The Oracle Announces the Hero's Descent

The Pope and I weren't on great terms. To be precise, we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠weren't close enough to sit at the same table sipping coffee.

"I can't imagine what brings the man who tried to brand this place heretical and drag us to a religious tribunal all the way here."

"Hoho, even if this space was born of dark sorcery, now that it's proven harmless, there's no reason for the Church to interfere."

What nonsense. Who would believe that coming from the Pope, whose eyes gleamed with greed as he sized me up? He smiled with his face, but between those eyes lurked a sticky avarice thicker than any black mage's.

I glanced behind the Pope. Not a single attendant. He'd come alone, which meant this wasn't official business. I knew why he was here. Same reason as always.

Persistent bastard.

I still vividly remembered the religious tribunal. I hadn't done a damn thing wrong—just running my store—when holy knights and an angry mob showed up calling me a demon. Suppressing them all to avoid the trial had been exhausting. In the end, it wrapped up after I made a "donation" and they sprinkled holy water around the convenience store. All because of this money-grubbing Pope. To avoid further trouble, I'd added Church goods to the shipments I sent to the imperial family. Back then, I didn't have much power. It was smart diplomacy to dodge conflict.

He was one of the top three people whose face I never wanted to see. The other was His Imperial Majesty the Emperor. Who was the third? Can't say it out loud. Mention her, and she'd show up. And if she came here, it'd be a mess in all sorts of ways.

"Do you need money?"

"Kekeke, I see how you view our Church, brother."

Brother, my ass. I've never had a brother like you.

"God's creatures who love money, right?"

"Hoho, so direct."

"Running a convenience store in a place this uptight turns you blunt."

"We won't refuse offerings to the divine. God is merciful, after all."

The Pope spread his arms wide, smile unwavering, and continued.

"Before we talk God's mercy, how about a cigarette first? Something strong, if you have it."

That explained coming without attendants. The Church of Light preached frugality to its priests. They banned three things: anything that muddles the mind, anything that burns the body like cigarettes, and anything that melts the disciplined soul like alcohol. Abstaining from these three was their "Three Prohibitions." The Pope, pinnacle of the priesthood, was naturally expected to uphold them all. But this guy didn't give a damn about priestly rules. I never expected a Pope who frames people and extorts money to follow the law anyway.

"Marlboro Red."

"My thanks for the grace. God watches over us."

"One gold. Skip the bullshit and pay up."

"Hoho, how could God bestow grace on this convenience store?"

"I don't care about blessings from a Pope who breaks the law. Just pay."

"Hoho, greedier than I thought."

"Who isn't?"

A tense battle of wits, neither backing down. Finally, the Pope sighed and handed over the gold coin.

"Father God will be displeased."

"The god I believe in is this." I pointed at the gold and grinned.

Even as I declared my atheism right in front of him, the Pope kept smiling.

"You're already a faithful believer. Hohoho."

Shyster old coot. Knew it.

Before lighting up, the Pope clasped his hands.

He cast purification magic around himself. White light enveloped the old man—a holy sight just to behold. The problem? Using it just to smoke a cigarette.

The air cleared where the light touched. When he lit up, the purification magic wrapped the smoke and made it vanish.

A Pope ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠using purification spells to sneak cigarettes. If the faithful saw this, their piety would crumble.

This was why I hated meeting him. He'd come alone, without attendants, just to smoke in secret.

Imagine if someone witnessed it.

Stuff like that would spread. Sales would tank, and I'd have to scramble to fix it.

"Fuuu."

White smoke rose from wrinkled lips. The greed-twisted face softened, revealing the Pope's signature mercy. Withdrawal symptoms are weird. How does one cig change his expression like that? Devil to angel in under a second.

"Coffee after a meal is the best. Paradise must taste like this."

His voice lightened. Seeing the Pope in glowing white priest robes sipping coffee with a cig dangling from his lips made my head spin. Fanatics better not wander by.

