The Temple of Abundance honored seven martyrs, passing down their names through generations, and one of the apostles who managed the sale of the Temple’s wine, jam, and potions was named after one of these martyrs.
The name was Mul.
He was named after a martyr who had starved to death after cutting the flesh from his own leg to feed the hungry.
Mul patted his large belly.
It was a habit that arose whenever he heard something he disliked, giving him a queasy feeling in his stomach.
His ample belly didn’t quite fit the name of a martyr.
The original martyr, Mul, had died thin and emaciated from starvation.
But did that matter?
Not at all. What was important was to carry on the spirit, not the physique.
This was something Mul often said.
Moreover, he liked to think of himself as a man of character, and if the previous martyr were to rise from the dead and see him now, who could say what he would think?
Such a ‘man of character’ now found himself furrowing his brow in displeasure.
Someone had dared to attack a monastery of the Temple.
"This one is completely insane."
Mul muttered.
It was a genuine reaction.
In his eyes, this was something only a madman would do.
It was a spacious reception room, furnished with eight sturdy chairs and a long, wide table suitable for both dining and meetings.
Mul was the only one seated in the room, accompanied by three men in priestly robes who stood to his left with hands clasped in front of them.
The man standing closest to Mul opened his mouth, his stance and tone excessively polite.
"Abbot Noah said they have found their path and now wish to leave the sect to study on their own."
The sect referred to a faction within the larger body of those who worshiped the God of Abundance.
While ‘sect’ was originally a concept referring to factions beneath the larger organization, in contemporary times, it had come to signify different groups interpreting the holy scripture in unique ways.
So, a sect meant a group that believed in slightly different interpretations, though from a worldly perspective, it could be seen as a difference in power factions.
This was the reality.
No matter how one dressed it up, the fact remained that they gathered to cling to their own power.
It could easily be said that this division was generated by power rather than faith.
Of course, no one openly pointed that out.
Mul scoffed at the words of the subordinate priest.
Mul’s responsibility was not merely the distribution of the Temple’s goods.
The Temple of Abundance was divided into three sects.
There were the traditionalists who argued for the preservation of the old doctrine, the innovators who claimed they must move forward and accept new things, and those who remained neutral without belonging to either side.
This led to a tendency to treat those outside the sects like chaff.
Now, a mere nameless monk, responsible for a single monastery, had boldly declared they would live on their own terms.
Who did he think had been feeding him all this time?
"We’ll cut off all support to that monastery. If they change their minds, tell them to bring back a piece of the abbot’s leg as an offering."
They deserved at least that much punishment.
"Yes, I’ll do as you say."
But this wasn’t the end.
There was still that one who dared to provoke the God of Abundance.
Knight of the Iron Wall? Knights of Madness? All ridiculous.
They would learn what happened to those who stood against the Temple.
Did they think they could survive without the Temple’s support?
Outwardly, it was Abbot Noah’s rebellion, but in reality, it was Encrid who had stirred up trouble.
Mul was furious with this bold fool who had dared to confront him.
Of course, if Encrid stood before him, sword in hand, he might bow and beg for his life.
But his sword couldn’t reach Mul here, and Mul could make Encrid’s life miserable before he ever reached him.
"Did you say Border Guard? Cut off all dealings with them and withdraw the Temple’s personnel assigned there."
Mul removed his hand from his belly as he spoke.
Although his irritation hadn’t completely vanished, he felt sure that everyone would now understand the consequences of their actions.
He promptly ordered that all priests who had been working to suppress heretics within Naurillia be recalled.
This was practically giving heretics an open invitation.
Although previous attempts to stir up trouble in Naurillia had failed, without the Temple’s intervention, they would now be able to cause significant turmoil.
He would see if they still refused to admit their mistake.
That was Mul’s intention.
Naturally, he sent a protest letter, warning that this would not be overlooked.
He would force them to admit and acknowledge their mistake.
Knights? Even if they were called a disaster, they only had two hands, while the believers in God numbered in the hundreds and thousands.
"They’re going to regret this."
Mul muttered under his breath. Soon enough, they would be pounding the ground in regret.
They’d acted on a reckless impulse.
A little punishment now, and then they could compensate him appropriately later.
"I’ll also write a letter to the king."
Mul continued as the thought occurred to him.
Even the king of Naurillia would have to make concessions to the Holy Nation because of this incident.
All of this unfolded while Encrid was on his way back to the Border Guard.
* * *
"Damn, this is insane."
At Krais’s comment, Encrid didn’t bother to make excuses. Simply put, he didn’t feel the need.
The one redeeming factor was that the monastery had officially taken a stand.
If Abbot Noah hadn’t publicly declared that they were going their own way, the Temple would likely have responded more aggressively.
Not that they weren’t aggressive enough already. If the Temple could be compared to a person, it would be a shameless one.
Even so, for now, they had merely issued a warning.
Why are you interfering in our business and causing trouble?
It was just that level of reprimand.
Considering the Temple’s usual practices, this was actually a mild response. Ordinarily, they would have responded with brute force.
But that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
The Border Guard was the continent’s rising star—a conglomerate that shone like the sun, devouring and growing with each alliance it absorbed.
At its core were Encrid and the Mad Knights.
In essence, force was at the heart of the Border Guard.
An attempt at force from the Temple could easily backfire.
While some still doubted, those who were more astute or aware of the continent’s political landscape no longer questioned Encrid’s power.
Yet, no one was quite sure of his motives, including Avnair.
Who would dare to directly interfere with the affairs of the temple?
"Completely out of his mind."
Did Aspen’s strength truly falter so much that they could be dragged around by the Temple? Military power?
Perhaps their full might couldn’t match the Temple’s, but they had the power to remove its influence altogether.
Yet they refrained. Why? Because of the consequences of alienating the Temple.
