Chapter 180

“Thus, a choice is made.”

“Yes.”

“Then, isn’t refusing also a form of choice?”

Baron Minho’s words caused the priest to bitterly smile.

“Our Lord sees all… but He isn’t exactly merciful. In truth, refusal is practically impossible.”

“So?”

“If one cannot endure… they suffer and die. If one doesn’t become a saint or holy knight… that’s usually how it ends.”

“Not a very pleasant system, eh?”

Even so, Minho couldn’t outright insult God in front of the priest, so he subtly redirected his thoughts with those words. The priest simply gave a faintly bitter smile in response.

‘The deity of this world doesn’t seem too human-friendly either.’

Minho thought as much. Even if the term “chosen one” revealed by the system was debatable, the divine power coursing through Lucy’s body was immense. It was almost fortunate that she only endured the agony of carrying such power.

Through eyes imbued with magic, Lucy appeared as radiant white light—so dazzling it might blind anyone who looked directly at her. Like an eternal sun radiating warmth without heat, the brilliance surrounding her matched the title of ‘Saintess’ perfectly.

“Does the appearance of a Saint mean a Hero will come? Or perhaps the Demon King?”

“Not necessarily. Divine marks and chosen ones can appear suddenly.”

“Why must it always be…”

Berdetto’s gaze softened toward Lucy. Though her groans had ceased, the green-haired child remained peacefully asleep. Tenderly caressing her cheek, Berdetto lowered his head quietly.

“Father.”

“Yes.”

“Does the divine power within a person fade over time?”

“Normally, when the Lord grants life, He takes both back together when it ends.”

“Hmm…”

Minho pondered. Without preconceived notions about deities, it was unclear whether divine power behaved like ordinary matter—corrupting and vanishing.

If so, experimentation was needed. Placing a fragment of divine energy seeping from Lucy into his palm, Minho observed its decay under accelerated time flow.

The shimmering force resisted fading initially but eventually dimmed, proving impermanent.

“Hmph.”

At this revelation, Minho’s lips curled into a clear sneer. Not even gods could claim true eternity.

Even if called a god…

It merely meant they weren’t truly divine in the purest sense.

Perhaps just a conceptual god created by humans or a transcendent entity wearing divine robes.

Whatever the case, their absoluteness was questionable—and Minho found meaning in that.

“Berdetto.”

“…Yes.”

“Dismiss everyone from the house. Everyone except you and the children.”

“…Understood.”

Struggling to rise, Berdetto watched as people silently exited the home until only Lucy’s soft breathing filled the now tranquil room. Except for Yul’s occasional sniffles, silence reigned supreme.

After escorting the last priest out, Berdetto slowly closed the door behind him, his expression resolute despite unknown internal deliberations.

“Lord.”

“Berdetto.”

“Why must the world be so cruel to me?”

Saying this, Berdetto’s lips were cracked and bleeding.

“Lucy’s mother—my beloved fiancée and loving wife, Besty—passed away due to the divine mark.”

“…”

“The divine mark is not something a regular human can bear. My wife transformed into pure light before my eyes, leaving me and our child.”

Berdetto continued softly.

“I’ve never heard of divine marks being inherited… Why?! Why on earth!”

His tightly clenched fists trembled, desperate to destroy something yet restrained by Lucy’s suffering presence and Yul’s tears. Bloodshot eyes betrayed his superhuman restraint against anger.

“In search of a cure, I wandered the world. Unable to settle down, I felt guilty towards my daughter, indulging her every whim. Finding no answers, I finally settled here… only for the divine mark to awaken again. If this is some accursed fate…”

Tears silently streamed down Berdetto’s face, their sorrow immeasurable.

“What should I do? Should I kill God if I can’t change fate? Haha…”

With these words, Berdetto seemed utterly defeated. At their conclusion, Minho placed a hand gently atop Lucy’s head.

“Berdetto.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like you to continue working in the village.”

“…What?”

Hearing the baron’s words, Berdetto froze in confusion. What was this lord babbling about?

The girl was sick—possibly dying—and he casually asked Berdetto to keep working? Was this man blind?

This cognitive dissonance caused Berdetto’s lips to quiver, fresh blood staining them crimson.

“You’ve become indispensable to the village. Your daily morning reports, the command structure we established—it all works well.”

“…Yes.”

After this event concludes, he might have to wander again…

Thinking this while hiding his emotions, Berdetto answered softly, though his trembling fists betrayed inner turmoil.

“Lucy too… As Yul’s friend and an irreplaceable child to our village, she spreads joy like the freshness of spring.”

“That’s right.”

