The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 75

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

Chapter 75
As the carriage began to move, Calianna scratched her cheek and opened her mouth carefully.
“So… you’re saying that Baron Norvaldt’s family was hiding and raising a Monster at their villa? And you captured it, Your Highness?”
Calianna had remained in her room the entire time, so she didn’t fully understand what had actually happened at the villa.
The sedated meal, the portrait in the second-floor corridor, the canvas made from human skin, the paint infused with Holy Power, and the Ecclesia Cult besides.
Explaining the entire sequence of events would make the air in the carriage far too heavy, and more than that, I found the prospect of going through it all again myself rather tedious.
While Johan gave Calianna a rough summary of what had transpired at the villa, I extended my hand toward Arden.
“Give me the map, would you.”
Arden promptly handed it over. I unfolded the map and laid it across my lap, alternating my gaze between the location of Baron Norvaldt’s villa and the position of Croenne Grand Duchy, where we were headed.
“But why would the Ecclesia Cult go to such tedious lengths to turn the baron into a Monster? Prolonged exposure to Demonic Energy alone would do the job without all that.”
At Calianna’s question, I paused my finger on the map and offered my conjecture.
“They seem to have been conducting an experiment—creating Monsters with immunity to Holy Power.”
Arden clicked his tongue.
“In the end, the Indulgences caused all this trouble.”
I reflexively lifted my head at those words.
“If Indulgences hadn’t been abused, none of this would have happened. If they’d never issued them for grave sins like murder, if they’d only followed the Third Saint’s guidance—!”
Since no one in this carriage knew that the Third Saint in question was me, I could speak with perfect confidence as though I bore no fault whatsoever.
Well, to be precise, Caritas probably knows. And that man will keep silent about it, as he always does at moments like this. In any case, Arden replied quietly to my rebuttal.
“But in the end they were abused, and this is the result we’re faced with.”
Johan and Calianna watched our exchange—if it could even be called that—with wide eyes. Apparently they found it rather striking that we spoke so candidly about such sensitive matters.
“But the way you talk, it sounds as though I personally orchestrated the Indulgence trade.”
“Your Highness shields even the Third Saint’s mistakes as though they were your own doing, so that’s why I speak this way. If you’d allowed her faults to be criticized fairly, I wouldn’t speak like this either.”
Eventually Johan cleared his throat a couple of times and, affecting propriety, cut Arden off.
“Even if you are the Saint’s guardian knight, you’re being far too disrespectful. Enough of this disloyalty. And toward the Third Saint, too. No matter how she embodies both light and shadow simultaneously, we cannot deny that her greatest contribution was to the flourishing of the Church itself—can we?”
Yes, there you are, showing my past self such unstinting respect—so why are you acting this way toward the present me, Johan? You’re the same person, so show me some of that reverence too.
Arden said nothing more and closed his mouth. Watching him do so, there was an unmistakable warmth in Calianna’s eyes. Right, she said she was a fan of the Third Saint. Somehow that felt reassuring. Even if the present me had no allies here.
I lowered my gaze back to the map and tapped the paper lightly with my fingertip.
Each time I clashed with Arden over something like this, it brought back memories of fighting Valente over identical issues.
Valente had been the same way back then—he would point out the shadow that my principles and ideals cast upon reality, and I would bristle even knowing his words held truth.
So blood really can’t be deceived.
I deliberately pushed the thought away and concentrated on the map.
I checked the location of this town, Lebon’s territory, and the regions where the Ecclesia Cult had scattered its puppets, one by one.
The town had changed so much in five hundred years that I wouldn’t have recognized it by name alone, but with the map spread before me, the terrain aligned with what I remembered.
The flow of the river, the curve of the mountain range, the old roads—what had changed were human names and the town’s scale, but the fundamental current that ran through the land itself remained the same.
