Chapter 54: Baptism

The sunlight was warm.

Suddenly, that’s how it felt.

“…Huh?”

Clemens blinked his eyes in confusion.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of a green meadow.

…Where is this place? Where was I just a moment ago—?

As if to erase his thoughts, a refreshing breeze gently brushed his face.

The scenery was breathtaking.

The place he stood was atop a small hill.

From beneath his feet, the landscape stretched out—yes, it was dazzling.

Fields, paths winding through gentle slopes, flowers in full bloom, buzzing bees everywhere, and the sunlight filtered softly through the trees.

A dazzling spectacle of spring’s beauty.

“Am I dead?”

The question slipped out before he even realized it.

Could it be that he lost the duel and died, ending up here? That suspicion quickly solidified into certainty.

Saaaaa—

A beam of warm light descended from the sky and settled upon his head.

Feeling its warmth, Clemens instinctively knelt.

“Oh, Goddess.”

Like a faint apparition, the unfamiliar face of a woman appeared before him in the empty air.

Though mostly shrouded in darkness, he could barely make out the outline of her lips.

Clemens had a strong intuition.

He was now ‘communicating spiritually’.

“Oh, Almighty Goddess…”

Have you come to receive this wretched sinner?

He felt overwhelmed by the honor of her radiant presence.

Unconsciously, Clemens began mumbling incessantly.

Tears welled up naturally.

Yet, he could clearly see the faint smile lingering on the woman’s lips.

“Resurrect—”

And in an instant,

Clemens’ world turned pale white.

***

“Get up.”

A dry, emotionless voice commanded, and his head was forcibly lifted.

The golden hand of a Paladin grabbed him roughly.

“…Cough, cough!”

As he coughed up something from his throat, he spat out a red—was that a blood clot?

Only then did the sharp pains throughout his body flood in like a rising tide.

“P-Prince! Please, please spare Clemens!”

A familiar voice.

Turning his eyes, Clemens saw Monica shouting and crying out.

But several knights stood in front of her, blocking her way.

“Clemens.”

Again, that cold, dry voice spoke, tinged slightly with fatigue.

Glenn forced Clemens to meet his gaze.

“I won.”

Their eyes locked with unwavering resolve.

Here and there, dried blood crusts, droplets of blood, dust, and dirt clung to the ground.

Like himself, Glenn was also battered and bruised.

No, he was still better off than Clemens.

Clemens answered quite calmly.

“…Cough, is that so?”

He had expected as much.

So the struggle he put up was a fact.

But he never thought he would actually lose.

He didn’t imagine being defeated by a newly minted knight.

“I… have lost.”

“Correct. As the victor, I can decide your fate. Do you acknowledge that?”

Clemens nodded in acceptance of his defeat.

Even if the cost was death.

So that’s why the Goddess appeared in my dream.

“Good.”

Glenn gave a crooked smile and walked in one direction.

Then he stopped and faced Clemens.

Thump.

He struck the ground lightly with his sword.

Interestingly—he held the blade reversed.

That is, instead of gripping the hilt, he was holding the blade by the scabbard, pressing the pommel to the ground.

“Knight, state your name.”

At those words, Clemens realized what Glenn was about to do.

It was the knights’ initiation or loyalty oath ceremony—but this was different.

Because he was holding the sword backwards.

“Cough, a loyal sword serving a wise master, Dio Clemens.”

“Ron Glenn Lepent of House Lepent, questions the legitimacy of Dio Clemens.”

This was a knight’s dismissal ceremony.

A formal, archaic ritual stripping a knight of his status.

That was what Glenn was doing now.

Clemens replied calmly.

“I am not worthy to serve the Nikerba Goddess.”

He was already a sinner’s body.

Isn’t there the excuse of Francis? It was meaningless.

It was equally a stain on her name.

Besides, as a Paladin, he lost the duel.

That too dishonored her.

Even if the Goddess forgave him, he could never forgive himself.

“As the winner of the duel, I declare that Dio Clemens is no longer a knight. Furthermore, he is no longer a Paladin.”

“…I accept.”

Is this really the end?

“And you shall never be called a knight again.”

Normally, such a phrase would follow.

But Glenn’s tone was different this time.

If not that, then what?

Clemens looked at Glenn with a faint hope.

But—

Shing—

As expected, Glenn drew his sword and stepped toward Clemens.

His eyes were still firm yet held a trace of sadness.

“Prince, Prince! Please!”

Monica looked on the verge of losing her mind at Glenn’s action.

Just as she seemed ready to leap forward, Sir Nedian firmly blocked her.

Isabelle, too, bit her lip nervously.

“Prince Glenn, Glenn! Please, if punishment is to be dealt, let me take it instead. A thousand times, ten thousand times, I will bear it.”

Her disheveled hair and tear-stained face revealed a side of Monica rarely seen.

“Please, for my sake, spare Clemens—.”

Her anguished cry stirred an unknown emotion within Clemens.

Was it gratitude? Sadness? What was this feeling?

At the same time, a wave of self-loathing arose.

How could such a filthy man be so pitied…?

Amid these conflicted thoughts, a cold, unpleasant sensation pressed against the back of his neck.

