One Moon, One Moon (2)

The news that the hero and saint’s party had returned to the small port city of Poret and were on their way to Evian arrived in Evian faster than they did themselves.

There were rumors that Baron Cartein had gone out to greet them personally, and that Bishop Phoebe had gone with him, but the most surprising news was still—

“Even so, the Celestial Deity really has no eyes for this.”

“You crazy bastard, just because you have a mouth doesn’t mean you can say whatever you want.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? That tiny little kid being a saint, it seems a bit odd no matter how you look at it.”

“Well…”

The news that Bigrind, the priestess who was famous in a different sense from Yona, had officially been ordained as a saint.

That she was truly a saint.

This news shook Evian considerably and spread far and wide.

The amazing martial prowess Rudvik had shown not only left a deep impression on the gathered adventurers and knights, but since he had claimed to be a hero from the start, it wasn’t particularly surprising.

However, although it was said that the Celestial Deity had descended and appointed Bigrind, because it was such an unrealistic event, there was a growing controversy of “why her of all people?” amidst some doubts of whether it was real or true.

“Please stop saying such strange things.”

Mary set down two mugs of beer amidst the ongoing conversations.

Mary had an indifferent expression as she set down the beers, with foam barely clinging to the rim of the mugs, looking like they might spill over at any moment.

“If you keep talking like that, you’ll be punished. The cathedral knights are already going around glaring with both eyes because the Hero and Saint are coming.”

“Hey, Mary. Honestly, don’t you think it doesn’t suit her either?”

At those words, Mary closed her mouth.

Honestly, there’s the image of a saint that was almost created by Sonia, the first saint.

An overwhelming chest size that exudes a generous character just by looking at it— that chest had been implicitly considered as a symbol of a saint.

So now, with the news that Bigrind had become a saint, everyone couldn’t help but have doubts.

A saint appearing after hundreds of years.

But that saint being completely different from everyone’s image was something they all thought, even if they didn’t say it out loud.

“Still, don’t say such things carelessly. I’m telling you, you’ll be punished.”

“Alright, alright. I got it. By the way, is the Catacombs going to be opened now?”

“I don’t know about that. We’ll have to wait until the Hero comes to know.”

Mary shook her head with an indifferent expression and headed back to the reception desk.

The last ones who died were four adventurers, weren’t they…

If it weren’t for their name tags brought back by the search parties, they would have been processed as missing persons rather than casualties.

At that news, Mary’s mind became complicated.

It had been quite a while since the knight-shaped demon with its head cut off was subjugated in the Catacombs.

After the gold-rank spearman called a hero subjugated it and then the Celestial Deity descended to directly appoint a saint on that day, the Catacombs were opened and designated as a so-called dungeon where adventurers could subjugate remaining monsters and collect loot.

The Catacombs changing again was a recent event.

Not only inside the Catacombs, but starting from there, a grayish fog began to form in the surrounding area and kept expanding.

The gray fog was so thick that you couldn’t distinguish your surroundings if you entered it.

And those who entered that fog never came out again, disappearing within it.

Even Evian couldn’t do anything about this abnormality that had appeared.

At Baron Cartein’s request, priests came out to perform consecrations, but it was only temporary, and the fog soon filled the space again.

They tried to surround the entire foggy area with consecrations, but there weren’t enough priests to encircle the already expanded fog zone, so that wasn’t a solution either. Adventurers who boldly proclaimed “When have I ever valued my life over money?” died one after another.

Eventually, even the guild strengthened its vigilance against the fog zone and began to regularly deploy search parties, but there were still those who didn’t listen and rushed in boldly, only to come out dead.

“What on earth should we do about this, Mary?”

“I know… Mr. Emerson, don’t even think about going there.”

Mary glanced sideways at the archer leaning on the reception desk and answered in a grumpy voice.

Although there was a joke going around that Evian would never run out of adventurers, it might actually become true.

“Sigh… I won’t go, I won’t. If Kaiyak were here, maybe, but all the guys with enough guts and skills to break through that are lying down now.”

Emerson answered while picking his ear with his pinky finger.

