Wasn’t This a Night Game

Just In Case (Revised)

Evil God Worshipper.

The beings who cause all sorts of turmoil, conflict, war, and massacre in the human world.

Beings who grow stronger by offering human blood to their evil god.

Public enemies of the Empire, top priority for elimination alongside black mages and demon cultists.

I knew they were specialized in endlessly instigating conflict and collapsing society by disguising themselves as people with specific identities, due to the nature of the god they served.

I heard that it was really difficult to identify evil god worshippers among the skilled ones because they couldn’t be distinguished by divine magic or miracles, and that’s why there are so many evil god worshippers secretly active in society even now…

That’s what I knew.

But for the priest of the Sun Order who came to interrogate me to *be* an evil god worshipper?

What kind of coincidence is this?

I thought it was lucky to have avoided a dangling-from-the-gallows situation, but only for a moment.

“A Saint! There’s no doubt, a Saint!”

“Saint! Heal us!”

“My daughter is sick! Please heal my daughter!”

Listening to the unprecedented, explosive cheers of the poor, I couldn’t help but think I’d made a mistake.

It feels like even if I said now, “I’m not a Saint. I’m just a pathetic, fucked-up b*stard thrashing around trying to stop the end of the world with skills from an er*tic game,” nobody would listen.

Still, I feigned composure.

Because until I heal the witch, I have to keep doing this bullshit I don’t want to do.

“Need to rest a bit. Fix me up with something to eat and a place to lie down.”

Anyway, just too damn tired.

Fixing people up for two days straight, tastes like death, for real.

The tension of the Sun Order folks showing up, then that tension all just popping at once, guess that’s why.

Felt like I’d die of exhaustion, and after saying so, before five minutes even passed, a bed to lie on and a meal pretty decent by slum standards was laid out before me.

I ate the spread, flopped onto the plushy-ish bed they’d scrounged up, and the moment my head hit the pillow, lights out.

And when I opened my eyes again.

I just wanted to sleep forever, seeing the Sun Order clergy lined up before me, dozens of Holy Knights, and police forces armed with pistols and clubs.

“Are you the Saint of Lady Lilia?”

A clergyman who looked fairly old stared down at me, asking the question quiet-like.

I slowly sat up.

What’d they come for, I wonder?

Gonna expose that we had a heretic in our Sun Order and snatch our potential clients from our turf?

This son of a b*tch, here to ruin our business.

Guess it’s the you’re-a-heretic-so-die-chop-chop ending?

Gonna piss myself.

Legs are going to buckle, piss myself for sure.

Waking up to this kind of shit, what the hell am I supposed to do, for real?

“I’m not affiliated with any particular Order. I’m just someone who cares for the downtrodden. One day, I just got a strong command from someone to do this kind of work.”

I trotted out the prepared defensive speech, again.

Meanwhile, I was shaking inside.

I swear, I’ll just play the saint until after I heal the witch, then I’ll disappear quietly. I won’t do business in your territory, so please, just let me live…

“Thank you, Holy One.”

Suddenly, the old priest before me bows deeply. Not just a bow, but he takes my hand and quietly kisses the back of it.

…What in the world is happening?

“Thanks to you, we were able to find the worshipper of the evil god. And through this, we were given the opportunity to look back on the mistakes our Solar Order has made.”

The old priest looks up at the sky.

In the clear sky, the radiant sun shone on the earth.

Even on the slums, the same.

“There is no eternal shadow, and no eternal light. We have forgotten for too long that the sun shines equally on everyone.”

Right when I was thinking I should just keep my mouth shut and stay quiet as hell,

the old priest who kissed my hand turns around.

“We interrogated the demon worshipper who infiltrated our Order yesterday!! He confessed that he intended to turn the Solar Order into a gathering of greedy people!! An Order for the wealthy! An Order that rejects the poor!”

The priest bows again to the slum dwellers.

Other paladins and priests followed suit.

