"Why is it only you who hears the voice of God?"
"Why does He only speak to you?"
"Why?"
Favie’s thoughts spun in a whirlpool of envy as she stared at Lucy. The girl in front of her had the direct favor of Armathi, the God they both served, yet it was Lucy who received His voice and guidance—while Favie, who had devoted her life to piety, heard nothing.
It wasn’t fair. No matter how much she tried to understand, she couldn’t.
Favie had lived her entire life with care, each step meant to please Him. She'd been diligent, obedient, and dedicated. And yet, all of that was overshadowed by Lucy, who seemed to receive the divine favor so effortlessly. Why?
Lost in her thoughts, Favie didn’t notice Lucy’s voice at first.
"Saintess?"
"Ah!" Favie stumbled back, startled out of her reverie. "Yes! The sword! I will take care of the curse right away! Please, wait inside while I work on it."
Without waiting for a response, Favie fled into the church, almost tripping over her own feet. It was behavior unbecoming of a saintess, and if a priest had witnessed it, he would have scolded her. But she didn’t care—because if she stayed near Lucy any longer, the black feelings inside her heart would consume her.
Once she was safely inside a quiet room, Favie finally stopped and collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists, trying to calm the storm raging within her.
Why am I like this?
It wasn’t the first time she'd met someone who claimed to hear the voice of God. She knew if she just waited patiently, one day He would answer her, too.
But why did she feel like this whenever she looked at Lucy Allen?
Why did those feelings surge inside her every time she saw Lucy’s necklace, or the mace she sometimes carried? Every time she was near, that black emotion grew stronger.
Favie hadn’t understood her feelings at first. She’d always been a pure soul, a saintess, raised in the church with the strictest discipline. There had been no room for dark emotions within her.
But now, she knew what it was: jealousy.
Jealousy of Lucy Allen, who seemed to monopolize the love of Armathi.
Lucy had clearly earned the love of God. That was indisputable. She heard His voice regularly—something even the most devoted followers could only dream of experiencing once in their lifetimes. If Lucy wasn’t favored by Armathi, then who could claim to be?
When Favie looked at Lucy, she couldn’t help but recall the days she spent in the orphanage before she was taken into the church. Back then, she often wondered if she was worthy of being loved.
The head of the orphanage was a kind woman, full of mercy, but even she couldn’t give attention to every child all the time. Sometimes, when the headmistress was busy with others, Favie would watch from the shadows, wondering if she’d be forgotten forever. Would the hand that offered warmth to others ever return to her?
But, of course, those fears had been baseless. The headmistress was a good person, and she always made sure to spread her care to all the children.
Now, though, Favie found herself gripped by a similar fear—that Armathi would forget about her, overwhelmed by His love for Lucy Allen. What if He became so focused on Lucy that He forgot to spread His warmth to the world?
Favie knew it was a ridiculous fear. Armathi was the Lord of All, far beyond such petty favoritism. Even if it seemed like He was focused on one person, it must be for a greater purpose, something beyond her understanding.
Yet, despite all the teachings she’d grown up with, despite her knowledge of the divine, she couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping into her heart.
"Armathi," she whispered.
"Please, take away this blackness from my heart. Show me that Your love is spread across the world. Grant this unworthy believer a sign of Your miracles. Please."
As she prayed, Favie was startled by the sudden sound of the door creaking open. She jumped to her feet, quickly trying to compose herself.
"Saintess, what are you doing here?" a priest asked.
"...I was just resting for a moment," she replied, forcing calm into her voice. But she couldn’t hide the disheveled state of her hair and clothing, nor the tear stains on her cheeks.
The priest noticed but said nothing, instead directing his attention to the sword in her hands.
"A gift... from you, my lady?!" His voice was shaky as if he couldn’t believe it.
Kal stared at the sword as though it were a holy relic, clutching it to his chest with reverence. Then, with a blissful expression, he collapsed backward onto the ground.
With a loud thud, his body hit the hard pavement, but Kal didn’t seem to care. He lay there, smiling like he’d achieved the greatest joy in the world.
"What’s going on?!"
"Why is Professor Kal acting like that?!"
"Is this another one of Lady Allen’s strange antics—"
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"Shh! Keep your voice down!"
Kal, do you not see the crowd you’ve drawn?
I tried to be nice by giving you a gift, but now I’m going to have to deal with more weird rumors!
