Everyone will, at some point in their life, find themselves struggling between their ideals and reality. They are willing to risk everything to protect what matters most to them, even if they know they will come to regret that choice down the line.
Dongahar had been willing to give his life to protect the Church of Saint Shurule and the pope. Yet, protecting them hadn’t been his only objective—he was determined to rid the Church of anything he deemed “unnecessary,” even if it meant enduring greater suffering in the process.
Having lost the qualifications to keep my title of S-rank healer, I was part of the “unnecessary” that Dongahar had sought to purge. From my perspective, I had simply wanted to save my master and Lionel by using the Revive spell when they were turned undead by the Wicked One. This had cost me my holy magic, but thankfully, I’d managed to get it back by visiting the flying city-state of Neldahl in a last-ditch effort, where I’d found a way to change my class from healer to sage.
But Dongahar saw things differently. Once he’d heard the whispers that I—the symbol of the Church—had lost my holy magic, he’d decided to take action without even asking me if the rumors were true or not. Though he was aware that it was most likely a ploy from Blanche, he still couldn’t shake his lingering doubt that perhaps it wasn’t. So he’d resolved to purge the Church of all its corruption in one sweeping move, dragging out everyone he deemed tainted, even if it meant forfeiting his own life in the process.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was partly to blame for Dongahar’s decision. I wondered if things might have turned out differently if I had trusted him more, if I had built a relationship where he could confide in me. Not that I was willing to excuse the guy’s actions or anything—I was still pissed he’d tried to kill me.
Dongahar revealed that the masterminds who’d been plotting my demise were from Blanche, and he entrusted the future of the Church and the pope to me. Then, he vomited blood and collapsed right before our eyes. I managed to save his life with a few quick healing spells, but his last words left me shaken to my core. Looking around, I saw that everyone was feeling just as conflicted as I was at that moment.
The pope had been gazing at Dongahar with tears in her eyes, but she managed to pull her gaze away from him and turn to me, a resolute look on her face. She raised her hand, commanding everyone’s attention.
“Compose yourselves, all of you. As long as the sage Luciel is with us, Dongahar will not die,” she declared before announcing what awaited those who’d conspired with him. “All those who have been demonized will be stripped of their jobs and abilities. Your memories will be erased, but only after we have thoroughly interrogated you for information about the demons and the other nations.”
The knights who had helped Dongahar with his plan collapsed to their knees at her words. To my surprise, none attempted to flee or defy her decision. Perhaps they had reflected on their actions after listening to Dongahar and the pope’s conversation and had resolved to atone for their sins.
The pope put a hand on the closest knight’s forehead and muttered something under her breath. The next instant, the expression on that knight’s face was replaced with a blank look, as though his soul had left his body. Yet, even after witnessing this, the remaining knights stayed where they were.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes with every knight she stripped of their job, but she fought to hold them back. Yet, as the process wore on, she could no longer keep them at bay. The image of her punishing the culprits with tears rolling down her cheeks would be seared into the mind of every onlooker for the rest of their life.