I Became the Commander in a Trash Game Who Copies Skills

Chapter 14. Fallen Saintess (3)

Alina Pewin, Acolyte of the Imperial Church, serving Luark, the God of Light.

Her childhood nickname was “Mute.”

“‘Alina’s a mute!’”

“‘They say she only has half a tongue. Her parents must’ve cut it!’”

Childish peers shunned her.

Alina didn’t care.

They were just ignorant kids.

They didn’t even know what their words meant.

“‘Grandfather… books…’”

“‘Want to read more? Alright.’”

Instead, she befriended books.

Her affluent family meant she could get as many books as she wanted.

She read and read.

About people. About magic. About history.

And about religion.

“‘You want to join the church?’”

“‘…Yes.’”

Luark, the God of Light, revered by the Imperial Church.

The God of Light she read about was warm.

Though invisible and intangible, that was fine.

She’d been disappointed countless times by visible, tangible people.

An abstract being was less likely to betray her.

“‘So, you’re the new deacon?’”

“‘…’”

“‘Haha, your grandfather warned me, but you really are quiet. That’s alright. A talkative tongue doesn’t mean strong faith.’”

Was it luck?

Or Luark’s blessing on her choice?

In the church she joined as a deacon, she met a good mentor.

Her mentor was like a book.

“‘This passage means, “Luark grants the grace of sunlight to both the wicked and the righteous.”’”

“‘The important thing is faith. No matter how dire the situation, faith that Luark will help.’”

“‘Alina, have you eaten? Priests must treat their bodies like temples. Eating well matters. Priestess Tina hasn’t eaten either—go eat together.’”

It was joyful.

For the first time, she felt something as enjoyable as reading books.

Among her warm mentor and kind brothers and sisters, she slowly began to open up.

She felt joining the church was the right choice.

“‘Alina, when the time comes… all must unite to face the end.’”

“‘…I don’t understand.’”

“‘When that time comes, remember: the tool isn’t what matters. It’s the person wielding it.’”

Sometimes her mentor said things that were hard to grasp.

But she’d understand in time, like reading a difficult book.

“‘Ugh.’”

Her head throbbed.

It felt like being submerged in water.

Boom! Crash!

Relentless explosions battered her ears.

For some reason, her body wouldn’t move well.

Her neck stung too.

Alina barely opened her eyes.

“‘…The necromancer.’”

Her vision was blurry.

A faint white mask came into view.

“‘White mask. Necromancer. Cave… Right. I was kidnapped.’”

Memories flashed by like a reel.

The end of her deacon period.

Her ordination as an acolyte.

Her assignment to the southern border fortress.

Unlike her hometown church, the priests and paladins there were unkind.

Months after her assignment, the vampire army attacked the fortress.

During the siege’s aftermath, while recovering remains far from the fortress, a white-masked necromancer approached her.

“‘Kihee, what a jackpot.’”

She was kidnapped.

By a human necromancer.

With her frail body, resistance was impossible.

As an acolyte, the miracles she’d learned were limited to healing and blessings.

“‘Kihee… Hurry and heal him.’”

“‘…No.’”

“‘Kihee, is that so? Then let him die. The [Blood Sacrifice] ritual continues. This poor soul will be trapped in a soul core forever, cursed, and fall to hell.’”

“‘…’”

She had no choice.

Letting a savable soul fall to hell went against her faith.

She healed those tortured to death.

They woke and cursed her.

“‘You, you wretched woman! Why, why won’t you let me die…!’”

“‘Kihee… Such exquisite resentment. Great God, thank you for this opportunity.’”

“‘Arghhh!’”

The torture resumed.

The necromancer extracted some energy from them through an unknown ritual.

Only after their minds broke, becoming empty husks, did they meet death.

Torture. Ritual. Healing. Death.

An endless cycle of horror, day and night.

Days after her abduction, no rescue came.

She felt there was no hope.

“‘The important thing is faith.’”

Why did her mentor’s words come to mind?

“‘Luark, if you’re watching….’”

God allowed trials to foster growth.

Through the hand of salvation in trials, narrow perspectives gradually widened, her mentor had said.

“‘Send your hand of salvation, your messenger. If this is truly to broaden my narrow vision…’”

The throbbing in her head subsided.

Her blurry vision cleared.

Alina could finally see the scene before her clearly.

A battle was unfolding.

A battle between two necromancers.

“[Bone Arrow]! [Ashen Claw]! [Shadow Blade]!”

The white-masked one unleashed spells.

Mana-forged arrows and blades flew toward the ash-haired necromancer.

“[Spirit Shield].”

The ash-haired one spoke.

The space before him warped, and a red curtain appeared.

The wave of spells melted against it.

“[Banshee’s Scream]. [Fireball]. [Red Strange Touch].”

The ash-haired necromancer counterattacked.

“[Shield]! [Shield]!”

The white mask’s Shield spell and magical robes blocked the counterattack.

In the center of the cavern, their spells clashed, sparking endless flames and shockwaves.

Alina couldn’t understand.

“What’s…?”

Weren’t they both necromancers?

Why were they fighting each other?

And both skilled enough to skip incantations?

Her confusion didn’t last long.

