Chapter 82: The Saint (5)  

The priests of QuoVadis gathered and prayed day and night. As a result, all three stages of clinical trials were successfully completed.

They produced the essence of sacred power, which can purify all plagues in the metropolitan area with just a drop. This highly concentrated holy water was so potent that they even made three extra drops as a backup. It’s called the ‘Tears of the Saint (Plany de la Verge).’ With just one drop, it could eradicate any plague in the slums.

Dolores finally recited a prayer of blessings and thanks over the three drops of holy water that had been created.

[Look around, everyone. There’s a woman here who only has one son. Do you understand the anguish of a mother who has seen her son hang? It’s so painful that my heart can’t take it anymore. Oh, my lovely and noble son. This is the most depressing and heartbreaking day of my life…]

The epic poem left by the first saint shone brightly, comforting all the holy sacrifices in this world.

Eventually, a bright light began to emit from the three drops of holy water. Inquisitor Mozgus politely bowed and placed the small glass vials containing them on a tray. Soon, ten bishops followed Mozgus, escorting the holy water.

It was to store them deep within the QuoVadis: Saint Mecca Branch’s secure underground vault.

Gradually, numerous clergy members gathered at Quovadis’ headquarters to witness the ceremony.

“…”

Dolores felt a subtle sense of tension and discomfort in the air. It was understandable because the faith-based Quovadis was currently in the midst of a civil war, and both factions leading this conflict, the “Old Testament Faction” and the “New Testament Faction,” were gathered here. The plague called the “Crimson Death” was a significant concern.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man with a dignified and smooth appearance looked down at Dolores.

“Come closer, my Nymphet, my daughter.”

After hesitating for a moment, Dolores politely lowered her gaze.

“Yes, Father.”

Having finished speaking, she walked slowly with small steps towards the man. Then, Humbert L Quovadis, who, apart from the Pope, held the highest rank in leading the Old Testament Faction, patted Dolores’s head gently.

“You’ve made a significant contribution this time.”

“It’s an honor.”

Dolores was extremely cautious when addressing her father. While it might not be a typical attitude for a daughter, in a vast and prestigious family, it was not considered unusual, and no one found it strange.

Meanwhile, Humbert nodded in approval at Dolores’s modest attitude.

“Very well. Give your report about what has happened so far.”

“I’ve prepared a written report. Shall I present it right away?”

“Speak. Isn’t writing it out too rigid?”

Dolores nodded quietly in response to Humbert’s words.

“First, we plan to use the ‘Tears of the Saint’ that has been created to purify all the underground waterways in the Saint Mecca.”

“Have you found the source of the plague?”

“Yes, it was an unregistered well in the slum highlands.”

Dolores was a natural investigator. Even when she was a first-year student at the Academy, she was a member of the school’s detective club, demonstrating her skills in deduction and investigation.

She primarily focused on interrogating patients in the slums, especially children, and had collected multiple testimonies claiming to have seen ghosts near a well.

Without delay, Dolores went to investigate the well in question. To her surprise, the well was heavily contaminated by the plague, and she even found a glass vial suspected of containing the plague bacteria.But that’s not all.

“While investigating that place, I also discovered something suspicious.”

From this point on, it’s information not found in the report.

When Humbert expressed curiosity, Dolores took out a piece of evidence wrapped in a clean cloth. As Humbert laid eyes on it, his eyes widened as if they might pop out at any moment.

“This is?!”

A rare ceremonial dagger with a large serpent emblem. It was undoubtedly the symbol of the hostile Reviadon family. Next to it, there was a single button.

A golden button adorned with a sickle and hammer, unmistakably a symbol of the Industrial Clan: Bourgeois.

“Where did these come from?”

“They were found in different locations in the slums.”

At that moment, Archbishop Humbert’s eyes rapidly shifted. In his mind, the causal connections were already being woven together.

“…It was said that the structure of the plague seemed artificially created.”

Creating a plague of this magnitude would require not only a deep knowledge of toxins but also significant research funding.

Crack!

Archbishop Humbert forcefully stomped his foot. The pristine marble floor cracked, and two nearby stone pillars collapsed.

