Apostle of the Evil God (5)

Favorability had passed 70.

I read the message once, blinked, read it again, rubbed my face, and read it a third time.

But no matter how many times I looked, the words stayed exactly the same.

Seriously?! Joy's favorability actually broke 70?!

Maybe because I'd never expected it in a million years, this felt like the single greatest reward I could possibly receive. My favorite character actually likes me!

What in the world could possibly be bigger than this?

Sure, her liking me was probably less "friend" and more "grateful worship of my boundless virtue," but who cares!

Friendship isn't something you just decide to have — it happens naturally when you spend time together!

This one message alone made me feel like I'd been paid in full for nearly dying a few minutes ago. If it means winning Joy's heart, a few holes in my body are nothing! Nothing at all!

Now armed with the certainty that I could laugh off whatever came next, I smiled and checked the next message.

Oh. So that's why my body was in one piece.

Incompetent Chief God. So you do at least handle basic maintenance on your toys?

But hey, if you're going to do that, why not just keep me from breaking in the first place?

Why deliberately build something that's designed to shatter?

Are you honestly such a sadist that you get off on watching me fall apart?

If that's true, you are genuinely, magnificently vile. A sadistic lolicon Chief God.

But I'm in a good mood today, so I'll choose to believe otherwise.

There's no way the Chief God of the entire world is some pervert clapping like a seal while a girl bleeds out... right?

With that comforting thought, I moved on to the next message. This one was also from the Incompetent Chief God.

...Hold on.

Stop!

STOOOOP!

Why are you strengthening that skill?!

Hey!

No — wait. Lady Armadi!

Why would you even consider doing such a thing?!

I gritted my teeth and drove back your enemy for you, didn't I?!

You called it an unachievable feat! Then give me a proper reward instead of screwing me over!

I was so terrified of reading what came below that I couldn't bring myself to lower my gaze — but what choice did I have?

The result was already decided.

Still, I had called Carl "noob" instead of "useless dog" this time, so maybe the penalty had weakened. Yes. Think positive.

Every single time I've thought positively so far, I've been betrayed — but this time could be different.

Please. Please. I'm begging you, Lady Armadi.

Do not gift your toy with any further hardships.

The moment I prayed those words and lowered my eyes—

I slammed my forehead into the blanket.

Aaaaaaah.

Thank you so very, very much, Lady Armadi.

This faithless believer has insulted and threatened you at every turn, and yet you still pour mercy upon such a wretched creature.

I doubted your will all this time — but no longer. So this is why you showered me with hardships! You were guiding me toward this very moment!

Ah, Armadi.

I will attend church and pray, faithfully, on every single holy day.

I'll make donations, too.

I'll drag every girl around me straight into the church as well!

Carl? Frey? Vishy?

Just say the word!

I'll turn them into your faithful believers on the spot!

ARMADI!

Grinning ear to ear as I dismissed that message, I moved on to the final one.

Now then, what could this one be?

Based on all my experience so far, it should be about time for the gratuitous backstab. My mood always rockets to the heavens only to come crashing straight down — that's the pattern, isn't it?

But not this time. It can't happen now.

My mood ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had already soared past the sky, punched through the atmosphere, and climbed into orbit. What force on this earth could drag a woman in zero gravity back down to the ground?!

I'd braced myself for another dirty trick as I read, so when I found nothing but a perfectly straightforward prompt, I tilted my head.

What is this?

Isn't this a little too... normal?

Incompetent Chief God. Weren't you begging for abuse a second ago?

Isn't the corner of your mouth twitching right now as you wait for me to start cursing?

Then why the sudden restraint this time?

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. Genuinely, deeply grateful.

But when someone who's never been kind suddenly starts being nice, it makes you nervous, doesn't it?

Because you have no idea what's waiting for you on the other side of it.

I couldn't tell if this was the calm before the storm or a red carpet laid out toward my happiness.

I never thought I'd say this, but honestly? I'd have preferred the backstab.

At least then I could curse Armadi with a clear conscience and worry about nothing more than how to twist my body out of trouble.

Instead, now I have to live in dread of whatever ambush is coming for me.

Damn it all.

What is it? What could it be?

Something tied to the main story? I've already got that on my radar, so it doesn't matter. Even if things get worse than I planned for, I can figure out a response.

Then is it related to my relationships? I already have a quest to push two people past favorability 70 — what more could they possibly ask for? Even if another person gets added, I can just pivot toward Arthur or Phoebe. No problem there.

The truly impossible one would be reputation, wouldn't it?

But no. That's a hard no.

