No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!?

No, How Can an Atheist Become a Saintess!? – 15

EP.15

Chapter 2

Encounters and Opportunities (2)

I had only come face-to-face with the protagonist three days ago.

Up until then, Ria had been persistently training me.

“This! Thing! Is too! Heavy! to! Carry!”

I was probably shouting that to her at the time.

Sweat poured off me like rain as a few nuns circled around us, keeping a cautious distance while sneaking glances our way. Many of them were on unfriendly terms with me, and their faces wore smug little smirks, as if Ria was teaching me a long-overdue lesson.

Well, to be fair, they weren’t entirely wrong. After all, what I was holding was a massive riot shield.

Even though this world is a hybrid of fantasy with monsters and hunters, it’s still fundamentally modern. The swords wielded by hunters are forged from all sorts of lightweight, durable alloys developed through advanced materials science. Here, mass-produced, corporation-made weapons crafted by precision CNC machines from solid steel blocks are far sturdier than anything hand-forged by a traditional blacksmith.

Naturally, the scabbards for these swords come equipped with practical features like accessory rails or even cutting-edge technology that allows the swords to be unsheathed with minimal effort. While there are still artisans with a fantasy flair, they typically work on custom-made weapons imbued with magical properties rather than mass-produced items.

And thanks to this modern twist, the sword Ria wielded was mercilessly sturdy. Though it was a training sword with no sharp edge, it was undoubtedly in the “light yet strong” category.

But still—

“Why is this shield so heavy?!”

I shouted in frustration.

“Of course it’s heavy. It has to be thick enough to block swords coming from all directions, and the steel plate needs to cover you fully.”

Ria replied with matter-of-fact logic.

The shield I held was like a riot shield used by police in standoffs, except it wasn’t made of plastic. It only looked like a modern riot shield, painted tactical black, but it was essentially just a slab of steel.

“But… I specifically signed up for firearms training…”

I muttered in frustration.

“If you’re carrying a gun, then, you should also carry armor to protect yourself.”

“But people with rifles—”

“You don’t have a rifle license.”

No!

“Anyway, a smaller shield wouldn’t block any of my attacks, would it? You already tried it once; why are you complaining now?”

She had a point. After I’d complained about the weight, Ria had fetched a smaller, round shield, which was a bit lighter than the one I was holding now. But it was completely ineffective against her strikes. At least with this shield, I could barely manage to block Ria’s attacks, if only just.

What made it even more frustrating was that Ria wasn’t even swinging her sword seriously. If she had been, I wouldn’t still be standing here.

In the back of my mind, I understood that this training method was somewhat reasonable, which only made me angrier.

It was infuriating to be taught by Ria, and even more so that I couldn’t come up with a logical argument against it!

“…If you’re really frustrated, how about wrapping your body in divine power? It will help you recover some stamina, and more importantly, it will instantly heal all the painful spots.”

Even without bruises, the spots that throbbed from the impact could technically be considered “injured.” Pain, and the minor injuries accumulated on my body, would indeed be swept away with the use of divine power. But I was someone who had decided not to use this power on myself unless absolutely necessary. No way was I about to use it just because I was a little worn out from training with Ria.

When I gritted my teeth and glared at her, she smirked and raised her sword again.

“Well, fine. That determination’s not half bad. Then, once more—”

Ugh.

Her smirk was annoying, like a master sizing up a trainee. Alright, fine. Today, no matter what it takes, I’m landing at least one solid hit on her. Even if my strength was drained to the point that I could barely lift this shield alone…

Just as I was steeling myself and bracing my legs to charge—

“Injured person! We’ve got an injured person!”

A voice shouted, followed by hurried footsteps rushing in our direction. I immediately threw down my shield and sprinted toward the sound. I could hear Ria calling me from behind, but this was more urgent.

…It wasn’t that I was trying to escape the training session or anything. Not at all.

*

To prove it, I ran with every ounce of strength I had left, even though my legs felt like jelly. Thankfully, Ria managed to catch up and grab my arm halfway, or else I probably would’ve stumbled along the way or rolled down the basement stairs.

The moment we descended, the thick smell of blood hit me hard. It wasn’t as though I’d never encountered it before, but this time, it was particularly strong.

Once I reached the injured person, I understood why.

Usually, the patients who come here have deep wounds covered with strange substances or substances smeared over them. It’s only after failing to treat them elsewhere that they’re brought here. But this case—

I knew it was wrong to think this, but I couldn’t help it: this patient was extraordinarily lucky.

There wasn’t a single limb untouched. Flesh had been torn off in chunks, leaving the right arm with exposed bone sticking out where the ulna had snapped. The right leg was gruesomely shredded above the knee, revealing severed muscles and white bone. The left arm and leg weren’t much better.

The abdomen and chest had deep holes, as if something had bitten down and ripped away parts of the flesh. The face… it was unrecognizable, as though some huge beast had grabbed it and shaken it like prey.

And yet—against all odds—none of his limbs had been completely severed. Somehow, he was still breathing. Normally, under such circumstances, no matter how much holy water was poured, he’d barely survive a few minutes.

Still, he was alive. To be in such a state and still be placed in front of me was indeed “lucky.”

Next to him, a young woman around our age knelt, softly crying. She had her own injuries, but they were not so severe as to demand immediate attention over the man’s. Judging by her tearful expression and the way she held his bloodied right hand, it was clear they shared a close bond.

Without further questions, I knelt down beside him, placing my hand over his exposed chest where the bones showed.

Closing my eyes, I silently offered a familiar prayer:

I know you’re there, and I won’t deny it—so please, let this person live.

As always, a radiant light filled my vision.

“…Ah!?”

The woman holding his hand gasped, and the others who had carried him here murmured in surprise. But I had more pressing matters than their reactions—I needed to focus on the areas exposed by his torn clothes.

Truth be told, my whole body felt heavy from today’s grueling training, and I’d already used all the strength I had left just running here. I had no spare energy to think about much else.

I carefully inspected his nearly severed arms, legs with large portions of muscle torn away, the abdomen that exposed his innards, and his mangled face where even bone was visible. Once I confirmed each injury was stabilized, I finally rose to my feet.

“…Ah.”

The woman’s tear-streaked face turned up toward me.

Normally, I’d say something about divine blessings to reassure her. And I would have waved away the light that kept reflecting on my face.

“…Anna?”

But before I could even lift a hand to clear the light, I felt my vision slowly go dark. I heard Ria calling my name, her voice edged with worry.

I was barely aware of the Father and the Mother Superior rushing toward me as my body slumped back, caught just in time by someone’s supporting arms.

It wasn’t until I saw my hands shaking that I realized how much strength it took to channel that amount of divine power. Usually, I’d immediately head back to the dorm, wash up, and sleep it off to regain my energy.

That was the last thing I remembered from that day.

…So, yeah. I had poured everything I had into that moment and passed out cold right afterward.

Ugh, honestly, it’s embarrassing just thinking back on it.

Anyway, that’s that.

In most harem stories, there’s always a scene where a heroine accidentally catches the male protagonist without his clothes—or vice versa. But here, I’d somehow gone a step further, witnessing the protagonist’s exposed body before the main story had even properly begun.

Not that I was the only one to see it—the girl next to him saw everything, too, so I guess I wasn’t exactly “first” in that sense. Just a bit later in line, maybe.