NoveLight ™
"Allow me to first offer my apologies. I am deeply sorry for what has transpired."
“Hmm, could you at least not bow your head? It’s making me feel like the villain here.”
Ihan looked awkwardly at the elderly priest bowing low to him. Receiving such a heartfelt apology from someone as venerable as this man—116 years old, no less—only made Ihan feel guilty.
He tried to help the priest stand, but the elder remained steadfast.
"What does age have to do with wrongdoing? If anything, it is the duty of an elder to set an example by offering a proper apology."
“…You’re truly a respectable elder,” Ihan admitted.
It struck Ihan that this priest was one of the few genuinely principled adults he had ever encountered. He found himself feeling a surprising sense of respect.
"I only put in the effort because I’d already been paid. From what I’ve heard, that holy water you provided—the highest-grade variety—takes three years to make, doesn’t it? It’s worth a fortune too."
To compare it in martial arts terms, the highest-grade holy water was akin to the Great Restoration Pill of Shaolin or Gongqing Elixir.
It wasn’t just priceless; it was a once-in-a-lifetime treasure that could purge diseases and ensure lifelong health. Equivalent to the 99.99% rarity of troll’s lifeblood, it was essentially another life for a knight.
The payment had been almost excessive for the task, and Ihan considered the trade more than fair.
"Honestly, for dealing with those greenhorns, the payment was way too much. I’d have done it for a few gold coins."
“They are considered valuable combat personnel within the temple, you know. Haha.”
“…Those guys?”
Ihan’s skepticism was evident.
"I’ve never seen idiots as hopeless as them."
With one exception, the rest were utterly useless.
The sharpness of Ihan’s critique was merciless.
Meanwhile, the so-called “hopeless idiots” lay writhing on the ground, groaning and whimpering in misery.
“Ugh…”
“P-please just kill me…”
“Ugh…”
The only one enduring the pain with any semblance of composure was the red-haired priest, Pierre, who kept his eyes shut despite the agony.
Raphael’s gaze turned sorrowful as he observed Pierre.
"I assume you’ve heard about the heresy accusations leveled against you?"
“That nonsense?”
“It is a shameful situation.”
“It’s terrifying. You perform well, and you get accused. Almost got killed too. How can anyone live in such fear?”
“…It is the temple’s failure.”
“Hmm…”
Ihan recalled the priest’s words from three days ago, accusing him of heresy.
"If I remember, the claim was that I was suspicious because I performed too well, too suddenly?"
“That was merely the official explanation.”
“?”
“The real reason the Inquisition declared you a heretic is that certain high-ranking clergy and cardinals within the temple believe you’ve caused them harm—an absurd delusion.”
“…What?”
The absurdity left Ihan at a loss for words.
Raphael, for the first time, sighed deeply—a rare display from someone so composed.
"It may sound like an excuse, but I only became fully aware of the heresy accusations two days ago. Until then, I only noticed the Inquisition’s suspicious movements targeting you, so I intervened."
“You mean, you’ve been protecting me?”
Ihan was both puzzled and astonished.
If Raphael’s words were true, it meant he had willingly stepped in as Ihan’s shield.
"Why?"
Why would someone go against the temple’s will to protect him—a complete stranger?
Raphael’s response was resolute:
"Isn’t it obvious? If someone is falsely accused, isn’t it natural to help them? Even with this frail body, I had to act."
“……”
"Of course, I couldn’t provide significant assistance. My feeble frame failed to stop the Inquisitors, and for that, I am deeply sorry. Even though I gave you holy water, it hardly compares to the suffering you endured. Against the harm you nearly faced, my compensation is nothing more than a cheap consolation."
“…I’m satisfied, though.”
"Are you simply being considerate of me?"
“No, I really mean it…”
A Truly Noble Elder
For the first time since his grandfather, Ihan felt he had encountered a worthy elder to respect.
Raphael’s altruism—helping others without seeking justification—was a way of life that few could emulate, inspiring profound reverence in Ihan.
"People like him…"
"…deserve to be called great men."
+++++
Raphael’s Network of Influence
Raphael, whether intentionally or not, had many eyes and ears throughout the temple.
This was thanks to the respect and loyalty he still commanded as a former cardinal.
It was a testament to his virtuous character and influence, which allowed him to uncover the temple's dark secrets in short order.
And what were these secrets?
"So, to summarize, the high-ranking priests of the temple…"
Ihan trailed off as he processed the revelation.
They had shares in the tunnel.
"And when the tunnel collapsed in that recent incident, rendering those shares worthless, they got angry and labeled me a heretic because I caused it, right?"
The tunnel wasn’t just a den for criminals; it was also the southern continent’s largest fertilizer production site.
It was considered a "safe asset," akin to gold, and served as a convenient place to hide black money from the royal family.
The high priests had purchased shares in the tunnel, seeing it as a reliable investment.
But then—
"…I turned it to dust."
They had assumed the tunnel could never collapse.
How could they have known that a mere knight—or rather, two knights—could bring down a structure with a century of history?
For those who had invested in it, the losses were comparable to the Dutch Tulip Mania Crash.
