Reborn As Noble

”You’re looking for a fight, aren’t you!?” the cult priest shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. He turned to his fellow cult members, his face red with fury. ”Call our saint here! She will show them whose faith is stronger—theirs or the Saint of Three Gods!” Enjoy more content from freewebnovel

The other cult priests nodded eagerly, their expressions filled with a twisted sense of righteousness. One of them pulled out a small, ornate bell and rang it sharply. The sound echoed unnaturally, carrying far beyond the crowd.

The Armand citizens, still standing firm, exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard rumors of the cult’s so-called saint—a figure shrouded in mystery and said to wield divine power. But the people of Armand were not easily intimidated. They stood their ground, their faith in their land and their High Priest unwavering.

The Armand High Priest exhaled slowly, his gaze calm yet unwavering. He turned to his people, seeing the determination in their eyes. He had no desire for violence, but if these fanatics wished to prove their so-called faith, then he would answer them in kind.

”Very well,” he said, his voice steady. ”If a test of divine strength is what you seek, then I shall stand as Armand’s representative. Call forth your so-called saint.”

The cult priests grinned, their arrogance clear as they stepped aside. The gathered crowd of cultists began chanting in a strange, rhythmic manner, their voices rising in unnatural harmony. Then, from the group, a robed figure emerged.

A woman, clad in silver and gold ceremonial robes, stepped forward. Her long, platinum hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her pale blue eyes glowed with an eerie, unnatural light. A golden staff adorned with three intertwined symbols rested in her hand.

”I am Saint Meliana, the chosen vessel of the Three Gods,” she proclaimed, her voice carrying a false gentleness. ”I bring judgment upon heretics, and salvation to the faithful.”

The Armand High Priest narrowed his eyes. He could feel it—the magic surrounding her was not pure. It carried the weight of forced devotion, of power stolen through faith twisted into servitude.

”You bring judgment?” he asked, stepping forward. ”Then tell me, Saint Meliana, what do you see before you?”

She lifted her staff, pointing it toward him. ”I see a land that refuses salvation. A land ruled by those who reject the divine will.”

The High Priest let out a chuckle. ”Is that so? Then let our faiths speak for themselves.”

He lifted his hands, golden light radiating from his fingertips. Holy energy swirled around him, forming intricate runes in the air. The citizens of Armand cheered, their faith fueling the magic that surged around their High Priest.

Saint Meliana smirked and slammed her staff into the ground. A pulse of white-blue energy burst forth, forming a massive three-layered magic circle beneath her feet. The cultists behind her fell to their knees, clasping their hands together in prayer, their whispered words feeding her power.

The two forces of divine magic clashed, the very air between them vibrating with energy. Holy light against holy light. Faith against faith.

”Let the God decide,” the High Priest declared. ”And let the truth be revealed!”

Saint Meliana raised her staff high, her voice echoing with divine authority as she began her chant.

”O sacred ones who dwell beyond the veil, hear my call! Let your radiant judgment descend upon this land of sinners! Cleanse the heretics who deny your will! Let them kneel before your divine wrath!”

A brilliant yet ominous light gathered at the tip of her staff, forming a spiraling glyph of golden and blue energy. The cultists behind her chanted in unison, their voices merging into a haunting hymn as their faith drained to fuel her magic. The air crackled with unnatural energy, and a heavy pressure settled over the border gate.

But the Armand High Priest merely shook his head, unshaken by her display.

He stepped forward, raising his hands to the heavens, his voice steady and filled with genuine reverence.

”O guiding light of truth and mercy, hear not the cries of the arrogant but the hearts of the faithful! Bestow upon those who walk the righteous path your boundless protection! Let no harm befall the just, for we stand in your grace. Blessing!”

A warm, golden light descended from above, enveloping the Armand citizens and guards. A barrier of divine energy spread across the border, shimmering like a veil of pure light. The people of Armand felt a gentle warmth wash over them, their fears eased, and their spirits strengthened. Even those without magical talent could sense the undeniable presence of a true blessing.

Saint Meliana’s eyes narrowed as her own magic clashed against the divine barrier. She gritted her teeth. This power—this was not the strength of a single man. This was the will of an entire people, united in their faith, unshaken by the force of her own.

”You dare defy the judgment of the Three Gods?!” she spat, frustration lacing her voice.

The Armand High Priest simply smiled, his golden aura unwavering.

”We do not defy the divine,” he answered calmly. ”But neither do we submit to false prophets who twist faith into tyranny. Your gods do not reign here. This land belongs to its people, and their hearts have already chosen where they stand.”