"This store's smokes are the best. Once you try 'em, street stuff won't do. Hohoho."

The Pope, tasting nirvana, took another drag.

"The rules say no cigs—they burn the body. Lies. Cigs burn body, soul, and mind. Devil's tools. But smokers know—you can't resist this gesture."

Fuuu. The old Pope, reveling in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his vice, spilled secrets that'd get him dragged to the inquisitors.

"Don't take up the habit, brother. No good for the body. Nicotine sticks even purification can't fix."

"At least purify the air properly. Smell lingers, you're banned."

"Heh heh, stricter than Church rules."

"Got screwed by the Church enough."

"Still holding a grudge?"

"After what you pulled?"

"Hoho, narrow-minded. Cultivation will help you grow."

"Not interested."

Least of all from you, Mr. Pope.

He incinerated the butt with holy fire, then purified the air again with a decree.

"Truth is, I didn't come just to smoke."

"Extort more money? No more where that came from."

"Hoho, who'd dare fleece the convenience store manager?"

"Then what?"

Draining the last of his coffee, the Pope met my eyes.

"We received an oracle."

An oracle. In this empire, its power was immense. The god of the empire's state religion, the Church of Light—known as Father God—rarely conveyed his will through divine messengers. The messages were vague, taking time to interpret. Specialists existed for it. In my three years here, not one had come. This was the first in nearly a decade.

"What's it say?"

"With the demon falling from the eastern sky, light shall descend."

His voice boomed in divine tongue. Light leaked from his mouth as he spoke—definitely legit.

"Vague."

"Yes. Our expert interpreters say: the Demon King descends, and a hero to oppose it appears."

Demon King and hero.

"What does that have to do with here?"

"We're tracking the Demon King. Signal from the east. But..."

"But?"

"No clue on the hero. Unlikely to land with the Demon King, but no hints on the summon site."

"..."

Trouble. They're dumping this on me.

"You're from another world, fallen here like them. Thought you might relate."

"You want me to find the hero?"

"A heartfelt request."

"Pass."

"Manager, for the world's sake..."

"Not my problem. Store keeps me busy enough. Can't afford distractions."

"Not scared of divine wrath?"

"God's wrath won't hit, but leaving the store shorthanded long-term? Disaster."

"What do you mean?"

"Only I can restock. Gone too long, shelves empty. No more cigs for you."

"Ahem, that would be trouble."

The Pope backed off.

"If you sense anything unusual, contact the Church."

"Sure. That's doable."

"Thank you. May God's grace be with you."

He gestured a blessing. No harm taking it. I nodded.

"Oh, and a carton of what I smoked."

"Ten gold."

"Hoho, greed brings punishment."

"My own faith, y'know."

I handed over the Marlboro Reds and took the platinum coin. Give and take.

After the Pope left.

"What'd you talk about?"

Elena pressed against me, curious. She'd been at the counter with soundproofing and distortion spells—no clear view or sound.

"Said an oracle dropped."

"An oracle?"

"Hero's coming."

"Whoa... So you're off to find him, Manager?"

"Why me?"

"Eh?"

Elena blinked her big eyes at me.

"You turned down the Pope?"

"No clues, how? And I'm no people-finder expert."

Experts were elsewhere. Luna, or imperial intel.

"Bummer. Thought it'd be a thrilling adventure."

"You'd tag along?"

"Of course! I gotta be by your side! The convenience store's ace part-timer, this Elena, can't be missing!"

She thumped her chest and cleared her throat dramatically.

"Get back to work. No more chit-chat."

"Eeeek. Manager, zero sense of humor."

"Keep the Pope's visit secret."

Trouble if it spread. That old geezer. Always came at night when I was alone—why daytime with Elena here? Oracle urgency?

Things'd get noisy soon with the oracle buzz.

Heading to the capital tomorrow for work. Hope nothing happens.