The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 13

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 13
Arden noticed my expression had darkened and asked urgently.
“What’s wrong? Didn’t the purification work properly?”
“That can’t be it. I didn’t leave a trace of Miasma on the villagers yesterday.”
To be safe, I’d purified today’s Miasma completely as well, but it was strange that it had accumulated again in just a day—no, in just a few hours.
Though the amount was faint, it was unmistakably Miasma.
Caritas, is it possible for Miasma to spontaneously generate in the human body? First the spontaneous generation of fruit flies, now the spontaneous generation of Miasma.
Was Miasma actually fruit flies all along?
As I stood there with a serious face, genuinely lost in thought, Arden offered me comfort carefully.
“Even the Cardinals, who have handled Holy Power for decades, cannot wield it perfectly. For someone who has only just awakened to Holy Power to demonstrate this level of mastery over it is truly remarkable.”
Remarkable, my foot. I’d handled it far longer and far more than those Cardinals, so if I’m worse at it than them, I deserve to drop dead.
And there was something else.
The amount of accumulated Miasma varied for each villager. Since only the girl named Lina possessed Purification Holy Power, there was no way the Miasma could self-purify in the bodies of villagers who had no Holy Power at all.
‘How did Miasma appear again in just a few hours, and why does the amount differ from person to person?’
It was a question that simply wouldn’t untangle.
The ground itself wasn’t contaminated. This morning, I’d gone house to house purifying the Miasma while simultaneously spreading my Holy Power broadly to check if there was anything emitting intense Miasma inside the homes, but my senses picked up nothing.
Walking with Arden through every corner of the village, searching in case there was a source of Miasma contamination in places the villagers’ eyes couldn’t see, our efforts came to nothing time and again.
“Even though I’ve been in this village for several months, and numerous priests have come and gone, we haven’t been able to find the cause of this village’s continued contamination.”
Rufus spoke solemnly to me, who was grumbling in frustration.
“So you’re saying to give up?”
Raising an eyebrow as I asked, Rufus shook his head briefly.
“Expecting to find it in just a few hours is a rather thieving kind of mindset.”
Hearing that, I couldn’t argue—it was fair.
On a whim, I checked the Miasma contamination levels of the villagers once more, and I couldn’t help but mutter to myself.
“Again?”
It hadn’t even been four hours since I’d purified them this morning, yet the villagers were contaminated once more.
‘So that’s why Cardinal Norman ended up like that from Holy Power exhaustion.’
I didn’t know how much Holy Power Cardinal Norman possessed, but continuously purifying Miasma accumulating at this rate was exhausting even for me.
Using Holy Power depletes your stamina. That’s why, even back when I was the Third Generation Saint, I trained so relentlessly to stay in peak physical condition.
In this lifetime, I’ve seen quite a few of the Cardinals who provide free labor at the Temple, shuffling around in crowds like a gaggle of geese with their necks stiffly raised, but there wasn’t a single young person among them.
So Cardinal Norman was surely an elderly man with graying hair. How could his stamina hold up?
Watching the people around me age naturally, no matter how much exercise and health care they pursue, once they pass sixty they start complaining about their ailments. Of course, in my past life I was blessed with a body and appearance in my twenties well into my hundreds.
Let me think about this properly.
Our Caritas wouldn’t be petty enough to curse one specific village with infinite Miasma refills.
Look—even though the Temple has fallen to this sorry state, She doesn’t keep blessing us with infinite Miasma refills every few hours; instead, She graciously reincarnates and uses only me. Isn’t that right?
And moreover, Caritas is fundamentally opposed to Miasma, so She can’t curse through it.
So there had to be a source of Miasma somewhere in this village. If I could find it, maybe I could avoid the tragedy of becoming a reclusive hermit stuck in Arden’s territory.
A reclusive hermit versus being burned at the stake. Neither was exactly an appealing choice.
‘It started four months ago, Candidate for Saint…….’
‘Four months ago, it was…….’
‘Still, even while we were digging the new well, we hoped the old one would hold until Grandmother passed, but its water dried up four months ago.’
Wait…….
An epiphany struck me like lightning. The scattered puzzle pieces were clicking into place, forming a coherent image.
The answer was so obvious I was amazed I hadn’t noticed it until now.
Turning sharply to Arden, I spoke urgently.
“Would you mind holding my hand for a moment?”
Though bewilderment crossed his face, Arden readily extended his hand and held mine carefully.
Through the sensation transmitted beyond his gloved hand, I could now be 80 percent certain my hypothesis was correct.
“You said Marcelo was quarantined because of a contagious illness, didn’t you?”
Arden nodded.
“Rufus, didn’t you say Marcelo only came here to eat and left?”
Rufus affirmed my question as well.
Finally, the mystery unraveled, and I felt my lips curve into a smile. Now my certainty was 100 percent.
I strode toward The Well, which the village was currently using as their communal water source. Arden and Rufus scrambled to follow hurriedly.
“Have you figured something out?”
“I want to verify my hypothesis.”
I leaned into The Well. It was so deep I wondered how it had been dug.
“I noticed it yesterday too, but this well is quite deep.”
Even I, the Saint with the most powerful Holy Power in history, couldn’t indirectly measure a depth like this.
From what I could see from outside, it was deep enough to potentially touch the Demon Realm located underground. I grabbed the Water Bucket hanging from The Well’s roof and threw it down to draw up water.
“Weak as the miasma is, it accumulates in the human body day after day through drinking water and food. Naturally, miasma corruption would progress. The livestock drank from this water too, so everything that’s happened here makes sense.”
“You’re saying the corruption began with this well water?”
Rufus clasped his trembling hands together as if in prayer, asking the question.
“Exactly. The time this village started using the new well matches almost precisely when the village began to fall ill. Of course, time would have been needed for the miasma to accumulate, but hearing testimony that the children and animals showed symptoms first—that’s what convinced me.”
A long breath escaped me. It was no one’s fault, really. If anything, the villagers’ mistake was digging a well directly above a water vein contaminated with miasma.
“Even in the same quantities, animals and children are far more vulnerable to miasma, so the corruption would have progressed faster. Just like animals, the children ate meals made with this water and drank it as their daily water. And newborns either drank formula mixed with miasma-corrupted water or nursed from their mothers’ miasma-corrupted milk.”
Now I understood why the village people seemed trapped in an endless curse of miasma refills—every time I measured them, the miasma corruption had returned.
Last night’s dinner. This morning’s breakfast.
After two meals, I’d measured the miasma each time. Of course it had accumulated.
“Marcelo also ate ‘meals’ here in this village, which is why he became addicted to miasma.”
“Hiding his body only at night protected him from the demon beasts, but it did nothing to shield him from miasma corruption…….”
“Norman—the Cardinal, you said?—he stayed here and continuously consumed water and food corrupted with miasma. How could he not exhaust his Holy Power when he was purifying the miasma accumulating in his own body every single day while also purifying all the villagers?”
“Oh, merciful heavens…… So that’s…….”
Rufus, finally understanding the truth of the cursed village, traced the sign of the cross repeatedly, his eyes glistening with tears.
“And the deciding factor—”
I reached out and took the hand of Arden—gloved as it was—and purified the weak miasma that had accumulated in his body.
“Arden drank water after eating the meal you prepared yesterday, but I haven’t eaten or drunk anything since arriving in this village. With our cases as proof, now it’s certain.”
Arden’s eyes widened. If anyone knew what it felt like to become bait for demon beasts and have miasma corruption cleansed away, it was him.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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