Please don't question multi-week players

Chapter 428. The Third Cycle Story (Part 428 Combined) (5)

After that day, Vera began to try to accept the green light in her palm for the first time.

It's not hard to accept it—the light is so warm.

During her years in the slums, it had silently protected her, keeping disease away from her thin clothes.

Now she lets it float in her palm, a soft yet vibrant halo of light.

The withered petals slowly unfurl their veins in the light, and the pain of the past fades away when they encounter them.

This is the true healing power; it has never weakened, but has simply been hidden in the shadows for a long time.

Because he knew that his brother was risking his life to gain the power of death to earn money to support the two of them.

Vera also wanted to earn money so that her brother wouldn't have to risk going out anymore.

She's strong and intelligent; she can support her brother, can't she?
After some thought, Vera began to study medicine.

The healing power can automatically heal many skin wounds and superficial diseases, but when it comes to deep diseases, it requires the practitioner's medical expertise.

The power of healing can regenerate flesh and blood, revive withered blood vessels, and restore atrophied glands—

But which part of the flesh needs to be artificially grown, and which part, if artificially grown, will actually cause death?
What diseases require an increase in which hormones, and what hormones, if increased, can actually cause disease?
Which blood vessel needs to be dilated, and by how wide?
These remain problems.

The human body is a sophisticated instrument, and any force used without thinking will eventually lead to disastrous consequences.

Vera knew of a parishioner who had been carried out of the Vatican because he had mistakenly used the "Holy Water of Life," causing his overgrown tissue to clog his trachea.

The very force that should have healed instead strangled life.

Understanding this, she remained humble, climbing the bookshelves day after day, searching for answers in the vast sea of ​​classic texts.

From the structure of bones to the pathways of nerves, from the functions of organs to the regulation of hormones, she studied the annotations word by word like the most devout apprentice.

The green light was no longer just a warm patch in her palm, but became her outstretched fingertips, her focused gaze, and the trajectory of her thoughts.

Sometimes she would direct the green light toward the phantom images of organs depicted on the pages of the book, to see how the halo flowed along the network of blood vessels and how it found the most efficient path between organs.

Theoretical knowledge and innate perception gradually merge, like two rivers eventually converging into one waterway.

In those days, when Edric came home, he would always see his sister sitting at the table reading.

She was wearing a green tutu he had commissioned a tailor to make—the skirt billowed out like a newly sprouted lotus leaf, its color shimmering softly in the dim light.

The oil lamp cast her shadow on the wall, which swayed slightly as she turned the pages of the book.

She was so engrossed in her reading that she often couldn't hear him push the door open.

Edric's profession is an assassin, which, as the name suggests, means taking jobs to kill the villains who have fled to the Realm of Original Sin.

Because he was not favored by the gods, he could not borrow their power and could only exchange his lifespan for the magic of the God of Death.

The power of deathly silence is unprecedentedly strong, and it can basically kill any villain instantly. Edric usually only takes jobs on villains with high bounties, and one job can support the two of them for several months.

In addition to earning a basic living allowance, he also took odd jobs at nearby shops during these months.

On nights when her brother was not home, Vera would take her books to the nearby Lighthouse of Original Sin and read.

The Lighthouse of the Realm of Original Sin is a sad story. Legend has it that many years ago, a wealthy merchant who was deemed an "evil man" built it.

His lover had suffered abuse from her family and was eventually tricked into boarding a small boat and drowned at sea.

After losing his beloved, he slaughtered everyone who had hurt her, his hands stained with blood. His property was confiscated by the Vatican, and he was exiled here.

Here, he exhausted every last bit of his strength and savings to build this lighthouse facing the sea.

He said that this way, his lover, who was adrift at sea, could find her way home by following the light.

Today, the man who built the lighthouse has long since committed suicide by jumping into the sea in the dead of night, leaving behind only that solitary light facing the vast ocean and a dilapidated hut on the shore.

The roof had long been blown away by the typhoon, and the walls were mottled, leaving only an empty frame.

Vera huddled in the corner, reading page by page by the faint, distant light that swept across the lighthouse in its cycles.

In the realm of original sin, night should be darkness. The oil and candles for lighting are monopolized by the god of wealth, and are expensive; light is a luxury that the poor cannot afford.

But because she wanted to study, Edric bought a whole jar of lamp oil.

Vera knew what those oils meant.

