PTSD Military Chaplain of the Academy

Do you know what happens when a bullet digs into a person’s flesh?

Of course, there may be exceptions, but usually, there are entry and exit wounds in a person’s body. Just as there is an entrance if there is a building, there will be a path for the bullet to travel through.

Entry and exit wounds. If it occurs in the lungs, one cannot breathe and dies; if it occurs in the head, the brain is shattered, flesh is splattered, and skull fragments are scattered; if it occurs in the heart, one dies instantly from shock or lingers on for a while before dying.

In the end, one dies. No matter how desperately one tries to survive, if a fatal area is hit by a bullet, one will eventually die. This applies to archmages and swordmasters as well.

Of course, they would deploy defensive magic to block the bullet or slice it away before it reaches them. However, most people thrust into battle do not possess such monstrous abilities.

Yes. They die. Unless, by some lucky chance, they are saved by a capable priest who happens to be nearby, it is difficult to expect any fortunate chances of survival.

However, the dead from gunshot wounds leave behind their corpses, which can be seen as a small blessing for their families.

You, who cannot even receive that small blessing.

If only you could have, how wonderful it would be.

Not being torn into countless pieces by a high-explosive bomb that detonates right behind you.

Not having your bones crushed and your innards burst out, scattering a mist of blood all around.

Not dying so futilely without leaving a single cry or farewell behind.

If only you had died from a gunshot wound. If only a corpse remained.

How wonderful it would be.

I remember the large funeral held by the royal family for the veterans.

I recall the families weeping, releasing a flood of tears like the dreary weather of that day, as they said their goodbyes to their loved ones contained in the casket.

I remember the widow who, crying out to the Lord, fainted while lamenting why He took them so early and how He could bestow such trials.

Even as the coffins containing everyone’s remains were being buried, your figure stood alone with just a lonely gravestone.

I remember.

When death approaches, humans call out the name of God with the most desperate longing.

It does not matter which God it is. One may seek the Lord’s grace, rely on the local deities of the barbarians, desire the gods of heresy, or even mention the name of a devil without hesitation.

I sought no name. I knew all too well that no being capable of helping me in the depths of hell existed.

However, I did not curse God. I knew too well how foolish of a thought that would be.

Instead of cursing an innocent God, one should resent the head of state who declared war.

Instead of resenting the head of state, one should resent the cause of the war.

And if one has time to blame someone, it is right to throw away such useless thoughts and contemplate how to survive oneself.

I faithfully acted on this and ultimately survived.

Then, why could you not survive?

…Helena.

* * * * *

“Uugh…! Uweck…!”

I clung to the toilet and kept gagging. I expelled everything I had just drunk, the black tea, and now only the bitter gastric juice was climbing up, burning my poor esophagus.

“Phew! Damn it….”

I spat out thin saliva and flushed the toilet. I watched the mixture of vomit swirl down the drain.

Why am I here?

I was clearly talking with Priest Peter at that spot, and then….

Then, Priest Camilla asked me if I knew a name, Helena….

“Uugh…!”

My shoulders jerked involuntarily because of the unbearable nausea. I clutched the toilet again.

I had certainly expelled everything, so why was my stomach still churning?

Was it because of the memories of battle? Were the rotting corpses resurfacing in my mind?

Or was it due to the lingering, inexplicable stench of blood that paralyzed my nose just a moment ago?

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. No, I would have tried to ignore it.

If that smell of blood were not Helena’s.

The sensation in my hand was fuzzy. It felt as though I was touching a mound of dirt. With that sensation, the trench naturally came to mind.

The hellish trench where the earth poured down due to the relentless shelling.

I shut my eyes tight and twisted like mad. This is not reality. I’ve already shaken it off. So please.

“Stop, just stop….”

Please stop.

“…….”

How long has it been?

I felt like I had lost my sense of time. I had no idea how long it had been since I dashed into the bathroom during our conversation. I took out my wristwatch.

Ignoring the occasional spasms in my arm, I checked the time. The hour and minute hand pointed to ten o’clock in the morning.

I slowly opened my eyes. The familiar sight of the academy’s main chapel restroom came into view.

The ringing in my ears faded, and the trembling throughout my body gradually calmed. I gently closed the toilet lid and slumped down atop it.

“Whew….”

I pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my forehead, which was soaked with cold sweat. I wiped the sweat trickling down my neck and stepped outside, splashing cold water onto my face at the sink before leaving the restroom.

