Faith, As They Say (2)

"Maybe I should fire up the game."

With a wallet grown thicker and a heart to match, he booted the game in genuinely high spirits for once. At this rate, he felt generous enough to buy another package or two.

Ping—

Ping—

Ping—

The moment he logged in, notification windows cascaded across the screen, blotting out everything underneath. Wondering what it was this time, he read through them carefully.

"Okay, so…"

"Whoa—everything's dumping on me at once."

Ever since he'd accidentally cleared the Stage 2 boss of the Demonic Beast Subjugation without even realizing it, he hadn't logged in for a while. Apparently the notifications had been stacking up in his absence. Faith unlocked? World Exploration? He decided to go through them one at a time.

"Might as well start with Fame."

Fame kept climbing and unlocking things, but he still had no idea what actually raised it. Did it go up just from selling weapons to adventurers on a regular basis?

Even as his mind wandered, his fingers kept crafting weapons, selling them, and managing the dwarves. The routine had sunk so deep into habit that it now ran on pure muscle memory.

"This damn game…"

He knew it tasted like garbage—so why couldn't he quit? Muttering to himself, he checked his Fame.

"Oh, it went up again?"

It must have. Last time he'd checked, it had been something like a national pop idol. Seemed like the kind of stat that climbed on its own as long as he kept selling weapons.

This time he poked around the interface looking for the newly unlocked "Faith." After digging through every corner of the screen, he finally found the Faith button. They'd buried it ridiculously well.

"Where the hell did the user-friendliness go?"

Did he really have to rummage through every nook and cranny just to find a new feature? Grumbling, he pressed the Faith icon.

"Wow. First time I've ever seen this game let you buy something with in-game currency."

It hit him all over again just how unhinged this game was. Only now—finally—could he buy things with in-game currency. Did they seriously expect him to be grateful for unlocking this so late?

"Thank you…!! Thank you so much!!!"

He was on the verge of tears. At long last, he could buy something with the game's own currency instead of his real cash! A tidal wave of emotion crashed over him, and he shuddered with pure gratitude.

"And… World Exploration mode?"

He tapped the glittering globe icon. A loading screen flickered briefly, then a surprisingly high-quality landscape appeared.

"Oh, the graphics are actually decent?"

For a mobile game, the visuals were more than respectable. Someone had put real work into the backgrounds—the scenery, the flora and fauna all moved with a lifelike vitality.

"But almost everything's covered in fog."

The only visible region was a single small city. Tapping it brought up a little info message.

Ah—so you collected Faith from cities like this? In the corner of the screen he could also see his usable Faith balance.

"Zero right now. So it generates ninety per hour, huh?"

Ninety an hour seemed like a solid amount to work with. He poked around the fog-choked map a bit more and found another region up north.

"Thirty an hour? That's garbage."

Was the Holy City just a better land, then? The fog-shrouded zones only repeated the same message no matter how many times he tapped them—certain conditions needed to be met first.

Well, they'd unlock eventually. He returned to the Holy City and zoomed all the way in, and now he could even see people walking the streets. Not enough detail for faces, but their clothing was clear enough.

"…Why is this the part they actually put effort into?"

The NPCs' reactions and behavior were remarkably vivid. The way they laughed and chatted among themselves looked almost human.

"Damn, the AI is ridiculous."

He glanced over the long line of people at the city gate, then scanned the folks along the roadside, until he spotted someone unusual.

"What's with this guy?"

Unlike the other residents, this one was wrapped in something like a blue aura. Curious, he zoomed in for a closer look—and discovered that tapping them added them to favorites.

"Might as well favorite them."

You never knew when it might come in handy.

He kept idly touring the streets until he found someone unusual in an entirely different way.

"…And what the hell is this?"

In the days remaining before the funeral, Iscal and Sancho wandered Civitas, sightseeing. The mood was a touch somber with funeral preparations underway, but the Holy City's grandeur and unique mystique remained undimmed.

"Young master! Look at this! Isn't this the famous statue of the First Saint, Kenelm?!"

"Ohhh! So this is the statue of the Saint that only exists here in the Holy City."

Their footsteps came to a halt before the statue of Saint Kenelm.

It depicted the Saint with a serene smile, bringing a hammer down upon a demon's skull. The sheer presence of it stirred faith just by looking at it, and Iscal found himself making the sign of the cross without thinking.

"Whoa—even as a statue, her beauty is dazzling!"

"It really is… The records say her beauty was blinding. It's a real shame no portrait of her exists."

"Huh? Why wouldn't someone like a Saint have a portrait?"

"Well… I'm not entirely sure. The most popular rumor is that her beauty was simply too extraordinary for any painter to capture."

"Then why does the statue exist?"

"If I knew that, I'd be working at the Pantheon instead of standing here, wouldn't I?"

"Well, even the Pantheon is picky about who they hire, right?"