“Forgive our foolishness. And forgive our mistake of not recognizing the Holy One and pressing you. The evil god worshipper said! That the moment the Holy One reached out to him, he felt his heart stop!”

Yeah.

Well, that’s because I messed up and stopped time on his heart instead of his leg.

“That strike of injustice broke the evil god worshipper’s disguise, and thanks to that, the wicked magic that was hiding him was undone! He feared the Holy One and was executed yesterday! It is an undeniable miracle! How could we doubt one who shows such a miracle!”

The old priest approaches the heavily armed police and paladins.

“I, Alois, High Priest of the Sun Order, swear upon my name that the Saint lying in this bed is truly noble and virtuous. Therefore, protect him. A bare minimum of order must be maintained, it seems.”

“As you wish, High Priest.”

An old priest.

No.

High Priest Alois turns his gaze towards me.

“The police and our Order’s Holy Knights will escort the Saint. We have contacted the Grace Order, so their priests and Holy Knights will be arriving. Until they reach the Saint, I will guard you temporarily. May the sun always shine upon you. And may Lilia of Grace look down upon you.”

The High Priest bows respectfully and steps back.

I can’t say a word, I can only watch the scene unfold.

Is it because things are going too well?

No.

It’s because he said he contacted the Lilia Order.

I’m not a Lilia follower, dammit.

I’ve never even spoken the word Lilia, so how did this happen?!

I was just planning on vaguely pretending to be a Saint, so why have I suddenly become a Saint affiliated with a specific Order?!

Won’t those people immediately realize that I’m not a follower of Lilia?

They’ll see right through me as some b*stard with no divine power, no faith, and no stigmata!!

And wouldn’t they denounce me as a heretic for impersonating a Saint sent by their god?

Wouldn’t it be ridiculously hot when I’m burned at the stake?!??!?

No, shit, this is real.

I’m screwed.

Truly, utterly, royally fucked.

Where’s the witch?! Gotta heal you and bolt, quick!

“Form a line, in order!”

“Don’t push! Someone’s gonna fall and make things even worse!!”

“The Saint needs time to eat, drink, and rest!! No healing during the break!!”

“Children and the critically wounded get priority! Those who can handle it, lightly wounded, wait a bit!!”

The cops and paladins of the Sun Order were imposing order.

No more people getting trampled, tripping over each other.

I just wanted to weep watching these paupers lining up for my healing, all orderly.

The Grace Order, worshipers of the Goddess Lilia, why the hell did they call them?! Why!!

Can’t even run until the witch gets here, and if I just stand here, I’m gonna get branded a heretic by those Grace Order zealots and burned at the stake.

But ditch the healing and everything and run, and it’s world-ending doom time.

Ah, goddamn it, really.

Goddamn…….

“One at a time. Keep the order and come to me.”

I smiled.

Not ’cause I was happy, of course.

Witch!!

Hurry up and get here, heard the rumors!!

I’m about to die over here!!

Hurry it up, damn it!!

Inside, a scream clawed, but his hands kept working, mending people while time stretched out, an endless stream.

*

Those who tread the path of the arcane knew a name they couldn’t escape.

The Tower of the Sage.

More commonly, just the Magic Tower.

Their symbol, an inverted triangle, was one of the most recognizable sigils in the Empire.

A gathering of human weapons capable of obliterating entire cities single-handedly, yet also a crucible of knowledge and technology that propelled the Empire’s advancement through countless arcane innovations.

With the annual academic conference just around the corner, the top of the Mars Magic Tower buzzed with wizards and witches, deep in discussion.

“We must, without a doubt, submit the Shadow Research as our Mars branch’s flagship paper.”

“I concur. A paper of exceptional quality. It certainly possesses the merit to be our representative submission.”

All were united, singing praises of one person’s work.

And at the center, sat a witch named Tydel.

She seemed pleased by the acclaim directed her way, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

The wizards and witches then turned their gaze towards the Tower Master, sitting silently on one side of the round table.

