Chapter 53

"Saint Mathia has a message... On the night of the full moon, that is, tonight, the first beacon will be lit."

As Largud-Ang's words suggested, that night, the first beacon was lit. It burned brightly, as if sensing that it would soon spread.

The beginning was in a farming village in the southern part of the Galais Kingdom.

In a land that could be described as peaceful, a group claiming to be emblematic believers and the farmers attacked the lord's manor, demanding the liberation of the emblematic faith. Despite being called a sudden peasant uprising, it was strangely well-planned and executed.

The lord's army, caught off guard by the surprise attack, was defeated without proper preparation. The lord did not even gather his private troops to fight but abandoned his people and fled like a hare to the territory governed by his relatives, showing a perfect retreat. Up to this point, their rebellion could be said to have succeeded without a doubt.

However, it was, after all, a peasant uprising.

While the surprise attack was successful, it would likely collapse without even wielding weapons against a real army. Everyone thought so. Indeed, at first, it was seen as a small rebellion, a conflict that was considered insignificant and underestimated.

This was the beginning of what would later be called the Great Emblematic Rebellion or the Gospel War, a series of battles and the start of history.

The beacon has now been lit.

*

The next morning, the document was delivered to Largud-Ang.

In a private room on the second floor of a nearly defunct tavern, Fiarato and Ang read through the document together. However, the document seemed to be encrypted, so it was more accurate to say they were listening to Ang's explanation.

To summarize, it was just one sentence: The rebellion was successful, and the beacon was lit high. It was a report conveying this.

As the sun opened its eyes and illuminated the earth with its light, he raised an eyebrow and muttered, "The beacon of the beginning, huh. If it's too flashy, the national army might get too eager."

Ang mentioned that the messenger might have rushed the report, but there was no doubt that the rebellion had succeeded. At least, that's how it happened in the past history.

Of course, the success of this matter was something to be celebrated, but if it went too well, it could also be a problem. Given that the emblematic believers were calling for the liberation of their faith, it wouldn't be surprising if the national army of the Galais Kingdom, which had the Great Holy Church as its state religion, intervened early.

He lightly bit down on a tobacco stick, letting the pleasant smell fill his nose.

"That's not a problem. There are snakes that dislike the Great Holy Church, the giant lion."

Ang said this with a calm voice, almost with a hint of ease. It seemed out of place, considering the war had already begun. Especially given her youthful appearance.

However, indeed. There were entities that disliked the Great Holy Church. Narrowing his eyes, he ran his tongue over his mouth.

Indeed, the Great Holy Church continued to exert a certain influence not only in the Galais Kingdom but also in the surrounding countries. Now, its influence had grown to the point where it sometimes interfered in the politics of various countries.

However, not everyone was a devout follower of the Great Holy Church. Rather, many were just going through the motions.

Especially among the upper class, there were many who valued the faith passed down through generations.

Therefore, it wouldn't be surprising if there were people in the political circles who wanted the power of the Great Holy Church to weaken to some extent.

In other words, the Gospel War did not spread solely due to the efforts of the emblematic believers but also because entities with interests related to the Great Holy Church spread the oil.

It was a deep-seated issue, one where the nail that sticks out gets hammered down.

"So, is the Holy Lady saying that everything is fine and I should rest my body?"

Leaning back in his chair, he clutched his still aching side and smiled wryly.

Ang smiled, almost reluctantly.

"Saint Mathia wishes for you to confess your love to Maria. Until then, no activities will be conducted in this area."

They wanted to make it look like the rebellion in the Galais Kingdom was a result of the oppression of the emblematic believers. They probably wanted to make Galuamaria, who was on high alert, let her guard down a bit.

Fiarato, who was standing beside him, twitched her shoulder. Her slightly furrowed brow made her emotions hard to read. She was likely feeling some confusion and hesitation.

Of course, it was understandable. Galuamaria, despite being a place where she had spent some time as a foreign student, was a place she had lived in. It would be hard to be enthusiastic about a plan to capture it.

"That's all well and good, but the important thing is not what to do, but how to do it. The method, that's the key. Historically, Galuamaria has never been captured. That's what makes it a sanctuary in a sense. You're not planning to court it head-on, are you?"

From the way she spoke, she might be somewhat willing. Let's put aside the analysis of her earlier expression.

In any case, her words were true. At this point, Galuamaria had never been captured. It was a source of pride and a place of solace for the citizens.

For Fiarato, the idea of a group of emblematic believers, who were more like a mob than regular soldiers, capturing the historically renowned Galuamaria, was a worse joke than a fairy tale.

"Yes, of course. As for the method, several seeds have been sown and are waiting to sprout. I have come here to make one request. Please consider it as important as Saint Mathia's wish."

Nodding deeply, Ang said this.

At that moment, a terrible feeling, like mud slowly pouring into his ears, filled his chest.

*

"It's still better to have a cat write poetry."

He said this with a voice that seemed to be pulled from the depths of his chest, his lips dry.

To emphasize how difficult it was, as if to engrave it in Ang's mind.

—A riot or collective resistance from the residents of the slums is required.

This was Saint Mathia's wish. He had more or less expected it, but hearing it made him feel as if his brain was filled with black weights.

