Chapter 62
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: The Zealous Priest
In fantasy stories, religion sometimes feels as substantial as air—omnipresent yet rarely focused on—but outright absence is rare.
Sex Survivor follows the same pattern.
Religion exists, but the game's nature means it's barely depicted.
One of the heroines is a nun, so it's mentioned, but only briefly.
Just a single line.
'Was it the Harmony Church?'
Leaning against the carriage rail for the first time in ages, he mulled over his cultural knowledge.
Outside Ion, the Harmony Church holds sway.
In Ion, the dominant faith is the Salvation Church, which reveres the imperial family as the gods' envoys.
Gods' envoys?
It evoked ancient foundation myths like those of Gojoseon or the Three Kingdoms era...
But one key difference set them apart.
They actually exist.
A history spanning over a millennium proves it.
The traits were striking: mostly females born, with closer inbreeding yielding superior offspring.
Even virgin births stemmed from that.
Far too different from ordinary folk.
And that very otherness lent the Salvation Church its legitimacy.
It sounded plausible even to outsiders.
"Ah, there's the church. We're here."
The man riding in the luggage compartment pointed at a building.
It was a church black as if dipped in an oil pit.
"Thank you for escorting us. Why not come in and catch your breath?"
The man shouldered his nearby backpack and dismounted.
He glanced at the bitches around, concerned it might seem rude.
'Nice guy.'
Eyes might wander inevitably, but he knew how to restrain himself.
An appealing type all around.
"That's kind of you, but is it alright?"
"Of course. Immodest as it sounds, I can extend that invitation. The priest will be delighted."
A priest—not a bitch—is a cleric appointed by the church.
Their duties mirror modern ones.
"My thanks for the hospitality."
"This way."
After parking the carriage, he followed the man with the bitches in tow.
First time in a church, and tension crept in oddly.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Following the man through the main doors revealed a pristine church interior.
Small but humble, solemn.
'Straightens my spine every time.'
At the far end, stained glass in the window.
Beneath it, a massive human statue and altar left him breathless.
"Pardon us. Priest? Are you here?"
"Yes, right here."
Raising his voice drew a man from behind the statue.
Clad in black robes.
"You've had a hard journey here. The floods must have made it tougher..."
"We were stuck until these folks helped. They cleared days' worth of road in no time."
"Such fortune! The gods have blessed us."
The priest clasped his hands, eyes wide with unfeigned joy.
"Truly grateful. Coincidence perhaps, but one might say the gods..."
Their eyes met, and the priest's excited voice cut off.
Sudden silence made the mood awkward.
Something wrong?
Pausing to watch, the priest's eyes grew wider.
'He figured it out?'
Shocked expression, trembling hands.
He recognized my face.
Standing behind the man, he pressed a finger to his lips.
Keep quiet.
"Ah, forgive my rudeness. Keeping you standing is impolite—may I see the goods?"
The suddenly silent priest flashed an awkward smile.
Good, he got the message.
"Ah, yes. Of course. To the kitchen?"
The man nodded, puzzled.
Mention of kitchen meant food supplies.
"Much appreciated."
The priest nodded, then met his eyes again.
"If the guests could wait comfortably? I'll finish sorting and return shortly."
"Sure. Take your time."
He nodded and sat in a suitable spot.
Sudden visit—best to accommodate the host.
"Thank you."
The priest bowed politely and left via a side door in the corner.
Living quarters must be there.
"Looks like this priest recognized you too, Your Highness."
Antiope beside him whispered.
The other two nodded silently, sharing the thought.
"Yeah."
He sighed and nodded.
Imperial portraits circulated for recognition—like a VIP list.
To the Salvation Church, the imperial family are gods' envoys.
Not wrong to call them top VIPs.
"Pardon the wait."
Mid-chat, the priest returned, deeply apologetic.
"No trouble."
He rose as the priest approached, offering a hand.
Proper handshake upon meeting.
"Pleased to meet you."
"The honor is mine, but Your Highness needn't lower yourself so."
The priest shook with a trembling voice.
Overwhelmed, eyes misty.
"Uh, right. Thanks for the welcome. You knew about the pilgrimage, right?"
"The imperial pilgrimage is our most sacred event. Impossible not to know."
The priest nodded firmly, zeal flickering in his eyes.
"Uh... yeah. Any inconveniences?"
"With imperial grace everywhere, how could there be? Only gratitude."
The priest released his hand slowly, smiling.
Eyes softened, but the zeal lingered.
The bitches nearby looked awkward.
Their expressions said it all.
"You contact nearby churches?"
"Yes, regular smooth correspondence. Planning to inspect personally?"
