What Is Goodness?
The saintess of the All Gods Temple. What is goodness? What is morality? It is the path that people must follow. Even if it is called hypocrisy, if one carries it through to the end, it can become true goodness. Even if the kindness and warmth one sows for others do not return, one extends a hand to those in need without care.
But the saintess believed that goodness was ambiguous, unknowable in meaning, and something swayed by desire. There were those who spent precious time feeling the happiness and joy of others, and those who devoted themselves by giving what they had to the needy yet received no reward, suffering and weeping in pain. There were even those who exploited that goodness for their own gain. Conversely, there were people who used charity as a means to earn money out of greed but outwardly helped the difficult, those whose unintended kindness returned manifold as reward, and those who practiced goodness simply because they had been taught to, or because they believed the gods were watching.
Goodness was the belief that the gods were watching and the fear of punishment after death. Morality was the minimum duty to preserve a peaceful, harmonious world where people could live. Far away on the plains, the barbarians showed no interest in the gods' existence and lived by might makes right, where only the strong defined justice. No need to look that far—just observing the anthill at the All Gods Temple proved it: countless lives were crushed by children's mischievous pranks. If those ants were stronger than the children, they might sometimes swarm and devour them. This world operated on the basic principle of survival of the fittest.
The bugs on the dinner table surely had their own lives, but no one lived thinking that deeply. The saintess was someone who accepted the grace of the gods and the value of living beings, distinguished between common sense and nonsense, and judged by basic morality. Even if she was merely imitating it, many would draw strength from her goodness and shake off their hardships, giving her existence value. As the saintess of the All Gods Temple—not some Maou Candidate—those who followed her would sustain her.
That was a bit of a long preamble. The saintess was a being beloved by the gods, who had passed down knowledge from countless books and the deities themselves. Naturally, she knew common sense about humans, lacked emotions but possessed basic taste buds since she was part person, and had a rudimentary aesthetic sense—able to tell if something looked normal or not.
Tteokbokki drenched in pink liquid, topped with ice cream. As a scorpion, no one among the priests or holy knights minded her eating bugs. Her tongue favored spiders, after all. ...But no matter how long she pondered, thought, and rummaged through the common knowledge she had learned, she doubted anyone in the world would like that. And it was food she had ordered herself, specifically requesting it be made that way.
The head chef of this restaurant must have trained diligently—what crime had they committed to use their hard-earned skills on this? Could it be that the gods' guided fate was meant to shatter the saintess's common sense, awaken anger in her, and make her want to run the hero through?
"Hero, I have prided myself on respecting individuals, living with a heart like the gods who love all life without regard for this society's laws or racial prejudices, spreading love... But common sense—can anyone eat that?"
"No?"
"...Then why are you eating it? It's irrational. Is the hero's sense of taste cursed? Don't your party members suffer?"
"I don't recommend it to them. Hm, was I inconsiderate?"
He declared he'd finish it all and emptied the bowl clean. His eating speed was insanely fast; in the blink of an eye, the bowl was spotless.
...?
At that speed, like time had been sliced out, the saintess reached for the bowl, inspecting it closely. Had he used magic? As her mind's common sense urged her to let fatigue win and not overthink, the hero ordered the exact same thing she had and started eating.
"......"
Not even an insect, but a human—why...? The thought surfaced. Her emotionless face showed no expression, yet her halted movements made it clear to anyone: she was shocked, her mind frozen at the sight.
The saintess and hero's private meal time, stormy as it was, ended in an odd flow. Following her guidance, they headed to a wide open area.
The rectangular training ground, covered in sand, had people practicing with training weapons. Spotting the saintess, they waved or shouted greetings; she waved back with her pincer arms at her sides and, having reserved a large exclusive space from the manager, entered with him.
"Hero, you're from another world, right?"
"Yes, Saintess."
She tossed him a wooden sword and shield; catching them, I guessed her intent and took stance.
"Even without me, the saintess, or you, the hero, the sun rises, the moon sets, the seas flow. This Chronicle Continent is teeming with superhumans. In some hinterlands, there are hidden eccentrics disillusioned with the world, indifferent to meaning, or bound by circumstances; even child prodigies surpassing my talents exist."
