Apostle of the Goddess of War

Chapter 31

Ch.31 Apostle of the Goddess of War

The morning in Elim was drastically different from before.  

As the sun began to peek over the low ridgeline, the sounds of people now seeped into the sacred ground, which had previously only known silence.  

The dull curses of laborers hauling stones to repair the crumbling church walls.  

The bustling conversations of newly joined women preparing breakfast under Ruina’s direction.  

And even the clumsy battle cries of aspiring war knights clashing wooden swords in one corner of the courtyard…  

[Yes, this is it, my children. I’ve missed you. I’ve truly missed you.]  

Warmth had finally begun to return to the land of the Goddess of War, which had been crumbling into ruin.  

“We need to recruit more people… ahem.”  

Bishop Gustein struggled with a mountain of parchment piled high in his small office.  

He was organizing the list of new believers.  

Drawing up a plan for how to use the sponsorship funds sent by Chairman Apur’s trading company.  

Reviewing the inventory of construction materials.  

The volume of administrative work was unprecedented in his life, leaving him no time to rest.  

Though fatigue had darkened the skin beneath his eyes, his expression carried a faint sense of satisfaction and vitality that had never been there before.  

“Mrs. Anna, please move the potatoes over here! Oh my, you haven’t fully recovered yet—don’t push yourself too hard.”  

Ruina skillfully oversaw the kitchen operations.  

The women from the mining village mostly had prior household experience, so they quickly fell into rhythm with one another.  

Anna was particularly proactive, so once the situation stabilized a bit more, Ruina could likely entrust the entire household management to her.  

Thanks to the increased workforce, meals for the now dozens of residents were prepared without major difficulty.  

Yet Ruina did not miss the shadows flickering across their faces.  

The lingering afterimages of their horrific experiences did not fade easily, and some suffered nightmares at night.  

Still, by cooking together and listening to each other’s clumsy prayers, they slowly, gently embraced one another’s wounds.  

Sion patrolled the village with Set.  

In addition to distributing bread and soup as before, his responsibilities had grown—he mediated small disputes among the newly settled homeless, checked on the discomforts of their temporary shelters, and took on increasingly larger roles.  

‘I can’t keep doing this forever. I need to select able-bodied men and form a patrol unit.’  

Sion began planning long-term.  

The patrol unit would essentially be the initial stage of the War knight order that Set would eventually join.  

“Brother, is this how you do it?”  

Set awkwardly mimicked Sion’s sword stance and asked. His body had developed noticeable muscle, and he had grown quite fond of learning the basics of swordsmanship from Sion.  

“No, your foot positioning is wrong. Keep your back straighter. And swing lightly, like I said.”  

“Hmm. It’s not working well.”  

Sion taught Set carelessly.  

But each time, Set’s movements seemed sloppy and inadequate in Sion’s eyes.  

Why can’t he do something so simple? That was the thought running through his mind.  

[That’s because you’re a genius.]  

In the Goddess’s eyes, Sion was the worst possible teacher. Not only him, but the Goddess herself was the same.  

Geniuses often made terrible teachers. They belonged to the kind who could do anything they imagined, so they couldn’t understand others’ struggles.  

“Keep going. Repeat until you get used to it. The key is to swing without force.”  

“But if I don’t use force, it won’t cut.”  

“You still have to do it. It’s not that hard.”  

“Hmm?”  

Set tilted his head in confusion.  

Sion’s explanation simply didn’t make sense to him.  

Is my brother just bad at teaching?  

Still, Set didn’t give up despite the stubborn instruction.  

He kept in mind Garfenn’s words: the sweat and effort he was putting in now would not betray him.  

On one side of the open field behind the church, Tier was swinging a wooden sword, drenched in sweat.  

Tier was also a volunteer for the War knight order, just like Set.  

In fact, the two were practically peers and close to being rivals.  

Standing before him was Garfenn, arms crossed. He didn’t seem to be actively teaching anything.  

He likely felt just as frustrated as Sion did.  

