Chapter 939
“You can fix my constitution?”
Saint Olga froze as if she had just heard something utterly absurd.
“To be precise, you burned yourself out forcing out divine power. So instead of changing your constitution, I’ll be fixing all the damage it’s caused.”
Raon clicked his tongue as he looked at the black lines etched across her entire body. There were more than before—proof that she had once again overexerted her divine power during the war.
“Those black scars will disappear too.”
“You can do that? How?”
Olga’s red lips trembled in disbelief.
“My friend knows how.”
Wrath had noticed Olga’s condition at a glance and said demons had similar cases. With Raon’s current realm and Wrath’s knowledge, curing her wasn’t impossible.
“Mmh…”
Olga bit her lip as she stared at the black lines covering her right hand.
“These aren’t just marks of divine backlash—they’re my past and my present.”
Her trembling hand brushed over the black scars along her arm.
“……”
Raon kept silent, letting her speak at her own pace.
“Did I ever tell you I was born with more divine power than anyone? That’s why they called me a Saint, even though it didn’t suit me.”
Clenching her fist, the black lines along her fingers connected, making it look as if she were wearing black gloves.
“I had nearly infinite divine power, but my body was no different from anyone else’s. It’s like having an ocean of water but holding it in a paper cup.”
Olga pressed her fingernail into the dark, melted patches of her skin and smiled bitterly.
“When I use high-tier divine power, it feels like my skin melts away. No—it actually does.”
She pointed at the marks that not even tattoos could hide anymore and laughed softly.
“But it made me happy. Helping others with my power was worth more than any pain.”
Her faint smile turned toward the sea glimmering beyond the window.
“But people always wanted more. They didn’t care about my pain or feelings at all.”
With a bitter smile, Olga pulled out a cigarette and held it between her lips.
“I wanted to heal everyone, but before I knew it, I was dealing only with the rich and powerful.”
She didn’t light it, simply holding it in her hand like a patient remembering her own affliction.
“So I stopped acting like a Saint and started acting like a thug. I ditched the nobles and went to the slums to heal dying kids. Left behind the pampered rich and went to the battlefield to save dying soldiers.”
Her eyes softened. “That felt right. It made me happy. They started calling me the ‘Trash Saint,’ but I liked it. My kingdom tried hard to hide the nickname, though.”
She waved her hand casually. “So it’s fine. These scars are marks of glory. As long as I manage my divine power, I’ll live long enough. Don’t worry.”
She shook her head calmly, refusing treatment.
“No, that’s not true.”
Raon met her eyes and shook his head.
“Huh? What’s not true—”
“Both.”
He raised his finger.
“You know it yourself, don’t you? You don’t have much time left.”
He pointed to her markings.
“Your divine power keeps getting stronger. Just using it melts your body a little more each time. It’s only a matter of time before it collapses.”
She had said it herself—born with immense divine power, but a body too ordinary to contain it. Soon, not just her skin, but her bones and muscles would melt away.
“When that happens, it’ll be too late. You won’t even last a few months lying in bed.”
“Mmh…”
Olga frowned; she already knew that truth.
“And those scars—you care about them, don’t you?”
Raon smirked and gestured toward the black lines covering her skin.
“W-what nonsense! I don’t care at all!”
Olga shook her head furiously, her face flushed red.
“You always insist on healing women’s scars perfectly. Two days ago, you even took Rensia back just to erase the marks.”
She had said a woman’s skin should be flawless. It wasn’t arrogance—it was empathy and longing. Because she couldn’t have unblemished skin herself, she wanted others to have it instead.
He saw through her, realizing she was kinder than she let on.
“A-ah! Idiot! You stupid fool!”
Her face turned crimson as she shouted.
“‘Fool’? What does that even mean?”
Raon chuckled softly.
“Anyway, you’re coming with me to Zieghart. I’ll fix you, one way or another.”
“But…”
Olga bit her lip, hesitating.
“There’s always a cost. Healing me will demand a lot from you too…”
Even on the verge of death, she still thought of others first. She denied being a Saint, yet she was one more than anyone.
“It’ll be tiring, but nothing serious. I told you—I have a guide.”
Between Saint Federick in Zieghart and Wrath’s knowledge, they could handle it. It would drain him, but it was possible.
“Ugh…”
Olga opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words.
“I’ll give you that porcelain skin you’ve always—”
“I said I don’t want it!”
She shouted, embarrassed, and stormed out of the room.
Raon smiled faintly, watching the half-open door sway. Judging from her footsteps, she wasn’t heading back to Supere. She would come with them to Zieghart.
-You really want to save her, don’t you?
‘She helped us, and… I just want her to live.’
Saint Olga could play a role greater than most transcendents in the battles ahead—but that wasn’t the reason. He simply wanted her to live as a person.
Whoooosh—
As he looked at the door she’d left open, a pink mist descended softly from the air.
