Summary: Stefan; his question burns inside of him, and the answer is unexpected.
Atheist
Stefan had lived a long time, longer than he liked to let on even to his comrades. And in all his years of life, he had always had one question that he knew would never be answered: why?
Why were the Branded despised and hated? Why were they a sin in the Goddess' eyes? Why were they cast out, left to die, spat on, ignored? Why were they so different? Why did they cause such suffering to their parents? But most of all, why did they exist?
The green-haired swordsman was puzzled by the question of his existence most of all. It was the question he knew had the least likelihood of being answered, and so perversely he clung to it all the tighter, making it the center of his being.
When he actually found himself face to face with a goddess, Stefan didn't ask his question; he simply told her about himself and the others. He watched her horrified expression as she demanded to know how this had happened, crying that she hadn't even known it was possible for beings such as him to exist before she was sealed inside the medallion.
And so, faced with that, how could he do anything but laugh? After all, there was his answer: his kind was a mistake, nonentities that had not been planned—just like everyone else. He was not a punishment of the goddess; he just was, self-willed, one might say, just like the Zuanma.
And so Stefan had his answer. And while it wasn't quite the best one, it was close enough.