30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!-Chapter 237: The Story of the Main Characters (2)

The restoration of the Grand Temple, which had been burned down in the great fire the previous day, was being carried out with the help of a handful of people.

Even though the Temple had collapsed, there were still believers in the Light.

...The problem was that those so-called priests had been worse than monsters.

Had this been the past, the entire kingdom would have gathered to help rebuild. But now, only a tiny fraction of the population was offering their aid.

Approximately ninety people.

And half of them weren’t even volunteers—they were construction workers hired by Roen.

The number of actual volunteers? Just forty-five.

A pathetic reality.

And an even more pathetic fact?

"Hey, Barry! Get the cement mix right!"

"Ah, sorry."

"Bring the pickaxe over here!"

"Shovel! I said grab a damn shovel!"

Thirty of those forty-five volunteers weren’t here out of faith—they were swordsmanship academy cadets forced into labor.

The Hundred and Eight Arhats.

The Berserkers (Teddy Bears).

The Baldies.

They went by many names, and now, they were working as unpaid laborers at the Grand Temple’s construction site.

Not because they were devout, but because—

"Excavating a mountain is a good workout."

"Huh? What are we supposed to be excavating?"

"A mountain."

"...How?"

"Properly."

"???"

—Their instructor had sent them here under the guise of training.

"It’s good for training external energy. Digging up the mountain, climbing, using pickaxes—it’ll help you build muscle. And don’t worry about food—Blacky will feed you three meals a day, so you’ll get plenty of protein."

"......"

"From now on, forget the training grounds. Just report to the mountains. A week should be enough."

"...Excuse me?"

"Actually, five days. I did it myself, so I know."

"......We’re human, you know?"

Their protests had been completely ignored.

When the instructor himself claimed he could do it and even offered to demonstrate, what counterargument could they possibly have?

Besides, rejecting a method to become stronger would be foolish.

Thus, the Teddy Bears were thrown into construction, busily tearing apart the mountain and rebuilding.

If their efforts could bring a dead land back to life, at least it would be rewarding.

And so—

"Fuck..."

—They cursed their way through each and every day.

Meanwhile, the two assistant instructors who had been sent as supervisors for the cadets’ outdoor training watched in amazement.

"Their speed is ridiculous."

"What the hell did No. 8 teach them? At this rate, in three years, they’re going to be monsters."

No. 7 and No. 11—otherwise known as Dyna and Yan—observed their old comrade’s disciples with blank expressions.

If human excavators existed, they would look exactly like this.

How the hell were they this fast?

"If the instructor were here, he’d just tear up the ground with his bare hands, wouldn’t he?"

"Forget five days—if he was serious, he’d finish in two."

"Nah, I give him one."

...So if these human excavators were monsters, then what the hell was No. 8?

Dyna and Yan exchanged wry smiles.

And yet, at the same time, they felt a strange sense of irony.

Because, once upon a time...

They had been part of the group that orchestrated the plan to burn this Temple down.

Now, here they were—helping rebuild it.

Dyna absentmindedly ran a hand over the empty sleeve where her arm used to be.

"This is fucking weird."

"You’ll have to endure it. No. 8—no, Ihan—is our lifeline."

"Life is a bitch..."

The only reason they were still alive—

The only reason they hadn’t been dragged into the torture chambers of Galahad or Lionel—

Was because Ihan remained neutral.

That was why they had no choice but to play along.

Even if it was humiliating, they had to survive.

And then—

Fwoooosh!

—A dazzling light of life poured over the ruined land, as if to comfort their miserable existence.

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Drip, drip, dribble...

From the ground the cadets had dug up, sprouts and leaves began to emerge.

The cadets froze, their eyes wide in disbelief.

"...That girl’s just a mage, right?"

"That’s what I heard."

"'Saintess'? Pfft! I thought that was just Temple propaganda..."

Dyna and Yan were skeptics—maybe not to the level of the black-haired noble, but they certainly weren’t believers.

They had spent their childhoods praying for salvation, only to be abducted and abandoned.

God had never saved them.

And yet...

Watching this miracle unfold before their very eyes—

For a brief, foolish moment, they almost wanted to believe.

...Almost.

Dyna and Yan both let out bitter laughs.

***

Wooooong—!

A resonance rippled through the earth where Irene’s water magic touched.

It wasn’t just magic.

The lingering divine energy around the Temple reacted to her power, creating a mystical phenomenon.

Tuk.

More sprouts bloomed, and trees regrew, reversing the damage as if time itself was moving backward.

If ever there was a time to use the phrase "a scene straight out of magic"—

It was now.

Of course—

‘The real irony is... this isn’t something just any mage can do.’

It wasn’t as if all magic users could create such a miracle.

Only someone like Irene, whose magic was so pure it bordered on divine, could accomplish this.

‘Other mages just end up polluting the land instead...’

The day before, when Irene had purified the ground, people thought magic could help speed up the Temple’s restoration.

But that hope had been completely shattered.

—"What the hell is this?"

Instead of purifying, the land became even more contaminated.

That mage had almost been beaten to death on the spot.

—"W-Wait! Calm down! I didn’t mean to do this! This just proves Irene is on a completely different level!!"

The mage, usually slow-witted, had never spoken so fast in his life.