“A declaration of sanctity! How dare these wretched poisonmongers, these parasites, blaspheme against the divine…!”

Even the Emperor would have to step back in the face of Quovadis’ intentions. How could these insignificant beings, who create poison and covet money, dare to raise such a scandal?

At that moment, a current of political strife flowed among the seven noble families of the Empire.

“…”

Dolores remained silent, keeping her lips sealed.

Then, a statement from Archbishop Humbert broke the silence, enough to make her eyes widen.

“…Did you say ‘Night’s Hound’?”

Humbert contorted his handsome face as he spoke.

“That one is suspicious as well. Apprehend him and assign an inquisitor. Make him spill everything he knows.”

Upon hearing this, Dolores noticeably panicked. Her usual composed and rational demeanor crumbled in an instant.

With a desperate expression resembling any other sixteen-year-old girl, she urgently protested.

“He is innocent!”

“…?”

Dolores’s sudden objection caused Humbert’s expression to freeze momentarily.

“That person? What are you saying…?”

He looked at Dolores with an incredulous expression, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Father, I… what I mean is…”Normally, she had never gone against her father’s wishes, except for opposing the New Testament Faction. But now, things were different.

“…”

With clenched fists and trembling, Dolores faced Humbert’s gaze head-on. Her determination to protect the Night’s Hound seemed unshakable.

‘After all the hard work he put into treating the poor, he can’t be a villain!’

Dolores had heard the testimonies of many patients. This person had tirelessly treated patients, apologizing repeatedly for not being able to do more. Despite his modest means, he used his sacred power and even gave away all his possessions to help the patients.

“Why did he say sorry to the patients?”

Was it because he couldn’t treat them faster or more extensively? If that were the case, Dolores empathized with him deeply. She had always felt sorry for the sick. Others would ask why she felt sorry when she should be receiving gratitude instead. But despite that, Dolores always felt sorry for everyone.

And the Night’s Hound understood that. They shared a conversation not long ago.

“I was fortunate enough to be born with sacred power, but my body, mind, and faith are weak. Someone stronger, like you, should have been born with this sacred power…”

Why did the gods choose her as a saint? Even if she didn’t have sacred power, there were others with strong faith. Why did she receive the title of a saint?

She bowed her head and cried. The Night’s Hound spoke to her.

“The fact that you suffer and feel sorry in itself may be why the gods chose you. It’s the love of the gods that shines the brightest when it reaches the lowest and most difficult places.”

Dolores couldn’t help but sigh internally. It was like comforting words from a mature saint, an older brother she admired. When she looked at the Night’s Hound, she had that feeling.

“When I grow older, will I be able to say the same things you just did?”

“…Perhaps you will.”

He responded with an enigmatic answer, showing a faint hint of trust toward Dolores.

The sixteen-year-old girl held that admiration within her. That’s why, now, she fiercely defended the Night’s Hound’s innocence in front of her father, Humbert L Quovadis, the Head of the Quovadis Household.

But…

“…”

The more Dolores defended, the harder Humbert’s expression became. Eventually, Humbert, accompanied by many bishops, took action.

“Prepare for an urgent arrest. We will interrogate him immediately.”

Dolores’s objections were in vain. Humbert, with an even more determined attitude than before, headed towards the room where the Night’s Hound was staying. Dolores followed him, ready to throw herself in front of the Night’s Hound if necessary.

However…

“!?”

Everyone standing in front of the room was left wide-eyed. The room was empty. The wind blew through the broken window curtains, creating an eerie atmosphere.

The Night’s Hound had vanished into thin air. The frantic shouts of the clergy from the lower floor indicated the severity of the situation.

“Something big happened! One drop of the Saint’s Tears has disappeared!”

In that moment…

“Ah!”

Dolores quietly opened her mouth. She now had a vague understanding of why he had come here. And now that he had achieved his goal, she had an uncertain conviction that she would never see him again.

While Humbert and the knights were creating a commotion and forming a pursuit team, Dolores simply stared out into the darkness through the window.

The empty room, the broken window, and the cold wind brought reality to her.

…Thump!

Her heart sank again. It was a heartbeat quite different from the last time.