The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 19

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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 19
The reaction was understandable enough.
Until now, every Saint the Church had paraded before the faithful was an ordinary woman ignorant of Holy Power. It made them easier to puppet, which served the Church’s purposes perfectly.
When Holy Power was genuinely needed, the temples provided Sacred Objects to create the illusion. This meant the Saints had no choice but to obey the Church absolutely—any sign of their falseness exposed would be catastrophic.
Against this backdrop, the emergence of a Saint who could wield Holy Power freely struck at the Church’s foundations. It meant losing the very mechanism by which they controlled her.
Everyone gathered here understood the implications better than most.
Arden, settled back comfortably in his chair, closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and continuing.
“She manipulates Holy Power freely, without any need for Sacred Objects.”
That brilliant golden radiance still burned in his mind’s eye. It was a sight he would never forget.
Setting aside the Blessing Siela had granted before they entered Delheim, the Holy Power she had wielded—purifying Demon Beasts and conjuring the Holy Water Pond—far exceeded anything the Heterodox Church’s pilfered Sacred Objects could possibly produce.
“Then does this mean… she is not a false Saint planted by the heretics to shake the Caritas Church, but rather a true Saint chosen by Caritas?”
The tentative question drew a nod from Arden. Seeing the hopeful gleam in their eyes, he added:
“I don’t know what sort of change she’ll bring to the Temple.”
Arden’s mind drifted to those translucent mint-colored eyes—so clear, yet impenetrable. He let slip a remark that could have been either mockery or lament.
The meeting ended there.
The assembled men dispersed, leaving Arden alone in the gallery, lost in thought.
Those eyes belonged to an eighteen-year-old barely come of age, yet they held a depth that felt profoundly unsettling.
‘It’s not impossible she matured early, having grown up in an orphanage.’
As things stood, Arden Howelyn knew nothing whatsoever about the Saint candidate named Siela.
He didn’t know when she had first awakened to Holy Power or learned to wield it, whether her uncanny strength was a gift bestowed upon her divine selection or something she had always possessed, or how she could remain so unflinching before Demon Beasts—likely seeing one for the first time—as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was suspicious, and it was intriguing. His earlier suspicions born of her resemblance to the Third Saint had long since faded.
The question now was whether she would be corrupted by the Temple and go down in history as the worst Saint, or whether she would be the sole key that could flip the board entirely.
For Arden, that alone mattered now.
***
The moment word came that Siela had returned to the Main Temple, the atmosphere in the upper echelons of the Church shifted visibly.
As soon as the conference room door closed, someone spoke first.
“That orphan girl is back?”
Anxiety hung thick in the question’s tone.
“What if that girl actually resolved the Delheim situation?”
“She should have been devoured by the Demon Beast…!”
“Did someone tip her off? We deliberately assigned a Palace Knight without notable skill to her escort, so how could she possibly…”
From there, a torrent of anxiety and suspicion erupted.
The Archbishop watched in silence for a moment, then gave a light, deliberate cough. Eyes snapped toward him.
“There is no need for such agitation.”
A subtle smile played across his aged features. It was the expression of absolute certainty.
“This is a matter that even the seasoned Cardinal Norman could not resolve.”
The Archbishop nodded and continued.
“And yet, a mere orphan girl accomplished it?”
A brief silence fell, followed by a thin, chilling laugh.
“Impossible.”
“Precisely. Impossible.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. As though by consensus, their thoughts became truth.
“She clearly lacks any real command of Holy Power. And even if she did know how to wield it, where could she have possibly taken that knowledge?”
“Of course not—she surely never even entered the village. She was probably wasting time somewhere before fleeing.”
“So by tomorrow, we can hand that orphan girl over to the Heresy Inquiry? Finally I’ll be able to sleep soundly.”
Relief spread across the Cardinals’ faces.
The Archbishop regarded them with evident satisfaction, nodding in approval.
“We have already arranged the board—the Saint Competition, public opinion, the records. No matter what crude tricks that girl employs, the final choice remains in our hands.”
Had Siela heard this, she would have cursed roundly.
***
The next morning, the Archbishop finally summoned us.
The two Saint candidates were to convene in the Holy Sanctuary of the Main Temple—the very place where we had received word of the Competition and its terms.
I arrived early and set out the materials on the Sanctuary floor, waiting. Then Kalianna and the Archbishop arrived.
Beneath that breathtakingly high ceiling and the elaborate stained glass filtering sunlight in all its radiance, the Archbishop stood resplendent in the luminous glow.
The sight made my skin crawl slightly. That stained glass had been designed specifically to match my hair color, meant to make me look more divine.
This old man with his bare scalp and white hair was not the intended recipient of this halo.
With Kalianna and myself standing side by side, each flanked by our escorts, the Archbishop—who had been smiling benevolently—spoke.
“I ask that both candidates come forward.”
The content was a request, but the tone unmistakably carried the weight of command.
I took a long stride forward, and without a moment’s hesitation, Kalianna followed, her white dress trailing across the floor as she came to rest beside me.
Kalianna’s white dress was refined enough that anyone could immediately recognize it as a Saint’s garb. She could walk out as she was and proclaim herself Saint, and everyone would nod in agreement.
By contrast, my own dress—worn by a fellow candidate—seemed hopelessly plain next to hers.
It oddly resembled the garments worn by those brought before a Heresy Inquiry. I could stand in that courtroom dressed as I was, and no one would bat an eye.
Why spoil the result so openly through clothing? Now I’m tempted to ruin that spoiler myself.
“I trust you both have performed the trial that Caritas set before you with distinction.”
The Archbishop’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment. Caritas, if there’s still time, I beseech you—trade that sunlight falling on that balding crown for a lightning bolt.
“Report first, Kalianna.”
Kalianna stepped forward and began her report in a clear voice.
“The trial location Caritas granted me was the village of Kaldoric in the Brechstein territory.”
Unlike Delheim with its phantom plague born of Miasma, she’d brought a Healing Sacred Object to a village with an actual epidemic. Caritas, I respect the grind.
“Many there had already fallen to the plague, and some lacked even the strength to call upon God’s name. I tended to the sick and prayed for God’s touch to reach them, and through Healing Holy Power, I bestowed upon them Caritas’s mercy and Blessing. Whether by God’s grace or my prayer, the plague that had relentlessly tormented the villagers of Kaldoric faded entirely from that place.”
Kalianna recited her account with practiced fluency, like words memorized and rehearsed. There was clearly a script behind it.
Right, I called Caritas for this exact reason. Not irreverence—but faith in my own judgment.
“From this moment forward, no more deaths shall come to the village of Kaldoric.”
Kalianna delivered her closing line, then gazed at the Archbishop with an appropriately humble expression.
“Ah, to perform that simple yet difficult work of divine mercy and Blessing with such excellence—truly remarkable.”
The Archbishop wiped away tears, speaking as though deeply moved. I wondered if skilled tearful acting was one of the prerequisites for rising to Archbishop.
Not only the Archbishop’s eyes, but those of everyone in the Holy Sanctuary slowly shifted from Kalianna to me.
I met their sharp, scrutinizing gazes with a slight smile.
“So I’ve won, then?”
The Archbishop’s composure slipped for an instant, his eyebrows rising. Everyone else’s expression mirrored his.
“I’ve brought a Miracle to show you.”
I spoke with as much confidence as Kalianna had, tilting my chin up slightly.
“Surely a Miracle outranks divine mercy and Blessing?”
Go ahead and try to refute that. Anyone who wants to object should show me their Miracle first—then we’ll talk.

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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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