Chapter 195: Saint’s Shedding
Alice’s eyes widened abruptly. One hand covered her mouth as she bent forward, making a few retching sounds.
Before her was a complete piece of human skin, slowly being unfurled. Supported by a certain force, it floated in midair.
“Zezel’s shedding has already been forced to this point. Even the Saint’s Shedding can no longer offer protection,” Corleon sighed, then wrapped the floating skin again, concealing it from view.
Although Alice had been appointed as the Saintess of the Church Nation before leaving, that title was merely in name. She could not even remember Zezel’s name—how could she possibly gaze directly at this shedding?
Even the fact that she was only dry-heaving now was because Corleon had filtered some of the effects for her.
Corleon quietly waited. He had been through such things before and knew how much the girl was suffering at this moment.
After a short while, Alice finally calmed herself. Her eyes were filled with confusion as she frowned and asked, “Zezel? Is that a person? Zeda Holy City… is it someone related to Patriarch Darks?”
As she spoke, her brow furrowed deeper, but a dazed look gradually overtook her eyes. After asking, she seemed stunned, her frown slowly relaxing.
Seeing her state, Corleon said, “Zezel is a person, and also Darks’ brother.”
Alice’s whole body trembled. Her momentarily relaxed brows tightened sharply again. The daze in her eyes vanished, replaced with confusion as she looked at Corleon.
“The Patriarch has another brother? Neither the Patriarch nor the Three Sages have ever spoken of this.” She spoke in surprise.
“Have they ever told you the history of the Church Nation’s founding?” Corleon asked.
“Of course. That is something everyone in the Church Nation knows. And I was the first to memorize it completely,” Alice replied with a slight tilt of her head, a hint of pride in her voice, before continuing.
“A long time ago, Patriarch Darks was just a shepherd among the common people. But a wicked noble ruled over him—this noble seized the Patriarch’s sheep, bound him to a cross, flogged him, and ordered his knights to kill him.
“That wicked noble thought the Patriarch was dead, but seven days later, the Patriarch revived, having been moved by the Lord’s calling.
“The Lord told the Patriarch that this world was evil, a land of sin, and that the Patriarch was the chosen Saint, destined to lead those who longed for goodness to build the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.
“The Lord bestowed power upon the Patriarch, enabling him to kill the wicked noble and liberate the common people enslaved under him.
“Then the Patriarch led these people through the abyss of sin to reach the place chosen by the Lord as the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth. There, the Patriarch founded the Church Nation, leading us to kill the wicked nobles, cleanse the world of sin, and welcome the true Heavenly Kingdom on Earth.”
Her eyes shone with reverence and devotion.
Corleon remained silent for a moment before asking, “Then do you think the Church Nation you live in now is the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth?”
“Of course not. There is still sin there. Only by cleansing it completely, nailing every wicked noble to the cross, can the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth truly arrive,” Alice answered without hesitation. As she spoke, she touched her lower abdomen.
“This is the Patriarch’s bloodline, the future of the Church Nation. When he is born, the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth will truly descend—there will be no hunger, no sickness, no war or disaster.”
Even though Corleon had told her she was not carrying the Patriarch’s bloodline, she still emphasized it in her words.
“You must have seen along the way—in York Territory, there is no hunger, no war or disaster. Although there is still sickness, the priests will treat the sick. Do you think such a York Territory counts as a Heavenly Kingdom on Earth?” Corleon asked again.
“Of course not,” Alice said firmly. “Only the Patriarch can lead us to build the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth. That is the Lord’s guidance, and it will absolutely happen. So only the Church Nation will be where the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth resides.”
Her voice was fervent. Her faith was so unshakable that even when Corleon’s words nearly denied it, she disdained to argue—she simply reaffirmed her belief, certain it would come true.
Corleon fell into silence, quietly watching her, before finally asking, “When the Three Sages sent you to study at the Church of the Sanctuary, did they tell you what you should learn?”
“…No.” Hearing his question, Alice gradually recovered, shook her head, and said. After a pause, she added, “The Three Sages told me to follow the church’s arrangements after I arrived. But personally, I want to learn how to fight.”
“The Patriarch is fighting for the Heavenly Kingdom on Earth. As a devout believer of the Lord, I must naturally take up arms to fight alongside him, to bring that Heavenly Kingdom into being.”
Corleon nodded. “Then I will arrange for you to study at the monastery. You will major in the biological discipline—it will teach you the mysteries of the human body, helping you better tap into its potential. This course will last one year.
“After that, you will proceed to the church discipline for advanced study. That discipline is reserved for those who serve the Lord. Next year, you will study under the title of Saintess of the Church Nation. This will also take one year. In other words, your studies will last two years. Can you accept that?”
“Two years?” Alice hesitated, then softly asked, “Will the church discipline teach me how to fight? To fight like a knight?”
“No. The church discipline mainly involves analysis of the church’s scriptures and listening to the experiences of priests preaching in small churches,” Corleon said.
“Then can I not study the church discipline?” Alice asked tentatively.
“Why?”