"Trade would suffer immediately."
Wine, soap, jam—these were items produced by monasteries over generations.
Although some private merchants were beginning to produce them, monasteries still supplied the bulk.
Trade might survive with the active movement of their merchants, but what about the aftermath?
Countries bowing to the pressure from the Holy Nation?
Even now, nations, from trading partners to the major southern kingdoms, were eager to align with the Holy Nation.
They would constantly interfere, just as one would expect.
Meeting a ghoul at night and challenging it would be much the same.
Ghouls had no reasoning, they attacked regardless of whether their opponent was human, frog, or giant.
For Encrid, with pressing issues at hand, this was foolish.
Instead of solving problems, he had brought more of them.
The immediate problem? Avnair was well aware of the Apostle of Abundance’s influence across the continent and could predict their actions.
In Aspen’s prime, he had imagined countless times what would happen if they purged the rotten priests.
Pressure along the trade routes.
The Temple’s control over trade routes would be the starting point.
One of the Temple’s greatest powers was the existence of monasteries.
Though not cities, monasteries managed to fend off monsters and beasts, serving as intermediate hubs for merchants.
If they overlooked this, what would happen next?
Among the myriad issues, one stood out.
"They’ll recall the priesthood."
The Temple’s priesthood, tasked with suppressing heretics, answered to the Temple’s orders.
This included both the Justice Enactment Priests and the Heretic Annihilation Priests.
The Heretic Annihilation Priests even included crusaders from the Temple.
These two priesthoods crossed borders to hunt and kill heretics.
They were renowned for their tracking and killing skills, known as heretic annihilation units recognized by the continent.
Heretics quaked at the mere mention of these two priesthoods’ names.
Their numbers weren’t vast, but each priest had dedicated their life to eradicating heretics.
If they withdrew?
There was a concept called balance of power. The priesthood’s activity made it difficult for heretics to operate freely.
While it was impossible to completely eliminate heresy, the balance of power was maintained well enough to prevent rampant activity.
Since the mad act of summoning a salamander by the Cult of the Demon Realm Sanctuary, this was one of the achievements the Temple could claim.
Even when Naurillia looked like a tempting fruit in the eyes of neighboring countries, heretics had been active within the kingdom.
This was possible because the priesthood’s attention within the kingdom had been diverted elsewhere.
Now, the Temple would do everything to pull the priesthood out of the kingdom, allowing the heretics to thrive like fish in water.
"Is that girl really the saintess?"
"Hello, I’m Seiki."
When Krais asked, surprised to see the child Encrid had brought along, Seiki introduced herself.
Though her eyes were dark and weary, her voice remained cheerful.
And they brought the saintess?
Avnair almost slapped his own forehead in disbelief.
Why bring her here?
Rescuing the saintess was a problem, as was attacking the monastery. And now they had brought the very child at the center of it all.
The potion trade was the Temple’s most critical operation.
And here they were, casually walking away with that essential resource?
"Madman."
It was no wonder they were called that. Only now did Avnair truly understand.
Yet Avnair’s feelings differed from simple shock.
All of this was reckless and astonishing, an undeniably foolish act, and yet…
There were feelings that defied logic.
Such was Avnair’s sentiment now.
"Oh. I need to get some new armor, something comfortable to move in. Find someone skilled for the job. Eitri called himself a weapon expert, but each blacksmith has their specialty, right? He’s been saying he’s too busy, so find someone else. And make sure Eitri’s forge lacks nothing.”
At Encrid’s casual remarks, Krais replied immediately.
“Oh, my, I’m going crazy. Shall I scold the old man if he refuses the work? And is armor really disposable after one use? The Captain has a habit of replacing his gear after every fight.”
“Does he?”
“And what do you plan to do about the Temple? Their letter requesting the saintess’ return arrived before you did.”
“Toss it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any problem with that?”
Problems?
Many, in Avnair’s view.
But Krais’s reply was also absurdly calm and indifferent.
“Plenty. We’ll hold a meeting, so please attend this time.”
“Alright, let’s do that.”
Encrid nodded, and Krais sighed again.
There was no sense of urgency or life-and-death resolve here.
Was it because they hadn’t fully grasped the situation’s gravity?
Hardly.
Krais was a genius, the sharpest mind on strategy, far surpassing even Avnair in sensing impending crises.
Perhaps that’s why? Avnair couldn’t be sure.
Yet, from their casual exchange, Avnair felt a chill run down his spine.
Goosebumps rose, and his skin prickled.
The Temple’s corruption? A fact everyone knew.
Rotten priests under the guise of the divine? Few were unaware of their existence.
Even peasants shuddered at the mention of the Temple and heresy. Yet no one took a stand.
People could think it, but acting on it was another matter.
There was nothing to gain by taking a stand.
But here was a man who acted as if it were natural and inevitable to do so. He stepped up and acted without a second thought.
Avnair felt another surge of thrill rush through him.
If he were to name this feeling, it would be exhilaration. He burst out laughing.
“Ha, ha-ha-ha.”
Back in his days in Aspen, how often had he wanted to disrupt the Temple’s events?
How many times had he wished to cause absolute chaos?
But he had never even imagined this.
Kidnapping the saintess and attacking the monastery?
Not knowing what had happened, yet seeing a complete disregard for the Temple kept him laughing.
As his laughter echoed, Encrid glanced at him and murmured something to Krais, which Avnair couldn’t hear.
He simply understood why the title of ‘hero’ suited this man.
What was difficult and demanding for others was natural for him.
Where others hesitated, he acted.
And for those who followed him, this, too, had become second nature.
"Let’s have a quick chat."
Krais approached Avnair, who had stopped laughing. Avnair nodded.
Right now, he was fully ready to listen to anything.
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