No one could have predicted such a catastrophe, and while their anger was understandable to some extent…
"They hired assassins because they lost their dirty money? And not just any assassins, but the Heretic Inquisition?"
“……”
"Even though they knew the tunnel was a true den of heretics?"
“…They would have known.”
"And yet they’re blaming me?"
“……”
"Is… is this real?"
“…Even with two mouths, I have no excuse to offer.”
“Wow… Seriously?”
“……”
"I’m speechless. I’m actually dumbfounded right now."
Ihan was genuinely stunned.
Sure, losing assets would make anyone angry, and lashing out at the cause of those losses wasn’t unheard of.
But—
"The temple is doing this?"
In a world where gods were real, and priests claimed to serve them?
"Is this some kind of prank?"
The absurdity of it all made Ihan slap his forehead—hard.
It hurt.
Through history lessons, he had learned how horrifying the corruption of religion could be.
But reading about it and experiencing it firsthand were entirely different matters.
The disgust and pettiness of it all hit him like a cold slap to the back of the head.
"Wow, no wonder people warned me about the temple."
He recalled the warnings from his two odd companions:
Both had always emphasized this point, and now Ihan finally understood why.
The temple wasn’t just rotten—it reeked worse than the foulest filth.
"It’s truly lamentable… I never imagined such things would happen during my absence."
"This isn’t your fault, is it?"
From what Ihan had gathered, Raphael had stepped down as a cardinal and gone on a pilgrimage.
He had been away from the temple for seven years, spreading the word of the divine as a wandering preacher.
"You only returned recently, right? Did you come back because of the temple’s current state?"
"Something like that. I never thought things would deteriorate so much in just seven years…"
"Hmm, I doubt it."
"Pardon?"
"Corruption on this scale doesn’t happen in just seven years. It must have been happening slowly, step by step, while you were away. It was probably kept hidden well enough that even you didn’t notice. After all, it only takes five people working together to fool someone."
“……”
"Or maybe I’m wrong."
“…No, you’re right. That sounds about right."
Raphael looked as though he had been struck by a revelation.
The elder priest, who rarely showed signs of vulnerability, now seemed shaken as if he had gained a painful but valuable insight.
"I was complacent and foolish. Instead of going on a pilgrimage, I should have stayed and done more to help the temple."
"Do you really think one person could fix a corrupt institution? Once rot sets in, it’s almost impossible to stop."
“…Brother, you’re surprisingly kind, despite your appearance."
"What’s wrong with my appearance?"
“Haha.”
"Are you laughing?"
Raphael chuckled warmly, seeming lighter as if a burden had been lifted from his heart.
A Mutual Understanding
Their conversation carried on, lighthearted yet profound, for a long while.
As things settled, Ihan understood why he had been branded a heretic and suspected there might be more people targeting him.
Raphael, sensing Ihan’s unease, offered reassurance:
"Don’t worry. I will do everything I can to protect you."
Despite having little formal authority left, Raphael still carried the gravitas of the temple’s most senior figure.
If he chose to act, he could indeed be a shield for Ihan.
"No, leave it."
“…Brother?"
"I could use a good punching bag. Let them keep coming."
If the temple’s forces were as pathetic as Ihan suspected, he wouldn’t need Raphael’s protection.
"Honestly, they’re not much of a threat."
Ihan saw them as amusing opponents—perfect for breaking the monotony of his training. The inquisitors’ use of Sacred Art added a refreshing challenge.
"If the rest of the Heretic Inquisitors are like this, I doubt they’ll ever be a problem for me."
They were weak.
He wasn’t exaggerating when he said this to Raphael.
Most of the inquisitors relied too heavily on their Sacred Art, making them little more than bullies who crumbled against stronger opponents.
"That Pierre guy, though—he’s decent."
Pierre stood out, having trained both his body and skills alongside his Sacred Art.
Ihan found his style intriguing and was eager to spar with him again.
But—
"His mental strength is rotten."
Ihan scowled at the thought.
For all his skill, Pierre had tried to take his own life the moment things turned against him.
To Ihan, such behavior was contemptible.
"There are people who fight to survive, no matter how filthy their lives get…"
For all Pierre’s talent, his character was lacking, and Ihan made no attempt to hide his disdain.
"You seem greatly disappointed in that boy," Raphael remarked.
"You could say that."
"Please be lenient. He’s a deeply scarred child."
"That’s no excuse. Not even ‘because he’s young.’"
"How do you know he’s young?"
"I could tell by his bone structure while hitting him. Still, he’s tough. Even under pressure, he kept his outer facade intact."
“…Brother, you never fail to amaze me."
"What’s so amazing about that?"
As Ihan chuckled, Pierre collapsed once more under the pain of the Muscle Tearing and Bone Crushing Technique.
A Revealed Truth
With a sudden flash, like a snake shedding its skin, Pierre’s form changed.
His body shrank slightly, and his complexion became fairer.
"So, just to confirm… Is he disguising himself as a man because of some identity issue? I’d get that."
"Is that what you’re curious about?"
"What else would I wonder about?"
Ihan believed in respecting others’ identities—but only to a point.
Respect or not, he would still bring down his fist on anyone who lacked common sense.