I Accidentally Became the Guild's Therapist
Chapter 17: The Paladin's Shattered Faith
Livia Marcelline Quinn, Mental Supporter Lv. 5 and currently skill-less, huddled on her familiar crate, nursing a mug of lukewarm mana-brew. Her Therapist's Log lay open but blank, mirroring the emptiness she felt. The chaotic symphony of the Bloodbath & Beyond guild's camp roared around her, but her senses, stripped of Empathic Insight and Reverse Psychology, registered only surface noise. Bron was attempting philosophical debates with a rock, Phina was composing an ode to the "resilience of enchanted weaponry", and Nyx, surprisingly, was out of his crate, methodically cleaning his daggers, a new, unsettling distance in his usually shy demeanor. Miles, meanwhile, watched her from across the camp, his usual smirk replaced by an unreadable intensity.
Alaric. The memory of his vacant stare echoed in her mind. Who are you again? The system's warning about his corrupted memory had been a punch to the gut. The very connection she relied on, the foundation of her bizarre existence, had been severed. I'm a therapist without a connection, she thought, her dry humor tasting like ash. Just Livia again. The one who always felt like a footnote.
A notification pinged: [Achievement Unlocked: Existential Crisis Lv. 0.2. +5 Self-Pity Points (Accumulating)]
"Oh, shut up, system," she muttered, swatting at the air. Her voice was still her own, but it felt hollow. Her progress bar remained stubbornly at Mental Supporter Lv. 5: 1800/5000 EXP. The surge from the Slime Collective was gone, leaving only the residue of burnout.
Her brooding was interrupted by a figure staggering into view. Alaric, the paladin, reeking not of ale, but of desperation. His holy aura, usually a blinding beacon, flickered weakly, like a dying candle. He wasn't slurring his words, but his eyes held a profound, haunted weariness. He looked... sober, and that was far more alarming than his usual drunken antics.
The camp's usual upbeat background music—normally a cheerful lute melody—had glitched into a somber, looping hum, almost as if the system itself was acknowledging the shift in atmosphere. Even the nearby NPCs, usually stuck in their cheerful loops, seemed to falter, their smiles twitching.
"Livia," Alaric rasped, his voice raw, devoid of his usual boisterousness. He dropped heavily onto the crate opposite her, his dented holy shield clanking with a dull thud. "I... I need to talk. Not about gambling. Not about slimes." He took a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the broken cobblestones. "It's about... my god."
Livia's internal alarm bells went off. This was serious. This was beyond her usual repertoire of bizarre phobias and interspecies crushes. She tried to access her Therapist's Log, but her mind was blank. No familiar prompts, no easy answers. She just had to... listen. Her basic psych training, the half-remembered lectures, was all she had left. She straightened her posture, adopting the "Silent Listening" stance she'd learned in practicum.
"I smite evil, Livia. That's my purpose," Alaric began, his voice barely a whisper. "I cleanse the land, punish the wicked, bring justice in my god's name. But... the more I smite... the more I enjoy it." He clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "I see their fear. I hear their screams. And sometimes... I feel a thrill. A dark satisfaction. There was a mage last week. He surrendered. Begged for mercy. I still... broke his staff and kicked him down. I saw the fear in his eyes, and part of me... liked it." He looked up, his eyes wide and terrified. "Is that... still divine?"
Livia's throat tightened. This was heavy. This was a crisis of faith, a descent into moral ambiguity. Her Mental Defense +10 was barely holding back the tide of his profound internal conflict. She felt his desperation, his guilt, the chilling enjoyment he confessed, all without her special skills. It was raw, unfiltered, and deeply unsettling.
A nearby quest board flickered, briefly displaying "Quest Failed: Moral Compass Lost."
"The wicked," Alaric continued, his voice cracking, "they suffer. They beg. And I... I laugh sometimes. Not outwardly. But inside. A cold, quiet laugh." He squeezed his eyes shut. "My god preaches light. Purity. But what if my light... is tainted by darkness? What if I'm just a monster in holy armor?"
Livia remained silent, letting him speak, letting the weight of his confession hang in the air. Her own past—her feelings of inadequacy, her self-doubt, her fear of being a "failure"—echoed faintly. She knew what it felt like to believe you were inherently flawed, beyond redemption.
As Alaric finally fell silent, his body trembling, Livia took a slow breath. She had no clever skill to deploy, no system notification to guide her. Just a quiet space, and the raw, painful truth of a shattered soul. It was terrifying, and strangely, familiar.
A notification pinged: [Achievement Unlocked: Silent Witness. +10 Connection Points (Latent)]
Her HUD shimmered faintly. Her progress bar, which had been stagnant, now showed a tiny, almost imperceptible flicker. Mental Supporter Lv. 5: 1800/5000 EXP. No huge jump, but something had shifted.
Livia leaned forward, her voice soft, devoid of sarcasm, filled only with a deep, quiet empathy. "Alaric," she began, "the fear you feel... the questions you're asking... those are not the actions of a monster. A monster doesn't question. A monster doesn't feel guilt." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Perhaps true light isn't about never having darkness. But about fighting the darkness within, every single day."
Alaric looked at her, his eyes still haunted, but a flicker of something new—a fragile seed of hope—began to bloom within their depths. He didn't respond, merely stared, as if seeing her not as "Buffer," but as... something else. Someone who understood. The looping background music seemed to soften, almost matching the new quiet between them.
"Livia... if I kill all the evil people, but I enjoy it... am I still a paladin?" Alaric whispered, his voice cracking, the question hanging heavy between them, demanding an answer Livia wasn't sure she had.