[Wrath…]
Lust’s sultry voice slid through his ears like silk.
[I know you came to the human realm with a purpose. But I’d rather you not get so close to other women.]
Her crimson eyes gleamed from within the pink aura.
-Kyaaaah!
Wrath screamed and dove under the bed.
-That stalker! She’s insane!
He trembled, his chin quivering.
“You are mistaken.”
Raon looked calmly at Lust’s feverish eyes.
“The way I think of her is completely different from how I think of you.”
He said nothing more.
[Different? Different…]
Lust repeated the word blankly.
[Yes, I’m different.]
Satisfied, she breathed a hot sigh against his ear before vanishing back into the air.
-What…?
Wrath blinked dumbly.
-Why did that stalker leave after hearing that?
‘You heard it yourself.’
-But what does “different” even mean to her!?
‘People hear what they want to hear. She took it the way she liked.’
Raon laughed quietly.
-Wait!
Wrath’s eyes darted side to side before he shrieked.
-That means I’m the one who’ll have to deal with her later!
‘…Probably.’
-Probably, my ass! You maniac!
Wrath trembled violently under the bed.
‘Patience brings reward.’
-You’re the reason I’m losing my patience!
Wrath howled just as hurried footsteps echoed outside the room.
Boom!
The door burst open. Burren, Martha, Runaan, and the Light Wind swordsmen rushed in—but someone else stepped through first.
“Raon.”
Glenn appeared before his bed without warning.
“Are you alright?”
His brows furrowed deeply with concern.
“My head’s a bit fuzzy, but otherwise I’m fine.”
Raon lifted his arm to show he was alright.
“Good.”
Glenn nodded, avoiding his eyes as if embarrassed.
“……”
Raon tilted his head, taken aback. This was nothing like the Glenn who had hugged them all in public two days ago.
“Ahem! As long as you’re safe. I’ll leave you to talk.”
Glenn awkwardly turned around and walked out.
“Eh? Lord? You’re leaving already?”
Roen’s surprised voice echoed from outside.
“I-I saw him awake, that’s enough.”
Glenn’s voice wavered slightly as he hurried away, dragging Roen along.
“I think he’s embarrassed.”
Martha chuckled.
“He could barely look at us after that hug.”
Burren scratched his head awkwardly.
“I liked it though.”
Runaan smiled faintly. “It felt like meeting a real grandfather.”
“I see…”
Raon smiled, looking at the floor where Glenn had stood. It seemed his grandfather had simply been overwhelmed that day.
“How’s everything outside?”
“Almost done.”
Martha tilted her chin.
“There were more people with black hearts than we expected, but the priests from Supere helped remove them all.”
She grinned. “We didn’t just destroy the Black Tower—we saved the townsfolk too.”
“Good.”
The priests and clerics from Supere had helped not just in battle but in recovery. He was glad they’d come.
“After hearing the Black Tower fell, even more volunteers showed up—not just neutrals but wanderers who’d lost their path.”
Burren pointed outside. “The place is livelier than ever. I think Montiro will thrive again. The ruins of the Black Tower will even attract visitors.”
He smiled broadly.
“Ah…!”
Runaan suddenly raised her hand.
“I heard there’s a kid eating every bit of food in town…”
She bowed her head seriously. “Supplies keep vanishing from every restaurant.”
“Yeah, if the rest of the continent hadn’t sent aid, we’d be starving. They say a small girl’s been eating meals and desserts all day long.”
Burren laughed.
“Haa…”
Raon sighed.
-That gluttonous fiend!
‘Gluttony, of course…’
She must’ve been waiting here, eating everything in sight until Raon woke up. He’d better pay her soon.
‘Every Demon King is peculiar in their own way.’
As he sighed, looking at the lingering pink mist, the door opened again. Chamber entered, wrapped in bandages, followed by Rensia.
“Raon!”
Rensia ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
“I’m so glad you’re alright!”
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
“I just fainted from exhaustion. My head’s a little sore, that’s all.”
He patted her trembling back gently.
“Head injuries are the worst. Look at me—I’m still recovering.”
Chamber rolled her candy across her tongue and shook her head.
“Are you feeling better, Chamber?”
“Better? Hardly. My head’s still splitting in two.”
She frowned, but smiled faintly. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead, not just half-dead. Thank you.”
She placed her small hand on his shoulder.
“No. Without you stepping in at the end, we wouldn’t have won.”
He meant it. There had been an enormous gap between him and the Black Tower Lord. If Chamber hadn’t risked her life using her final technique, he would have died.
“You’re still too humble.”
Chamber smirked. “Doesn’t suit someone with a title like yours.”
“Title?”
Raon blinked. “What title?”
“You’ve been given a new epithet.”
She took the candy from her mouth and pointed it at him like a sword.
“One that marks you as a power on par with the continent’s greatest.”