“……Don’t fall apart.”
It was a miracle.
I thought so. The creatures of the forest, which had been cruelly extinguished by the horrors of battle, were beginning to stir again.
The broken trees were regenerating.
The fallen grasses were once again standing tall, and the fragrant scent of flowers tickled my nose.
My trembling eyes looked up at the Lady Virgin Saint.
Surrounded by divine light, the woman wore a playful smile.
No, on the other hand, it was pitiful.
It was a lovely smile.
“Don’t fall. Don’t despair, and don’t give up.”
Somewhere, the sound of birds echoed.
The grown forest cast a shadow. It didn’t take long before the dry slope transformed into our private place.
Just a few seconds, or even less.
Before long, a flurry of light was dancing.
It was fireflies.
“Sometimes fate will trample you, throw you away, insult you, and spit at you… Even so, don’t break.”
“Why, why…”
Must I?
Why has God prepared such a cruel fate and expects us not to break?
I wanted to argue back.
Sobbing, I wanted to protest before God. Anything would be fine, just please don’t take her away from me.
But in the end, I bowed my head. No words would come out.
And I wanted to engrave the Lady’s last plea in my heart.
To me, she was everything in this world.
At last, the index finger of the woman, which had been still, began to move again.
Followed by a finger that poked my left shoulder.
It was then that I realized the meaning of that gesture.
“Don’t lose to fate. Struggle, and fight back. This is…”
Tap, her index finger touched my right shoulder for the last time.
It was a sign of the cross.
Hearing her sobbing sound, the woman quietly grabbed my chin and forced our gazes to meet.
She had always had a dignified and imposing expression. But today was different.
Filled with love and affection, a faint dew gathered at the corners of the woman’s eyes as she smiled pitifully.
“……It is the will of the Lord.”
The silence did not last long. The woman slowly approached me and kissed me, and a moment that felt like both an instant and eternity passed.
Eventually, with a face as if she were about to cry, the woman asked me.
“Do you believe in me, I-an?”
In response to that brief question, I instantly recalled thousands of answers.
Yet all that escaped my lips was just one word.
“……Emmanuel.”
May the Lord be with you.
A commotion erupted.
Whispers echoed throughout the Mountain Court. Even the judges, who had been wearing serious expressions, had grave looks on their faces.
It was right after the man’s finger twitched. The fallen man showed no signs of rising yet.
It was after experiencing death hundreds of times.
If the body were obedient, it would be more abnormal. Every living being hopes to live and has an instinct to avoid death in the deepest part.
Yet, why.
With a snap, the man’s clenched teeth became a stepping stone.
He pressed his hand against his knee. With a deep groan, the man’s body was struggling to rise.
It was a sight that had already been repeated countless times.
It was impressive every time one saw it. However, there was no reason for the thousands of people to be agitated over a fact that had already been proven hundreds of times.
If there was any reason it should be so, it was only one.
Something was different.
Though there was no clear evidence yet, everyone present felt it intuitively. The voices of thousands in the crowd filled the Mountain Court.
One could tell this just by looking at the appearance of the Saint. Leaving behind the entranced Lady Virgin Saint, the Saint was staring at I-an with deeply sunk eyes.
With a crack.
A faint sound of friction could be heard from somewhere. Even including this detail, the Saint took in every single movement of the man’s body.
It was merely a small gesture.
During the process of rising, he nearly fell several times. Each time, he slammed his fists against the ground like a support to barely raise himself, a pitiful sight.
Yet, amidst that, several times the surrounding magic responded.
In the brief moment when the man, bowing his head, corrected his posture and steadied his breath.
The atmosphere reacted to the man’s breathing, scattering stardust. Even without intentionality, everything responded to that will.
An anomaly brushed past the Saint’s eyes. He waited patiently without even twitching, just for the man’s true awakening.
At last, the moment the man raised his head again.
A rushing gale surged forth, swirling into a vortex.
“AAAHHH!”
The screams filled the crowd, bursting forth.
Bang, bang, bang!