From a corner of the cavern, someone rushed forward.

Tossing aside an empty potion bottle, he charged with a sword.

Blue aura. A knight.

“Captain Ash!”

Alina knew his face.

No one at Burken Fortress didn’t know him.

The white-haired high-ranking knight.

The baron’s most trusted aide.

In the corrupt Burken Fortress, he was the sole symbol of integrity.

“Olif! Recover first… [Spirit Shield]!”

“I’m fine!”

The knight dove in.

Into the battlefield of two mages where spells flew like rain.

Even for a high-ranking knight, it was a life-risking move.

But without hesitation, he joined the ash-haired necromancer, pressing the white mask.

“Oh… I was narrow-minded.”

Seeing this, Alina finally nodded.

“‘Remember: the tool isn’t what matters. It’s the person wielding it.’”

Her mentor’s cryptic words, like a difficult book, had foreseen this moment.

“‘Whether a sword saves or kills depends on the wielder’s heart.’”

“‘But doesn’t a vile spell or tool carry its own tempting power? Can someone remain good while using such things?’”

To her question long ago, her mentor had paused before answering.

“‘…It would be difficult.’”

A heavy voice.

“‘But if such a person exists… they would be a saint chosen by Luark Himself.’”

Spells collided.

Aura sliced through the air.

Red and blue lights flashed and faded.

Chunks of floor and walls broke away.

The seemingly endless battle ended abruptly.

The purple orbs hanging from the ceiling rapidly lost their light.

The moment the last soul core dimmed,

“[Lightning Arrow]!”

A blue bolt pierced the chest of the white-masked necromancer, whose arm had been severed by the knight’s aura.

“Ugh… Gah…”

The white-masked necromancer collapsed.

The ash-haired man sat down, breathing heavily.

The knight approached him, whispering something.

Nodding, the man turned toward her.

“You’ve been through a lot.”

The ash-haired man took a key from the white mask’s robes and unlocked the cage.

Seeing his outstretched hand and his gaze, Alina gave a small smile.

“I heard from Sir Olif. You’re Acolyte Alina, right? Don’t push yourself. You’ve been imprisoned for a long time, so your body must be…”

“I greet the saint sent by God.”

The man froze.

“…Pardon?”

***

The Fallen Saintess.

A Vampire Archduchy hero paired with the second-generation duke, Tribus.

Her corrupted divine power could “heal” undead.

In some ways, she was a tougher opponent than Tribus.

Finding such a hero before her corruption was, frankly, the greatest reward of this dungeon expedition.

“‘Captain, the priestess seems to have woken up.’”

The problem was she woke up earlier than expected.

I’d used Vampire School spells assuming she was unconscious.

“‘I know her face. She’s Acolyte Alina, assigned to Burken Fortress a few months ago. We got a report she went missing, and here she is.’”

Luckily, Olif recognized her.

If I played my cards right, I could avoid trouble.

I helped her out of the cage as politely and kindly as possible.

The next problem came immediately.

“I greet the saint sent by God.”

Huh?

“…Pardon?”

Is this woman crazy?

Trying to get me branded a heretic?

“Saint…?”

Olif, checking on the man on the rack, perked up his ears.

The word “saint” carried that kind of weight.

“Acolyte Alina, did you say saint?”

“Someone who can use even the vilest tools for the greatest good… My mentor said such a person would be a saint.”

“Oh… That makes sense. Your mentor?”

“The bishop of Pewin Viscounty.”

“Then it’s even more credible.”

Hey, don’t encourage her!

If this kept up, the inquisitors would come knocking. I hurriedly intervened.

“Wait, let’s clarify what a saint is first.”

A saint is literally a holy figure.

Someone officially declared by the Imperial Church as sent by God.

Naturally, being named a saint came with immense wealth and power.

A saint’s command was God’s command.

Even the twelve archbishops, the church’s leadership, had to obey without question.

“…Am I wrong?”

“You’re right. But your mentor…”

Ugh, that mentor of hers.

As expected of a named hero, she was stubborn.

“Fine, let’s say your mentor’s right. But what would other priests think if they heard you call me that?”

“…Oh.”

“If word of a saint spreads, the Imperial Church will step in. They’ll dig into everything—my background, my actions. And if, by some chance, they find traces of necromancy during the investigation?”

At best, a quick death by the inquisitors’ mercy.

At worst, endless torture followed by beheading.

The title of saint itself was a symbol of power.

The Imperial Church’s leadership would never accept it easily.

Historically, saints only appeared when the Empire was at a crossroads.

Even then, there were only a handful in the Empire’s thousand-year history.

“The inquisitors wouldn’t understand.”

“So just call me by my name.”

“Even so, I can’t address you so casually.”

“…”

“I’ll call you ‘Noble One.’”

I let her have that last bit of stubbornness.

It was still a bit much, but it was a term priests sometimes used for personal benefactors.

That shouldn’t attract the inquisitors.

“Anyway, rest for now.”

I gave Alina a potion and began investigating with Olif.

The cave we’d passed through was mostly linear, but there were a couple of unexplored branches.

“When you enter a dungeon, you strip it clean.”

This dungeon was mine now.

I could do whatever I wanted with it.