Wasn’t This a Night Game

Became a Saint (Revised)

{Praise Lilia of Grace.

Her mercy runs deep and wide, and like a farmer tends his field, she shall heal the sick and the needy.

Her chosen ones are not determined by wealth, nor gender, nor birthplace, for from the dirtiest of places shall come the holiest, and testify to it with their lives.}

-Grace’s Bible, Chapter 32, Verse 16.-

*

The heart of the Arcal Empire.

Mars City.

It was as grand and dazzling as I’d heard.

Cars and trucks powered by mana engines roamed the streets, a city crammed with buildings reminiscent of the Belle Époque.

Stepping off the train, I immediately started striding into the city center.

Walking briskly, I re-examined the plan I’d laid out on the train.

Treating the rich and well-connected would build my reputation and spread word of mouth quickly, but naturally, they wouldn’t come to a complete nobody like me for treatment.

So, free treatment first, that’s the ticket – even if I’m a no-name healer they’ve never seen, there’d be folks willing to give it a shot.

My thought was to start my healing practice in the slums.

If word spread from there, then people from well-off families might start seeking me out, and even nobles more well-to-do than them, and ultimately, maybe even that four-armed witch would come looking for treatment, and I’d heal her and… happy ending.

Please, I prayed, let it be a happy ending.

Before heading to the slums, I took several deep breaths, trying to ease the tension.

The slums.

Obviously, they were a high-crime area.

There could be bad people, the odds of getting stabbed weren’t negligible.

But I still had to do it.

If things got bad, at worst, I could freeze time and run like hell.

I steeled myself.

Gotta try.

Otherwise, my future was nothing but being roasted as a whole hog barbecue.

I earnestly started moving to find the slums, and it didn’t take long to locate them.

Walking along the source of the foul stench, it wasn’t long before I had arrived.

Slowly circling the slum, the sharp gazes of the people shot towards me.

Understandable, it wasn’t a neighborhood that welcomed outsiders poking around.

The looks thrown my way were of two kinds, and only two.

A pup ripe for the fleecing?

Or a b*stard worth harming?

The spine-chilling stares of the bottom feeders, with no past and no future, threatened to buckle my knees, but I pushed down the fear, trying my best to appear nonchalant as I walked the streets.

And then, finally, as I walked…

A suitable target came into view.

A beggar, his eyes devoid of all hope, scratching at skin festering with boils that seeped blood and pus, rattling an empty rice bowl.

“In the name of benevolent god, spare a single coin. Just a single coin.”

Not words spoken with genuine heart, but rather a hopeless mumble.

Someone for whom it wouldn’t matter if they died tomorrow, or today.

Good.

That man wouldn’t refuse, I figured, if a stranger offered to heal him, no matter who I was.

“Spare a single coin.”

I slowly approached him.

As I drew closer, a terrible stench began to emanate from his body.

“Good sir. In God’s name, spare a single coin.”

He must have noticed me approaching, as he flicked a glance my way, muttering his plea to the approaching stranger. I had a question for him.

This is performance.

Performance is key to spreading the rumor that I’m some kind of grand healer.

Naturally, I can’t have folks thinking I’m just some loudmouth snake oil salesman or con artist, so I answered the beggar with as much gravitas as I could muster.

“Why are you sitting here?”

“Spare a coin, please. Just one coin.”

“Do you suffer in your body?”

“Aye. I suffer. Master. Take pity on this beggar and spare a single coin.”

“Do you desire a coin to pass a day? Or the chance to live the rest of your life differently?”

The beggar blinked, struggling to understand.

“A chance to live anew would be good, indeed. But who gives such a chance to a beggar like me?”

“I will. So I ask again. Do you desire a chance? Or truly, only a single coin?”

“I desire a chance, Master. If you have it, give it. Though I have nothing to offer in return.”

“That is enough.”

I placed my hand upon the beggar’s head.

And used the skill.

[Skill: Body Modification is being cast!]

And the next instant.

The screen I’d already seen once when casting it on myself appeared before my eyes again.

Every time I see it, I think it’s closer to a medical simulator than some trashy dating game, with how meticulously detailed it is.

You can even upgrade the heart, large intestine, small intestine, stomach, lungs, and so on… change the shape of internal organs as I desire.

Anyway, the state of the beggar, seen in such fine 3D detail within the customization window, was truly wretched.

‘One leg’s bone isn’t its proper shape. He’d have to limp or crawl his whole life, poor sod.’

His whole body was covered in pustules, and the boil on his back was practically the size of a head.

The stench coming from his body was emanating from that boil on his back.

After confirming his condition. I slowly began to knead the beggar’s body, like I was customizing a character.

Getting rid of that enormous boil on his back and all those little pustules clinging to his body.

And reshaping the bone in one leg, twisted into a grotesque form, back to normal.

Cleaning up his skin, changing his complexion, and altering his emaciated frame into a more pleasing form with some meat and muscle.

