Chapter 42
Chapter 42
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Academy Visit (2)
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In medieval times, local lords rarely had reason to travel to the capital to see the king or emperor.
Their direct liege—the one they'd sworn fealty to—might warrant frequent visits, and for high nobles, that liege could even be the king or emperor himself.
But for most lords, the capital was a place where nothing good awaited. From the king's perspective, they'd probably think, What the hell is this guy doing here?
It's like a branch manager from a subsidiary showing up to see the CEO of headquarters. Why bother?
Besides, in their own domains, they were kings in all but name. They held full judicial, policing, and taxation rights.
There were Heavenly God Church priests to preach morals and nag them, handling administrative drudgery in exchange.
The point is, even nobles didn't cross paths often in this era.
But as the modern age dawned, the central state's power gradually strengthened.
Not that kings or emperors themselves grew stronger—strong monarchs had existed in the medieval era too.
The state system itself solidified.
Roads were paved, allowing rulers to dispatch and oversee more officials directly.
Ad hoc administration gained structure, tasks were delegated, departments formed, and roles clarified.
Bit by bit, local nobles lost their governing authority.
In judiciary, taxation, policing—unlike their ancestors, they could no longer decide as they pleased.
But... it wasn't entirely bad.
After all, it meant others handled their work.
And their core asset—land—remained untouchable, even in modern states. Someone had to own it, and there was no reason or way to forcibly strip long-standing landlords.
Agricultural tech advanced, populations grew, and output from the same lands kept rising.
Less work, more wealth.
Naturally, noble desires shifted to honor.
And for honor, raising armies for conquest like their forebears was outdated. Far surer and more refined: head to the capital and claim a prestigious post.
The current academy dean, Ellie Grandia, was just such a figure.
She'd pursued scholarship for glory, achieved results, become a tenured professor, climbed the ranks, and reached the dean's seat.
At her inauguration—her as a branch family member—even her main house and higher-status Grandia houses sent gifts, pleading to look after their kids. Her long-thirsted honor was thoroughly sated.
...And now, Dean Grandia bitterly regretted her decision.
"Dean! Swordsmanship Classes 1 and 2 are brawling again—no, dueling!"
"Handle per manual."
"Dean! Spirit Magic professors are protesting for equal alchemy budgets!"
"Per manual."
"Third-rank fire spirit protocol isn't in the manual—"
"Dean! The scheduled Holy Tongue professor, a saintess, can't come—plague outbreak in the south!"
"Ma, manual..."
"Dean! Professor Granola's entered heat!"
"Dean! Elf anti-heat meds are out of stock!"
Dean Grandia calmly closed her eyes.
And offered a heartfelt prayer to the Heavenly God: please free her from this cursed post.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Grrrrr! Grrooooowwl!!"
The gagged Granola snarled like a beast.
We hadn't muzzled her for fun—if we hadn't, she'd spew dignity-shattering profanities unfit for a professor.
"Grrrrrr!!"
"Calm down, seriously—this'll be your black history later!!"
Her elven superhuman physique made restraining her a nightmare.
A guard shouted from afar.
"Sir Arthur! Elf anti-heat meds are out!"
"How!? Any institution hiring non-heat-cycle elves must stock them mandatorily!"
"My apologies!"
"Apologies fix this!?"
But somehow, we had to resolve this...!
"No holy magic users around!?"
"Th-the post's vacant now... apologies!"
"Apolo—argh!"
"Grroooowl!!"
Ways to block Granola existed.
Few spared her injury.
"W-Wai—!"
A timid, shrunken voice—yet unyielding in courage.
"Don't rape the teacher!!"
Cynthia charged toward us.
"Dangerous, stay back—"
"From Sir Arthur!! Get off him!!!"
Cynthia clung to the rampaging Granola, yanking her hair and clothes with a wail.
"Grrrr!!!"
The elf in heat didn't stop—worse, viewing Cynthia as a rival, she lunged harder.
"Hah, damn it!! Get off!! I said!!"
Granola's eyes gleamed dangerously at the persistent interferer.
"Cynthia, this is really dan—"
"I don't care!!"
Cynthia bellowed.
I hate danger.
Pain terrifies me.
Injury brings cold sweats just imagining.
"We can't just leave this!!"
Yet.
People have moments.
Where fear must be overcome to step forward.
"If not now!!! When will I ever!!!"
Cynthia summoned courage.
From vast skies, pristine white light descended.
"!!"
"Grrowl!?"
It didn't touch Arthur and Granola's entangled forms, but grazed us.
That power.
That majesty.
That grandeur and mercy overlooking all life.
Radiance.
Dignity.
Splendor.
The Lord's choice, at last.
At last at last at last at last(...) at last at last at last at last at last at last at last at last(...) at last.
Descended upon the 307th saintess, Cynthia Frey.
"...Huh."
Knowledge flooded Cynthia's mind. Holy Tongue. The language church priests used, implanted perfectly upon saintesses' awakening. Grammar, vocabulary, phonetics—a new tongue, complete. Then, a woman's booming, relieved voice echoed grandly in her head. "[Finally!! Finallyyyyyy!!! Ugh, seriouslyyyy!!! Heroes kept screwing the angle, I was going insane from frustration!!!!!! Haaaaah!!! Success at laaaast!!!]" ⟨ Heavenly God's Voice ⟩
"Wh...?"
