Chapter 137
Chapter 137
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: Beggar Gritz (12) - The Direction of Faith
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Grace was immensely satisfied with the current situation.
Though it differed from the disguise date she had originally envisioned in many ways, this was plenty entertaining in its own right.
Who in the world had ever ridden a super orc barrel and enjoyed a madcap race like this?
Thus, she could declare without a shred of regret.
"Thank you. This is more than enough."
"It ain't over yet—what do you mean 'enough'?"
"?"
The problem was that even if Grace was content, Gritz wasn't.
An amusement ride in full swing doesn't stop just because the passenger shouts that they've had enough and want to get off.
Once Gritz confirmed Grace had finished her snacking, he immediately set off toward the next destination.
"W-wait a second! Where are we going?"
"Quit yappin' and just enjoy the ride!"
The orc barrel lurched into motion.
Bouncing, rolling, grotesque yet utterly free.
From rooftop to rooftop, alley to alley, vaulting over walls and scaling sheer cliffs.
Grace stared in dazed awe at the ever-shifting scenery around her until she jolted in alarm upon realizing Gritz was taking them beyond the city and up into the mountains.
And not just any mountains, either.
This was part of the colossal range that divided the land from the outside world.
The barrel began ascending a near-vertical slope that even the hardiest mountain folk rarely dared tread—as if physics itself meant nothing.
Her seat tilted to an angle just shy of ninety degrees from horizontal, her entire body jolting and shaking violently. Even someone as stouthearted as Grace couldn't help but feel terrified.
"I-is this really okay?!"
"And if it ain't, what're you gonna do about it?"
"?"
Ignoring Grace's profusion of mental question marks that day, the orc barrel pressed on with its climb.
Higher, higher, ever higher.
The lush green filling her vision grew sparse, eventually giving way to gray rock and yellow sand.
With a sudden clunk, the barrel came to a halt.
Gritz's voice snapped Grace out of her stupor.
"Get out."
A gruff tone devoid of courtesy, yet laced with a subtle undercurrent of mischief.
Feeling a confusing swirl of anger or relief—or perhaps both—Grace followed his lead and clambered out of the orc barrel.
"Wow."
Her eyes sparkled at the vista unfolding before her.
Tender ears of grain awaiting the harvest season, scattered wildflowers in bloom. A long river glittering silver under the sunlight.
Neatly clustered buildings, with tiny specks—undoubtedly people—moving between them.
Bellaria.
Her hometown, the land where she had lived her entire life, now framed perfectly in her view like a masterful painting.
"Whoa, so that's what it looks like from up here."
Grace nodded repeatedly in admiration.
Truly, it was the perfect capstone to any tour itinerary.
"That all?"
"Yep. A sight I'll never forget in my lifetime!"
"Then on to the next one."
"Next?"
Grace tilted her head.
She felt like they'd already seen everything worth seeing, so she had no idea where else he could possibly mean.
But instead of answering, Gritz rolled his orc barrel ahead and took the lead. This time, Grace followed on foot.
Riding would have been far more comfortable, but she didn't ask. She figured there must be a good reason he hadn't offered.
And she was right.
The high peak.
The view from the far opposite end was overwhelming in an entirely different way from what she'd just seen.
"……."
This time, Grace didn't exclaim in wonder.
She simply stared blankly at the scene before her.
It was vast.
And utterly unfamiliar.
It had to be.
Bellaria was the land where she had been born and raised.
Whether walking its streets or gazing down from on high, it was fundamentally familiar territory.
But the expanse now stretching before her eyes was a realm she'd only ever heard about—never once experienced firsthand.
"The outside…."
A castle so grand it made the Canillian estate look laughable.
A tower stretching toward the clouds near the distant horizon.
Vast roads and carriages. Endless plains. Forests shrouded in eerie mist.
Places she'd heard of only in tales—or not even that.
"Ah."
Grace suddenly wanted to smack her past self.
A scolding for the fool who had so hastily declared the previous view "unforgettable for life."
Now, she couldn't find the words to capture this feeling.
"This is just a fraction. What's out of sight here is far vaster still. Told you a hundred times—this continent's goddamn huge."
Gritz's voice reached the ears of Grace, who stood frozen in place.
"If the plan goes smooth, back in your homeland, the object of faith won't be the guardian god—it'll be you. Might feel like shackles sometimes. When it does, picture this view."
Guardian god or whatever—at the end of the day, just a back-alley boss lording over an isolated patch of dirt.
Before this boundless vista, the weight of being called a "god" wasn't so heavy, nor so special.
So there was no need to feel burdened.
Treat it like a bauble you can toss aside whenever you please.
At his words—casual yet considerate—Grace forced a smile.