Mary stared blankly at Emerson, wondering what he meant by “lying down,” and Emerson blew away the pea-sized earwax pulled from his ear and answered indifferently.

“They’re lying down. In those graves.”

“…Ugh, that’s really disgusting.”

Emerson giggled as he watched Mary recoil in disgust.

The more Mary disliked it, the more he wanted to do it, but he had to hold back or he might get kicked out.

“So why don’t you try what that someone said, that goblin mage?”

“You mean Mr. Prickery?”

“Yeah, Prickery.”

Mary fell into thought for a moment at Emerson’s words, then shook her head.

Prickery, Alevian’s disciple, was quite a capable mage.

The only mage comparable to her was Viola, but she had been dragged out of the fog as a corpse recently, so Prickery was essentially the most experienced mage now.

The method she had proposed was none other than arson.

Since fog is naturally opposed to fire, she suggested setting fire to that fog zone.

It was a quite enticing proposal, and actually a pretty plausible method, so there were discussions within the guild about trying it, but unexpectedly, the cathedral came out in absolute opposition.

Their logic was that the Catacombs have always been a relic of the cathedral, and all the burial goods are related to the history of the Celestine Church, so setting it on fire was absolutely unacceptable.

But that logic was so ironclad that there was no room to argue, and the talk of setting fire died down completely.

“…When the Hero and Saint arrive, it will be resolved. Yes, it will be resolved. Let’s wait a bit longer.”

Mary clicked her tongue.

Although it’s said that as many adventurers are dying, many are also coming in, most of the incoming adventurers are only copper rank.

This way, the numbers just don’t add up.

‘When will Yona unni and Mr. Alec come back?’

They will come back.

Mary thought as she organized the documents.

Seeing that they haven’t returned until now, maybe— actually, she didn’t even think they would return, but anyway.

It was an afternoon when she particularly missed Alec and Yona.

*

The weather was clear and fine, but the back alley of Evian was nothing like that weather.

This back alley, filled with houses so old and dilapidated that calling them shacks would be generous, was a slum.

Those who lost their livelihoods after having a limb cut off while adventuring,

Those who contracted venereal diseases while selling their bodies in brothels and were waiting to die,

Those who went bankrupt in business and were barely surviving day by day.

In this slum where people who couldn’t withstand the storms of life gathered, there was a building that could be called a community center of sorts.

It was just a two-story building with a somewhat spacious floor, but it was a place where people gathered when relief activities came to the slum.

Now, that community center had thick wooden boards covering every window.

It was openly declaring that suspicious activities were happening inside, but the people living in the sunny front streets of Evian didn’t even care about what was happening in this dirty back alley.

“They say the Hero and Saint are coming.”

“Hmm.”

A man wearing a deep brown hood pulled low over his face said, prostrating himself on the floor.

He was prostrating on a circular carpet, which was full of cigarette burns and unraveling threads, looking quite unsightly.

And where this man was bowing his head, there was a small low table placed.

“Is that so.”

In response to the man’s words, the person sitting at the low table nodded and answered in a small voice.

Wearing the same deep brown hood pulled low, their voice was quite androgynous, making it difficult to tell if they were male or female.

They raised their arm.

From within the loose robe, an arm as thin as a dead tree suddenly protruded, and fingers like twigs stretched out, then drew a star in the air.

Following those fingers, a dark red line, not a purple one, drew a star in the air.

As the star was drawn, it began to rotate, and through it, a long branch extended.

Holding the branch that was long and thin as if it had never seen moisture in the dead of winter’s dry season, they slowly rose from their seated position.

“This is just the beginning. It’s just starting now.”

The branch silently burrowed into the ground.

The branch, which looked so fragile it might break with a snap at the slightest touch, was quite different from its appearance as it broke through the building’s floor and then relentlessly burrowed into the exposed ground beneath.

Zzzzzzzz…

Roots spread from the branch, burrowing like veins.

As if sucking up all sorts of nutrients along with the moisture in the soil, the branch soon began to take on a reddish, healthy color.

“It’s beginning, it’s starting now.”

Like a broken clock, they laughed under their hood as if sobbing.