Why is it that whenever I try to do something good for my loyal subordinates, I’m the one who ends up suffering?
Frustrated, I kicked Kal in the leg, but his smile remained serene. It didn’t seem to hurt him at all.
Seriously, this guy...
"Is this what you wanted, you perverted mutt?♡ A knight groveling at the feet of a girl?♡ Disgusting♡ Freak♡ You’d better just stay down and die♡"
Even as I hurled insults at him, Kal remained blissfully unaware, lost in his happiness.
It’s unbelievable that this is my most dependable knight. I’m grateful for his loyalty, but I really wish he could be a bit more... normal.
Well, I guess he’ll get up eventually. In the meantime, I’ll check something else.
I’d been meaning to check my quest, but then Cecil interrupted me, and I forgot about it.
[Field Trip Events!] [Gain the approval of the Forest's Master.] [Reward: ???] [Failure: Something truly humiliating]
The field trip is a regular event held each semester. It’s meant to give students real combat experience outside the academy.
The rewards vary depending on performance, and each location has a specific event that, if completed, provides bonus rewards. For the first-year, first-semester field trip, the event involves meeting the Master of the Forest.
You must meet certain conditions to encounter the Master and engage in a battle. The rewards for succeeding are excellent, and it's something veteran players always aim to complete.
Since I was already planning to meet the Forest Master, the quest reward is a nice bonus.
But... Armathi, this streak of helpful behavior is making me nervous.
You've never been this generous before. What's coming next?
And what’s with this “truly humiliating” failure penalty? I don’t even want to imagine what that means. Just thinking about what our sadistic, masochistic Trash God considers “humiliating” is enough to make me break out in a cold sweat.
As long as I don’t fail, I won’t have to find out. But what if... what if I do fail? What then?
Dammit, this is stressing me out!
I need something to vent my frustration on. I need to break something. To torment someone.
And then, I remembered: Nackrad.
He’s skulking around the outskirts of Soul Academy, causing trouble.
As a servant of the Dark God, he’s a target that needs to be dealt with eventually. I’m not strong enough to defeat him right now, but I can definitely make him suffer.
Since the Dark God's seal hasn’t fully been broken yet, Nackrad is probably still weak. If I bring Kal and Alsatin with me, we can definitely make him cry.
Ah, just the thought of Nackrad’s miserable face after I torment him... It’s already delicious.
Let’s see. Arthur said he tends to appear around dusk, right? Then, I should start moving soon.
"Hey, mutt♡ How long are you going to ignore your master?♡ Do you want to be a stray dog?♡"
"N-no, my lady!"
Kal shot to his feet at my words, his face still shining with happiness.
I sighed. He only gets up when I insult him. Is this guy trying to be a masochist now, too?
If you weren’t so competent, I would’ve kicked you to the curb already.
Nackrad smiled as another academy student bowed in gratitude before leaving.
Thank you?
No, I should be the one thanking you.
After all, every time another student sought my advice, the Dark God's influence spread a little further into the academy.
Nackrad had been devastated after his previous plan had failed. It was an unimaginable outcome. Who could have possibly infiltrated the dungeon he'd created in the outskirts? How had it been cleared so swiftly?
Only one person came to mind.
That cursed servant of Armathi.
Only he could have intervened, with that wretched god whispering into his ear. There was no other explanation.
Nackrad had been ready to atone for his failure with his life, but the Dark God had been merciful. Instead of punishment, He had granted Nackrad another chance.
Filled with gratitude, Nackrad devised his next plan. This time, it was subtle. Instead of a grand scheme, he began spreading the Dark God's influence slowly, infecting the students of the academy with the god's power without their knowledge.
Every time a student sought Nackrad’s “guidance,” they unknowingly absorbed a bit of the Dark God's energy.
No one would notice. The Dark God's touch was too subtle, too well-hidden for even the likes of Armathi to detect. Bit by bit, the academy was being tainted, and soon it would be ripe for the Dark God's plan.
Another successful conversion today. Just a few more like this, and—
Nackrad froze. He felt it—an unmistakable presence he loathed.
The servant of Armathi.
How careless of you, walking into my domain at this hour. Didn’t that weak god of yours warn you of the danger?
Well, no matter. You've come straight to me, and now you’ll pay the price for getting in my way.
Armathi’s servant, prepare to face your reckoning.