For Sale. Fallen Lady. Never Used.

Chapter 233: The End Of Waiting (3)

After putting the crispy on the outside, and tender on the inside body of Tarasque into the inventory, I changed the wall where the barrier had disappeared into steps and slowly climbed out of the pit.

Then, I lay down flat.

“Oof… I’m dying here…”

Even though the reverse scale was broken, allowing some damage to get through, and Clara’s divine power neutralized the blessing of the Evil God, weakening Tarasque, it was still tough.

No matter how skilled I was, spamming mid-level spells in triple digits would deplete my mana.

Though I could replenish mana with potions and minimize the mental exhaustion with system adjustments.

The problem lay in the mana circuits through which the mana flowed.

Usually, if mana control was precise, no matter how many consecutive spells you cast, the circuits wouldn’t get damaged.

But the Lintblum Core was a bit different.

The core was connected to the heart, and the circuits were linked to the blood vessels and nervous system through a special mana breathing technique.

Because of this, when drawing a massive amount of mana for an extended period, minor side effects occur.

Specifically, dizziness, heart palpitations, nausea, indigestion, and overall poor condition…

What is this? It’s similar to the symptoms I experienced from drinking too much coffee on Earth?

Well, mana is a stimulant, after all.

Lost in such idle thoughts while staring blankly at the sky covered by the barrier, I noticed a pure white woman at the edge of my vision.

Saintess Clara. She was looking down at me intently.

“Uh, um. Do you have something to say?”

“Yes. I thought it was serious. Since I’ve died once, I know it hurts a lot.”

“…Excuse me?”

“You just said you were dying there, struggling.”

“Oh, no, that’s not…”

“Just lie down for a bit now. Your companions are winning smoothly, so don’t worry.”

Clara squatted beside my head, rummaged through her belongings, and pulled out a handkerchief with a blue flower embroidered on it.

Despite sweating profusely herself, she carefully wiped my face.

Setting aside why she was being so kind to me, I couldn’t ignore what I just heard.

As I stared blankly, Clara blinked her transparent green eyes and hesitated.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You can’t see my underwear from that angle, can you?”

“…I wasn’t looking because of that. I was bothered by what you said about dying earlier.”

“Oh? Yes, that’s understandable. Unless they’re undead, no one has experienced death. And you’re a curious magician, Yandel.”

Clara nodded as if she understood, but it left me bewildered.

The information I had from H&A had never been wrong. Any differences were due to the butterfly effect caused by my actions.

So, everything in the dungeon had always gone according to my plan.

But Clara was different.

She, who should have been holed up in the fortress focusing on defense, came out to fight alongside me and retained her memories, unlike Tarasque.

This is absurd.

Even though scenario dungeons were created from strong wills and lingering thoughts, Clara was merely a residual thought, not even a soul.

Commonly referred to as a ghost… to put it simply, she’s like grease splattered while grilling meat.

You can tell meat was grilled here, it smells like meat, and it even tastes a bit like meat if you lick it.

But you can’t say it’s meat.

Maintaining full memories is impossible.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Magician Yandel, you’re right. Usually, residual thoughts can’t retain complete memories. At best, they remember a few intense moments before death.”

A bitter smile appeared on Clara’s lips.

“If life is compared to a flame, I am now the ashes left after it’s burned… no, more like the soot stuck to the bottom.”

A much more elegant analogy than comparing it to splattered grease.

Clara carefully folded the sweat-soaked handkerchief and put it in her bosom. She then wiped her face roughly with her sleeve and continued.

“But do you know what my final wish was?”

“…Salvation, wasn’t it? At least that’s why I came.”

“Oh? Thank you. You knew? More precisely, I wanted my life to have meaning.”

She wished for the deaths of the knights who protected her until the end to have meaning. For her life fighting as a saint to have meaning. For her choice to burn her soul and forsake rest to have meaning.

And even if it meant becoming the core of a dungeon, she wished her foolish stubbornness of waiting to meet someone had meaning.

“I just wanted someone to say it. That I did well. That they survived, thanks to me. That I wasn’t wrong. Thank you. So now rest. Leave the rest to us… something like that.”

“……”

“To be saved by those words, of course, I had to retain my memories.”

Residual thoughts retain fragments of memories. The memories about the reason for their lingering regrets remain.

If… Clara’s lingering regret was simply waiting a bit longer, it would make sense for her to retain her memories.

Aimless waiting was just standing there blankly.

“Well, I was reaching my limit, though.”

“Ah.”

I understood why Clara in H&A lost her 300 years of memories from her shrug and added words.

No matter how high a rank Clara had as a saint or how vividly her will burned at the last moment.

What remained was nothing but soot.

Soot that washes away with water or wipes off with a cloth.

Like how old spirits forget why they’re bound, Clara’s residual thought would have started to erode over time.