The gap between Sion, who could do everything instinctively, and Tier, who was holding a weapon for the first time, was as vast as the distance between earth and sky.  

“Master, is this stance okay?”  

Tier asked, panting heavily, but Garfenn merely grunted, “Hmm.” He still struggled with interacting with people, especially those who approached him warmly.  

[Why can’t he do this? He has the same bones and muscles!]  

The Goddess Achille also felt frustrated by Tier’s pitiful skills. It seemed there wasn’t a single proper teacher in this entire church.  

“This is…?! Hah! Yoooh!”  

Sion felt pity for such a teacher, but at the same time, he truly grasped how desperate the Church of War’s situation was.  

‘There isn’t a single proper swordsmanship instructor. I really need to learn how to teach properly.’  

While Sion remained oblivious, several more days passed.  

Reconstruction progressed slowly but steadily, and people began to put down roots in their new home.  

Was it thanks to the Goddess’s touch?  

Kaili’s fever had completely subsided.  

The child was bright and cheerful again, running and laughing as before, but occasionally, a different side of her would show.  

***  

A quiet afternoon.  

Sion and Ruina were cleaning Kaili’s room together.  

Ruina lifted a small flowerpot by the window, then paused.  

“Huh?”  

“What is it?”  

Sion approached and asked.  

“The plant bloomed.”  

“That’s strange?”  

“Yes, it is. Just a few days ago, it was withered and I was about to throw it away. It was some unknown weed.”  

Now, the plant in the pot proudly displayed fresh green leaves, as if it were right in the middle of spring, and even had flower buds forming.  

“…That’s strange. I barely watered it.”  

Ruina tilted her head in confusion. Sion also looked at the pot with a puzzled expression.  

He remembered seeing Kaili’s small hands gently touching the plant while she was still weak, gazing out the window.  

‘Could this be just a coincidence? Or…?’  

Sion tried hard to suppress the rising suspicion in his heart.  

Instead, he noticed Ruina’s hair accessory. She wore the gift he had given her every single day without fail.  

“Do you like it?”  

“Huh? What?”  

Ruina asked, wiping dust from the windowsill.  

Sion pointed at her head with his finger.  

“Oh, this.”  

Ruina touched the accessory and gave a small nod.  

“Yeah.”  

“I’ll buy you more.”  

“…No need. Where would you get the money?”  

Sion shrugged and boasted.  

“I can earn a lot of money now. I get regular sponsorship from Foils’s. I don’t have to scrape by on porridge like before.”  

Sion smiled brightly, like a clear sky.  

Two people who had met in their hardest times, now just beginning to walk a path where the storm clouds had cleared.  

Their bond, forged through shared joys and sorrows, was even deeper.  

“But all that money comes from you doing dangerous things. I don’t like it.”  

“It’s fine. I’m good at fighting.”  

Sion had vowed to do anything for his younger siblings.  

But Ruina disliked this boastful side of Sion. He didn’t understand how worried she was inside.  

This was a feeling she had never experienced before, when she lived a comfortable life as a noble girl.  

Never before had someone made her feel this painfully concerned.  

Now, buried deep in her heart, she sometimes missed that easy, comfortable past.  

Back when she was an innocent, beloved noble daughter.  

At least then, she never had to anxiously watch the calendar, worrying whether someone would get hurt or fall into serious trouble.  

At times like this, she even thought it might be better if she just got married—then this man might finally realize he should take care of himself.  

‘…What does he think of me?’  

It was clear he didn’t see her in a romantic way.  

Ruina knew they were both still young, and it wasn’t the time to seek that kind of happiness.  

More importantly, he was meant to become an Apostle of the Goddess.  

How could it possibly be right for her to harbor romantic feelings for such a person?  

It would be difficult…  

Ruina smiled bitterly and tugged on Sion’s sleeve.  

“We’re done here. Let’s go.”  

“Okay.”  

Next, they headed to Bishop Gustein’s office. The bishop, groaning as he held his head, looked tired but was in surprisingly good spirits.  