If they demand a good reputation inside the Academy, I'm just going to quit on the spot. Any other kind of reputation, I could probably improvise my way through, but...

The more I worried, the more worries kept spawning, each one chained to the tail of the last. If I'd been raising a character behind a monitor, I could've solved all of this — but that wasn't my life anymore.

Right. Enough pointless worrying. Let's just do what needs doing, right now.

Even if I get ambushed later, I can figure out a solution when it happens. Time spent fretting is better spent preparing so I can handle whatever comes.

Yes. First things first — grinding levels and skill proficiency.

Phoebe gazed at the mace resting before her, with the eyes that people so often told her shone like moonlight.

According to what Johann, who had served in the Alrn territory, had reported, this mace had once belonged to Holy Knight Ruel — one of the heroes who saved the world in ages long past.

Ruel's Mace.

The relic that had vanished from the world the very moment Holy Knight Ruel himself faded from it. For two hundred years, countless people had searched for it without ever glimpsing so much as its shadow. It was the sacred treasure over which many a fraud had loudly proclaimed "This is Ruel's Mace!" — and paid for the boast with their heads.

Johann's report said that Lady Alrn had received a divine revelation and uncovered it.

Until today, Phoebe hadn't given the matter much thought. However grand the history it carried, an object was still just an object. If the Lord had guided someone to this relic, it simply meant that person had some purpose to fulfill through it. There was no reason to envy another simply because a holy treasure had come into their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands.

That was what Phoebe once believed.

But lately, small confusions had begun to take root in her heart. Emotions she had never once felt in her life kept shaking her chest.

Why does the Lord speak only to Lady Alrn?

Why bestow His attention upon her? His care?

Why, after gifting such a treasure to a girl who denied His very existence until only recently, does He keep dividing His light with her still?

Why?

Why?

Midway through the thought, Phoebe's eyes flew wide open. She shook her head hard and pressed her palms together before her chest — to repent the darkness that had seeped into her mind.

Phoebe had joined the Church of the Chief God as a child, following a prophecy, long before she was old enough to even understand the word "worldly."

There had been no complications in the process. She had no family, no connections, nothing at all. The price the Church paid to take Phoebe in was a single silver coin, handed to the orphanage.

From then on, she was raised within the Church as a saintess. Others might have found such a life unbearable, but to Phoebe, it never was.

The education a saintess was required to receive. The many things she had to endure. The endless duties she had to perform. None of it felt like a burden to her.

And so she had concluded: this must be why the Lord chose me as His saintess.

Her only real worry was that she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone had never heard the voice of God.

Armadi did not keep an apostle — but neither was she a god who remained utterly silent. One only had to look at the Church's high clergy, most of whom had walked this path after receiving her revelations, to know that much.

Yet Phoebe had never, not even once, heard God's voice.

Not while being called a saintess. Not while being told she was beloved of God. Not while spreading His love across the world.

Not even once.

And still, until now, Phoebe had never grown impatient. She had simply believed that the Lord had a plan for everything, and that when the time was right, He would speak to her.

But lately, doubt had begun to creep in, little by little.

Could it be... that the Lord no longer loves me?

That He is too busy showering someone else with His love to spare even a thought for me?

And whenever that doubt swelled up, one face always surfaced in Phoebe's mind.

The mace that girl carried. The necklace filled with divine blessing. That smug, infuriating grin. The mocking lilt of a voice looking down on her, needling her —

"Phoebe. What is wrong with you? You can't repent like this."

Scolding herself, Phoebe drew in a deep, steadying breath.

Lady Armadi. Please, grant me a revelation.

Show the trembling lamb the way. Give me the strength to cast off this confusion.

She prayed, and prayed, and prayed again — until the sound of the door opening reached her ears.

The person who stepped through the door of the church was—

"Hello there, useless Saintess."

The very face Phoebe had been so fervently trying to banish from her thoughts.

Phoebe forced the corners of her mouth upward.

"Lady Alrn."

Ever since the incident in the back alley — the encounter with that thug — Joy had made up her mind about one thing.

I can't stay frozen here. If I keep burying myself in the past and trembling like this, I'll spend my whole life indebted to Lady Alrn and nothing more.

That couldn't be allowed to happen.

Lady Alrn never hesitated to hurl herself into hardship. To repay her, Joy had to break free of the past — she had to become someone who could stand at that girl's side the next time she faced it.

"Lady Alrn."

And so Joy had come looking for Lucy.

Yes — it was shameless of her to ask for yet another favor.

But through that favor, she would repay everything.

"What is it, Scatterbrained Lady?"

"Please help me get stronger!"