Chapter 290
The Saint (3)
A flicker of flame settled on the back of his hand.
It glowed white, like a divine tattoo, reminiscent of the white flames wielded by inquisitors. The fire slowly spread, tracing the lines of the sacred tattoo, as if painting over it.
Then, searing pain engulfed him.
“…!”
“…Dalen?”
A grinding noise, teeth clenched in agony, was the only response. Blood trickled down his chin.
“Dalen…”
The sight brought tears to the eyes of the paladin, who watched helplessly.
But Dalen had no time to worry about that. His mind was consumed by the burning agony.
‘Damn it. I didn’t expect it to be like this.’
Acquiring a skill by retrieving a corpse didn’t mean understanding its full mechanics immediately. Especially with unique skills, mastering them could take a long time.
For skills like black magic or miracles, which borrowed power from others, fully comprehending their causality was nearly impossible, even with mastery.
This was one of those cases.
He had gained the unique skill of mass resurrection, but hadn’t fully grasped the cost.
‘Damn religious zealots. If they knew I was after a resurrection skill, they could’ve at least warned me…!’
The cost was more than just searing pain.
Sacrificing the divine tattoo and power meant paying a price equivalent to the benefits and results.
To nullify death, another form of sacrifice was required.
As the white flames spread from his hand, the intensity of the reversal grew more brutal.
Crack!
When the flames reached the tattoo on his wrist, his clenched fist twisted grotesquely.
The divine tattoo on the inside of his wrist, which enhanced his grip when holding a sword, was sacrificed, leading to an uncontrolled release of strength.
The result was bones cracking and muscles tearing under the force of his own strength.
Sizzle…
When the flames touched the tattoo that resisted toxins, his flesh melted as if exposed to poison.
Snap! Crack!
The divine tattoo that strengthened his leg bones now crushed them, squeezing his kneecaps to dust.
[Dalen! Focus! Concentrate your will!]
“…!”
With the shout of his ally, his regenerative power kicked in at full force. His body began to heal as quickly as it was destroyed.
Torn tendons reconnected in an instant. His ruptured stomach and intestines sealed themselves, burning away impurities as they regenerated.
His skull, turned to mush, regained its shape, and his heart, which had stopped, resumed its vigorous beat.
Destruction and restoration occurred simultaneously throughout his body, a relentless cycle of death and rebirth.
His body, surpassing human limits, was now as tough as mithril armor. Yet, it was his own power and abilities that broke and rebuilt this ironclad defense.
‘In hindsight, it was strange…!’
Despite the difficulty of developing a character with such abilities, the saint’s power was among the highest even among transcendents.
A hero capable of defeating demons with bare hands wouldn’t be easily devoured by a dragon just because he lost his divine power and miracles.
How did Saint Dallos, with less vitality than a dragon’s regenerative power, endure all this pain?
In his muddled mind, he recalled a conversation from before he arrived here.
‘Why have you fought all this time?’
It was a question posed by a man in response to Dalen’s curiosity in front of the snowy mountains.
He had wondered.
Why had the man thrown himself into the jaws of demons, knowing he would eventually return to the Eternal Palace?
Why had he spent what felt like an eternity fighting, slaughtering demons, and reaching the seat of the evil god?
The man had smiled and asked Dalen in return. Dalen scratched his chin and spoke.
‘Because it’s precious…’
Because it was precious.
The words he was about to say were swallowed by another question.
Had he truly been unaware of the preciousness of everyday life on Earth?
Even as a recluse, had he never felt affection for friends, lovers, or family?
‘…No.’
It wasn’t that he hadn’t realized it.
He just hadn’t had the courage to admit it.
Even acknowledging something as precious required courage.
Striving not to lose it demanded a step further in determination.
The precious connections, the everyday happiness he should have felt.
What separated his past self from his present?
It was emotion, yet also a value system, a cold reflection, and a clear will.
‘…Because they are people I love.’
The word he chose after much hesitation was cliché, but…
‘Yes. I fought to protect those I love.’
Only after saying it aloud did he realize it was the most accurate answer.
「Mass Resurrection」
──────Boom!
A ripple spread out.
A white concentric circle began to form brightly beneath his feet.
──────Boom!
With bloodshot eyes, he stomped his foot down.
The circle expanded, reaching out to encompass Parun and Lucia.
Lucia’s wounds, tainted by the predator’s curse, vanished as if washed away.
“…Ah.”
As her tightly closed lips parted and a soft gasp escaped, a faint cracking sound came from Parun, who had been frozen like a statue.
Crack—
It started with his hair.
His ashen hair turned golden, fluttering, as his forehead and cheeks regained color, and his eyelids slowly blinked.
The young man’s body, from his face to his neck, chest, arms, and further down, began to move again.
