[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415: Father Michael’s POV

Michael remembered very little about his childhood. Though he did recall staring at the floating clouds out of the window as his father preached about the goddess and her faithful servants.

A holy servant. Him.

Why didn’t he like his parents? He wasn’t sure.

In the family portrait of three, the others’ faces had been burned away — only his own remained intact.

This was one of his favorites, actually.

Even now, whenever he passed through the halls, he always paused to glance at those charred faces.

They died when he was quite young, or rather, it was the orders from the royal that forced the couple onto the battlefield.

His father was one of the best mana users, and his mother was a guild master.

But the thing was, when he saw their corpses wrapped in the coffins, there was no grief or hatred in his heart.

Even when Darius Rael Dakhelm marched at the front wearing a crown of victory, Michael didn’t feel happiness.

He simply couldn’t understand why these people were shouting and crying with joy.

Was it not their own king who started the war? Was the war not the monster that took all those innocent people away?

So, why? Why were these people not getting angry at his majesty and instead saying ’Long live the king’?

He had watched the entire march with no confusion in his silver grey eyes.

People would come to him to offer condolences, but he could only blink at them.

Since then, he had regarded life as the beginning of the end.

It was something ephemeral, so fleeting, so weak, and yet full of miracles.

Life was a wonderful tragedy.

And the more he grew up, the better he understood just how tragic these humans truly were.

"Father Michael, please help me."

"Father, save me from the path of damnation! I beg you."

People looked at him with spellbound eyes, with endless wonder. They saw him as a God.

In a sense, it was the truth.

Because being God meant one would have to look at everyone with the same eyes. There was no one bigger than the other, no richer than the other.

He, Michael, saw them in the same light.

Sinners. Wretched, horrid sinners. That was what they were, and that was what they would always be.

The world was dirty, and it needed a savior.

But that saviour wasn’t him.

He despised humankind. They were made of rotten flesh and brittle bones. Truly, utterly worthless

He could only see them as vessels of filth in need of salvation.

That was his mission. To bring salvation to the ones who truly wanted it, who would beg for it. He would continue to do so until a real saviour would appear.

Michael was glad that he had a purpose. After all, he didn’t want to drift into a world like some feather without any anchor.

That would be lonely.

"Oh, mother," he would call softly to the grave of his mother. "You are dead, and I am still here. I am alive and I..."

"You are a monster! Why don’t you even flinch!"

No one as perfect as Xion could exist until he really saw him, burying something in the broken graveyard.

"Minato Sensei..." The boy had muttered with a silent sob.

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