The Saint’s Manual for Redemption - Chapter 99

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

Chapter 99
“Tell the Archbishop.”
I spoke to the Priest who had relayed the Archbishop’s words with perfect serenity. The Priest’s face stiffened with discomfort.
“But Your Holiness…….”
“In terms of rank, who stands higher—the Archbishop or I?”
At my cool question, the Priest who had been stammering fell silent.
No matter how much of a figurehead I might be, the fact remained undeniable: the Saint stood at the head of the Religious Order.
To deny that was to deny the very structure of the Order that had established the Saint above all, and taken to its most extreme conclusion, it amounted to Blasphemy.
I regarded the Priest with a smile.
“Word for word, not a syllable wrong. Tell him exactly what I say.”
The Priest’s shoulders went rigid—caught red-handed meddling in the middle.
“So what you’re saying is: since the Archbishop assembled an entourage that includes a Spy disguised as a Sub-Deacon, someone the Imperial Court sent to assassinate me, the Archbishop must be considered complicit in this unprecedented affair?”
At my blunt words, the color drained from the Priest’s face.
However much the Temple had allied itself with the Imperial Court to cast me out, the Archbishop’s acceptance of the Court planting a Spy within the Temple was grounds for impeachment.
Even now, with Church-State Collusion woven in subtly throughout, the official doctrine of the Order—established during my time as the Third Saint—held that the Religious Order, representing the faith, must remain separate from the Central Government represented by the Imperial Court. At minimum, we had to maintain the appearance of that line.
Moreover, the Spy himself had already confessed to receiving orders for my assassination.
So if I openly accused the Archbishop of orchestrating my murder, he could hardly remain composed and serene.
Of course, wielding his authority, he might bury it quietly within the Temple itself.
But if the Croen Duke, who stood with me, exposed this matter, whether the rumors spreading throughout the Empire could truly be silenced remained uncertain.
As everyone knew, our Order was the State Religion. It would not take long for conspiracy theories entangled with this big news to spread nationwide.
Moreover, because I had cemented my status as God’s chosen one in the eyes of the faithful through the Flame of Judgment and Caritas’s descent, the villain would naturally become the Archbishop—someone who had never revealed such divine power to the believers before.
Hadn’t Calianna herself said so?
That there was a successor Cardinal the Archbishop supported, and opposing Cardinal factions arrayed against him.
Such factions would never let slip this golden opportunity to seize power.
To them, I would always be a Saint without real authority, so the likelihood was high that they harbored no concept of needing to share power with me, even if they cooperated to topple the Archbishop.
Therefore, they would have no qualms about siding with me.
By standing with me, they could attack the Archbishop on the pretext of how the Temple’s supreme leader was disrespected.
Politics has always been about justifications. Whoever holds the more compelling justification wins the upper hand.
I harbored no illusions that someone who had risen to the Archbishop’s rank would lack this degree of political calculation.
The Priest virtually fled the room. The moment the door closed, Arden looked at me with concern.
“Aren’t you showing your hand too quickly? Shouldn’t we wait until the Duke makes his accusation?”
I lifted the tea cup.
“I need to know for certain before the accusation.”
The water was still warm. To be safe, I wrapped the cup in my palm and performed a Purification, then brought it to my lips.
“Whether the Archbishop’s hand is truly in this, or whether even he couldn’t imagine the Second Prince would attempt something so audacious.”
After a sip, I set the cup down unhurriedly.
“The Archbishop’s reaction will tell me all I need to know.”
It was both a threat and a test.
If the Archbishop truly knew about planting an Imperial Spy within my entourage, he would first move to destroy the evidence and suppress me in this situation.
Conversely, if he too was unaware that the Second Prince had driven a knife into the Temple’s inner workings, then at least his initial reaction would border on genuine rage.
Even if it were the former, the Archbishop would have no time to act.
Yesterday, just before arriving at the Temple, a messenger pigeon bearing the letter I had sent flew toward the Croen Duchy from a village where I insisted on stopping for cold water—only for a brief moment.
Moments later, commotion erupted outside the door. The Archbishop, all pretense abandoned, came rushing to my chamber at full tilt.
“Your Holiness! What in heaven’s name is this—assassination orders……!”
The moment the door opened, the Archbishop stumbled in, his usual composure entirely shattered.
He reached out toward me. No doubt he intended to seize my hand and launch into a touching performance about whether I was unharmed.
But before his hand could touch me, the sharp edge of Arden’s sword cut across the Archbishop’s path.
The Archbishop reflexively stepped back. Arden spoke coldly.
“You may not approach Her Holiness until you’ve proven your innocence.”
The air in the room froze. The Archbishop’s eyes transformed in an instant—a murderous glare, as though to say how dare a mere Holy Knight presume to obstruct him.
But that glint did not linger. In the next moment, he gazed at me with the utmost pity and pathos, as though nothing had happened.
The old man’s glistening eyes made my stomach churn, but offered little toward proving innocence.
I leaned back in my chair and smiled.
“It’s difficult to look at your face, Archbishop.”
“Though I committed the irreverence of summoning Your Holiness away from such pressing matters, upon hearing the gravity of the situation, I abandoned all else and came at once. O Caritas.”
This was the first time I had seen the old man humble himself to such a degree before me.
Was it to lull me into a false sense of security before striking from behind, or truly to prove his innocence?
In any case, the fact that the Archbishop had orchestrated a meeting between me and the Second Prince worked enormously against him. I had told him not to go making rash arrangements like that.
I placed my fingertips beside the tea cup and tapped lightly.
“Then it’s fortunate.”
Relief flickered across the Archbishop’s face for a moment. I pressed on immediately.
“I almost suspected you were complicit in this assassination attempt too, given how actively you pushed for my meeting with the Second Prince.”
The Archbishop’s expression hardened.
“The Second Prince tried to assassinate you?”
I caught the flash of fury and murderous intent that crossed his wide-eyed gaze, however briefly.
Ah, so he genuinely didn’t know.
It appeared the Archbishop was unaware of the Second Prince’s audacious surveillance and assassination plan targeting me.
His design had been to push the First Prince toward the throne while sending both the Second Prince and me away together—but when a chess piece slips from your hand and bonds with another piece in the same team only to commit fratricide against a third, one can hardly blame him for his frustration.
Besides, if the Saint were assassinated, the Religious Order’s authority would plummet.
Think about it. Would people truly continue to believe in God if they witnessed firsthand that He could not even protect His own representative?
People don’t believe in God simply because they have nothing else to do, or merely because they need an object of worship.
They believe because they want to be protected, guided toward righteousness, and given the strength to overcome adversity and suffering.
That’s why the Archbishop had thus far attempted to dispose of me through martyrdom, or by invoking God’s will within the Temple itself, or by claiming God had rejected me.
To openly employ an external force for assassination would not merely be the death of one Saint—it would be severing the very neck upon which the Temple’s authority rested.
The Archbishop collected himself in that brief moment.
“I swear to you, I gave no such order.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
My ready acceptance made the Archbishop’s gaze waver instead.
I nudged the tea cup lightly with my fingertip and smiled.
“I don’t believe you’re so foolish as all that.”
Uncertain whether it was praise or insult, the Archbishop’s face grew subtly rigid. I continued at my leisure.
“Then perhaps you’ll explain what criteria you used in assembling the escort party?”
It was time to make the Archbishop confess by his own lips.

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