The scene, drained of color and turned monochrome, was once again filled with vibrant hues.
A deep exhale, as if the pause button had been released.
“—Haa.”
“…Parun?”
“Yes, Inquisitor. This isn’t a dream, is it?”
Parun’s expression, as he touched his cheek, made him look like a child despite being a grown man.
Having halted the expansion of the sanctuary, Dalen, who had somewhat adapted to the pain, couldn’t help but chuckle at the innocence. He spoke.
“…Don’t overdo it this time. I won’t save you twice.”
“Understood.”
It wasn’t surprising that Parun retained his youthful appearance.
The power of mass resurrection was as formidable as the price it demanded.
Within its range, it healed all curses and injuries, and resurrected individuals in peak condition.
Unless someone had been dead for weeks, the caster could choose who to revive.
A skill that defied the natural order of life and death.
Even considering the cost, the principles behind this extraordinary ability were unknown.
It wasn’t unusual. Skills that borrowed power from other entities, like black magic or miracles, often worked this way.
In fact, with black magic, one might learn its secrets by confronting demons in hell. But what about miracles? Would one have to visit the Eternal Palace?
‘Perhaps I’ll find out when I die someday.’
But today was not that day.
Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, he stomped his foot once more.
──────Boom!
The sanctuary expanded again.
Though the pain, which he had grown accustomed to, surged more intensely, he gritted his teeth and stomped again.
──────Boom!
The sanctuary enveloped the predator’s corpse.
Simultaneously, dozens of elite paladins and hundreds of soldiers appeared in the air.
“Cough! Cough!”
“I was eaten… Wait, what?”
“I’m alive! I’m alive…!”
[Silence─!]
A voice echoed across the ruined clearing, silencing the chaos.
The owner of the voice, Knight Commander Edgar Reinhardt, wasted no time in issuing orders.
“Prepare for battle. Hold your positions and protect the saint.”
──────Boom!
There was no time for further words.
With veins bulging on his forehead, he continued to expand the sanctuary.
──────Boom!
“Ugh!”
[…Father.]
A dwarf stumbled out of the air, tumbling to the ground, while a young dragon opened its eyes as if waking from a nap.
──────Boom!
“Dalen. You’ve come.”
“Thank you.”
While the archmage chuckled and stroked his beard, his apprentice bowed in gratitude.
──────Boom!
The sanctuary spread over the streets and buildings.
The divine power, turning the area white, reached beyond the city walls, into the Golden Palace and the Golden Street.
Sizzle…
The sinister hellish energy that tainted the ground and air resisted, but it was futile.
The hellish aura, upon contact, burned away, and the entrails and eyes that had grown on the buildings and ground turned to ash.
──────Boom!
The plazas and inns of the Silver District turned white.
──────Boom!
The main streets of the Bronze District, lined with taverns, were purified.
The divine power swept through the entire east, west, south, and north of the Bronze District, even restoring the lower streets and sewers, finally reaching the bronze city walls.
On the city walls, a soldier who had been resurrected touched the spot on his chest where a monster’s spear had pierced him. Meanwhile, a family that had perished in a fire rose from their ashes in the yard, staring in disbelief at the ruins of their home.
Unable to hide their confusion, they all turned their gaze in the same direction.
Toward the source of the blinding white light that had engulfed the entire city.
“Mom, there’s a sword in the sky,” murmured a child from the slums.
Above the Platinum District, a colossal sword hovered in the air.
It was a radiant white blade, burning with holy light, starkly contrasting the blood-red vortex swirling around the Golden Palace.
The sword’s divine aura purged the city’s hellish magic, baring its fangs at the source of corruption—the crimson vortex and the scarlet sky.
But then, the waves of divine power, which seemed poised to shatter the red sky at any moment, began to recede, shrinking back to their origin.
As if, by resurrecting the dead, it had fulfilled its purpose.
─────·········.
The sanctuary that had enveloped the vast city contracted, reducing in size from the scale of the city to that of a village, and then to a single street.
At the center of this shrinking sanctuary stood a man, his head bowed.
His body was battered, barely standing on legs that seemed ready to give out.
His shoulders steamed like logs consumed by fire.
“Heh.”
When he opened his mouth, a white mist poured out like a dragon’s breath.
As he slowly lifted his eyelids, his eyes revealed vertical, blood-red pupils glistening ominously.
“Damn, I can’t do that again.”
In the silence of the clearing, surrounded by elite soldiers and holy knights, the man bared his fangs and muttered in an unknown language.
“That saint bastard better rot in hell.”
“Dalyn… You truly are a saint blessed by the god of war. I, Edgar Reinhardt, along with the entire order of holy knights, am ready to follow your command.”
“Ah, my body aches so much I must’ve misspoken. I meant it’s time to go take down Enaxagus.”