This may have been the only defeat that major multinational interests ever suffered in the city of Liberl Port. The farmers came out victorious, and as Liberl Port flourished, they basically all enjoyed happy lives, free from worry about food or clothing.
Likewise, this was a win for the Church of the Goddess of Life. The farmers remembered how the church helped them, so even after the Goddess of Life fell and her church declined for so many years, only in the Field District did the last great chapel of the Goddess of Life remain standing.
It was also now the headquarters of the Church of the Goddess of Life in Liberl Port.
The massive chapel was constructed entirely of pure white marble, spires reaching high into the sky, with five tall watchtowers rising around it. The main gate was crafted from steel by dwarven hands, and above the doorway was an intricate cross carved into the stonework.
Anyone who saw this chapel couldn't help but be impressed by its grandeur. And yet, these days, this magnificent chapel was unmistakably quiet and deserted.
There was no helping it. After all, few wanted to associate with a church that had lost its divine guidance. It was true that deities would eventually return, but a human lifetime is less than a hundred years—who among the common faithful would wait that long?
Only a handful of the long-lived still chose to remain here.
The outcome, though, was that such a small number of long-lived folk simply could not sustain the upkeep for these massive churches.
The church had shrunk again and again, its managers were all juggling multiple roles, and were busy traveling between different major districts. If nothing important came up, it was common not to see one another for several months at a time.
And yet, today, they were all gathered together at last. The reason: the most famous incident in Liberl Port these days.
The death of Montport.
And all that had happened to the hero who killed him.
Compared to the terrifying intelligence networks of the blue dragons—who received first-hand news instantly and had infiltrated the administrative staff of the Mithral District like a sieve—the Church of the Goddess of Life, now in decline, had pitifully little intelligence ability.
They no longer had any special intel channels, nor could they foresee events before the public. They learned news almost as slowly as the common folk, waiting for media reports to trickle in. Then, only after the fact, did they learn that the one who had slain the Abyssal Lord Montport and saved Liberl Port was actually from their own church!
He was even based in South Harbor District, where he owned no small amount of property!
This left them absolutely stunned. They hadn't dared believe such a figure would join the Church of the Goddess of Life at a time like this.
But with that surprise came deep worry. For as word of his fame spread, troubling rumors began circling.
And that's what they'd gathered today to discuss.
Buzz—
The heavy gates creaked open. A human entered, draped in black priest's robes, face deeply wrinkled, beard thick but impeccably trimmed.
His name was Evan—a priest serving the Goddess of Life. Just like his appearance, he was already over seventy, a man well past his prime.
As he entered, a woman's somewhat disapproving voice filled the chapel: "Evan, you're late."
Evan looked up to see a female figure seated on one of the chapel's pews, back to him.
But after she spoke, she turned around. "Did something delay you?"
She was an older half-elf woman, her youthful days behind her, crow's feet beginning to gather at her eyes. But the contours of her face suggested that in her youth she had surely been beautiful.
Her name was Joanna—a pastor of the Life domain, over a hundred years old. Although these two were colleagues, their tongues were always sharp with each other; they just couldn't help but bicker on a daily basis.
Evan didn't mind in the least. He rewarded his colleague with a gentle smile. "I ran into a small mishap on the way here. A farmer cut his fingertip with a scythe, so I stopped to patch him up."
He shut the door behind him, walked over, and sat beside her. Warm sunlight streamed in, illuminating them—two elders sitting together like old friends at dusk. "You've heard the news about our friend Charles, I assume?"
"Yes," said Joanna, then glanced behind them. "Are we not going to wait for Kowal?"
Evan shook his head. "No need to wait. We can already guess what that stubborn old dwarf would say. Ha…"
He continued, "Back to business, though, I think this could be a real opportunity for us. With such a hero suddenly appearing in our church, maybe we can use this to shake off the gloom and bring in some fresh blood."
"That's my take—what about you?"
Joanna, ever wary of her colleague's optimism, replied, "But I've heard some rumors—this Charles might not be a true hero, but rather someone being propped up by deliberate publicity."
"Apparently, the real force that took down Montport was the hunting squad. When the Abyssal Lord fled, Charles just cleaned up and now he's taking all the credit, promoting himself as the hero."
Evan fell silent. He'd heard such rumors himself. Though emotionally he wanted to believe in his fellow churchman, his experience told him this scenario was more likely.
He no longer had those secret but reliable sources of news; like Joanna, he really couldn't judge what's true anymore.
"More than that, I heard another thing back in his hometown, South Harbor District," Joanna continued. "Last month, South Harbor's Central Guard allegedly killed six or seven hundred criminals in the name of purging cultists. Every time they raided one of these so-called cultist strongholds, they completely wiped everyone out."
"But according to my investigation, the Guards didn't actually launch many assaults like that, and didn't lose a single man. The real killing was done by someone else."
Evan's expression turned grave: "It was Charles?"
Joanna nodded. "According to my investigation, there's an eighty percent chance it was him, and he killed that many people in less than a week."
"All things considered, do you really think he's trustworthy?"
Evan paused a moment. "Actually, in a situation like this, I'd rather put my faith in our own churchman."
"I heard that during the flood in South Harbor, he also joined the Amazons' disaster relief team. He walks the goddess's path—his beliefs are solid."
Joanna sighed. "I also want to believe in our own, but where did he really come from?"
She couldn't help but add, "South Harbor District was always managed by Sister Theresa. I'd always heard she struggled to keep things going—in fact, the monastery only had seven nuns as of last year, just barely scraping by."
"Yet as soon as he showed up this fall, that little monastery started growing. In… not even half a year, he's already become, from what I hear, a millionaire."
"Honestly, Evan, I'm worried it's all just a façade and he's really after something else..."
"Then let's investigate him thoroughly!"
Suddenly, a loud male voice echoed through the chapel: "Let's go to his monastery and his industrial park—really see what kind of person he is and what he's done with the monastery!"
Evan and Joanna jumped in surprise, scrambling to their feet, looking around—only to see at the far end of the chapel, under the goddess's statue and behind the pastor's lectern, a short dwarf with a bushy carrot-colored beard emerge.
"Kowal!" Evan exclaimed, "When did you get here?"
"I've been here for ages!" said the dwarf. "I was just hiding behind the lectern—neither of you ever noticed!"
Evan was momentarily speechless. That lectern was so short, only a dwarf could hide behind it so well that no one noticed.
Ignoring the two and all their complicated feelings, Kowal continued, "I get Joanna's doubts, and I understand Evan's hopes. To be honest, I'm suspicious of him myself—so I intend to go see with my own eyes, find out the truth about him!"
"Hearsay is just smoke and mirrors. What you see for yourself, that's real!"
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