Kays Translations

Chapter 37: The Resolve of Fimia Lakers

Leaving Saran’s office, I walked through the chaotic streets of Mahas, heading back to the temporary Adventurer’s Guild.

About half of the new city was affected by the “Great Stampede” this time.

Some were forced out of their homes due to collapse or fire, but now things seemed to be calming down a bit.

The residents of the pioneering city were tough.

They wouldn’t break easily from a small disaster.

They quickly overcame their sadness and were determined to move forward. It was quite encouraging for me as well.

Despite being called a hero and all, I realized that I wasn’t the only courageous one. Perhaps this pioneering city of Malhas itself is the “hero” confronting the “culling” on a large scale.

“Jurg?”

“Oh, it’s rare to see you here.”

As I walked lost in thought, the “saint” who had chosen such a hero—Fimia—noticed me and walked over. Fimia, clad in a slightly thicker country dress appropriate for early spring, seemed somewhat pleased as she walked alongside me.

“What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I just came back from Saran’s place. Don’t use too much of your recovery magic on him, okay? He had a pretty nasty look on his face again?”

“When he explains his ‘to-do list’ so logically, I can’t help but use it…”

I returned a wry smile to Fimia’s self-deprecating remark.

Indeed, there were parts that couldn’t be helped when deemed necessary. I’ve been pushed around by him in those regards several times.

“Anyway, how are you, Jurg? If you’re feeling unwell, please let me know right away.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I haven’t collapsed like before.”

“But that was probably because of me.”

“Hmm?”

According to Fimia, the reason I collapsed during scarred beast incident was because it was incomplete. As the wielder of the divine “selection,” the relationship between me and Fimia was too weak, and I couldn’t bear the output.

The cause was doubt and self-awareness.

At that time, I didn’t know I was a hero, and Fimia was unsure whether she should burden me with such a thing or if I was suitable as a hero. Originally, I was supposed to draw out the black battle hammer, “War Hammer,” the sacred sword, but it didn’t happen, resulting in a kind of indigestion of power accumulating in me, blowing away my consciousness.

“I see. Well, there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“As long as Jurg is okay.”

“Then, it should be okay this time. Unlike before, I can clearly feel it now.”

The power of the “selection.”

I can still clearly feel that it’s connected to me.

It’s a power that isn’t particularly needed in daily life, but I have the confidence that I can draw it out whenever needed.

Along with that, I’m aware that my consciousness has been slightly altered.

The biggest factor is this guy in front of me.

“What’s wrong, Jurg? If you’re hungry, shall I bring something?”

“I’m not hungry. I’m just a little mentally exhausted.”

“I could help with the paperwork if you want.”

I managed to divert the conversation, but it’s tougher than I thought.

Being a saint is like optimizing me by connecting me with some high-dimensional being called a god… in other words, it’s like a handle for a weapon.

And a hero is the blade.

As she herself said, it might also be a scabbard.

In other words, the idea that “that belongs to me” has been unconsciously implanted in me.

I’ve come to understand with conviction that there’s a real bond between all the past heroes and saints.

Moreover, for me, who hasn’t held a woman in a while, this is beginning to become a serious problem.

Well, with just a word, Fimia would probably let me embrace her.

This feeling is peculiar to me. It wouldn’t be strange if the “saint” had a similar imprinting.

But still, I don’t think I should be swayed by this.

…I should probably have a brothel built in Malhas as soon as possible.

No, that’s not good.

I’d probably be scolded by Saran and reprimanded by Kati.

This guy in front of me might even make me confess.

At the very least, I need to head to the dairy city of Hilte… or better yet, I’ll have to extend my trip to the adventure city of Advante.

Although, I probably won’t be allowed to go there alone right now.

“Jurg?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, no problem.”

“But you haven’t told me anything yet. What were you thinking about?”

“Can I use the right to remain silent?”

At my response, Fimia chuckled softly.

“Your honesty is one of your good points.”

“Well, you’d see through me anyway.”

“In that case, why not tell me what’s bothering you?” 

At Fimia’s words, I let out a small sigh.

Because I can’t consult with you, that’s why I’m troubled.

Because you could solve it, that’s why.

“It’s personal. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Even if it’s personal, it’s okay. I’m a clergywoman, and above all, I belong to you.”

Feeling a somewhat bewitching tone in Fimia’s words, I involuntarily swallowed my saliva. Could it be that she… knows everything and is saying it knowingly?

“Don’t say things like that too much. You’re still my comrade.”

“…I’m worthless.”

“Huh?”

I felt like Fimia muttered something in a small voice, so I asked again. But she just shook her head slightly and smiled.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Oh, I’ll be returning there today, so let’s have dinner together.”

“Is the church alright?”

Lately, Fimia had been sleeping at the church. It was because she had been busy with things like healing the injured and caring for those who had been mentally scarred by the attacks of monsters and the partial damage to the barrier.

“Yes. And, I have some things on my mind as well.”

“Things on your mind…?”

“I’ll tell you tonight. Slowly.”

Fimia showed a somewhat imposing smile, making me feel a bit nervous. Although I hadn’t done anything wrong, there was this atmosphere reminiscent of a pre-sermon scolding.

“Well then, I’ll see you later. Be prepared.”

“Uh, okay…?”

While I was giving a vague response, Fimia walked away. Now, what should I be prepared for?

Previous chapter | TOC | Next chapter