Prayer. Lately, he constantly said he felt his divine power was overflowing—probably because he could finally do the work of a real bishop.  

“Oh, Ruina. Sion’s here too.”  

“Yes, Bishop. We came to clean the room.”  

“It’s fine. It’ll just get dusty again soon anyway.”  

“You’ll get sick like that.”  

Ruina treated Gustein like a beloved grandfather, already having completely taken charge of him.  

Gustein, finding her presence both refreshing and overwhelming, obediently followed her every word.  

Ruina shooed Gustein from his chair and began cleaning the desk.  

Sion took the trash and old books she handed him and carried them outside.  

“She’s a smart one.”  

Gustein spoke to Sion as he carried out the trash. He lit a cigarette and puffed smoke.  

“You drink and smoke, Bishop. You’re not very devout.”  

“I only listen to nagging from Ruina.”  

“You do listen. Still.”  

“Hmph. Habit.”  

Sion chuckled and stood beside him.  

“Ruina seems to have adapted well.”  

“Don’t even get me started. The church can’t run without her now. She’s diligent and clever. The next bishop will be her.”  

“You’re planning to raise her as bishop?”  

That was exactly what Sion had hoped to hear. His eyes lit up as he asked.  

“Hm? Of course. She’s already an indispensable talent in this church.”  

“That’s wonderful. Thank you.”  

“Thank me? I should be thanking you.”  

He couldn’t bring himself to sincerely say thank you. Gustein, like Garfenn, was a man easily embarrassed.  

“There’s no need to worry about what you want. I’ll hold on to it even if you don’t ask. Ruina, of course. Set, Kaili, even that troublesome little brat…”  

Gustein smiled faintly.  

It was a warm, grandfatherly smile, like one remembering the antics of newborn grandchildren.  

“I’m thinking of establishing an academy.”  

“An academy…?”  

“It’s an institution for teaching literature and history. Ruina is smart, so she’ll be appointed as the lead instructor.”  

“Oh.”  

It sounded like a very prestigious position.  

Not only would it benefit the church, but having a proper profession would guarantee a more stable life.  

It was wonderful news—Set and Kaili could learn to read too.  

“That’s how we’ll heal the Goddess’s lost sheep who come to Elim. Help them stand again. Help them stop hating.”  

“So you’ve already had this plan, Bishop.”  

Gustein laughed heartily.  

“It’s been my dream for a long time. The problem was always lack of money and people… and you’ve solved that.”  

“It’s all thanks to the Goddess’s grace.”  

Gustein chuckled and flicked Sion’s forehead.  

“You’ve gotten cheeky. Occasionally, say a sincere morning prayer, will you?”  

“Yes, yes.”  

“Now, here’s this.”  

Gustein handed Sion a letter. The black paper carried an ominous, unusual aura.  

“Deliver this to Garfenn. He’s probably passed out somewhere after drinking.”  

“Understood.”  

***  

“Master. Master.”  

Garfenn was snoring softly, enjoying a nap by the stream at the bottom of the church hill.  

On days when the pain of his burns intensified, he always drank strong liquor before sleeping.  

Otherwise, he couldn’t fall asleep at all.  

“Hmm… What is it, Sion?”  

“Bishop said to give you this.”  

Sion held out the letter.  

The moment Garfenn saw the letter sealed with a red wax stamp, his eyebrows twitched slightly.  

“Hmm.”  

He pulled a dagger from his thigh and slit the seal.  

Then he read the letter from top to bottom.  

‘What could it say to make his expression so serious?’  

Just as Sion began to sense that something was wrong from his master’s expression, Garfenn tore the letter apart and said,  

“Sion. Pack your things. We have somewhere to go.”  

“What? Where?”  

“When a red-sealed letter arrives at a church, it usually means another church is requesting help.”  

“Another church is asking for help? From our Church of War? That makes no sense.”  

He had heard that no church liked the Church of War. If they needed help, they’d just ask the Holy Nation—why come to them?  

“Exactly.”  

Garfenn didn’t seem to understand the reason either.  

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