“What are your thoughts, Tower Master?”

At the wizard’s words, Tower Master Jorgen gently stroked his long, snow-white beard, its sheen catching the light, and looked at Tydel with mischievous eyes.

“I, too, agree to the selection of Shadow Research as our Mars branch’s flagship paper. I have no objection. It was, after all, the most outstanding of all the recent publications.”

Tydel smiled at this.

“Thank you, Tower Master. It is an honor.”

“Nay, the glory’s mine. To work alongside such a remarkable witch as yourself, you see.”

Jorgen chuckled, rising from his seat.

“Good thing we have a genius among us, else the meeting would drag on! Let’s be off and get some rest.”

Wizards began to rise, one by one, from the round table.

Tythel, a faint smile playing on her lips, also stood.

People swarmed around her.

“Congratulations, Tythel. Truly impressive.”

“Knew the Shadow Studies would be chosen. Again, congratulations.”

“The next Magetower Lord is all but decided, wouldn’t you say! Haha!”

Tythel beamed, a genuine smile.

“All of your theses were excellent as well.”

“Still a long way to go. How on earth did you write such a paper… I envy you. Hahaha!”

“I trust you’ll continue to be an inspiration for witches and wizards alike! Hahaha!”

After exchanging platitudes and modest remarks, Tythel left the Magetower with a joyous expression, returning to her home.

She hadn’t properly rested for days, selecting the Magetower’s representative thesis.

Now, she intended to get some rest at home.

Entering her house with a light step, she closed the door behind her and proceeded to her bedroom.

Without hesitation, she opened a secret passage built into one side of the bedroom, bypassing what felt like countless locks and magical safeguards – as if even a prison cell wouldn’t have so many – with codes and incantations, before finally opening the door and stepping inside.

There, a witch slumped despondently on the floor, met Tythel’s eyes.

The witch possessed four arms and, clustered grotesquely on the left side of her face, more than ten eyeballs.

She was a sight that disgusted and repulsed, no matter how many times you saw it.

But Tyudel looked down at her with a face that held familiarity.

“Failed again? Erpa?”

“Yeah. I just can’t seem to hold it. I feel like I’m so close to success, though. How did it go, anyway?”

“Chosen as the representative paper. Isn’t it obvious?”

Tyudel chuckled, ho ho.

Then, he gazed at Erpa with a subtle glint in his eyes.

“No complaints, right? Erpa? That was our agreement, wasn’t it?”

Erpa, with a body and face both hideous and repugnant.

Tyudel hid her appearance and allowed her access to all sorts of magical equipment and tomes, and in return, Erpa used her genius talent to ghostwrite Tyudel’s papers.

A clandestine bargain known only to the two of them.

Erpa nodded silently.

“Yeah. No complaints. Just make sure my identity stays hidden. I only want to heal my face, that’s all.”

Tyudel grinned, nodding his head.

“Absolutely. Absolutely do not leave this room. You know what misunderstandings people would have if they saw you, right?”

“I don’t have any intention of leaving until I heal my face and body anyway. Don’t worry, Tyudel.”

“Good girl.”

Tyudel smiled at Erpa, then walked out of Erpa’s laboratory.

And once again, he locked the door with double and triple locking devices.

Then, Tyudel began to relax, taking his ease.

He brewed the coffee, eyes landing on a headline splashed across the morning paper delivered just now, as he unfolded it.

[Saint of Healing Appears?]

[Could a New Saint Have Arisen in the Empire After 300 Years?]

Intrigued, Tüdel read the article, then carefully incinerated the paper with magic.

“Just in case. “You never know.”

Erpa was, after all, his own loyal hound, and had to keep working for him.

No use reading something like this and impulsively running out into the world, only to get caught. The loss would be too great.

Tüdel picked up a book instead of the newspaper.

Humming, he sprawled on the sofa and began to read.