Massaging the cheekbones, so prominent from starvation.

As I customized, I gained an understanding different from when I was modifying my…that area, yesterday.

That the Body Modification skill wasn’t just a simple, appearance-altering thing.

[The skill can remove physical ailments! Proceed?]

It could treat illnesses, and even do things like genetic alteration.

Why such a thing existed, I didn’t know, but since I was healing him anyway…

I should do it properly, right?

‘Let’s get rid of the illnesses too. And the lice in his hair. And delete the parasites in his intestines.’

Quite literally, anything related to the body, I could change as I pleased.

As I busily kneaded the man’s body, a strange sound escaped his lips.

“Ugh-huk. Ugh-ugh-huk! M-Master!”

The sound of bones twisting.

The sounds of joints, muscles, nerves, and blood vessels twisting, rearranging themselves haphazardly, began, amplified to a deafening roar.

The beggar’s scream, intertwined with that macabre symphony of his body reforming, drew in the other beggars and slum-dwellers like flies to rot.

Good.

Keep swarming. Watch.

And spread the word.

Maybe three minutes I spent, my focus razor-sharp, kneading the beggar’s flesh.

Finally, when I was satisfied that every last thing, inside and out, had been twisted anew, I released him.

The beggar slumped, a sack of bones, onto the ground.

He groped at himself, face contorted in horror, then slowly peeled off the pus-soaked rags he wore, began to strip, piece by piece.

Outer clothes, underclothes, all cast aside. The man, a look on his face you couldn’t quite name, sat there, staring, just staring, at his own body.

Already, the crowd pressed in uncomfortably close, eyes darting between the man and me, a low hum of murmurs rippling through them.

“Wasn’t he… wasn’t he born with a lame leg?”

“How could he…”

“All the boils, all the pus, gone. Is that even possible?”

“I saw it!! He just touched him, and it disappeared!!”

The murmuring coaxed a smile to my lips.

Excellent.

Now scatter, spread the gospel. Understood?

I fought to hold onto the persona of the omnipotent healer I’d crafted, and extended a hand to the beggar.

“Rise. Walk on two legs.”

The beggar grabs my hand.

I hauled him to his feet.

The beggar stood, both feet planted on the ground.

I released his hand, stepped back, and the man slowly took a step. Another step forward.

The pace was glacial, but the man was walking with a frightening sort of perfection.

After a light circuit around the area, the beggar suddenly rushed to me, slowly knelt, and began to kiss my shoes.

“A saint, you are!”

The beggar spat out tears, clutching my ankle, kissing my shoes like a man possessed.

He must have been deeply moved.

And seeing this, the scores of people gathered around, hearing the cured beggar’s words, they began to shout together in unison.

“A s-, saint!”

“He has bestowed a miracle!”

“A s-, saint!!”

The paupers nearby, without exception, dropped to their knees.

Luckily, the first button seemed to be fastened correctly.

I gave a benevolent smile, raising the beggar ajusshi who was frantically kissing the instep of my foot.

“S-, Saint. I have nothing to repay you with.”

Yeah. I gotta lay down a line that sounds somewhat impressive here, right?

“I did not heal you expecting recompense. I do not desire repayment in material things. What I desire from you is to live a life truly lived. Repay what I have given you today, not with material wealth, but with your life.”

After that, the beggar started sobbing and weeping.

Perfect.

“Y-yes, I will. Saint! I will, without fail!!”

The sobbing beggar clung to me, overcome, choking out tears in great, heaving sobs.

I patted him, then looked around at the throng.

The gazes were intense.

Seemed like a time for some kind of powerful line.

Good.

Perfect timing to spread the word about someone with kick-ass healing abilities.

“Those born with ailments, those who are ill, come to me. I am here to heal you. I take no payment. Come, all of you.”

In an instant, a massive crowd surged forward.

“Saint! Heal my son!”

“My mother is blind!”

“Saint!! My son is dying! I have no money for treatment! Please, make him well!!”

The sheer volume of voices threatened to overwhelm me.

Luckily, the word-of-mouth would be huge.

At this rate, rumors would spread across the entire capital in a heartbeat, right?

Good. Let’s ride this momentum and stop that apocalypse ending event.

Thinking that, I focused on healing those who came to me, maximizing their recovery with body modification.

Yes. So far, so good.

So good, but…

“The Saint of Grace, Lilia, is here!!”

“The Goddess of Grace has sent a Saint!”

“The Saint of Healing!! The Saint of Healing!”

But why, all of a sudden, are I hearing the name of a specific Order?

No, this won’t do??

It’s true I’m trying to play the Saint, but being suspected of belonging to a particular Order… that’s asking for trouble!!

No!

Don’t call on the name of Lilia’s Goddess!!

Though, contrary to my wishes.

“O Saint of Healing!!”

“O Apostle of Grace!!”

The shouts erupting around me were only intensifying in real time.