Try Calling Your God a Dogshit
After catching our breath plenty, we hauled ourselves up to resume dungeon crawling. That's when I clocked a major issue.
“Ah, I can’t see shit ahead!”
Yeah. The holy sword had gone full ghost mode, nuking our party's sole light source. Me and the Hero? Fine. But those adventurers? Big problem. Honestly, if they lagged behind like that, I wouldn't give two shits, but the Hero didn't seem keen on ditching them, so I figured I'd poke the holy sword awake.
[Hey, hey, you pissed off or what?]
Silence.
[Sorry, my bad. I apologize. UwU. Cheer up already.]
Yeah, like that'd work. The holy sword was basically in hibernation right now, so even if the Hero straight-up said she was ditching it, odds were it wouldn't hear a peep. It only pulls this crap when it's maximally inconvenient for us.
I let out a sigh and reported to the Hero.
[This thing's fucking useless.]
“Uhh... Hero. Sorry, but could you whip up some light for us?”
The leader, stamina somewhat restored, bowed and scraped to the Hero. Well, no other options.
The Hero raised her hand to channel power—
A disgustingly cloying sensation scraped right through my brain. Yeah, this vibe—only felt it back in my newbie adventurer days, crawling the floors. The exact feel when some high-rank senior tried to haze my ass!
[Hold up.]
“Yes?”
My tone was so dead serious, the chatterboxes froze mid-motion.
I mulled it over. What the hell was nagging at me? Adventurers, light, Silver rank... Aha! Got it.
[You idiots got no glowstones?]
Silver rank meant seasoned pros. No way they'd half-ass prep for a dungeon like this.
My jab hit home—they lit up like they'd just had an epiphany.
They unpacked the gear the Hero had been lugging, and out tumbled a few stones glowing with soft light.
[Trying to haze our Hero, huh.]
Glowstones. Weaker than your average pebble, but they shine in the dark—top-tier adventure staple.
“B-but... the glowstone light isn't penetrating right...”
Too bad the dungeon's eldritch gloom smothered it flat.
Hero had no choice but to summon her own light. Sun, moon, stars. Untainted source divine power bloomed from her fingertips, shoving back the darkness and wrapping everything in cozy warmth—including me.
[Kiyaaaak!]
“Ah, sorry.”
No raw destructive punch, but for its polar opposite—me?—even grazing contact was lethal. I shot her a glare, and she awkwardly tweaked the beam's angle.
Hero's floating light orb at the center, we shuffled along like a conga line. Party had a Hero? Formations were pointless.
“Um, Hero.”
“Yeah?”
But not even minutes in, the ashen-faced leader snagged her.
Not grabbing her ankle for another break, is he?
“N-not that, but... now we've got our gear back, how about terrain scouting first? We know jack about this dungeon, right?”
Damn, that was pretty pro-adventurer talk. Bumped his internal rating up half a star.
“No need, to, worry.”
Perfect timing—we had dual mages and a ranger. Their toolkit could pull dungeon intel right from base camp.
But the Hero didn't break stride. No one wanted to risk straying from her light and getting ditched, so the rest trailed awkwardly.
“I know, the path.”
Hero was short on common sense all around, but she wasn't some brainless brute. Those steps had purpose.
Grants the optimal blessing suited to the current situation.
Locates the nearest heretic.
All stats +30% in combat against heretics.
Made me chuckle how proud I was of my status window back when I first crash-landed in this world. This shit was straight-up broken OP. Even with our faint sense-link, I felt the prickling zap. Far off in the distance, something tugging us in.
[Knew it—this dungeon's got human fingerprints all over.]
That slime-ogre freakshow couldn't be natural, and the soul trapped without juice? Already suspected. Hero's blessing nailed it down clearer.
This place reeked of evil hands. Soul-manipulators that nasty? Demon contractors or Dark Cult.
[Gotta be Dark Cult.]
“Huh? What’s that mean?”
Leader caught my mutter—nice reflexes.