"I know."
"I am a created lifeform, flawed in feeling emotions. Reaching this point was only thanks to countless people's kindness and the gods' aid. Alone, I might have lost my way, wandered—or even become your enemy."
"...."
"Even I receive excessive expectations and faith as a saintess. On the way here, you saw: children gaze at me with starry eyes of admiration; priests and holy knights revere me as a sacred being like the gods, thanking me without bias. Yet I constantly doubt my Maou power and my very existence."
She raised two wooden swords into stance, her ever-emotionless eyes questioning.
"If even I, blessed beyond measure, feel this way—who would call you hero from another world. Do you never doubt yourself?"
"I question why I'm the hero, but never doubt that I am."
An unbeatable existence, a ludicrously overwhelming foe that dared not even hold hope. A terror devouring all, even the gods descending for loved ones. Knowing it, seeing its form, feeling its power—yet feet never stop, unshakeable, sword raised. The hero fights because of love. Possessing unmatched courage, unwavering, leading at the forefront as hope incarnate. Other heroes were thus. And though I paled in comparison...
"I won't compromise with my weakness."
"Solve that weakness, and you're sufficient, Hero."
Her pincer gripped wooden sword rising. The saintess, wielding four-sword style including the one in her pincer, crossed pincer and arm, charging.
Her tail, coiled at waist, whipped the ground, accelerating as she kicked off; her wooden sword sliced air, launching the hero skyward.
Scorpion Style—"Four Strike!"
"Guhak?!"
"Weak!"
"Using a finisher right at the start...?"
"Naturally. Starting with the strongest technique is common sense, no?"
Assuming a hero couldn't even parry this, she cast a healing skill and yelled for me to rise. Shield forward, sword lowered in stance again—now she gripped sword in pincer, spear in both hands, swinging.
Blocking the spear with shield, her pincer arm smashed head and shoulder with wooden sword. Trying to create distance, her tail whipped ankle, collapsing stance; her kick plunged into the hero's gut.
"Reaction speed is good, learning quick. You have instinctive talent for handling weapons."
"I see..."
"But ultimately, lacking stats."
Discarding sword, she challenged bare-handed; I dropped shield, gripped wooden sword two-handed, charged.
[Counter Combat Reflection]
With skill name, she flicked wooden sword aside with one arm; my thrust rebounded into my gut, launching me with the sword into air.
This skill... feels familiar... Crashing with a thud, rolling on ground.
"Hero's tactics exploit cards to overwhelm, but high consumption per fight, limited cards mean no repeats. True powerhouses won't fall for it. Bopal Weapon's performance fells most foes easily—but that's insufficient! Even Hero Park Chun-sik, weak in force, had threatening skill turning touches to gold."
"......Jealous..."
Why are my skills all junk...?
"Restoring the hero's stamina."
Her word, infused with divine power, reset wounds and fatigue; I stood anew on training ground. Facing me, she hefted two massive wooden halberds—not saintess, but weapon master.
"Power and stamina lacking. Let's train those focused. Rest easy. With my Absolute Command · Word of Power and saintess's Resurrection, even if overtraining kills you, I can revive twice."
"Pardon?"
Arms bulging with muscle, veins swelling—I urgently raised shield; it shattered with shield, "Calamity comes!" Her kick struck before landing, launching body.
Xingyiquan - Bengquan!
Thrusting halberd, stomping foot sent shockwaves rippling ground; her pincer leg slammed gut. Instant before blast-off, faster than impact spread, lower hand punched, opposite leg kicked again—she bellowed with ki.
"Double strike!"
With boom, tearing wire mesh, hero launched. Thanks to Calamity, tumbling like soccer ball kicked by playing child, face-hit into river flow toward sea—but mercifully, fisherman's net saved him.
"Guard mid!"
"Can you even block that...?!"
"Until you can."
Treated, flown back by pincer—saintess declared, low sweep collapsing stance, uppercut launching, flashy martial chain 17-combo to mesh, finishing Bengquan hurled him riverward again.