A(?) Commemorative Trip to the Holy Kingdom
Professor Azunu Vermilio. Why was she heading to the Holy Kingdom...?
There were various reasons, but the main one was that she was a professor.
She'd already been bummed out enough getting demoted from teaching second-year liberal arts to first-years. And then, because it was the "easiest subject," it got dumped on Wiyu. It was truly a Wiyu-for-Wiyu reason...
Having half-lost her grip on sanity, she didn't even find jokes funny anymore. Being one of the long-lived immortal races, she'd outlived so many acquaintances that some had even become gods. On the way to the Holy Kingdom, everyone unanimously voted that of course the professor with a god for a personal friend should go.
In truth, she'd been sacrificed in a game of Witchcraft hot potato.
The [Divination] professor had won rock-paper-scissors by burning through his lifespan for desperate future-sight predictions. The sight of him sliding down the hallway in front of the staff room, arching his back dramatically, and letting out a victory yell—only to be mobbed by professors hugging him and parading him around on their shoulders—felt like watching a hero's triumphant return.
Vermilio didn't think her personality was all that harsh, and her relationships with others were decent. But the moment she took on Witchcraft duties, she felt the distance to her fellow female professors widen by about 100 million light-years. Life felt so futile all over again.
If she'd known this was coming, she would've followed Second Hero Kasiro when he vanished fighting outer gods...
"The biggest problem with being long-lived... is that you live too damn long. You can't even die of old age, and it's weirdly hard to croak some other way..."
What a mess. You get hungry if you don't eat, sick if you don't take care of yourself, but your vitality is stubbornly tough enough that you won't die. Even if someone shoves a knife down your throat or rips out your heart, you can regenerate and limp on with your pathetic life if you hold out long enough.
No wonder some immortals envy short-lived humans who burn bright and fade fast. Dragons top the suicide charts because of the hollow emptiness after their polymorph playtime ends. That says it all.
Ding-didi-ding, ding-ding...
This half-assed, ambiguous existence... Being in a hero party sounded prestigious, but it just meant you got dragged to the front lines first—no other perks.
Vermilio poured her sorrow and grief into tears, silently channeling her soul into her instrument, transforming her lament for the world into beautiful melodies. This new song's bound to hit number one, she muttered inwardly... And on the day of this Holy Kingdom trip she'd inevitably been roped into, she shed tears once more.
You'd think that much crying would dry up the well, but sorrow has no bottom—her brain was digging new ones, overflowing endlessly...
"They say suffering is the mother of creation. I could probably write some Russian literature right now... sob sob..."
"Why are you suffering?"
"Life is dotted with suffering, Lady Wiyu. When you grow up, tears flow and emotions surge without any reason..."
Not that the world was full of lunatics for no reason—she offered this professorial wisdom. Then she bought bus tickets, and their journey to the Holy Kingdom began.
Heading off somewhere far with a student... It might seem like a romantic moment for a professor. Someday, with a grad student or TA, she dreamed of traveling, teaching them the ropes, maybe even doing some street performances. A simple wish.
But after all those long years as a professor, the student who'd fluttered in like a butterfly only to cling like a tick was none other than a Witchcraft. Look on the bright side, she told herself. At least this one's personality was better than her mom's. Sure, accidents might be ten times worse, but the academy wouldn't get trashed and professors wouldn't explode into guts.
Flip side: taking her on meant a double Witchcraft sandwich. If she'd known, she'd have bought a gun during the immortal suicide trend and kept it tucked in her chest like a resignation letter.
"You said one of your friends became a god, right? Hero party perks?! So why didn't you become a god, Professor?"
"'Cause I'm a dilettante... If I'd stuck to swordmastery, I might've at least become Sword God or something."
Do you know the tragedy and sorrow of the artist? Art shifts so fast, even renowned professors become outdated relics in an instant.
Tears dripping as she mastered every art form, only to play the harmonica silently because none of it helped with actual living—such was her professor.
"One of your comrades, the baker, became a constellation, right?"
"Just between us two: that one's not human. A constellation wearing human skin, I swear."
After all those long journeys together, couldn't she have been honest at the end? Vermilio grumbled, feeling betrayed by her friend.
When asked why not just get married instead of living like that, the professor rummaged endlessly in her bosom for something. Finding nothing, she formed her hand into a gun and mimed shooting her temple. A pitiful sight.
Come to think of it... Adults and friends just don't tell you. They were out there stacking unimaginable adventures and connections.
Unlike me, cooped up in the countryside, just stepping into the world with academy ties as my everything.
My mom was in a hero party, no less. She'd never shared what those adventures were like or what her comrades were like, but what was the story?
"The hero party that sealed the Great Demon God after ten years? That was already 50 years ago."
Compared to the Second Hero era, it was recent, but for long-lived types, "world crises" and "demon lords trying to end it all" popped up periodically. Short-lived folk couldn't retain the lessons, so you got "dumbass human kings starting conquest wars," Professor Vermilio explained.
The world was vast, needing heroes aplenty—and not for nothing. Beyond monsters, it teemed with real threats and lunatics. Even among heroes, some were human-supremacist nutjobs, requiring hero-hunts sometimes. I was shocked.
"At the academy, demon mages become magic tower lords, elf archers get world tree burials and return home, heroes become kings of academy nations, dwarf warriors and beastkin fighters become legends—and the former tower lord Witchcraft went missing, but turns out she was just doing childcare."