Every drop of that clear liquid was bought with money earned by my brother at the cost of his life.

The faint crackling sound of the lamp burning sounded to her like a countdown to the passing of life.

So she couldn't bear to light the lamp.

The lighthouse beam swept across the room every twenty seconds, brief and pale, but enough for her to see a few lines of text.

The sea breeze, carrying salty moisture, turned the pages of the book, while the distant sound of the tide was like slow breathing.

In the intermittent light, she finished reading "Human Body Cordology", tackled "Introduction to Pathology", and is now slowly making her way through the difficult "Endocrine and Hormone Balance".

On those nights soaked by the sea breeze, knowledge, like the light of a lighthouse, shone inch by inch into her originally dark world.

She began to understand how the human body works intricately, how diseases quietly develop, and how her green light—that warm life force—should repair those unseen damages, in what way and along what path.

She held a belief that grew stronger with each passing day:

She wants to treat patients and save lives, and she wants to earn lots and lots of money.

She wanted him to live a good life.

While Vera was studying diligently, the epidemic outside was spreading wildly.

The Vatican initially attempted to appease the people, who were disgruntled by the plague and their families' deaths, and who were dissatisfied with the inaction of the gods, by distributing "holy water of life."

However, people soon discovered that the "holy water of life" touted by the Vatican could only treat some superficial diseases; for epidemics, it was no different from ordinary water.

Amidst public outrage, the Vatican chose to shift the blame to the Rose Group, claiming that the God of Wealth had deceived them by selling inferior goods.

In response to the Vatican's accusations, the Rose Group quickly produced the purchase contract between the Vatican and the Group.

It clearly shows that the Vatican purchased the holy water at a low price, while the cost of the orthodox treatment with the same effect, as they boasted, was significantly higher than the value of the holy water.

This proves that the Vatican understands that holy water cannot have a proper healing effect; they just want to buy it at a low price and don't care about the actual therapeutic effects of the holy water.

Rose Group's PR campaign successfully shifted the blame back to the Vatican, while the God of Wealth invoked paganism.

It indicates that followers of other gods are not recognized by the god of wealth, and wealth has no obligation to pay for their health. Regarding the holy water incident, they should be condemning the Vatican, the authority of their own deity, not the god of wealth, who claims that medical expenses are clearly marked and there is no deception.

Thus, the God of Wealth made a fortune and was once again exonerated, leaving the Vatican mired in an endless vortex of public opinion.

At this turbulent juncture, Vera finally mastered her medical skills and found a patient suffering from the plague.

When the healing power was used for the first time, the festering rash healed and the rotting organs regenerated. The patient opened his eyes, hugged her trouser leg, and cried out, "Miracle doctor!"

Vera understood that this era would be changed because of her.

...Edric has recently found his sister frequently absent from home.

When asked where she had gone, she always gave vague answers and avoided eye contact, like a little squirrel hiding a pine cone.

Until one evening, he could no longer contain his worry and followed her as she quietly pushed open the door to leave.

He walked through the familiar alleyways, and the further he went, the more the sounds of people surged towards him like a tide. Turning the last street corner, the scene before him made him stop abruptly—

The ten-mile-long street was packed with people.

His sister, wearing the green dress he had bought, stood on the makeshift platform in the middle of the sea of ​​people.

The setting sun cast a golden glow on her, and the wind ruffled her skirt and hair. She raised her arm, her voice clear and firm, piercing through the noise:
May the green leaves bring blessings!

Countless warm green lights rose up in response, bursting from her palm, like a reverse meteor shower rising into the twilight sky, and then precisely showering down on the crowd.

Each point of light seems to possess a life of its own, searching for its own target—a festering wound, a withered face, a body hunched over by illness.

A miracle occurred quietly in the twilight.

The foul-smelling sores healed, the flush on the feverish child's face faded, and the old man's heart-wrenching cough gradually subsided.

Sobs, exclamations, and uncontrollable cries of gratitude mingled together.

A mother held her child, who had regained consciousness, tightly in her arms, tears streaming down her face; sisters embraced each other closely.

Vera stood there, like the calm center of a storm. She held aloft a small bunch of unassuming plants—green grass that had stubbornly grown from the cracks in the rocks of an abandoned lighthouse hut by the sea, its leaves a vibrant, lively emerald green that mirrored the light in her palm.

Here, on this land, "healing power" is a forbidden word.