"If possible. Anything unusual?"
"I don't pry into the wealthy's secrets, but no major issues. Demonkin slaves included."
He blinked involuntarily.
Creepy how well-informed he seemed.
"How'd you know to mention slaves?"
"Your Highness has championed it from the start. Your vigilance against heretics is renowned."
"Rumors would explain it."
He relaxed his shoulders and nodded.
The explanation rang true.
"Still, you'll inspect personally?"
"Of course. If it were just talk, I'd have finished the rounds already."
"Exemplary."
Zeal surged in the priest's softened eyes again.
Primed for blind praise.
"Thanks, but too much is burdensome."
"Understood."
The priest nodded vigorously.
Scary—he'd die on command if asked.
"Outwardly fine, but there must be some dirt. Like that executed bastard."
Quiet surface hides the disobedient.
Some get caught and die.
Pointing that out hardened the priest's face.
"Yes. Didn't wish to trouble you without certainty, but suspicions exist."
"Knew it. Hand over the intel first."
Defying the Emperor is treason.
My enemies.
Even without totalitarianism, undeniable.
Because I'm the Crown Prince.
"You'll root it out yourself?"
"Always have. If not me, pass to others."
Bait draws hungry dogs.
They'll tear it apart.
"I understand. But no such records here..."
The priest bowed apologetically.
Just a local priest—limitations clear.
"Fair enough. Don't fret."
"Deeply sorry. The southern headquarters likely has what you seek, though the distance..."
"Few days' travel. Got it."
Headquarters akin to a papal seat.
One west, one south.
Why two? Ion's vast lands demand it.
West handles north.
South handles east.
Efficient division.
"Truly sorry."
"Enough apologies. Any inns nearby? Planning to overnight here."
"If so, stay at our church. We prepared rooms for such occasions."
"Works for me. Allowed?"
"An eternal honor. I beg you."
The priest bowed earnestly.
That surging zeal made refusal impossible.
"Thanks."
He smiled awkwardly in gratitude.
All priests had zeal, but this one topped them.
Manes promptly tore open space and headed east.
Follow Niu's trail by day when time allowed.
Return north at night to rest.
"H-Hail, imperial blood."
A servant girl in Ampion Castle's east wing corridors bowed hastily.
Manes bursting through a rift startled her.
"Oh, perfect timing. Is Mother inside?"
"Th-the lord? Yes."
The girl trembled, head bowed.
Fear of imperial, plus the shock.
"Good."
Manes eyed the girl's back briefly, then walked the corridor.
Tried Niu's approach but gave up.
"Mom? You there?"
At a black door, Manes called out.
Door guards already bowed low.
"You? What's it this time?"
"Quick question. I'll ask and go—coming in."
"Enter."
As the voice sighed beyond, Manes opened the door.
No time for servants.
"What impropriety brings you this time?"
Ampion at her office desk blinked.
Routine enough to stay calm.
"Meant to go straight to your room but slipped. Not intentional."
"Could happen. What's the matter?"
"Want to know Niu's direction. You do, right?"
"Yes."
What, that's it?
Ampion nodded leisurely.
"Not joining the pilgrimage. Just my womb itching—need some seed."
Manes rubbed her lower belly with a smirk.
Absurd, but fitting for imperial.
"Blinded by late-blooming lust. Seed's precious, but curb the recklessness."
"Reckless? Virgins like you might not get it..."
"I do."
Ampion cut in, signing documents.
Shocking reply, utterly nonchalant.
'What? She knows?'
Knowing the feeling means experience.
Meaning, no longer virgin.
And only one man could deflower Ion imperial.
Niu.
"You did it?"
Manes frowned; Ampion's cheeks flushed.
Silence more eloquent than words.
"Pretended disinterest, but went into heat and woke to lust? Forgot all decorum?"
"Embarrassing, but yes."
"Mother discovering men late must crave it more."
Sneer curled Manes' lips.
No malice, just bafflement.
"Enough jesting. You just need his path?"
"Right. South for sure, multiple routes though."
"I know the direction."
Ampion pulled a map from her desk drawer.
To show precisely.
"Look closely."
As Manes neared, Ampion pointed to a spot.
East-south border.
"Basic route: through here to Bourbon Duchy."
"Yeah, broad strokes. Currently?"
"Via Jenon and Castelno. Nearby villages too, naturally."
"Enough. Thanks."
Manes nodded and tore space.
Sufficient info.
"Craving seed is inevitable, but mind your dignity."
Ampion sighed, seeing her off.
Knew mating's joy—couldn't forbid it.
Manes understood, smiling softly.
"Of course. We're pussy sisters now too."