After all, tears welling up at a joyful moment would just kill the mood.
"…Yes, I'll never forget. This view, or your words."
She hoped the slight tremble in her voice could pass for charm.
Throughout the festival, the hearts of Bellaria's residents felt subtly off-kilter.
Not bad by any means.
In an era short on entertainment, a festival where you could eat and drink your fill was nothing short of delightful.
Especially one backed by the ruling family throwing open their storehouses in grand support.
Yet even as they laughed and mingled with others, a faint unease—or perhaps doubt—lingered in the corner of everyone's minds.
'Is the guardian god really changing?'
'Do we truly not need to select a new shaman to offer up anymore?'
'It'd be great if it works out, but what if we just end up disappointed?'
The people had responded enthusiastically to Grace's actions, but much of that enthusiasm was calculated.
Less a deep-seated belief in the rumors, more a pragmatic choice: it eased their guilt, and if true, brought benefits.
This was unavoidable.
Until recently, she'd been just another girl from the city. Hearing her suddenly declared a god wasn't easy to swallow from the heart.
Thus, on the festival's final day.
Away from the raucous city center, the eyes of those gathered in the wheat fields held subtle disbelief—or suspicion.
Grace sensed those gazes but strode confidently into the field regardless.
Thousands—perhaps tens of thousands—watched with gleaming eyes, but she paid them no mind.
It was just a small rural event, after all. No need for tension, burden, or exaggeration.
Rustle.
A tender ear of grain caught between Grace's fingertips.
One that still needed more time and labor before harvest.
Holding it, Grace closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer.
Not directed at any god.
Ordinary priests or shamans prayed to their deity for divine power in exchange. But Grace sought to usurp the god's position itself.
Her prayer shaped only her own heart, molding it into a precise form.
May these grains grow fuller.
May the people eat their fill and sleep contentedly.
The properly formed wish began spreading around her body as divine power.
Yet its effect wasn't overwhelmingly potent.
The grains did swell fuller and larger—but only this single ear among countless.
An impressive miracle, to be sure. But lacking the impact to instantly move the gathered throng.
In one corner of the wheat field.
Until the faint mana emanating from the unassuming orc barrel enveloped the entire field in a gentle embrace.
This mana held no special abilities or unique traits.
Its only function was to shimmer iridescently in hues between gray and silver, mirroring Grace's image.
Useless for attack, defense, or healing—a wasteful mana technique that would make experts click their tongues.
But for the purpose of putting on a show this very moment, it was perfect.
"Oh?"
"Ooh!"
Exclamations rippled through the crowd.
Thanks to Gritz's clever mana manipulation, it appeared to all as if a silver aura blooming from Grace's body had enveloped the vast wheat field.
Perfectly divine visuals, brimming with the anticipation of something extraordinary.
And that anticipation from the crowd coalesced into wishes flowing toward Grace.
Illusion became reality.
Or rather, the false turned true.
The gathered wishes rapidly swelled the grains around Grace, and the people's awe at the sight drew even more wishes.
This was, in every sense, impossible.
Ordinary humans lack the ability to convert wishes directly into power.
That gift belongs solely to those born divine in the distant heavens.
One who reaches transcendence might bypass divine intermediaries to gather divine power directly—but cases of transcendents ascending via divine power were exceedingly rare.
It was only natural, in a way.
Divine power itself is a force humans cannot wield without a "god" acting as intermediary.
In other words, if a god deems the situation unfavorable, they can sever the supply at will.
Gods bestow divine power on followers to grow their faith—but if a follower grows threateningly strong, they restrict it or bind them with unfair contracts.
After all, a non-divine becoming a "god" only creates more rivals.
Grace was no transcendent, and claiming the title of guardian god's successor while hijacking its intermediary role was absurd on its face.
What god would permit their own replacement to become known?
Exactly.
Unless it was a god so deranged by its own whims, swayed helplessly by the very wishes it couldn't control.
Far from the wheat field.
In a temple untouched by human feet, a silent scream echoed—detected only by Gritz and Grace among all of Bellaria's inhabitants.
Sensing faith slipping away from itself, the guardian god tried in fury to cut off power to Grace.
But the task proved far from easy.
The people were already entranced by the "miracle" Grace had wrought before their eyes.
The more Bellaria's residents perceived Grace as their guardian god, the harder it became for the true guardian to resist those wishes.
It could weakly twist the stubborn faucet to a trickle—but fully sealing it off was impossible.
Thus, the guardian god's remaining options boiled down to two.
Quietly surrender its faith and fade into a forgotten relic—or slay Grace before the transfer completed.
Gritz's eyes settled into calm resolve.
Late tonight at the latest. Everything would come to a head.