Thud-!
Hella deflected a flying hand axe with the edge of her greatsword and asked,
“So… did it go well?”
“It went well. The pillars won’t be able to touch me so easily now.”
“You just sent out invitations for a clothing store opening?”
“It’s more than just an event.”
I spun a flying arrow around me once using gravity magic and launched it back, continuing,
“I have a weapon the pillars don’t. Do you know what it is?”
“Your noble title?”
“Something like that. I belong to a place the pillars can never set foot in. My fashion show invitations are like light seeping through the cracks of a door to them.”
“Hmph…”
“The declaration that I’ll expand the market is the same idea. To them, I am the stepping stone to the sunlight, to a wider world. They can’t just kill me recklessly.”
Hella swung her greatsword at the locked door.
The wall the door was attached to collapsed entirely, and the Ratmen hiding behind it screamed.
“Why was I even called? Other than breaking a fountain pen, I don’t think I did much.”
“You played your part just fine.”
Today, Hella’s role was that of a screen—a presence so overwhelming it was impossible to focus on anyone in front of her.
A towering figure with smoky makeup in a sleek suit, expressionless, just standing there?
I had never seen a screen more threatening than that.
Even holding the leash of a vicious dog would be less intimidating than Hella.
“Die!”
I focused gravity magic on the instep of a Ratman charging at me with a shriek.
Screech?!
The Ratman fell forward, and Hella’s greatsword came down on him.
Crack!
Each swing of her sword killed a Ratman. Her expression showed she wasn’t even trying her hardest.
So this is the power of a 2-star skill.
Hella had mastered both “Imperial Swordsmanship” and “Physical Training.” She had completed 2-star mastery and was advancing toward 3-star strength.
That’s why I’m just along for the ride.
After the Underworld meeting, before returning to the mansion, I descended into the nearby sewer with Hella.
Because Grenium is so large, many monsters had become trapped in the sewer. Most were mid-tier side quest dungeons, just like this one.
There wasn’t a grand reason for clearing the dungeon. I just had free time and wanted to grow my skills, maybe try out new techniques.
Hella followed silently when I said I wanted to sharpen my combat senses.
Thwack!
“Die!”
I focused on scattering incoming arrows and axes and binding the ankles of charging enemies, focusing on defense and support.
Since my gravity magic reached a lower level, I was practicing repeatedly concentrating gravity on a single point.
Not bad at all.
Instead of pressing the entire body with gravity, focusing only on the instep reduced mana consumption while keeping, or even increasing, effectiveness.
The gravity concentrated on the foot created an effect like a sudden hand grabbing the ankle from below.
If the posture falters, so does the attack.
With a higher skill level, I thought this could even break the neck. I decided to call this technique “Singularity.”
It wasn’t named scientifically—it was just a cool name for a game world.
I opened the skill menu to check progress.
Perhaps because I was training a new technique, the growth speed of gravity magic was fairly fast for a low-level skill.
It was also good news that Mana Affinity was close to leveling up.
Thwack!
At that moment, an albino Ratman with a wooden staff appeared—it was the dungeon boss, the “Mage Ratman.”
“Fireball!”
A massive ball of fire formed in front of its staff and flew toward us.
The fireball was light and large, making it easy to counter with gravity magic.
But Hella spread her hands to block me from casting.
Understanding her intent, I stopped.
“This is perfect.”
Hella grinned and rushed straight into the fireball.
The Ratman’s eyes narrowed as it drew more mana. Hella split the fireball with her sword, but the Ratman tried to cast again.
As a mutant Ratman that could use magic, it was intelligent.
But it never got a chance to cast a second spell. Hella threw herself directly into the fireball with her greatsword.
Boom!
The explosion sent Hella flying.
“?!”
The Ratman froze in shock. Hella righted herself in midair and landed beside me.
Kuh…!
Exhaling a white mist, she let out a strange groan, as if from pain or pleasure.
Her suit was ruined by the fireball, but thanks to mastering Physical Training and possessing the Iron Man skill, she was completely uninjured.
“Tch. That was an expensive suit.”
I clicked my tongue, realizing it was my own fault. I had focused too much on beauty and ignored practicality.
Even a suit should have some protection. As a mage, this is my battle attire.
Even with a shield artifact, adding functionality to the suit wasn’t a bad idea.
Thwack! Fireball!
The albino Ratman created another fireball, larger than the previous one.
“Looks like this will be fun too.”
Before I could stop her, Hella threw herself in again.
Boom!
A larger explosion shook the area. She rolled and landed near me.
“Kuh! That’s it!”
She rose, satisfied. Watching her, I had an odd feeling.
I never thought I’d see “taking hits to build endurance” outside a game.
Hella wasn’t doing this because she was perverse—it was part of skill training.
Hella’s dragon lineage manifested in anti-magic rather than offense. In a world where mana circuits are the primary weapon, she possessed anti-magic, one of the trickiest skills to face.
I restrained her as she tried to rush again.
“Stop taking hits. The clothes are burning.”
The vest was already gone, and only a tattered shirt remained. I had no desire to see my designed character naked—especially since she was Seymour’s kin.
“Hmph…”
Hella clicked her tongue, disappointed. I pressed the albino Ratman to the floor with gravity magic.
Thwack!
The boss monster was instantly subdued.
The Ratman shouted at Hella with trembling eyes,
“Monst…! A mo-monster…!”
Hella grinned, revealing white teeth against her soot-blackened face.
“How absurd. Who’s the real monster here?”
Little did anyone know that a year later, Hella would be nicknamed the Monster of the Round Table.
The Next Day
I headed to the Prom Grand Church for my audience.
In the imperial capital of Grenium, three iconic buildings rivaled the royal palace. One was the Wizard’s Tower, one the Grand Workshop for artifacts, and the most symbolic was the Church Square, considered a pilgrimage site for all continents.
The square had twelve grand churches in a circle, each honoring a different god. Prom Grand Church honored Prom, the God of Contracts and Covenants.
As expected of a church dedicated to locks, the front had countless walls covered in padlocks, symbols of promises, mostly placed by couples.
Hence one of Prom’s nicknames: God of Breakups.
Or the god of singles, or the god of couple hell. I thought lightly of that as I approached the church.
“…Huh?”
The doors were firmly closed. Visitors were leaving.
I approached the main entrance. A paladin guarding the enormous lock-embossed door bowed solemnly.
“Count Mausoleum Seymour? Are you him?”
“Yes.”
“Enter. He is waiting.”
Apparently, the church had been reserved just for me today.
I nodded to the paladins to wait and stepped inside.
Clop, clop-
My footsteps echoed in the empty church. Stained glass light poured in, illuminating the silent sanctuary.
Then, a voice behind me made my spine tingle.
“Seymour Mausoleum?”
I slowly turned. An old priest stared at me, eyes wide.
He grinned, showing his teeth.
“Son of Liam, Seymour Mausoleum.”
The priest chuckled and began walking down the main aisle, stumbling as if drunk.
I immediately realized a god had possessed the priest. It was a scene even games used when delivering oracles.
“Prom, God of Contracts and Covenants?”
“Nope! Hahaha!”
His laughter was insane but unmistakably Prom.
Gods in this world were all like this—grandiose, arrogant, mischievous, psychopathic beings who saw all earthly life as toys.
Best not to get involved unless necessary.
If it weren’t for my contract with Prom, I’d have avoided the church for life.
I didn’t want to reveal Lucis to the gods. They always demanded a tribute for miracles, sometimes absurd ones like sacrificing a child or burning a territory.
Even hearing Prom say,
“No tribute needed,”
gave me a deep sense of foreboding.
And that feeling proved accurate.