The incandescent world was letting out a grand roar.
Around the man, countless beads of starlight danced in the void. The closer the night’s veil approached, the brighter that light shone.
It was as if a scenery turned away from the night sky.
The silvery Milky Way descended to earth, and among them, one star stood out.
It was the man’s eyes positioned at the center.
The golden radiance shimmered beyond the man’s retina. This was a symbolic phenomenon showing that a martial artist had reached a certain realm.
A soft laugh escaped the Saint’s lips.
“……High Expert.”
The Mountain Court became even more chaotic at that indifferent remark.
What level is a High Expert?
Only those who truly face a Master can receive that honorable title. It also meant that the mental state had reached the level of overwhelming reality, distorting the laws of the world.
Roughly twenty names across the continent.
It was the moment when another name would be added to the bottom of that list.
Had he finally awakened his mental state after hundreds of deaths?
Even while thinking that, the Saint could not dismiss her doubts. No matter how many experiences one had to reach their limit, a High Expert was not an easy realm to attain.
It was not something someone who had been unable to use their hands could possibly touch.
I thought he would need at least thousands, or even tens of thousands, more deaths.
At that moment, however, the Saint’s sky-colored eyes fixed upon a point. Within I-an’s embrace, something was rumbling.
A black rod.
Even if it was hidden beneath his clothing, it could not evade the Saint’s senses. Only then did the Saint reveal a faint smile, as if realizing something.
It was an object that helped see beyond the boundary.
I did not know where such a precious item had been received, but the black rod was faithfully responding to its master’s intent. With its help, I presumed he had seen the ‘truth.’
At last, the previously closed eyelids of the Saint slowly began to open.
Those sky-colored eyes were gradually tinted with joy.
The martial artist who had attained the High Expert level finally awakens the true power of the mental state. In other words, it also meant that he could bend the laws of this world, albeit limitedly.
What kind of miracle would that man’s mental state show?
It had been a long time since the Saint’s heart raced.
“Ho ho, have you witnessed a fragment of the truth at the end of countless deaths? Very well. I shall accompany you… Now, come!”
With a fierce smile, the Saint joyfully spread his arms.
It was a signal that he would concede the first move.
A proposal that could only be made if backed by absolute confidence.
For decades, the Saint had never once been injured. No, he had not even gotten a scratch on his clothing. The strongest beings across the continent sought his guidance with the same results.
Only decades ago, a brat obsessed with the sword had landed an effective blow on the Saint.
The ‘Honor Trial’ also did not become an exception in the Saint’s undefeated myth.
Since the Honor Trial began, no one had ever harmed the Saint. No matter how strong the opponent was, it made no difference.
The Saint had never once used a weapon. That meant there had never been an opponent formidable enough to push him to dedicated effort.
Perhaps today would be no different.
With that judgment, the Saint felt a rush of anticipation running through his body.
With a bang.
I witnessed the silver trajectory piercing through my body.
How?
In that instant, the Saint’s gaze shook. A slight time delay was needed to grasp the situation correctly.
The opponent couldn’t even assume a proper stance. Logically, it would be abnormal to swing the sword properly. Not to mention, to cross this distance in an instant to strike.
It was physically impossible.
Yet it was also difficult to think of alternatives. The place where the man had stood just moments before was now empty, and only the wind was swirling.
Slowly, the Saint’s gaze turned behind him.
There stood a man with his back to the Saint. Perhaps having burned all the strength in his body, he was panting and about to collapse to his knees.
This could not be.
It felt like a malicious prank. It seemed as if someone had intentionally erased every moment from when the man drew his sword and took steps to reach that spot.
Only the beginning and end of the offensive remained glued together.
Otherwise, it would have been impossible to avoid the Saint’s eyes.
In the fleeting moment that divided time, the Saint’s contemplation reached a conclusion.
Blood burst forth with a pop.
“……The Saint is bleeding!”
A chorus filled with horror shook the Mountain Court.
For the first time since the Honor Trial began.
The Saint was bleeding.
