#730 (Patreon)

The Trial (5)  

Kent volunteered to take on the burden of Oliver's sins.  

Oliver was left speechless by Kent’s declaration, merely staring at him in shock.  

His expression, one of pure astonishment, was the clearest and most human expression Oliver had ever shown in his life.  

It was so striking that, in that moment, he seemed like an ordinary person.  

Seeing this, Kent chuckled softly.  

“Ha... So you can make a face like that? I wish you’d shown it earlier.”  

With a faint glimmer of joy and satisfaction, Kent guided Oliver’s hand, which held the dagger, and began slowly pulling the blade from his own side.  

Schlk…  

The wet sound echoed in the air, and Oliver flinched as though struck by lightning.  

“Kent—”  

Thud.  

Oliver tried to move urgently, but Kent pulled him into a firm embrace, slumping forward as if to collapse.  

He held Oliver tightly.  

“Hah... I’m fine. I’ll be fine. So please… just stay like this. Don’t move. I’m asking you…”  

Still holding Oliver, Kent spoke gently as he continued to draw the dagger out of his side, inch by inch.  

“I remember… when you took down Glyn, Puppeteer, and rescued the homeless who had been captured. Do you remember that?”  

“…I do.”  

“And I remember when you handed me the money you took from Glyn’s vault. Do you remember that?”  

“…Yes, I do.”  

“I also remember how, even after becoming a solver, you gave alms to the homeless every day… and how you risked your life to save a boy everyone else ignored. I remember how, even now, you came to this city when you could’ve run away…”  

“…I’m listening.”  

“What I want to say is… you’re an incredible person. Even if you committed sins in ignorance before, you learned, you changed, and you made amends. That makes you a truly remarkable person.”  

Kent spoke those words as he tightened his embrace.  

Oliver didn’t need to hear the words to feel Kent’s sincerity; he could sense it through his very being.  

“You’re right; sins don’t just disappear. Whether committed knowingly or unknowingly, there will always be those who suffer from them. So, I’ll take your sins. I, who am already full of sin, will bear yours as well.”  

Schlk!  

The dagger in Kent’s side slid out further.  

Whether it was Kent pulling it or the blade moving on its own, it wasn’t clear.  

Regardless of the cause, Kent lost his balance and nearly collapsed to the ground.  

Thankfully, Oliver caught him before he fell, holding Kent steady as they both sank to their knees.  

Now kneeling on the ground, they clung to each other.  

“Kent…!”  

“I’m fine! I’ll be fine…!”  

Kent’s voice grew hoarse as his breath quickened and his body stiffened.  

“It’s nothing. Really… don’t… worry…”  

Though Kent spoke to reassure him, it was clear to anyone that it wasn’t true.  

Oliver knew it was a lie, yet he couldn’t bring himself to object.  

He didn’t know why.  

All that lingered in his mind was one burning question.  

“Why…? Why are you doing this for me?”  

“Ha… ha-ha…”  

Kent, on the brink of death, let out a weak laugh.  

“You’re a fool, too. I’m doing this because I love you. Because…”  

Kent trailed off and turned his head to look at Oliver.  

Oliver, too, turned to face Kent, their gazes locking as they held onto each other.  

“Because you feel like a son to me.”  

“…”  

Once again, Oliver was at a loss for words, staring silently at Kent.  

He didn’t know how to respond to being called a son.  

Kent spoke once more, finally revealing the truth he had kept hidden for so long.  

“I was so happy… when you used my son’s name as an alias. For a moment, even though I knew it couldn’t be true, I felt like my dead son had come back to life.”  

"······."  

"It might be presumptuous of me to say this—"  

"—It’s not presumptuous."  

"······."  

"It’s not presumptuous… In fact, it makes me happy."  

Oliver spoke to Kent, who lacked confidence.  

He expressed his joy at being thought of as a son.  

Hearing this, Kent smiled.  

"That’s a relief… Then, will you honor my request? Will you let me bear your sins?"  

Oliver shook his head, uncertain.  

Could such a thing even be possible? Passing his sins to someone else—it felt beyond his comprehension.  

At that moment, Kent spoke with firm conviction.  

"It’s possible. The Lord always calls for repentance of sins. If He is the one we believe Him to be, He will surely allow it."  

Kent’s voice carried such unwavering faith that Oliver, almost against his will, began to believe.  

Even so, Oliver hesitated, unsure if it was right to transfer his sins to Kent.  

Sensing his hesitation, Kent pointed it out.  

"You’re hesitating. Unsure if it’s okay to let me take your sins."  

"······Yes, I don’t know."  

Kent smiled, as if he had expected this.  

Despite the dagger slipping further out of his side, his body growing colder, and blood pooling on the floor, Kent laughed with joy.  

"Then promise me one thing."  

"······What is it?"  

"Forgive yourself. I’ll take your sins, so please… forgive yourself."  

Oliver remained silent.  

Kent gently caressed Oliver’s face with one stiffening hand and continued.  

"And love yourself. If you cannot love yourself, you cannot love anyone else. I love you, and because of that, I want you to love others. You are deserving of that."  

It was Kent’s pure, unfiltered sincerity.  

Moved, Oliver grasped the hand caressing his face and lowered his head.  

As he bowed his head, something fell.  