The cultists behind her faltered, their confidence shaken. Some exchanged confused glances—why was the so-called saint struggling against a mere regional priest?

”Prepare yourself, Armand priest! You will see the true power of my faith!” Saint Meliana declared, her voice dripping with venomous confidence. Her platinum hair shimmered under the sunlight as she raised her golden staff high, the three intertwined symbols glowing ominously. The cultists behind her erupted into fervent chants, their voices rising in a cacophony of blind devotion.

Saint Meliana slammed her staff into the ground, her expression twisted with righteous arrogance. Her voice thundered across the battlefield as she began her ultimate chant.

”O Three Gods who rule the heavens, descend upon this land of sinners! Show them the price of defiance! Tear through the veil and rain divine punishment upon these faithless wretches! By my will, by your decree, smite those who stand against your holy order! Strike them down! Judgment of the Trinity!!”

Dark clouds swirled above, and a massive surge of magic erupted from the cultists behind her. Their bodies trembled as their faith was forcefully drained, their auras dimming as their very life force was offered as fuel for the spell. A golden-red magic circle expanded beneath her feet, pulsating with unstable divine energy. The cultists cheered, blinded by their fanaticism, believing their ”saint” was about to wipe the Armand people from existence.

Yet, across from her, the Armand High Priest merely sighed. His expression remained calm—disappointed, even.

”A true guide of faith does not wage war against the innocent,” he said, his voice carrying a weight far greater than hers despite its softness. ”Faith is not a tool for power, nor should it be wielded to control or oppress. You claim to serve the divine, yet you act with cruelty, arrogance, and greed. If this is the path you choose, then know this—false prophets shall never shake the foundations of true faith.”

He pressed his hands together in solemn prayer, his voice steady and filled with reverence.

”O One Who Watches Over All, O True Light that guides the lost, we ask not for power, nor for vengeance. We ask only for your mercy. Deliver us from wickedness, shield us from corruption, and dispel the darkness that seeks to deceive. Let the truth shine through all falsehoods. Divine Mercy!”

A pillar of pure white light descended from the sky, enveloping the Armand High Priest. His robes fluttered as a radiant force spread outward like ripples in a pond. The golden-red magic circle beneath Saint Meliana flickered violently, its unstable energy beginning to crack.

Her eyes widened in horror.

”W-What?!”

The divine energy she had summoned twisted and warped, its power spiraling out of her control. The sky cleared, the ominous pressure lifted, and one by one, the magic circles that fueled her spell shattered into nothingness.

Her ultimate spell had been completely erased.

The cultists fell silent, their once fanatical cheers replaced with disbelief and terror.

Saint Meliana staggered back, gripping her staff tightly.

”Impossible…” she whispered.

The Armand High Priest looked at her with pity.

”Divine power is not something to be demanded with arrogance, nor is it given to those who seek destruction. You wield faith like a weapon, but in the end, all you’ve done is cut yourself.”

Saint Meliana’s hands trembled. She had been so sure of her victory. She had called upon the Three Gods themselves! And yet… her magic had been completely dispelled as if it were nothing.

The people of Armand erupted into cheers, their belief in their High Priest unwavering.

The guards no longer had patience for the cultists’ theatrics.

The guard captain stepped forward, his voice booming with authority.

”Move away from the gate and scram! You’re blocking the way for those with real business here! Step aside or face the consequences!”

The Armand soldiers raised their weapons, their disciplined stance making it clear they would not hesitate to enforce the order. Crossbowmen on the walls took aim, their bolts glinting under the sun.

The cultists, who had been so confident moments ago, hesitated. Their ”saint” had just been humiliated, and her strongest magic had been effortlessly countered. The sight of armed forces standing against them drove home the reality—they could not strong-arm their way in here.

”W-We will not forget this!” one of the priests shouted, trying to save face. ”This is an act against the Three Gods! You will all—”

Thunk!

An arrow thudded into the ground right in front of him, inches from his foot.

The Cult priest yelped and jumped back.

”That was a warning shot,” the captain said coldly. ”The next one won’t miss.”

The cultists scrambled, grabbing their fallen comrades and backing away from the gate. The once-arrogant Saint Meliana bit her lip, her face flushed with shame, before turning on her heel in a huff.

”This isn’t over!” she spat, retreating with her followers.

The Armand guards watched them go, unfazed.

The captain scoffed. ”Damn lunatics.”

( End of Chapter )