"It's fine if it takes a few days. We will use the city's structure. If the labor force of the slum residents is lost, many urban functions will be paralyzed. Especially in terms of distribution, the impact will be significant."

This was an undeniable fact.

In Galuamaria, where the residents of the slums were the main labor force, if they malfunctioned, it would lead to the malfunction of the city. If a riot broke out, it could be said that the city would no longer function as a trading city. Even if it lasted only a few days, chaos within the city was inevitable.

This would undoubtedly lead to a decrease in the resistance of the guard and, by extension, the entire city. However, if it were easy, no one would have trouble. Above all, the city would not have reached this structure.

The residents of the slums had long since made apathy their friend and resignation their companion. No matter what they saw or felt, they would think, "There's nothing that can be done. After all, there's nothing we can do." They had thrown away hope with their own hands.

But who could blame them? Especially, he couldn't speak ill of them.

"...The problem is too deep. No matter how much you peel away the surface, if the roots run deep in the heart, there's nothing you can do. The citizens of the city are no different from puppets controlled by others."

Biting the corner of his lip, he couldn't help but let the words slip out. His teeth, clenched together, made a sound he hadn't noticed. He understood their feelings better than anyone.

Ah, he was once them, and they were once him.

They were a living image of him during the time he continued his journey as a savior, spending his days in inertia and apathy, unable to harbor doubt or anger.

The deep understanding of their feelings made his heart unusually heavy. It felt as if his insides had turned to solid stone.

In fact, in the past history, the emblematic believers had failed to gain the cooperation of the slum residents.

Although they had captured Galuamaria, the emblematic believers, unable to effectively govern the slum residents, failed to restore urban functions and were defeated by the coalition of other city-states despite their desperate resistance.

This defeat was fatal for the emblematic believers, leading to a decline in their activities.

Largud-Ang looked at him, almost without blinking, as he silently bit his tobacco stick.

Her eyes shone with silent expectation, mixed with a pleading color. What did she expect from him? What he couldn't do, what they couldn't do in the past, a mere mortal like him couldn't do either.

Only heroes can change history.

"...Give me a few days. The Holy Lady will probably come here anyway. There should be some leeway."

Largud-Ang's eyes widened, and she immediately responded with cheerful words.

He should have said it was impossible. He should have advised her not to expect anything from him.

In general, his plan was to use the emblematic believers while undermining their efforts, achieving success and fame. He didn't need to fully cooperate. In fact, he hadn't intended to cooperate this much.

But the situation was different now. The hero who could change history was on the other side.

Helt Stanley, a true hero.

Helt was in Galuamaria now. It was no exaggeration to say it was the worst-case scenario. Anyone would say, "It's just one person." Some might even mock the fear in his heart.

But it was different. Different. Helt wasn't the kind of person to fit into the imagination of ordinary people. A man who could change the game alone, a man who could be both the guardian of hell and the savior of the world, Helt Stanley was.

Considering Helt's presence, simply moving the emblematic believers as they did in history was too risky. If they made a mistake, they might suffer a major defeat, and only Helt would gain fame.

That wouldn't do. Ideally, the forces should be balanced to the point where he could intervene.

Therefore, he couldn't refuse this request.

Besides, he wasn't alone. There was a genius.

"Fiarato, I need to borrow your power. It's easy for you. Eating a hard piece of bread would be more challenging."

Fiarato, suddenly addressed, blinked and said with a slightly pouting lip. Her black hair swayed.

"If you think so, you should prepare a softer piece of bread as a reward. And some butter, too."

He had never tasted butter. Glancing at Ang, she was also smiling wryly, her cheeks twitching. It seemed even using Ang's distribution network, getting butter, a luxury item, would be difficult.

Rubbing his nose with his finger, he looked at Fiarato, who was demanding sugar, and the confused Ang.

This might be too much of a stretch. Even with Fiarato's genius, could he achieve something that wasn't part of history? The uncertainty never ceased.

But there was something that could overcome it. Something that could cover the uncertainty and paint it a different color was budding inside him.

He slowly ran his teeth over the tobacco stick.

His goal was to achieve a status where he could welcome Alieno. That was clear. It was an undeniable goal.

But now, something that had been suppressed deep in his heart, deeper than ever, was beginning to breathe.

It had been suppressed for a long time. Like a body bending under the weight of the sky, it had crouched, holding its breath, waiting for the moment to sprout.

A drop of sweat trickled down his forehead. His eyes widened, and the sound of his throat moving loudly echoed in his ears.

To achieve a status and gain fame, was it really necessary to take such a gamble?

Wasn't there a more solid way to gain fame? Such a helpless question now ran through his mind.

Suddenly, he realized, "Ah, that's it."

—In other words, he wanted glory. He wanted the cheers that would cover his body. This heart desired it.

What a pitiful, what a petty, what a ridiculous thing. It was like a mass of vanity.

Ah, he had always just watched. From a distance, he had only watched those who basked in glory. How many times had their brilliance burned him? How many times had it scorched his heart?

Knowing it was impossible to obtain, how many times had he tasted the bitterness of admiration, humiliation, and resignation?

Unconsciously, a sigh that mocked himself escaped from the corner of his mouth.