Out of sheer desperation, he had managed to explain what was happening.

—"If an average mage’s magic purity is like polluted river water, then Irene’s magic is first-class spring water! No—it's as pure as a raw diamond! In this entire kingdom, she’s the only one who can do something like this! S-So please... don’t kill me."

...And so, the mage had barely survived.

She had taken a few hits, but she survived.

However, perhaps because of the testimony that she alone was capable of purification—

The priests, the clergy, and even the onlookers at the site...

"It’s a miracle! The Saintess is performing a miracle!"

"Saintess...!"

"Irene! Irene Windler!"

They sang praises for her without hesitation, calling her the Daughter of God, the Saintess.

Even though she hadn’t used divine power, only magic, they still labeled her a Saintess.

It was absurd.

And yet, in a way, Irene had built this image herself.

"They say she single-handedly extinguished the Great Fire, didn’t she?"

"There’s no way ordinary magic could do something like that—it has to be the power of a Saintess!"

During the fire, she had summoned massive rainfall, putting out the inferno that had consumed both the Grand Temple and the mountains.

A genius mage’s feat? Sure, that could explain it.

But the South was different from other regions—it was a kingdom of knights and divine mysteries rather than magic.

To them, mages were just people gifted with a different kind of divine power.

Moreover, the rain she had summoned saved countless innocent lives.

While the other mages had proven useless, Irene alone was not only putting out fires—she was turning scorched land into lush greenery.

At this point—

‘She might as well have stood up and declared, “I am the Saintess.”’

It wasn’t about whether she was truly a mage or a Saintess anymore.

For the people, it was simply easier to believe in the Saintess Irene rather than complicate things with logic.

And when Roen’s words came to mind—

"People perceive reality in a way that’s most convenient for them. They drape illusions over others to fit their expectations. The Temple has collapsed, but the Light of Divinity has not. Who knows... perhaps after Raphael, a new power within the Temple is being born."

If his prediction was right, Irene’s rise as a Saintess was already set in stone.

‘...Even I know Irene isn’t a real Saintess, but damn if she doesn’t look holy.’

The way she floated through the sky, her fairy-like beauty glowing, as her water-like magic spread life across the land—

It was divine.

Whether she liked it or not, people would call her Saintess.

‘She did this to herself.’

Jack let out a sigh.

All she had wanted was to help out and do some volunteer work.

But the more she stepped forward, the more—

‘She’s digging her own grave.’

He shook his head.

There was such a thing as suffering by one’s own hands.

***

"-Why are my ears so itchy?"

Irene tilted her head in confusion.

Was someone talking about her?

"That can’t be it. Who would even badmouth me?"

["Irene, self-awareness is an important trait."]

"What do you mean by that?"

["It means there are plenty of people who would badmouth you."]

"...You’re awful."

She pouted, scolding the ghostly girl beside her.

Fwoooosh!

Even as she sulked, she never stopped casting magic.

["Irene, you’re working awfully hard. That’s... unusual for you?"]

"Are you just going to keep insulting me today? ...Anyway, it’s best to restore fire-damaged areas as quickly as possible."

["Hmm..."]

Irene wasn’t suddenly having a spiritual awakening.

She wasn’t working hard out of devotion or a newfound sense of duty.

She genuinely just wanted to fix the fire damage as fast as possible.

"...I just don’t like fires."

["Why?"]

"A soldier who once saved me died in a fire."

["......"]

"And before you ask, it wasn’t in this world. It was back in my original world."

["......"]

"He was a good man... kind of like my instructor."

["Irene..."]

For the first time, Irene’s usual carefree expression turned melancholy.

Standing here, seeing the aftermath of a great fire—

It was bringing up old memories.

And with those memories came the growing longing for home.

A world without magic.

A world without mystic powers.

A world where she couldn’t even use telekinesis, where she had to walk on her own two feet.

A world where she didn’t look this beautiful.

And yet—

‘I have to go back. I have to visit his grave. And... I still have to take my college entrance exams.’

Irene wanted to go home.

This world was nice, but it wasn’t home.

She missed—

Her nagging mother who always cared for her.

Her stoic father who always protected her.

Her annoying but fiercely loyal older brother and younger sister.

She wanted to see them again.

And—

"Oh, right! I still need to go to my audition."

...She still had dreams to chase.

["You still haven’t given up on that ridiculous dream? You don’t have the face of an idol."]

"I do sing well, though!"

["Haaa... Whatever. A dream’s a dream."]

"Ugh...!"

Fwoooosh!

Irene huffed, pouring even more magic into her work.

Her home, her past—those were important.

But for now—

‘I have to focus on the present!’

Yes.

...Just like her instructor.

A girl soared through the sky, working tirelessly as she thought of someone dear to her.

***

"-How long do I have to keep doing this?"

"It’s only been a day. Why are you so impatient?"

"It’s not just a day for me."

"Oh, hush!"

"...This is driving me crazy."

The man whom the so-called Saintess admired so deeply—

The rare kind of person who always gave his all—

Was currently trembling with an expression of sheer horror.

Because—

"For the next week, you are forbidden from any physical training. You must rest."

"......You son of a bitch."

The idea of resting for an entire week terrified him more than any battlefield.

Because—

Muscle loss was NOT an option.