Type-Moon: Does even a sneak peek make it official?

"I believe little Domitius can become the new Saint!"

Behind the old chapel was a spacious area, which was usually used for dinner in the evenings. The furniture and interior decorations here were strikingly simple, perfectly matching the dilapidated little chapel.

"R-Really? I really can?"

Perhaps Paul's statement was too shocking—the blonde girl clenched her fists nervously, looking tense.

"Mhm, absolutely. In fact, you've been ready for quite some time."

The old man nodded seriously, his voice full of warmth and kindness.

"Mmm… but this still depends on whether Teacher Novia agrees or not…"

Domitius crossed her arms stubbornly and shook her head firmly.

Watching the lively exchange between the old man and the young girl—the future Emperor Nero and the Christian missionary getting along so well—Novia couldn't help but feel a little odd.

After all, in recorded history, Christianity at this time was heavily discriminated against and suppressed in Rome. And ever since Nero falsely blamed the Christians for the Great Fire of Rome in 64 AD, the Roman Empire had begun the public persecution and slaughter of Christians. Thus, Nero became a symbol of the anti-Christ, and Paul ultimately died at her hands.

But now… all this could only be attributed to Novia's remarkable ability as a top-tier "corporate employee," single-handedly completing centuries of work ahead of schedule to create the current situation.

Even the legendary pigeon prince would have to give his seal of approval, probably.

As the two of them chatted away, the silver-haired boy could only eat his dinner quietly, becoming, like Martha beside him, an outsider to the conversation.

Martha, the saint who tamed the evil dragon Tarasque, lived in the first century AD. She had hosted the Savior alongside her siblings, personally witnessed His miracles, and was appointed as a saint by Him. Through His words, she found faith—a beautiful, radiant young saint…

But that was her in her youth. Martha was now over fifty, her face calm and gentle, lacking the liveliness and expressiveness of her younger years. Time had softened the taut muscles of her face, leaving behind traces of age.

Novia himself had been cared for by her in the past… and had been forced to learn the Iron Fist.

"Martha, is Tarasque still with you?"

Novia asked casually.

"He's still with me, but he's resting now, so he couldn't come to see you immediately."

Martha's smile as she looked at Novia carried the warmth and kindness of a beloved elder—seasoned and gentle, dependable yet approachable.

After the passing of Jesus Christ, the young Martha set off on a journey, arriving in the village of Nerluc in southern France, where she subdued the rampaging Tarasque with her famous Iron Fist and preaching.

Though it was a wicked beast, Martha could not abandon the dragon, whose mind was still that of a child, having been cast aside by its mother.

However, in this age where the Age of Gods had already ended, there was no longer a place for Phantasmal Species to dwell. A creature like Tarasque should have retreated to the Reverse Side of the World long ago… but he still couldn't make the journey himself.

Martha's solution was to extract Tarasque's soul from his body. His soul traveled with her, while his physical body was buried underground.

Novia understood that their journey together was ultimately aimed at reaching the Reverse Side of the World. But the chances were slim—the passing of the Age of Gods and the years etched into Martha's being foretold only the slow approach of the inevitable end.

"Little Novia, after dinner, I want to talk to you. Is that alright?"

Novia nodded in response, and Martha gave him her usual gentle smile.

Not long after dinner was finished and tidied up, the two of them stepped outside the chapel, standing upon its stairs. Night had fallen, the air was crisp with dew, the sky vast and beautiful. Perhaps because the air here was clean and the surroundings pitch-dark, the stars above seemed unusually bright.

"By the way, even though neither of you brought it up, Little Novia, you must've overheard Paul's words, right? Truth is, everyone feels the same way, so you can rest assured."

Martha spoke gently.

Novia naturally understood what she meant. It had to be the Jewish faction entrenched in Jerusalem. Watching the rapid growth of Christianity under his efforts throughout the Roman Empire, they had decided to approach the other Christian leaders—those besides himself—trying to force Christianity back under the control of Judaism.

But clearly, the elders who had survived the events of AD 34, the false accusations and slander against Jesus Christ in Jerusalem, harbored deep resentment.

And after all the achievements of their own people, no one wanted to see it all go to waste. That was why, when faced with provocation, they could say things like:

"There's no such thing as pure, spotless deeds. We all breathe in dust. But that doesn't stop him from doing better than the rest. No one can endure constant nitpicking."

"Little Novia, you've only been away three years, and you're still just seventeen, yet you've already accomplished so much. Though Paul, Peter, and John don't openly express approval for everything you've realized…" Martha quietly closed her eyes, "…but they do recognize your efforts. These past few years, many people, upon hearing your teachings, have come back to discuss with them, and they've quietly begun spreading your ideas too. I've been doing the same. In my eyes… even if that man were still here, he would undoubtedly approve of everything you've done, Little Novia."

Speaking as though reminiscing about the past, Martha shared her reflections over the years. Unlike Paul and the others, she hadn't limited herself to traveling within these nearby regions—she had journeyed across the entire Roman Empire. She had personally witnessed the development and reception of Christianity in recent years. Though she didn't fully understand the new doctrines, that didn't prevent her from being genuinely happy about them.

After all, even after the Savior's execution, Martha had never abandoned her faith. Despite being exiled by the local governor, she had survived, drifting all the way to southern France by God's grace—a true saint.

Novia knew exactly who that man Martha referred to was—one of the Saviors within the Type-Moon universe, the Christ Jesus who bore humanity's sins and ascended to heaven.

This man had roamed the shores of the Sea of Galilee, mingling with both saints and sinners. Even in the final week before His death, He had visited Martha's home for a meal and conversation.

"So, I've thought it over… I'm entrusting this to you."

Martha slowly opened her eyes and handed Novia a staff taller than herself.

Though outwardly shaped like a cross, Novia immediately recognized it for what it truly was—modified by Martha, likely to reflect his own use of the cross as a symbol.

Because what she had handed him… was the staff that Jesus Christ Himself had once wielded.