[No title provided]
A cloudless blue sky, a refreshing breeze blowing in. How long has it been since I last went out? For Franz, who'd been cooped up in the Magic Tower practically imprisoned by work, everything felt downright pleasant.
By now, Arian must've found the letter on his desk and be stacking up her rage meter, but that could wait. Saving the world took priority over Magic Tower busywork, after all.
Strolling leisurely through the streets like that, Franz arrived at St. Serpian Cathedral right on time for the request.
The empire guaranteed religious freedom, so countless faiths dotted the land, but the Goddess Church held the most followers by far. St. Serpian Cathedral was its grand headquarters—a sight so magnificent and imposing it never failed to impress, no matter how many times you saw it. Hell, it was visible even from the distant Magic Tower.
Come to think of it, the last time he'd been here was ten years ago. Back when he was just a lowly tower mage, he'd been dispatched for outer wall cleaning duty. For a goddess, she sure can't handle cleaning her own cathedral. Kinda incompetent, huh? Not that he had room to talk, having been saved by divine grace himself.
Musing like that as he gazed at the cathedral, Franz soon stepped inside. He wasn't here to sightsee today, after all.
"Oh, are you the mage dispatched from the Magic Tower... huh?"
A priest who'd spotted him started to greet him naturally, then went wide-eyed. The cloak draped over his shoulders, the small pouch at his waist—he screamed "mage." But that face was familiar.
As a member of the hero party who'd contributed massively to world peace, no one—not even a religious zealot—could fail to recognize him.
"Are you... Mage Franz? The current Magic Tower Master…?"
"Yeah, that's me. I'm here for the village relief effort."
"Ah, right! They're prepping out back by the rear entrance. Let me guide you."
The priest scratched his head sheepishly, suddenly remembering. Franz followed him to the back gate.
The rear area buzzed with activity for the relief mission. It wasn't like the saintess just showed up, bestowed grace, and called it a day. They had to repair damaged buildings and restock food supplies—plenty to prepare.
Even amid the frenzy, though, countless eyes turned to the hero who'd saved the world.
Uncomfortable...
Franz didn't care much for the attention. It restricted his movements. One slip—like sipping tea only after letting it cool—and the gossip would spread like wildfire: The world-saving hero has zero manners.
But wait, didn't St. Serpian Cathedral have its own world-saving hero? The saintess was right here. Why fixate on him?
Yet contrary to Franz's thoughts, a hero you saw daily felt different from one who rarely showed his face. He was the hero of heroes, the celebrity of celebrities.
That's when another world-saver appeared before Franz's eyes. Long golden hair cascading to her waist, pristine white habit embroidered with gold thread. The saintess, Justia.
Franz approached her immediately.
"Long time no see."
"Huh...? What are you doing here?"
Justia's eyes widened at the sight of him. Franz pulled a rolled-up document from his waist pouch—the request from St. Serpian Cathedral for a dispatched mage.
"You requested a mage from the Magic Tower, right? Here I am."
"Who ever heard of the Magic Tower Master showing up personally for a request?!"
Justia had a point. The Tower Master only stirred for world-ending crises. But that was just past masters being lazy. Nothing stopped the current one from going out if he felt like it.
Arian would've narrowed her eyes and unleashed an hour-long lecture if she'd heard. But Franz shut it down with one line.
"That's up to the Tower Master."
Dispatching mages? Tower Master's call. Going personally? Same. If you don't like it, become Tower Master yourself. Pure old-man logic.
Justia let out a disbelieving scoff, of course.
"Hah—fine. Do whatever you want, oh great Tower Master."
With that, she hurried off to her duties, figuring she'd just lose out talking to him more.
What could Franz do? As the dispatched mage, he couldn't slack off. He pitched in helping the priests.
"Ah, leave that there. I'll handle it."
Franz gestured at the air, and relief supplies floated up en masse. Hundreds of items soaring through the sky—a spectacle only a grand mage could pull off.
"Where's the food go?"
"Food's over here."
A priest pointed to a wagon. Franz flicked his wrist, and sacks stacked neatly inside.
"The rest too—tell me."
"Lumber on that wagon, blankets and clothes there, and miscellany at the far back."
Again, a casual gesture. The floating supplies sorted themselves, piling perfectly onto each wagon. The priests' eyes bulged at the grand mage's display.
One person, though, scowled amid it all: Justia, glaring at Franz while clutching a food crate.
"I told you to just set it down."
"Forget it. I'd rather do it myself than take your help."
The moment Justia ignored him and stepped forward—
All eyes turned to her. And in Franz's vision, something flashed—
Saintess Justia's emotions are rampaging!
If left unattended, it may negatively impact the ending!
Franz blankly stared at the sudden alert window.
In simple terms: Justia's mood was in the gutter, and ignoring it might butterfly-effect into world destruction.
Haa—
Franz sighed shortly and gestured at the air. The crate in Justia's hands slowly floated up.
She whipped around, glaring.
"I said I don't need your help."
"You told me to do whatever. So I did."
Franz set the floating crate down on the wagon. Justia's scowl softened a bit, and the alert filling his vision vanished.
Honestly, he'd planned to let it be. No reason to butt in if she insisted. Hard to imagine her turning villainess over something this trivial.
But with the ending being world apocalypse, he wouldn't risk even a sliver of chance. Moving one crate to avert doom? Easy.
It even yielded results. The percentage next to her name jumped from 1% to 5% in a flash. No clue what the metric was, but whatever.
Soon after, preparations wrapped up. Priests and Justia boarded wagons; Franz climbed into his assigned one per the guide.
He'd hoped for hers—could've chatted en route. Too bad.
What could you do? Hero party days aside, as a Goddess Church saintess, she couldn't ride with a man.
Justia's life sure seems rigid, Franz thought.
The sole condition in St. Serpian Cathedral's request: escort duty.
The Goddess Church had its own knight order, of course. But unlike fantasy tropes, they weren't overwhelmingly powerful—just pious knights gathered together.
Still, that deterred riffraff. Bandits and the like wouldn't dare.
Franz knew this, so he stayed relaxed. Even greedy outlaws cherished their necks.
The only wild card? Heretics loyal to the Demon God ambushing the wagons... Nah, no way.
Heretics weren't that common, and the odds of them striking now were nil.
But that "no way" became reality.
"Heretics!!!"
"Knights, battle formation!!"
"Protect the saintess!!"
Franz pressed his hand to his forehead at the commotion outside the wagon.