In contrast to the confined bathroom, a refreshing breeze filled my lungs. I felt slightly better.

“Finally, you’re out.”

I turned towards the source of the voice. By the entrance of the restroom, Priest Camilla was leaning against the wall.

“Priest Camilla.”

I realized that my voice had become quite hoarse and cracked. It seemed my throat had been slightly harmed during the process of vomiting gastric juice.

Priest Camilla appeared somewhat startled upon hearing my voice. Her eyes briefly flickered, then she turned her head away.

“Rinse your mouth at least. Your voice is hardly recognizable.”

“…….”

I rinsed my mouth as she said. Priest Camilla continued to wait for me outside the restroom.

“Head Priest Antoinneri.”

I looked at Priest Camilla. Her pale gray eyes were fixed on me.

“Yes, Priest Camilla.”

“Don’t we have something to talk about?”

Priest Camilla said with a smile. Her sharp expression made it seem to me as though she was grinning fiercely.

I averted my gaze from her and replied.

“What are you talking about?”

“…It would be troublesome if you pretend to know nothing.”

“Priest Camilla, please be courteous.”

Priest Camilla’s words and actions had a subtly aggressive tone. Unknowingly, my brow furrowed slightly.

She stared at me silently for a moment before lowering her head and speaking.

“I’m sorry. I tend to speak that way.”

“I understand.”

“But it doesn’t seem to be the time for that now.”

Priest Camilla stepped closer to me. She approached with provocative strides, not knowing the appropriate distance between us, stopping just about half a step away.

“Head Priest Antoinneri, you’re taller than I expected.”

“Priest Camilla. What are you doing right now?”

“I’m sorry. I have something I’m genuinely curious about.”

With her already sharp features, she now looked at me intently with eyes sharpened even more. I met her gaze calmly.

“Head Priest Antoinneri, you know Priest Helena, right?”

Hearing that name again made my head spin slightly. I pressed down on my throbbing head and looked at her.

Priest Camilla knew Helena?

Setting aside whether she was acquainted with Helena, there was no reason for her to adopt such disrespectful and confrontational behavior towards me. I still replied in a nonchalant tone.

“Yes, I do.”

“I thought as much. Then, we can get straight to the point.”

“How did you know that I knew Helena?”

“Earlier, Priest Peter asked you if you had served in combat, and you answered in a way that anyone could see you likely had. Also, you have taken on the roles of the head priest of the academy’s main chapel and professor of theology as Helena’s successor. So, I took a chance and asked, and it seems I was right.”

Priest Camilla’s eyes narrowed slightly as she gazed at me. She then opened her mouth.

“Head Priest Antoinneri, were you present when Priest Helena passed away?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Then please speak honestly. Why did Priest Helena die?”

“She fell in battle. Unfortunately.”

“That’s not what I’m asking, Head Priest Antoinneri.”

I noticed her hands were tightly clenched into fists. I met her gaze.

And in the moment her mouth opened.

“Why on earth, when Priest Helena was dying right before you, did you do nothing, Head Priest Antoinneri?”

At that moment, hearing such an absurd statement.

Something in my head… snapped.

* * * * *

Priest Camilla looked up at the man standing before her. Those expressionless eyes had never appealed to her since the moment she first saw him.

‘I was just asking cautiously, but it was true….’

The fact that he knew Priest Helena was rather shocking. No matter how small the world is, could there be such a coincidence?

With that in mind, Priest Camilla decided to ask a deeper question.

“Head Priest Antoinneri, were you present when Priest Helena passed away?”

She didn’t miss the slight tremor in his fish-like eyes.

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Inside Priest Camilla, anger boiled. The feeling of devastation when she heard that Priest Helena had fallen in battle was immense.

Yet, he had been there. As a priest, no less.

“Why on earth, when Priest Helena was dying right before you, did you do nothing, Head Priest Antoinneri?”

Did he let her die?

And just after she spoke those words.

Priest Antoinneri’s expression changed dramatically. His eyes bore a type of emotion she had never seen before.

Something burning like fire engulfed his gaze. It consumed the typically lifeless eyes like the hottest flames in the desert.

It was unmistakably rage. No, it contained a desperation beyond mere rage. The veins in Priest Antoinneri’s hands bulged.

Crack….

However, by the time Priest Camilla noticed it.

Swish—

‘…Huh?’

Boom—!

---