The first thing to fade would be the meaningless repetition of 300 years.

Conversely, what must be preserved was the memories of her life, including her last choice.

This dungeon was originally discovered two years later, marked by shifting sands. Clara would have let go of many things during those two years.

Not only the time spent waiting in the dungeon but perhaps even parts of her emotions.

In H&A, except for when she disappeared at the end, she always looked lifeless, like someone utterly exhausted.

But the current Clara was different. Although she still looked tired, the feeling of being deeply moved was clearly conveyed.

Noticing my hesitant gaze, Clara stood up, patting the dust off her bottom.

Some dust fell onto my face.

“Please don’t look at me like that. In the end, everything turned out well, didn’t it? I don’t know how much time has passed outside… but in the end, the Righteous Radiance found where I was, right? And although a bit late, you came to rescue me. And with the saint of the era, no less.”

“What?”

“To be honest, I was a bit surprised. There have been outsiders who became saints, but it’s not an easy feat. Even if divine power is suddenly granted, some don’t know how to use it properly, and others find it clashes with their existing power.”

“…What?”

“You must have found where I was and rushed over without preparation, and that’s why you descended into Magician Yandel’s body. Ah, should I call you Saint instead?”

“Um. Wait a moment. I think there’s some misunderstanding.”

“Oh, come on. How can there be a misunderstanding with such a strong blessing? Besides, I saw it. The attack that manifested the paw of the Righteous Radiance. Of course, it wasn’t the real thing but a pseudo-body made of divine power… but I am a saint. I can recognize that much.”

Clara put her hand on her chest and acted all proud.

But she was completely mistaken. That Nyang Nyang Punch wasn’t from me, but from Helena.

“I don’t have divine power, so how can I be a saint?”

“You must have used it all up to get here. It must have been difficult to draw such a vast amount of divine power as you seem inexperienced… Moreover, since you were originally a magician, it might have been easier to fight without divine power. So at first, I just thought you were a magician.”

“It’s really not the case… this blessing was given to me by the Righteous Radiance because I did a good job of defeating cultists.”

“I was a saint, you know? I am well aware that the Righteous Radiance couldn’t create new saints for a while after expending so much power during the war. Even so, they wouldn’t grant such a blessing to just anyone. You must be my successor, or at least a strong candidate.”

“Ha.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be jealous that you were made a saint in my place.”

“……”

In truth, the Righteous Radiance did want to make me her saint, so I couldn’t argue.

I could understand why Clara had this misunderstanding.

From her perspective, she witnessed skills that only a saint could use, led a party with high-ranking holy knights, and defeated Tarasque while wielding a strong blessing. Saying something like “I’ve come to rescue you” would be very convincing.

This was a reasonable misunderstanding.

The sudden friendliness and openness were all directed at the saint of the era and the Righteous Radiance within me.

I pondered how to refute this but realized the simplest solution.

Seeing is believing. Clara, being a saint herself, would recognize another saint immediately.

“Please, look over there.”

“Why is this Saint so shy…? Okay, okay. What…?”

Helena, who had sprouted lion ears and a tail and was glowing brilliantly with divine power, was holding onto the arms of a chimera that had tried to flee.

The chimera, twice Helena’s size and resembling a saber tiger, was helpless in her grip.

Divine power enhancement was a principle where the God uses their strength instead. Thus, no matter how much the body was strengthened, there were no side effects… Helena must have used this to insanely enhance her physical abilities.

The chimera was shocked to be overpowered. Helena, still holding its arms, kneeded it in the solar plexus.

Crack.

A disturbing sound reached my ears.

With the chimera in pain and unable to recover, Helena climbed on top of it, pinning its arms with her knees.

Then she raised her mace.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

With brutal blows to the head from a mounted position, Helena quickly and efficiently dealt with the named chimera. She then looked up.

“Phew…”

Her face, splattered with blood, displayed a very satisfied smile.

Like a hyena eyeing its prey, she looked around at the other chimeras being fought by our party.

“Huh?”

Her eyes met Clara’s, who was staring blankly.

As if there was a strange attraction between saints, Helena tilted her head curiously.

Meanwhile, Clara’s face darkened and hardened instantly.

Clara, looking back and forth between me and Helena with a despondent expression, suddenly squatted and buried her face in her knees.

I briefly thought I might see her underwear again.

“Waaah!!”

Clara started to cry out, glowing brightly.

She looked like she was about to ascend, scattering tiny glowing particles like fireflies.

“Wait, why are you suddenly trying to disappear?”

“I’m so embarrassed! I want to die! I’m satisfied, so let me disappear!”

“You’re already dead! And didn’t you say dying was really painful?!”

“My heart hurts more! A saint who couldn’t even recognize her own God! Waaah!!”

Clara started screaming and pulling her hair. Her intense movements made the slit in her dress shift slightly.

…Her underwear was white too.