In this town as well, a shadow Monster of the Arch-Demon Rhaum lay sleeping.
Had the Monster blood used in Baron Norvaldt’s portrait perhaps come from one of Rhaum’s shadow Monsters? If blood had been passed down over five hundred years, it was entirely possible. The Ecclesia Cult’s methods seemed to have expanded beyond their ritual sacrifices of puppets.
I traced my fingertip across the towns I’d marked on the map, connecting them.
When I drew the final line, a Hexagram appeared on the map.
And there, at the very center of that Hexagram, lay Croenne Grand Duchy.
I stared down at the map and let out a silent, hollow laugh.
It seems our choice was the right one after all. Is this what they call stumbling backward and catching a rat?
Or perhaps Caritas guided me here without troubling himself to send a Divine Revelation.
In that case, shouldn’t he at least grant me a Mind Reading Skill out of conscience? I harbored that irreverent thought for just a moment, then folded the map and mentally reorganized the information I’d gathered.
The Ecclesia Cult’s objective was clear.
They were attempting to awaken the Arch-Demon Rhaum.
***
Without rest to make up for lost time, the carriage drove on and arrived at our destination exactly one day behind schedule.
When we reached Croenne Grand Duchy, I found myself narrowing my eyes briefly—the territory looked hardly different from what I remembered. Wait, they’ve kept using the same castle name even after changing the family line? Just doing repairs? If it were me, I’d have renovated the whole thing.
Roughly five hundred years ago, when I’d defeated Rhaum, the territory hadn’t looked so different from this. Of course, the architectural styles, the clothing of people moving through the streets, the shapes of carriages and signboards had all changed with the passage of time.
But the distinctive cold and solid northern air, the gentle fall of snow, the line of distant castle walls, the weighty sense of stability enveloping the entire territory—none of these felt unfamiliar. Returning again stirred my emotions in unexpected ways, and before I knew it I was looking this way and that through the carriage window.
Watching me, Arden quietly draped a White Fox Fur Cloak over my shoulders for warmth and spoke softly.
“A truly beautiful territory, Your Highness.”
“Have you been to Croenne Grand Duchy before?”
“Yes. Though it was long ago.”
Arden nodded. Though he appeared to be in his mid-to-late twenties at most, “long ago” would suggest he came as a small child. Did he even remember that? Impressive memory, then. Pulled from my reverie, I looked around more carefully.
Croenne Grand Duchy was completely intact.
To such a degree that Johan’s constant rushing and complaints about us being delayed because of my meddling rang hollow.
He gazed out the carriage window at the territory’s residents moving peacefully about, the orderly streets, the shops standing open unmolested, his face clouded with bewilderment.
“I was told it was critical, but why…?”
Why, indeed. Because you fell completely for the letter I conspired with Baron Lebon to send.
But if the Ecclesia Cult was moving to awaken the Archfiend Rhaum, then this truly was a serious situation.
Gravity didn’t require monsters sprinting through streets or bodies bleeding out on the pavement. In fact, the genuinely dangerous business often hid behind a face that looked perfectly ordinary, innocuous even.
Not long after, we arrived at Croenne Castle.
Once we were shown inside and entered the reception hall, the castle’s master—the Northern Grand Duke I had so eagerly awaited meeting—greeted us.
“It is an honor to receive the Saint in this way. I am Karzen Cassian Laurent Seraphion Kroen, master of the Croenne Grand Duchy.”
As befitted royal blood, he carried quite the name. I wondered if even he forgot it sometimes, then caught myself indulging in such an impertinent thought as I studied the man before me.
The Northern Grand Duke was rather far removed from the stereotype one typically conjured at the mention of his title.
Copper-red hair, verdant eyes, and an impression somehow both ornate and languid—a slender frame.
He seemed far better suited to some southern resort, lounging at ease between a pair of beauties with a cocktail in hand, than to the brutal cold of the north.
Wasn’t the default Northern Grand Duke supposed to have black hair, pale eyes, a stocky build, broad shoulders, and a commanding presence?

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