"You little—"

Iscal thumped Sancho on the head for the cheeky remark.

Sancho clutched the growing lump and grumbled nonstop. Iscal ignored him entirely and kept walking, eyes forward—until he spotted a man of considerable bulk up ahead.

…Who is that?

Iscal narrowed his eyes. From a distance the man had looked merely well-built, but a closer look revealed a pig draped in pearl necklaces.

He was swathed head to toe in luxurious silk, every one of his ten fingers glittering with ornate rings. Gold ornaments covered him from crown to toe, and the rolls of fat made him look less like a person and more like a ball—one good kick and he might roll away.

Every single thing on his body was a luxury brand, which told you everything you needed to know about the man himself.

That's Count Stultus of the Empire.

Iscal's narrowed eyes tightened further. For a moment he wondered if he was seeing things. Count Stultus of the Empire—the single most arrogant and greedy man in the entire Empire, wasn't he?

Word of how he fattened himself on the blood and flesh of the common people had spread even to distant lands, and Iscal found the Empire more incomprehensible than ever.

…Why on earth would the Empire send a man like that to the Holy City?

Sancho, having bought a skewer from a street vendor, sidled up beside Iscal, chewing noisily.

"Young master, what are you looking at? Some pretty lady?"

"…Shh. That's Count Stultus of the Empire over there."

"What?! You mean that pig—mmph!"

"Quiet! Do you want both our heads on the chopping block?!"

Iscal clamped a hand over Sancho's babbling mouth, cold sweat beading on his brow. Count Stultus might be the Empire's foremost fool and glutton, but there was a reason the Emperor had never cast him out.

They say he saved the Emperor's only son when the boy was wasting away, don't they?

Even a maggot has one trick, and Count Stultus had his. For reasons no one could explain, the dying would recover completely the moment he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠examined them.

Even the Emperor's son—whose illness had left every physician shaking their heads in bafflement—had been restored to perfect health after Stultus spent a full day ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at his bedside. The story was well known.

After that, Count Stultus rode the Empress's full-throated support and unleashed his vicious nature without restraint. Even the Emperor couldn't openly rein him in. The Empress shielded him, the recovered son defended him, and together they held the Emperor's hands behind his back.

Why send such a greedy creature to the Holy City…

Iscal watched Stultus's swaggering figure disappear into the distance.

Instinctively, he knew exactly who had caused the commotion at the city gates.

"Even on someone else's land, he can't break the habit. Consistent little bastard."

"Pwah—! Young master! I nearly suffocated!"

"Shut up, you idiot. Do you realize your big mouth almost left both of us lighter above the shoulders?"

"Huh? What's above my shoulders?"

"Ugh… Never mind. Why do I even bother."

Iscal looked down at the hand he'd used to cover Sancho's mouth—now unpleasantly damp—and recoiled with a start.

"Wh-what is this?!"

"Young master, you really ought to wash your hands more often. That was pretty salty."

"You rotten little—!!"

That day, Sancho took three solid knocks to the head.

Scratch—scratch—

The dry whisper of a fountain pen across parchment seeped quietly into the ear. Ever since returning from the Holy Land, Great Priest Antonio had been writing without rest, turning his experiences into a book.

Man is a creature of forgetfulness, and all things are destined to be forgotten. It falls to me to leave a record of the gods' greatness for those who come after us…

The experiences and landscapes of the Holy Land, and even the laborers who served Him—Antonio wrote it all down meticulously, omitting nothing.

Scratch—scratch—

The pleasant scratching sound was cut short by a knock at the door.

"Great Priest, it's time. You must go."

"Ah, is it already that late? I'll be right there."

Antonio gathered up the thick volume he'd been writing and rose hastily from his seat. Ahead of the funeral honoring the paladins' noble sacrifice, many nations had sent representatives.

Today, Antonio would receive the guests from other countries as the Holy City's representative.

Inside the vast council chamber, countless people filled every seat. The murmuring among them quieted the moment Antonio entered.

Sensing the hush settle over the room, Antonio slowly began to speak.

"May the grace of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Six Gods be with you all. To those of you who have traveled far to grace this occasion with your presence, I offer my sincere welcome and deepest gratitude."

"The Holy City will not forget the faith of those who have come to honor the sacrifice of our noble warriors. We hope you will find your stay free of any discomfort."

A short, simple greeting. But the meaning within it was anything but simple. The Holy City would not forget—those words were precisely what they had come all this way to hear.

Clap, clap, clap—

A modest round of applause rippled through the chamber. Antonio made a light sign of the cross and was about to step back when—

"Hey, but is this god of yours really all that great?"

A loud voice cut straight through the applause. People froze mid-clap. Who the hell—?

Every eye in the room converged on a single point.

A fat body, lavish silk robes, and a thick gold chain dangling from his neck. The Empire's infamous rogue Count—Stultus.

Everyone thought the same thing at once.

Is this bastard insane?