Everything I have done, rather than serving the goddess, is more about seeking a reason for my existence in this lifeti, trying to plant a bit of human kindness within the cracks of the faith barricade through my own strength.
My devotion has long shifted from facing the altar to the hearts behind it.
...
The turning point occurred on a deserted night.
I was wandering in the garden behind the church, the night sky was clear, the air was silent.
A pink light suddenly rose from the church.
Light and slow.
Landing in the palm of the goddess cradling the rosebud.
It was a pink gemstone the size of a thumb, like a dandelion seed.
I brought it back indoors and placed it on the desk.
It was beautiful, indescribably beautiful, as if it would change with the viewer’s state of mind.
I initially intended to report this to the Church, but as if driven by a mysterious impulse, I withheld the information and kept it.
After so ti, I noticed changes among the town’s residents.
The blacksmith no longer argued over a small wage, the orchard owner willingly gave tangerines to poor children without expecting anything in return, and even the usually stingy innkeeper started providing food to wanderers for free.
I gradually realized sothing.
These changing people were all devout believers who often ca to the church and had the most contact with , who was carrying the gemstone.
I conducted an experint by inviting a few ordinary residents who weren’t particularly devout to the church, deliberately letting them see the crystal on .
A few days later, they underwent the sa changes, with a noticeable reduction in their desire for material wealth.
anwhile, as the number of influenced people increased, the gemstone seed in my hand grew more dazzling, as if absorbing so invisible entity, taking root and sprouting.
I returned the seed to where I found it—the palm of the goddess.
Allowing every townsperson who ca to the church to pray to quietly feel its influence in their prayers.
The changes in Sheep Horn Town beca increasingly apparent.
Argunts decreased, mutual help increased, and the entire town showcased a kind of harmony I had never seen anywhere else.
Even between the town’s sheriff and the street wanderers, conversations were friendly and without any prejudice.
Like scenes from my dreams.
Uncontrollably, I recalled the plague from thirty years ago in my hotown, recalling the "stingy" miracle bestowed by the goddess.
Perhaps, this gemstone, this power that directly changes the heart and dims greed, is the real divine gift?
Is it the ultimate answer given by the great goddess after guiding through all previous life experiences?
I continue to fulfill my duties as Priest in Sheep Horn Town, but secretly, I began to systematically study the properties of the crystal and share the enhanced crystals with the "devout" believers, controlling the scope of influence.
The changes in the town certainly caught the attention of the surrounding areas, and so people even noticed the oddities, but when they ca into contact with the crystal, most were assimilated and chose to stay rather than leave.
"It’s not about selectively rescuing a few people, but fundantally changing human nature, eradicating injustice and greed."
"This is the real Miracle."
Occasionally, deep into the night, when I hold that wooden dagger made from the dried branches of the orange tree, a question rises in my mind:
Is this redemption, through external forces depriving people of their choice, more just than the injustice in natural order?
I have witnessed the filth within the Church, witnessed how greed destroys a person’s life.
If this pink gemstone can bring about a fairer world, then it is just.
Outside the window, the lights in Sheep Horn Town were not nurous, but they were brighter than ever before.
The goddess gave a Miracle to save a few, and perhaps this crystal offers a chance to redeem the many.
This ti, I will not let Her down.
...
The night was silent, and the pink beam shooting straight into the sky quietly extinguished.
Covered by crystals, the aged and broken body lay silently on the cold ground.
The dagger made of dry branches was tightly tied to the waist, the ceremonial robe torn into re rags.
A small orange-red honey mandarin fell into the pool of blood.
The force field energy bursting out around did not cause much harm to it as a vessel, but the excessive force when thrown crushed half of its peel, revealing the fragile pulp inside.
Mixed with the scent of blood and citrus, the crystal-clear juice dripped slowly, blending into the spreading blood below.
The liquid mixed with blood and honey flowed silently between the slate cracks, reflecting the altar ahead, where stood the pink crystal goddess statue.
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