As I kept going, his already pale mug went ghost-white.
[No point denying it. Dark Cult built this dump.]
“Guhk!”
“Jack!”
My lips uttered the cursed name, and the leader recoiled in shock, tumbling—wait, no. The mage propping him up ate dirt instead. Leader just got tangled, stayed pale but chill. Mage? Foaming at the mouth in panic.
“Dark Cult?! That's Gold-rank territory at minimum...!”
[Don't shoot the messenger.]
His freakout was so pathetic, if I had hands, I'd be choking him out.
[Hero's right fucking here—what's to fear?]
But the mage started shuddering like a leaf, forcing another halt barely after we'd started.
The ranger sidled up with a sweet smile, making excuses at me.
“Sorry. Emily got snatched by Dark Cult as a kid—super touchy about this stuff.”
[Don't care.]
Face outta my sight.
Ranger slunk off sulkily. Meanwhile, leader soothed the mage.
“Easy, it's fine. Hero's right here with us?”
“N-no! Sacrificed again, blood drained...”
“No worries. I'll protect you.”
Couple dropping salt-rub flirts mid-crisis, ranger casually doxxing dark backstories—real personality shine there.
Maybe the name-drop or the noise did it, but the holy sword dangling limp at Hero's waist flickered back to life.
[Tantrum over?]
[......Shut up.]
Even a millennia-old relic pulls teen girl moods sometimes.
I snickered; it clammed up in gloom. Better than the near-month vow of silence back in the Vatican Secret Vault when I teased it—this was under an hour. Green light.
[No, listen. Not the time for petty bullshit.]
[Hmph, what sophistry now?]
[Dark Cult, bitch!]
[The world's mold—ungrateful for divine light, craving more, daring!]
Fuming but keeping classy diction for the peanut gallery. Kinda sad. "Mold" ain't exactly poetic.
[Hero, hold up? Lemme pinpoint those evil spawns...]
[Already got the position.]
Enthusiasm's cute, but how scatterbrained to miss your own owner's blessing?
I tsked; it yelped.
[Eh?]
“......Pathetic as ever.”
Hero's long-overdue roast sent it spiraling speechless.
FYI, holy sword's detection sucks compared to Hero—or me.
“B-but, Demon Sword sir, you good?”
[With what.]
“Aren't you Dark Cult friendly? Tons of your old owners were in it.”
The invisible warrior piped up. Zero presence and zero tact.
Past owners? Hero's boring laser holes through me now! Ex talk's a relationship landmine!
[No no no! Big misunderstanding. Me and Dark Cult? Zero connection!]
“So that means... lie? No owners?”
[Not quite. Owner affiliation's irrelevant... Hell, some old wielders were paladins?]
Shit, past-owner talk is taboo! Grip vise-tight despite the seal blocking external force.
[Haha, ancient history! Right? You're my only owner now.]
“Even recently. Held, by others.”
Body yes, heart no? Worse excuse—redirect rage at the adventurers.
[No, hear me out. Really only Hero now. Can prove it!]
My wrath-arrow, of course. Their jump-scares were adorable... Nah. As a grizzled vet sparing nooblets, I'd held back this far!
We were closing on presumed Dark Cult dungeon-maker. But why trek when you can lure?
I even knew Dark Cult's bat-signal.
“How?”
[Ahem.]
No flesh, but I cleared my throat, braced my core. Dark Cult ditched the three gods for a minor-league evil god—total outcasts. Their fanaticism? Next-level.
But if some rando shat on it?
No way these zealots sit idle.
[Your god's such a dumbfuck, even the dogshits I raise backstab him?]
Full-throttle psychic beam lanced through the void-dark. Residual vibes alone burst the adventurers' eardrums.
A titan's roar boomed off walls, echoing to the deepest pits.
Summon Dark Cult and prove loyalty to Hero? Trash-talk past owners? Nah—their god.
“O-ou-ou-r st-o-o-ne i-i-s n-o-o-t—!”
Oof, hit paydirt.