“Because the Three Sages will personally teach me the Church Nation’s classics—the Sacred Scriptures and the Zeda Manuscript—as well as its history. And I believe that when I fight alongside the Patriarch, I will more clearly experience the Lord’s teachings,” Alice replied. “Besides, preaching is the work of priests.”
Corleon was silent for quite a while this time, long enough for Alice to shrink her neck nervously.
Just as she considered curling up completely for safety, Corleon spoke.
“Fine,” he said.
“Thank you for understanding.” Alice let out a breath of relief, her face bright with an innocent and happy smile.
“Then, your chosen biological discipline will take one year. If you have spare energy, you may consider taking electives—you will learn the specifics at the monastery,” Corleon said.
“All right, I will study hard! I could memorize the Church Nation’s history in the shortest time,” Alice declared enthusiastically.
“I have someone waiting outside the Clock Tower—her name is Melia Burke. She works for the church, and you are about the same age. You will live with her for the next year,” Corleon said.
After sending Alice away, Corleon exhaled heavily.
“As expected, a mad dog of the Church Nation,” came a mocking voice from the Clock Tower’s main door.
Oscar walked in.
“If you used magic to hide and eavesdrop, why bother walking out and then back in?” Corleon asked.
“Because the door is right here,” Oscar replied.
Corleon had no response.
When the bell rang earlier, Oscar’s soul had been taken by Corleon to handle a matter. But that level of Mystery was not something Oscar could endure.
Even though Corleon had shielded him, Oscar still became lost.
Corleon later pulled him back from that state, at the cost of erasing all his memories from that period.
Oscar had been greatly annoyed upon recovering.
His main reason for staying was to witness and experience Mystery, not to have his memory of it erased after the fact.
If so, what was the point of enduring the danger of following along?
He might as well have left the Clock Tower at that time and at least remembered some changes in the outside world.
The three old fellows in the monastery had been utterly useless—when he told them to pay attention during the bell ringing, the next day they just scolded him.
They complained that they had wasted a whole night listening only to the bell, feeling nothing else, exhausting themselves to the point of losing years of life over his request.
This had angered Oscar greatly. He had been with Corleon—the clear sense of memory loss was undeniable.
So, in an attempt to retrieve those lost memories, he used magic to dismantle his own soul and comb through it piece by piece.
But with Corleon’s methods, no traces could possibly remain.
After several days of searching, he had only emerged because it was time to announce the apprentices’ graduation.
He had just pieced his soul back together, still in a foul temper from failing to find any trace of the erased memory…
Corleon’s methods were flawless, but magic always had its price…
“This is the Saint’s Shedding from the Church Nation—you cannot study it,” Corleon said directly.
“That’s a pity,” Oscar sighed. “I came here after sensing the disturbance, only to witness the rambling of a foolish mad dog.”
“She is the Saintess of the Church Nation. At the very least, her ideals are noble. You should show her respect,” Corleon replied.
“But you offered to have her study the church discipline, and she refused. I can’t imagine how others would mock her if they knew this,” Oscar said.
Although the church discipline’s apprentices were now few, all appointed by the bishop, everyone knew that graduates of this discipline would at least become priests overseeing a small church. In York Territory’s political circles, no one underestimated the power and benefits of such a position.
Look at Monk Agamemnon’s grandmother—when the Senate summoned local gentry to discuss establishing a new city, everyone else stood, but she was given a seat.
That was the symbol of status. Status was a pass; it could be converted into power, and power into military force.
How many enemies could one kill alone?
With power, leading an army to strike back was far quicker and more effective than acting alone.
Moreover, the church possessed multiple Holy Relics.
“She has only just arrived in York Territory,” Corleon said.
“What if, after learning of the importance of the church discipline, she asks to study it?” Oscar asked.
“She is the Saintess of the Church Nation—a Saintess with unwavering faith,” Corleon simply said.
“Heh.” Oscar only shrugged, but refrained from calling her a foolish mad dog again.
“Since you are here, I won’t need to send a white dove to summon you,” Corleon said. “When Rio and Vito returned, they brought some crossbows.
“They encountered a priest in the Nation of Werewolves who invented them. They even developed a kind of powerful crossbow that could be mounted on city walls for defense. But because they had to return to York Territory, they didn’t bring it back.
“Take your apprentices and see if you can understand the principle behind it, reverse-engineer its construction, and perhaps make an improved version with better materials.
“Their place is surrounded by werewolves—their resources are limited.”
“Crossbows?” Oscar said. “How do they compare to a trebuchet?”
“Less powerful, but better suited for individual use. Develop them as soon as possible, then equip the Temple Warriors and knights with them,” Corleon said.
“All right—your will,” Oscar nodded. “Should this be kept secret?”
Many things developed in the monastery had leaked, some spreading narrowly, others kept strictly confidential.
Like the trebuchet Oscar tested for Puniel.
Although they had only been using it to throw stones, Oscar had actually developed artificial stone balls embedded with magic-infused gems.
And if one were to launch those with the trebuchet…
Well, Puniel would surely consider the trebuchet a taste far beyond that of a mere baron—at least at the level of an earl.