"Heard there were tons of parties!"
"Yeah, plenty. From the dragon prince of our academy's nation to the priest who became Holy Kingdom pope."
But such details were for hero academies. Pluwitch Academy trained people to lead and maintain peace, not fight—so no need for that expertise. Same reason they skipped Holy Kingdom specifics.
"The Holy Kingdom's politically insanely complex. Full of long-lived folks and apostles with divine blessings granting eternal life... All old fogeys out of touch with the times, you could say."
Though their eras' shocks were unforgettable, keeping the caution alive.
"Welcome to Dahee, the Holy Kingdom's capital and everything. Legend says the Messiah founded it."
"Weird name?"
"Ancient language, y'know? It's also got the Pantheon—but first, let's talk [Witch] stuff only."
On the way to meet her god acquaintance, the professor gripped my hand tight, lest I wander.
Senior Bukureshti had reserved it, so entry was smooth. Professor flashed a holy emblem from her bosom for instant clearance.
A bizarre city of folks in varied garb performing rites for their gods. God-like beings flew overhead; a dazzling light at the center felt like an eternal sun.
We'd learned gods could enter the Pantheon sans issue, but the overwhelming procession of pilgrims was something else.
Lost in the pristine beauty, the unified march like one will... Professor kept talking undeterred.
"In the Holy Kingdom, witch policy splits into moderates and hardliners. Moderates see witches as god-fearing, redeemable persons worthy of respect. Hardliners lead [Witch Hunts]."
Nowadays peaceful, but back with [Baba Yaga], witches hid in shadows—dangerous powers, exploitable, often evil-aligned, so hunted.
Overzealousness built resentment until Witchcraft was born, dooming hardliners. Their gods massacred, Pantheon crumbled, every hardliner bloodline eradicated to the last descendant. Professor Vermilio shuddered at the era's horrors.
Heroes rallied to fell Demon King Aris; First Hero Radamu exploded, Second vanished.
"The endless slaughter stopped only when not one hardliner remained."
Today's hardliners? Witnesses to witch terror, mostly witch victims. Witchcraft was witches' god-queen, but failed to lead—some rogue witches ran amok, birthing victims and hardliners.
"Humans have plenty of trash too. Witches just amp the risk."
She even quoted: "If a demon king and witch fall in water, save the king, ditch the witch."
That made me worry about entering the Holy Kingdom.
"Flee hardliners max. Some attack just for Witchcraft ties."
"Eh, I'm tough though?"
"Dragon-slayers exist; why not [Witch Killer]s? Inquisitors are worst."
Vermilio admitted she hadn't wanted to bring me. But if I seriously learned divine magic and enshrined a god, Holy Kingdom training was mandatory.
World-enders might watch, consequences be damned. Thus, she clung tighter.
"Oh! Grand Duke mentioned stuff, so I brought a guard!"
Naturally, Grand Duke (Change) fretted and advised on the trip. Remembering risks, I pointed: got my familiar!
Ahh... So reliable, Void Mask..!! Look at that stance, ready to smash heads like luggage carts if anyone threatens its master.
Vermilio gaped—did it chase the bus?—but stayed mum. More a nagging familiarity she scratched at, but holey memories wouldn't yield.
"Familiar or not..."
Better not say it'd draw more aggro. Had to report my 108-god contracts here too. Plus, she was technically an [Outer God] contractor.
Dangerous? Safety training essential.
As we neared the heart, sensitive clerics screamed.
"They're terrified."
"Called an outer god!!"
"Didn't call!!"
God-realm vibes drew out Outer God Sephiroth naturally beside me. Representative for contracted gods? Name tags dangled from its back—key detail.
Square's clerics panicked at the [Outer God].
"Sephiroth! Help!"
Nod.
Aaah... Muzzle and leash secured, clerics sighed in relief. Even Vermilio smiled instead of questioning.
"[Outer Gods] exist here too."
"We ain't scared of that."
They screamed 'cause a god-slayer-blooded Witchcraft witch arrived. These priests had seen your mom shatter the Pantheon and rip gods—tough crowd.
Treated like a dangerous hound by accident, I bit my tongue.
"Divine magic doesn't suit me."
"Witch thing, obviously... But learn it, Wiyu. Essential."
To suppress that mad bloodline, no matter what.
The rising holy star(?) contracting 108 gods—and an outer god—stirred the Holy Kingdom. Some hoped she was next saint.
But "Witchcraft's daughter" shocked even the Pope into dashing out.
"My word, as a comrade from hero party days amid many events... this tops them."
That inhuman woman married with a kid?! Back then, cooperative (if monstrous), words worked(?). Rare friend; occasional letters...
"A bit miffed, but understandable. Pregnancy weakens; many'd target her... Hmm, partner's identity intrigues, haha."
Kindly smiling, unaged youthful pope by divine grace patted my head. Unlike mom, well-socialized(?), thanks for growing nice.
.....
Then, a silent staring contest.
Wherever in Holy Kingdom, she'd pass for pope's daughter—spitting image. But nah, just resemblance, they laughed off. Hair and skin differ~ Similar, that's all.
Vermilio ignored the "father-daughter(?)" duo's idiotic peace, averting deeper darkness...!!