“The last words?”

In the dry voice, Clemens’ gaze shifted back to Monica.

She was still screaming.

“…Please take good care of her.”

“Again?”

“Nothing more. I am only sorry to the Goddess.”

“Not going to pray this time?”

This time?

Had he ever prayed in front of this man before?

“…I am not worthy.”

He failed as a servant of the Nikerba Goddess and was defeated by the Goddess’s sword.

At this moment, any prayer from him would surely be foul…

“That’s a pity.”

The blade rose again.

Clemens closed his eyes as if steeling himself.

Oh, glorious Goddess.

Your servant is about to depart.

“Farewell.”

“No!”

The blade hesitated briefly—

Then traced a sharp arc.

Slash—!

A sharp slicing sound echoed.

The surrounding shocked gazes overlapped.

Monica’s scream rang out mournfully.

Her delicate golden hair fluttered.

Though stained with bloodstains, the golden strands were still beautiful.

The night air was rather chilly.

***

“Oh, Goddess, the Mistress of Life. Please guide us whether in life or at the moment of death.”

Though he spoke these words, Clemens was praying silently inside.

He knew it was shameful, but he did not stop.

Why, exactly, he could not say.

Was it simple instinct to survive, or the inherent fear of death as a living being?

He did not know.

“Please punish the evils of the world, and grant mercy so that we never lose our way. Oh Almighty Mother.”

Strangely, the prayer did not end.

To be precise, his consciousness did not fade.

He did not feel pain or difficulty breathing.

“Huh?”

He slowly opened his eyes in confusion.

There was Glenn, placing the sword back into its scabbard.

“Knight Clemens, you died in the duel with me.”

He deliberately scattered the blond hair tie he held into the air.

…Did he only cut the hair tie, not the hair?

Only then did Clemens begin to slowly grasp reality.

And at the same time, suspicion arose.

“…Why?”

Is he really sparing my life?

Wasn’t he trying to kill me?

But the question brought no answer.

“What’s in front of my eyes now is just a blond rookie.”

Saying this, Glenn coldly turned his back.

Then immediately approached Monica, who was about to faint.

“P-Prince—…?”

“Can you perform the sacred investiture ceremony?”

“Eh—yes?”

Monica was still trying to understand the situation.

What on earth was happening?

Doubt filled her eyes.

Glenn gave a wry smile and patted her shoulder.

“When the chance comes, please hold onto it. Whether it is love or resentment. Because the past never returns.”

With these cryptic words, he walked away.

Monica, lost in thought, repeated his words quietly, then suddenly looked at Clemens with wide eyes.

Clemens met her gaze, equally unsure.

Yes, he was alive.

Prince Glenn did not kill him.

And what was that? Sacred investiture ceremony? And not to miss the chance…

“Ah.”

A small gasp.

Her sharp mind pieced together Glenn’s intentions.

Then cautious footsteps approached Clemens.

Monica ignored his gaze and barely moved forward.

Right where Glenn had stopped to face Clemens moments ago.

A small sigh.

A thin wisp of white smoke faintly rose.

Her trembling voice barely carried on.

“I ask your name.”

At that moment,

Clemens felt as if lightning struck his mind.

The sacred investiture ceremony.

The official rite performed by the order to confer knighthood.

He understood the intent of Glenn and Monica.

Still awkward, Clemens slowly knelt.

Just as before.

“Not a knight… just Dio Clemens.”

Monica brushed away her trembling hands and carefully clasped them.

Then lifted her moist eyes toward the night sky.

“Monica, herald of spring that has conquered winter, dares to ask the Heranesia Goddess for his salvation.”

Her voice was full of earnestness.

If the Goddess he served gave any sign here, it would mean permission.

If not, it would be denial.

Could such earnestness reach somewhere?

Saaa—

A small, very small beam of light shot toward Monica.

An unusual sight in the deep night.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you, Goddess.”

It was enough.

The Goddess had given permission.

To Monica, that small ray felt like a light that could cover the world.

Tears streaming, she repeatedly gave thanks.

Then she turned her gaze back to Clemens.

Her hands and voice still trembling.

She had not yet recovered.

“I dare to borrow the voice of the Goddess to accept Dio Clemens as a Paladin of the Hernesia Order.”

“…It is an honor, and I give thanks. Spring that has conquered winter.”

Clemens quietly closed his eyes and prayed.

He had originally been a believer of the Hernesia Goddess.

Having walked the path with Monica, it had come naturally.

But to enter the Southern Empire’s knight order, he had once abandoned that faith.

The Empire’s state religion was not Hernesia, but Nikerba.

Even if traveling between the four great religions, such disrespect was unacceptable.

Yet that Goddess had now forgiven him.

Though he felt sorry for Nikerba, Clemens was filled with gratitude.

Monica made the sign of the cross with trembling fingers.

“Dio Clemens, from this moment, you are a Paladin of the Hernesia Order.”

Without realizing it, tears welled up again.

She forced a smile with all her strength.

Knowing that the glorious Mother was watching over him now.

The late autumn night was quite chilly.

Yet, unknowingly, a warm breeze blew.