"······What else do you wish of me?"  

After a long silence, Kent replied.  

"······Do not forget what I’ve told you."  

"······."  

"You are neither strange nor broken. You are simply different."  

"······."  

"I’m not an educated man; I don’t know what the end times, demons, or royalty are. But I do know one thing. You are you. You may be different, but that’s all it is—just a difference. Please, don’t forget that."  

"······I don’t know what to say."  

"That’s okay. Take your time. Life is like that… Now, I’d like to rest. Will you help me?"  

With a look of peace, as if he had said all he needed to, Kent made his request.  

Seeing that expression, Oliver, still holding Kent, slowly pulled the dagger free.  

Schlk!  

The sound of the blade being removed rang out, followed by the clatter of the dagger falling to the floor.  

Drip, drip—  

Bright red blood spilled onto the ground.  

At that moment, Kent’s body went limp, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut.  

Fortunately, Oliver caught him before he fell completely.  

Now, Kent lay on the ground while Oliver held him in his arms.  

Kent’s breathing grew shallow, like the faint whistling of a breeze.  

Even in his final moments, Kent spoke.  

"I love you, Oliver…"  

And with those words, his breathing ceased.  

Eventually, even the faintest sound of breath was gone.  

Oliver remained in that position, lost in thought.  

For three days and nights, he didn’t move, consumed by long, unbroken contemplation.  

***

The world’s largest city, Landa.  

At a time when it was embroiled in chaos from the army of the dead, the kingdom’s forces, and the emergence of a new Archiver, an interesting coincidence occurred.  

The smallest nation in the world was also plunged into turmoil.  

However, the scale of its chaos was far worse.  

That was to be expected, as the smallest nation in the world was none other than the Holy See itself.  

The center of the Parter faith and the holiest of cities.  

...Or perhaps such a description no longer held true.  

While the Holy See remained the smallest nation, calling it a "holy city" had become increasingly difficult.  

This was a place where nuns had summoned demons, and as a result, six plagues had swept through:  

Water turned to blood.  

Frogs surged forth.  

Lice infested the land.  

Swarms of flies darkened the skies.  

Pestilence and boils spread unchecked.  

The aftermath left many priests, paladins, and even members of the upper echelons residing in the Holy See with disfigured and grotesque appearances.  

Some speculated that these were side effects or diseases caused by the signs accompanying a demon's descent.  

However, the cause itself was hardly the most pressing issue.  

Side effect or plague—what mattered more was how the world reacted to the situation.  

Nations surrounding the Holy See closed their borders and restricted movement, adopting a stance of denial and quarantine.  

At present, the Holy See had been reduced to something akin to a leper colony, a source of contamination, a blight to be avoided at all costs.  

The people trapped within, particularly the upper class, were furious.  

Most of them were scions of powerful families, sent to the Holy See to train as priests by their families' decree—only to now face such indignities.  

(Rumors even circulated that some families had withdrawn their financial support.)  

But such treatment was not entirely unwarranted.  

After all, this was the Holy See, the very place expected to set an example above all others, and yet it had faced an unprecedented disaster: the descent of a demon.  

However, this alone wasn’t why the Holy See found itself in such disgrace.  

While the demon’s descent was certainly monumental, the greater blow came from the disappearance of Holy law—  

The sacred power to vanquish evil, the very symbol of the Parter faith, and proof of the divine's love for humanity.  

Everyone remembered that day vividly.  

The sight of Holy law leaving the bodies of the paladins and vanishing into the sky was unforgettable.  

It was an event of immense practical and symbolic significance.  

Without Holy law, it became far more difficult to suppress forces like Warlocks—those whom the Parter Church and the ruling powers it upheld had long oppressed.  

Rumors spread that the divine had abandoned humanity, or worse, that the end times were upon them.  

As if to prove the point, reports of incidents and disasters flooded in daily from the chosen nations and their colonies.  

There was worsening public disorder fueled by apocalyptic fears, Warlocks taking advantage of the chaos, and a surge in criminal organizations.  

Resistance movements in the colonies, many rooted in black magic, also gained momentum.  

Adding to the turmoil were rumors that a woman commanding various monsters was uniting the Warlocks, and that the royal family of the United Kingdom—the world's foremost superpower—had struck a secret pact with Puppet.  

In response, the royal families and governments of the chosen nations, though unofficially, attributed all responsibility to the Parter Church, eroding its authority.  

The disappearance of Holy law seemed poised to bring about the church’s collapse.  

However, as the saying goes, even when the sky falls, there is always a way out.  

Despite the calamities—the demon’s descent, the disasters that followed, and the loss of Holy law—a miraculous event occurred to compensate: the descent of the Angel’s Child.  

Joanna, the Angel’s Child who (officially) vanquished the demon that plagued the Parter Church, became its saving grace.  

Thanks to Joanna, the church avoided the worst, managing to preserve at least a semblance of its authority.  

The support of the newly-formed Archiver also played a role behind the scenes.  

In any case, the Parter Church endured the storm of chaos and was slowly regaining stability.  

Until that peace was shattered by a single letter.  

The letter came from the royal family of the United Kingdom, the world’s dominant superpower.  

Its contents: an invitation for the Angel’s Child to visit the capital.