Cynthia blankly asked the voice in her mind, in the newfound tongue.
"[Hea, Heavenly God...?]"
"[Wah-lalala-hit-huuu!!! *Pant, pant, pant...* Whew... Now the complaints about sending juniors will stop... I wasn't holding back on purposeeee... Goddess life is haaard... Hiiiing...]" "...?"
Somehow.
Feels like overhearing something she shouldn't?
"Uh...?"
Regardless, Cynthia felt immense power surging through her.
Unfamiliar. New.
Yet she knew what it could do.
So she poured it into the elf tormented by heat.
Holy power: recovery and regeneration.
Heat: hormonal imbalance. A perfect target for healing.
"Grr! Gr... Uh...?"
Granola, thrashing like a mare, quieted.
Stilled.
"Uh...?"
Slowly, her pointed elven ears flushed crimson to the tips.
"Ubu-bu-buh!!"
Sane once more, Granola wept from shame.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ In the saintess slab chamber of the holy city Beatkana, images reappeared on the stone.
📰 Saintess Slab Update Images of that familiar face—the same woman they'd seen before—began to form. 💬 Betting Frenzy — Priest 1 "Hey hey hey!! Guys!!!" — Priest 2 "Everyone!! It's starting again!!" — Priest 3 "Woohoo!! Dopamine party timeeee!!!!" Skilled hands set up betting tables, calculating odds.
"20 lira on favorite!"
"300 on underdog!"
"Sister? Where'd you get that? Ah, me too—20 on underdog."
Favorite: saintess awakens now.
Underdog: not this time.
This setup hadn't changed since betting began.
Meaning underdog backers had swept every time.
Prime underdog fiend: Saintess Liriad.
⭐ Top Bettor — Saintess Liriad "Kuhuhu...! Grateful for the pocket money from my siblings today too...!!" — Another Priest "Sister Liriad! You want a junior saintess more than anyone—why bet against?!" — Liriad "Wishful thinking is wishful; betting's betting! If bets matched hopes, casinos would bankrupt no one!" — Priest "Th-that's..." — Another "As expected of Liriad, toiling in the pleasure district to save souls. Her mindset's different... But." Saintess Marcel reverently bet her money. Again, and this time for sure—on a new saintess.
"I believe in our Heavenly God. This time, at last, favorite wins..."
Saintess Marcel gaped at the odds board.
Favorite and underdog had flipped.
Most bet no saintess this time.
"What...?! Everyone lost faith in the Heavenly God!?"
At Marcel's shout, eyes averted everywhere.
"But..."
"We've only lost..."
"One more loss and I'm in real trouble..."
Liriad laughed.
— Liriad "Kuhuhuhuhelhel!! Admit it, Marcel! You're the underdog fiend now!" — Marcel "Urk...! Defying the Heavenly God's will...!!" A rookie priestess muttered behind: "Gambling itself defies the will, no?" Pure truth, but la la la can't hear, Heavenly God's merciful, no punishment for this.
— Marcel "Even as an underdog fiend, my faith in the Heavenly God stands firm!" — Liriad "Kahaha! Drown in your ideals!!" — Marcel "I won't lose!! Lord, grant me victory!!" Rookie priestess: "Should I report them all to the Papal Disciplinary Committee...?" La la la, punishment's just reciting prayers anyway.
Before their eyes, the saintess slab engraved.
The same face as before.
Now, what feat this time!
Last: shielding dozens from black magic.
Before: protecting friends from evil spirits.
Prior: heroic, cool deeds.
Come on!
Unnamed 307th candidate!
What's your triumph now!!
— Spectator 1 "...?" — Spectator 2 "Uh...?" — Spectator 3 "Pin... ning down...?" — Spectator 4 "Elf...?" — Spectator 5 "There's a guy there... Uh...?" — Spectator 6 "Wh-what...?" — Spectator 7 "Hweee...!" — Spectator 8 "I-is this okay...? Uh...?" — Spectator 9 "It's a rescue... sort of...?" — Spectator 10 "From... an elf...?" — Spectator 11 "She seems pretty fond of the guy herself...?" And.
— Spectator 12 "Uh... uhhh...?" — Spectator 13 "Why won't it stop?!" — Panic 1 "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait!!" — Panic 2 "The content doesn't matter—wait! Heavenly God!! Heavenly Gooooood!!!" — Panic 3 "Pray!! Pray fast!!" — Panic 4 "Kyaaaaah!!! Nooooooo!! My next month's allowance!!" — Panic 5 "Why drop a saintess now!!!" Prayers futile.
— Bettors "Gana!? Here we gooooooo!!!!" — Losers "Aaaaaah!! Nooooooo!!!!" — More Losers "Kiyaaaaah!!!" She was born.
A new saintess.
— Liriad "Kuhel? Kuhelhel...?" Saintess Liriad was dumbfounded.
She wanted to be, but couldn't.
Newly minted underdog fiend Saintess Marcel grabbed her shoulder.
— Liriad "Marcel..." Comfort, maybe?
Lecture on quitting gambling post-lesson? Refund... nah, but a flat payout?
Marcel trembled.
— Marcel "Liriad..." Deep breath.
⭐ Victor's Cry — Marcel "Kyahahaha!! Serves you right, you damn favorite suckers!!!!!!" The rookie priestess muttered from behind: time to pray for divine smiting on these fools.