So she held the bunch of green grass even higher, letting its verdant silhouette be reflected in every pair of longing eyes, her voice clear and melodious like the striking of jade:
"Long live Aoba!"

"Long live Aoba-sama!!!"

Her response was a deafening roar.

Countless arms rose like a forest, pointing towards that ordinary yet symbolic green leaf of hope and salvation.

Tears glistened in the eyes of the people, along with an almost religious light.

Edric stood on the edge of the bustling crowd, watching his sister shine in the throng.

He saw a gleam in her eyes he had never seen before, and he also saw the bunch of green leaves being held high.

The cheers of the crowd rose higher and higher, engulfing the entire long street and carrying into the distance.

The name "Aoba-shin" spread like wildfire across this forgotten land, accompanied by healing light and the fragrance of grass.

The realm of the original sin god is an anarchic place, where even the papacy is in disarray. The god's main source of power is sin. As long as the sins in the world do not disappear, the original sin god will not fall.

Without affecting their own power acquisition, they naturally have no interest in the new faith that is spreading wildly across their territory to cure diseases.

Thus, the power of faith spread wildly, like wild grass that thrives in the wind.

After that day, Edric understood what his sister was doing. He was shocked by her actions, but after thinking about it, he wondered why he shouldn't support her if healing the sick was her ideal.

After all, he was expelled from his family because of the plague. The Church of the God of Light, which his family controlled, planned to significantly increase property taxes in preparation for the upcoming divine festival, in order to present a grander and more luxurious ceremony to the God of Light.

Edric couldn't understand this behavior, but his family thought he was crazy.

—Holding a grander ceremony pleases the gods, who will grant them even greater power. As for the lives of those at the bottom, what does that have to do with them?

Amid this intense conflict, Edric was deemed ideologically alienated for his refusal to yield, and was disqualified from succeeding to the position of Holy Son and expelled from his family.

Now, many years after his exile in the realm of the original sin god, he feels only a daze when he recalls those days.

This era is controlled by top conglomerates under the god of wealth and countless religious orders.

He couldn't change the times, but his sister could. Isn't that a continuation of a dream?
So when Vera returned home late again because she was treating patients, she gently pushed open the door and saw her brother sleeping by the window.

The oil lamp on the table burned quietly, its warm yellow light gently covering the small tabletop and falling on his tired profile.

He had clearly been waiting for a long time; even in his sleep, his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were continuing some kind of waiting.

The sound of the door opening startled him awake.

Edric opened his eyes and looked at his sister, who was standing at the door, looking somewhat bewildered.

Vera instinctively shrank back, her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt tightly. Various explanations flashed through her mind—she had gone to gather herbs, to help her neighbor, to read at the lighthouse…

But her brother just looked at her and then laughed very softly and slowly.

That smile held no questioning, no worry, only a gentle tenderness that had settled within.

"If there's something you want to do."

His voice was slightly hoarse from just waking up, yet clear as a promise:
"Just go for it."

He paused, his gaze falling on the lamp on the table, the light flickering quietly in his eyes.

"Your brother will always wait for you to come home."

Vera followed his gaze.

The lamp she couldn't bear to leave lit for even a moment longer was now shining for her.

The lamp oil burned steadily, casting a warm glow that gave the humble room a soft, fuzzy edge.

She suddenly realized—he lit the lamp not because he needed light, but to tell her that no matter how late it was, there was always a light left on for her.

"A place with lights."

他 说:

"This is home."

Vera's vision blurred instantly.

All the prepared rhetoric, all the accumulated worries, and the guilt of acting covertly crumbled in a single sentence.

Tears streamed down her face without warning, and she choked back sobs, barely able to utter a complete sentence:
"Fuel... fuel is too expensive... I've saved so many people, they're very grateful and will give me a reward... I just want you to be alright, I just want you to stop using it..."

Stop trading your life for lamp oil, for a chance to survive.

She wanted to say that, but the rest of her words were drowned out by a torrent of tears.

At that moment, the small room seemed to be filled with something abundant.

It is the light, it is the tears, it is the secret that no longer needs to be hidden, it is the finally honest protection.

Happiness and emotion enveloped the little house, so thick it was almost palpable.

They stood in the lamplight, one crying, the other awkwardly offering comfort. Neither of them looked out at the deep night, nor heard the whispers of fate in the distance.

At that time, they did not understand that this lamp could light their way home, but it could not pierce through the darkness that was about to come.