With that decisive strike, her body, which thrashed wildly, began to crumble like a cookie.

“Raiza….”

“…!?”

A single syllable.

The reverent tone in which I called her calmed the tense atmosphere around us for a brief moment.

“May you have a blessed life in the afterlife….”

As the tremors in the air subsided and mixed with the swirling dust of my whispered prayer, it noticeably quieted.

“Ah, aaah….”

Like a child falling asleep to a lullaby.

For the first time, the expression on the woman’s face, marred by hatred and pain, seemed to reflect a hint of tranquility.

It could have simply been a fleeting sensation, perhaps a mere illusion cast by my guilt.

Yet, as her soul burned white from the sins etched into it by the flames of hell, I hoped she would at least relish a moment of peace at the end of her life.

Even if it was a nauseating hypocrisy, I wished for it sincerely.

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