The Absolution of a Straightforward Priest

Where did the church’s funds originate? To answer that, one must delve into the events preceding Tang Wenxu and Kuroki Nao’s transmigration.

In this world, the clergy could arguably be considered among the happiest of people. While they didn’t possess the boundless gold that nobles and gentry squandered, they commanded an extremely high social standing.

Money, after all, was a peculiar thing: too much went unused, too little left one wanting. Clergy, however, occupied the perfect middle ground, truly embodying the comfortable middle class.

How wealthy could a priest truly be? Consider their primary sources of income: fees for wedding announcements, absolution, baptisms, presiding over ceremonies, and holy sacraments, among others. Beyond these, they received generous state stipends.

Reflecting on it, would a profession that drew its resources from the wealthy ever truly fret over money?

Nobles and affluent gentry were more than willing to spend their coin at the church. In this world, every soul, no matter how wicked, believed in the Goddess.

There was an unwritten rule: if a local official or treasurer embezzled funds, they would offer a portion to the church, praying for forgiveness. Most priests readily accepted this tainted money, reasoning they weren’t accomplices.

Their sole duty was to offer a sliver of peace and comfort to the sinner’s heart. After all, the Goddess was benevolent, and money, too, possessed its own form of benevolence.

At that very moment, a portly local official, his face a picture of self-importance, knelt in the church hall, imploring the Goddess for absolution. “Merciful Mother, please forgive my sins. I shall repay all I owe in the future…”

Having concluded his prayer, he brushed the dust from his clothes and turned to Father Kant. “Messenger of the Goddess, did She speak to you?”

“You wish to know?” Father Kant, holding a copy of Holy Grace and Blessings, dramatically flipped through its pages. “According to the seventh chapter, sixth article of the doctrine, the Goddess instructed me to give you a good beating on Her behalf.”

“That’s a lie! The seventh chapter, sixth article clearly states that animals are humanity’s good friends. Wait, are you insulting me?”

Before he could protest further, Father Kant’s iron fist of retribution descended, instantly pummeling the official’s face into a swollen mess, transforming him into humanity’s “good friend”—a pig.

“You seek forgiveness with embezzled money? Don’t you dare insult the Goddess!” Father Kant exclaimed, raining blows upon him. “The Goddess is the Mother of All Things, not a sanctuary for you greedy wretches!”

“You fraudulent priest, remember this!” The official blurted out one of the most ineffectual lines a villain could utter, preparing to retreat.

“Stop right there.”

“What now?”

“The money! Oh, I mean, the absolution fee!”

“Are you serious? You beat me up, and now I still have to pay you?”

“I’m helping you atone for your sins! The money!” Father Kant glared at him with an expression that promised no mercy if payment wasn’t rendered.

For a full minute, the official stared wide-eyed, then turned to leave. Father Kant seized his shoulder with a firm grip.

“Hand over the money! Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your bones will remain unbroken.”

“No, no, no, I’ll pay! Please, don’t!” The official realized that refusing to pay now would likely result in medical bills far exceeding this “prayer” (extortion) fee.

Only after receiving the money did Father Kant release him, delivering a swift kick to his backside that sent the official sprawling outside the church, face-first into the dirt.

“Scram!”

The official scurried away, crestfallen. It was then that he finally recalled the strange expressions his colleagues had worn when he’d mentioned coming to St. Lan Church for prayer.

The orphans of the church, watching him flee in disgrace, erupted in mocking laughter. The official’s face turned a deep shade of liver-red. This was no priest; this was a bandit!

Receiving a beating was a distinct feature of St. Lan Church; if you didn’t like it, you simply didn’t come. Consequently, the church became a forbidden zone for corrupt officials. Sinful individuals were unwilling to seek Father Kant’s physical absolution. This significantly reduced his income.

However, he found far greater satisfaction in beating those scoundrels than in granting them peace of mind. Father Kant was, by nature, a straightforward man.

Yet, this choice came at a cost. As a priest, he would never have lacked funds if he had simply performed his duties. But for the sake of his own morals, he had cut off his financial lifeline.

Moreover, he had to provide for the orphans taken in by Mia-sama. As for relief funds for the poor, refugees, charitable donations, or medical treatments—people could kindly seek other priests and pastors for those. He simply didn’t have the spare cash to concern himself with the survival of more people.

Gradually, he stopped rising early. With no one coming to pray anyway, he might as well sleep until afternoon and save a meal.

Opening his drawer, he saw his money pouch growing thinner each day. He realized this couldn’t continue.

There was no other choice. He decided to open the long-sealed basement. Inside lay a suit of pure silver knight’s armor and a magnificent greatsword, clearly the exquisite work of a master craftsman.

For money, he hoisted the greatsword and headed towards the Adventurers’ Guild. After all, the wilderness held much wealth in the form of monster bounties, and if he kept a low profile, no one would ever discover his former identity…

But how could a straightforward man possibly maintain a low profile? As a famous saying goes: A warrior who doesn’t wish to be an adventurer isn’t a good priest. He fought with increasing ferocity, eventually earning a Mithril-grade adventurer’s badge.

Fortunately, despite his renown within the Zephyr Kingdom, he remained largely unknown beyond its borders. Should any noble family discover his true identity, it would spell the end of his and Mia-sama’s tranquil life.

One day, after completing a quest, he sat in his usual chair at the tavern. Though he was a Mithril-grade adventurer, no one dared to form a party with him. An aura of solitude and immense power emanated from him, keeping others at bay.

However, this very aura could also attract certain unusual individuals. The tavern owner approached him. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, I don’t have that much spare money.” Father Kant’s church was in a financial crisis; though Mithril-grade quests paid well, the children at the church spent even more.

“My treat.” Dals, seemingly sensing his predicament, boisterously unsealed a barrel of ale. Extending his hand, he introduced himself: “My name is Dals.”

“Hmm.” Father Kant nodded, unhesitatingly accepting the free drink. Why refuse free ale? No man could resist the allure of fine liquor.

Even after finishing an entire barrel, the two men still felt a hint of dissatisfaction.

“Come down to the cellar with me,” Dals suggested. “There’s plenty more good wine there.”

“You have something to tell me, don’t you?” Father Kant immediately saw through Dals’s true intentions.

Dals smiled noncommittally. “You’ll be interested, and it might even help ease your financial burdens.”

Father Kant followed Dals into the cellar.

Hours later, they emerged. No one knew what they had discussed or what they had planned. But as they reappeared, Father Kant wore a strange, terrifying smile—a smile utterly unfitting for a priest.

Indeed, it was time for revenge.