Agreement came easily. Nodding slightly, Berdetto found the motion unexpectedly heavy. Straining to smile, his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

“Therefore…”

Minho’s hand began accelerating time.

The end of everything.

Conclusion and finality.

The fading of traces.

“From this moment forward, remain silent about everything you see.”

“…What?”

“I trust you’ll convince the priest.”

Not understanding the baron’s calm words, Berdetto could only question further.

“It’s as if nothing happened. Your child merely caught a mild cold.”

“I don’t understand what you’re implying.”

“Neither do I. Nothing unusual occurred. Children overcoming mild colds are commonplace, aren’t they? That’s what I believe.”

As the baron’s abilities accelerated, the brilliant divine glow began to wane, losing its luster. Dimming softly, it left only faint traces visible solely to Minho, who watched as the light slowly died.

“And how can mere humans erase the traces of a god? Is there any flaw in my logic, wise one?”

“…”

“Thus, Berdetto.”

“Yes.”

“I’d appreciate it if you showed up tomorrow as usual. With Lucy recovered from her cold, naturally. Would that be too much to ask?”

“…Dad.”

“My goodness, Lucy!”

Lucy’s eyes fluttered open. Her voice slightly hoarse, her actions were immediate. Hearing her voice, Berdetto rushed to her side, abandoning all else.

“How… How did you manage this?”

“I’m unsure what you mean.”

Smiling, Minho stepped back, observing the touching reunion between father and daughter—a genuinely moving scene.

“Dad… Can’t breathe.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I feel better now.”

Refusing to let go, Berdetto embraced Lucy tightly, scanning her repeatedly while offering thanks. Ironically, his unconscious prayers were directed toward God.

“It’s just a common cold, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Lucy’s energetic response finally made Berdetto understand the baron’s intent.

“With your child responding so spiritedly, would any father deny such an answer?”

“No… That’s correct. Lucy battled a severe cold… Making such a fuss over a simple cold! Perhaps I should abandon my reputation as a sage.”

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll appear perfectly fine tomorrow. Did the child fully recover from her cold?”

“Maybe a bit more divinely than usual. Perhaps guiding her toward monastery life wouldn’t be bad?”

“Hahahaha! Quite the burdensome joke!”

“Now you’re smiling.”

Unconsciously raising a hand to his lips, Berdetto noticed his upward curling smile. Was this relief or gratitude? Even he couldn’t discern why his laughter persisted.

“As nothing happened… I suppose lingering here too long would be somewhat awkward.”

“…Thank you.”

“I don’t quite follow. Didn’t the child overcome the cold on her own?”

“That’s right. Lucy triumphed over it herself. Nothing unusual occurred.”

Raising a finger to his lips, Minho signaled silence. Firmly nodding in response, Berdetto acknowledged the gesture.

Seeing this, Minho smiled, turned around, and left. Yul and Bell followed suit, keeping their mouths shut while nodding like Berdetto.

After the baron’s departure, Berdetto gazed at his palm where the sacred mark once resided. Now vanished without a trace, his pain-free child confirmed its disappearance.

“Dad, I don’t hurt anymore.”

“Lucy…”

Attempting to hold back tears, Berdetto failed miserably. Clutching his child tightly, he called out her name endlessly, oblivious to Yul and Bell’s presence nearby.

* * *

Divine power was extinguished.

The experience was strange yet entertaining. Destroying divine traces was not something to discuss openly, especially with the Great Abbey nearby.

Even if a priest witnessed the phenomenon…

Wouldn’t it be easy to dismiss it as an illusion upon seeing the unmarked Lucy? Just a feverish child with no evidence to dispute otherwise.

Secrecy was paramount. No need to stir unnecessary trouble. Watching Lucy suffer pained me deeply.

Feeling powerless when a child is ill is an experience I’d rather avoid entirely.

“What’s wrong? You look unusually serious.”

Still dwelling on this after returning home, Evanjelein approached worriedly.

“Nothing. How’s Winter?”

“She’s healthy today.”

Smiling and replying casually, Evanjelein relaxed. Despite the familiar reassurance of health, it felt heavier than usual.

“Fortunate. I hope she stays that way.”

“Of course. You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Indeed. Naturally.”

Exactly.

That’s what I’ll ensure. Initially planning to refine magic slowly, my thoughts shifted. Perhaps I should redirect fishing investments toward magic instead.

What kind of enlightenment does one need regarding magic?

Or is it unnecessary?

Unclear since I haven’t reached mastery yet. Probably best not to worry prematurely until reaching that stage.

“Rub my belly.”

Indulging Evanjelein’s request, I rested my hand gently. The familiar soft green glow emanated, carrying its usual comforting magic.

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