Each great cathedral that crowns the major cities swarms with priests. Wherever you look, all you see are people draped in priest robes. Step inside, and you might think the whole world has gone holy—everyone a brother or sister in divine service.
But that's only the surface.
Out here, in some forgotten corner like mine, a single priest runs everything—sermons for the faithful, resurrection for fallen heroes, even trimming the garden hedges.
One-man operation. One holy worker.
Lonely, busy, and no one to complain to—because, well, there's no one to hear it.
Except today.
"Feels like our class has scattered everywhere, huh? I think only Charles stayed in the capital. Lutz went to the Hallower Temple, right? That place sounds rough."
Two priests in my tiny church. What a rare sight. Almost feels like a festival.
Not that he came to help with the work. Louis—one of my classmates from the seminary—came all the way out here just to visit.
Honestly, I'd have preferred a drink at some tavern. But with heroes dropping dead out of the sky around here, it's not exactly safe to leave the church grounds. Still, Louis just laughed and came anyway. Good guy. Kindhearted, like most young priests.
Maybe that's why I feel this nasty twist inside when I look at him. Must be something wrong with me.
His church is in a small town too, about the same size as mine, yet somehow his robes are spotless. Mine are stained dark, blackened by blood that never quite washes out.
And why does he get days off? I'm lucky if I even remember what "rest" feels like.
Ah. I see it now. My attitude isn't the problem. My working conditions are.
"So, why'd you volunteer for this church?" Louis asks.
His words stab right through me, but I slip on my priest's smile. Lately, I've gotten good at smiling even when my heart's somewhere else.
"No one volunteers for a place like this."
"Huh? Really? Then did you file a transfer request?"
"...A what?"
The word comes out too politely. Both of us blink at each other.
"They hand one out every year," Louis says. "A lot of new priests move between churches to get experience."
Oh, you've got to be kidding me. No one told me that. Never even saw that paper. So they mean to keep me here forever, huh? Those damn higher-ups, always shoving the worst jobs on someone else. I hate how filthy grown-ups can be.
"I see," Louis says gently. "So this wasn't your choice. Truth is, I didn't get my wish either. I wanted to be stationed where I could meet heroes more often, but the council never listens."
Don't lump us together, man. That's like comparing someone gnawing on tree roots to another guy whining that he's tired of steak.
I say something to that effect—softened, so it doesn't sound too bitter—and Louis just laughs, brushing a hand over his snow-white robe.
"You're wrong," he says. "Actually, I requested to be assigned here."
"What? You're serious?"
"This area's surrounded by dungeons and monster nests—a real front line in the war between humans and demons. They say it's a miracle a town could exist here at all. Some even call it a no-man's land, born from monsters fighting each other."
"Wait, what? You're telling me this place is built on a battlefield? Nobody told me that!"
"That's basic research," he chides lightly. "You should at least learn about the land you're posted to."
"I didn't have time! They practically abducted me. Hauled me out here before I could even pack. Guess that was to stop me from running, huh? Makes sense now."
Louis chuckles. "Still, sounds fulfilling here. My parish is all old folks. Not exactly exciting... though I probably shouldn't complain."
Yeah, yeah. Every church has its own troubles.
Oh. Here comes mine.
"I heard the raid was tomorrow," I mutter, glancing toward the ceiling. "Guess they moved it up. Sorry, Louis. That robe's about to get messy."
A rain of blood crashes through the roof. In seconds, the holy sanctuary turns into a miniature battlefield—bodies rolling, crimson spreading through the carpets. Too many heroes to count.
"What in the world..."
"There's a dungeon nearby that hasn't been fully explored," I explain. "A bunch of heroes went to clear it out."
"I see. They failed, then."
"Failed? Why?"
He looks at me, stunned. "With this many casualties? Even if some survive, how can they recover?"
Ah. Right. That's what a normal person would think. Seems I've been in this world too long.
I put the priest's smile back on.
"Let's heal them. That's my job. You'll help, won't you?"
Louis hesitates, pale. "...Y-yeah. Okay."
We work side by side, drenched in blood, repairing bodies, resurrecting the dead. Before long, Louis's spotless robes are a dull red-black. He said he hadn't practiced resurrection since school, but his hands move well enough.
"Ugh... I'm getting sick," he groans.
"From the smell?"
"That, and... they don't look human anymore. Feels like I'm fixing dolls."
Ah, his eyes are dying. Poor guy. Came for a vacation, got trauma instead.
"Don't worry," I tell Louis. "That feeling fades fast. Actually helps—less stress that way."
"I... guess so..."
Meanwhile, the newly resurrected heroes spring up shouting:
"Thanks, Priest-san!"
"Hey, Priest! Fix our swordsman next!"
"No, me first!"
"Hurry, Priest, hurry!"
God, chirp chirp chirp—Priest-san this, Priest-san that—like baby birds screeching for food.
Louis stares as the heroes, still dripping blood, toss coins on the altar and dash out again.
"Where are they going...?"
"Heroes die and get revived here, right? Humans are fragile. Even the best-trained warriors fall to a beast's strike. So they plan their battles assuming they'll die."
"What? You mean—they're going back?"
As if to prove it, more corpses crash down through the ceiling. Oh, look—some familiar faces. Guess dying twice in a day isn't that rare after all. Hope they brought enough money.
"This is insane," Louis whispers. "Resurrection's supposed to be a miracle... how can they treat it so casually?"
I rest a hand on his trembling shoulder.
"After a hundred miracles, even wonder becomes routine."
* * *
"Sorry about today," I tell Louis later. "Didn't mean to ruin your vacation."
He laughs weakly, wringing the hem of his filthy robe. "No, it's fine. It was... enlightening. You're amazing, really. My hands can barely move anymore."
He's exhausted, but there's a strange brightness in his eyes.
Well, he's not wrong. Life here is plenty stimulating. You never know what'll kill them next. Sometimes it's like solving a puzzle, piecing a body back together. Keeps the brain sharp.
"How about a trade?" I suggest. "You take my church; I'll take yours."
Louis smiles faintly.
"No, this—this was the place God meant for you. Perfectly suited, actually. Thank you. You helped me appreciate what I have."
"...Huh?"
He looks utterly satisfied. I've seen that face before—someone realizing their situation isn't the worst after all.
That's how the world works, isn't it? We measure our peace by someone else's misery.
Ah, God... I'd like a turn feeling that peace too. Please, just once—
Help your poor priest out.
Notes:
• Charles - a male friend of Julius from cleric school, an honor student raised in an orphanage, now the inspector in charge of Fegefeuer, stressed to the point of an ulcer.
• Lutz - a male friend of Julius from cleric school, moved around a lot between Hello Work Temple, Fegefeuer, and Church Headquarters, works hard with the desire to not work.
• Fail - a male hero with a tragic past, formerly part of a notorious bandit group, now seeking redemption and a fresh start as a hero.