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[FMMISM] Chapter 38: Your Faith Isn't Strong Enough
🕑 Added 2024-07-12 01:04:51 +0000 UTCTime rewinds back to over a dozen hours ago.
When Zealot woke up from her slumber, she immediately fell into deep self-reproach.
"How could this happen... What a foolish act I've committed..."
She was completely indifferent to the fact that she was still alive nor did she care about a black heart formed by a curse in her left chest.
Zealot just stared at the ceiling, wearing a sorrowful expression.
"I... I've lost the right to call myself a follower of God..."
At this moment, she realized that she wasn't chosen as the leader of the sect not just because she instilled fear in those around her, it was also because she was too naive.
Launching a massacre in broad daylight at Caster's magical workshop—any normal Hassans wouldn't choose such a foolish course of action.
It must be because the 'blood of a warrior' in her veins was stronger than that of an 'assassin' that she couldn't become the leader of the sect.
Only after being killed did Zealot realize this, blaming her own immaturity incessantly in her heart.
"Am I, such an immature person, truly qualified to cleanse this heretical ritual that confuses the leaders?"
Maybe this was why she was punished by that lord, punished personally by the angel of hell.
When her heart was crushed, she couldn't even see his movements clearly.
It was clear how feeble her faith was.
What that lord did was truly a Zabaniya capable of guiding the sect, like the other Hassans. Compared to him, her boasting of eighteen Zabaniya was blasphemous.
Zealot clasped her hands together akin to praying, murmuring in shame at her own weakness.
Why would the angel of hell leave behind her worthless life?
Even though she wondered like that, Zealot already had the answer in her heart.
He must have considered her existence a disgrace, requiring complete re-education.
As Zealot was still lost in her own thoughts, the door of the room suddenly swung open.
"Oh, you're awake."
"Lord Angel."
Zealot slowly got out of bed, her eyes no longer filled with confusion.
'Why hasn't he taken my life? It must not be time for it to end yet... Since I'm here, it must be his will.'
"Lord Angel, my master, thank you for rescuing me from the grip of the heretical ritual."
Zealot knelt before Ragna, bowing her head tightly to the floor.
"Allow me to serve at your side... Allow me to offer myself to help you crush the heretics."
"...Is that your answer?" Ragna asked calmly, his expression calm.
"Yes." Zealot replied firmly.
'Hmm...'
Ragna looked down at Zealot, his eyes narrowing.
Thick, black double braids cascaded to the ground.
Mature and modest body wrapped in a black robe.
Fingers so slender, having ended countless lives.
Fair nape of her neck, bared in a show of loyalty.
Shortly after looking through Zealot's body, Ragna spoke up with a calm expression.
"Zealot, it seems... your faith isn't strong enough."
"Wise as you are... I have no words... "
Upon hearing Ragna's statement, Zealot replied with shame and exerted enough force to crush the floor, pressing her forehead firmly against the ground.
"Well, forget it. It can't be helped. Anyway, put this on first." Ragna tossed a deep blue attire in front of her.
"...This is?" Zealot lifted her head, gazing at 'that' which had been thrown before her.
Rather than attire, it resembled a strip of cloth.
It exposed a significant amount of the skin on the face, limbs, neck, and collarbones, akin to modern attire.
"Master... Wh-What kind of indecent attire is this?"
Having barely overcome her confusion, Zealot now found herself plunged into new confusion.
"What else? This is an outfit meant for you. Wear it and reflect on your sins. After changing, come with me for a while."
Leaving Zealot alone, frozen like a statue, Ragna hummed a tune and departed from the guest room.
===
Time back to the present.
Several kilometers from the duel between Artoria and Gawain, Ragna stood atop the highest point in Fuyuki and turned to the motionless girl behind him.
"How are you feeling, Zealot?"
As Ragna asked her, Zealot covertly adjusted the fabric of her swimsuit with her pinky finger.
"Uhh... Yes, I'm fine..." Zealot replied, her dry lips barely moving. "There's a strange sense of liberation... I feel like my body is merging with nature..."
For a female member of the Hashashin, this was undoubtedly a major taboo, even a sin.
Devout female followers had never shown more than their eyes and hands to a male, let alone worn a swimsuit.
Zealot's mind felt as if scorched by flames, while her pale skin exposed to the air stung like it was immersed in icy water.
It was truly a bizarre situation.
"I-If possible... Master, please allow me to put on my robe again."
"Hm? What did you just say?" Ragna turned to her, staring directly into her eyes.
"N-No, it's nothing... I spoke out of turn! P-Please don't mind me! I-It's just... your trials for me... I failed to grasp your true intentions... Please forgive my rudeness."
Her master had said it was a trial.
This was a trial to overcome the past, a growth path only achievable by conquering her immaturity and childish mistakes.
"Very well." Ragna nodded in satisfaction at Zealot, clad in a school swimsuit.
Her shy and delicate expression, simple and cute braided hair, and finely sculpted collarbones—despite being Middle Eastern, her skin was unexpectedly fair and her well-toned body was devoid of any excess fat.
Cough
Ragna cleared his throat, eager to finish tonight's business and go home to 'play' with his homunculus maids.
He crouched beside Zealot, who knelt on one knee, gently lifting a bunch of her braided hair to his nose.
"Continue to experience this world with your sinful body, Zealot."
"Y-Yes, Master."
"Ah, right, Master..."
Just as Ragna stood up to continue watching the fight between Artoria and Gawain, Zealot suddenly stopped him with a call.
It was rare for her to speak out without his permission.
"What is it?" Ragna stared at her eyes.
"Master..."
Zealot's eyes gleamed dimly and sharply.
"I have located... the heretic you seek... nearby..."
