Your Majesty, Dinner Is Ready. - Chapter 73

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 73: Sanctuary of Rest — Resolve (1)
“I understand.”
Seraphina.
The Guardian Church’s last saint regarded our party quietly for a moment before turning to leave.
“If that is your determination, then I shall accept it as well.”
“You agree rather easily, it seems.”
“Every priest and holy knight who comes to this temple is just like you — willing to court death without hesitation.”
She shook her head, yet a smile lingered at the corner of her mouth.
“I tried to persuade them at first, but I’ve given up now. They’re all hopelessly stubborn. I imagine you’re no different.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“I thought as much.”
The saint standing at the entrance to the healing room continued, turning to face me.
“Shortly, the volunteer attendants will arrive to relieve us. Rest well for the next day, and prepare yourselves for the coming confrontation with the Demon Horde.”
“We shall.”
“And Kar — do find me before you depart. As a Socialite of the Twisted Truth, renowned for commanding vast knowledge, there is much I wish to discuss with you alone.”
I was surely the first Socialite of the Twisted Truth ever to receive such an invitation from the Guardian Church’s last saint.
If we counted the seniors who’d been summoned for heresy trials, my number in that queue would sink into the hundred thousands.
“I shall see you then.”
Not long after Seraphina left the healing room, Elion the priest appeared.
He brought volunteers with him — like us, they were travelers from the future, composed of Harmony Faith adherents and explorers.
The shift change had finally arrived.
“Please follow me.”
Lumian led us outside the temple to a living quarters constructed for the believers.
So austere that it consisted of nothing but mats and parasols, offering the peculiar charm of bivouacking.
It was a vintage-style accommodation more shabby than most slums.
“…I am truly sorry.”
The middle-aged priest, who seemed to live with an apology on his lips, gazed out at the distant sky.
“Kar, would you please follow me for a moment?”
I followed Elion’s guidance deep into the innermost reaches of the temple.
A cramped studio space, encircled by partitions of pure white board.
It was the original saint’s chamber — Seraphina’s workplace and living quarters, now given over to patients.
“Please, sit comfortably.”
Seraphina, her thin face bent over a glass cup of blue liquid, gestured toward a modest low chair.
Though it was far too small, sitting in it would make one feel rather endearing, so I settled myself obediently.
“Kar, expedition leader.”
Seraphina, hardly dignified for a saint as she reclined in a rather casual posture, fixed me with a steady gaze and made a gesture.
“Is it acceptable to address you this way?”
“Blond half-eared fool. You may use that as well.”
“Blond half-eared fool.”
“…Ah, I didn’t expect you’d actually call me that.”
“My apologies. It’s something half-elves often say.”
“Though in truth, I don’t mind being called that.”
Having come to the Dungeon, that labyrinth of an era where half-elves had barely climbed from being less than slaves to something like pets, it wouldn’t be amiss to experience the feelings of a beloved dog for once.
Perhaps it would become a cherished memory to carry lifelong.
“In any case, everyone here respects your judgment greatly, I’ve noticed.”
“It is because I chose to enter the Dungeon of my own will.”
“That is foolish.”
As I twisted myself into the most uncomfortable position imaginable, I was abruptly insulted.
“Yes, half-elves like myself are indeed stupid and contemptible by nature.”
“Precisely.”
“Why do you keep agreeing so readily? I’m hurt.”
My cheeks puffed out to show my displeasure, and Seraphina set down the cup containing the blue drink and pushed it toward me.
“Drink.”
Blue Muzzer.
A low-grade beverage made in the Labyrinth City Jayma. Addictive and utterly without merit otherwise — a dull thing. For a saint, her taste is certainly cheap.
“It is a precious drink I bought by scraping together every coin. With only a week left to live, it’s not the worst way to spend it.”
“How considerate. It suits the likes of us fools perfectly.”
At the first sip, my tongue cried out against its master in protest.
I ignored it.
What could a mere body part trapped in one’s mouth possibly understand about the taste of a drink?
“Kar, through the Secret Art of the Heavenly Ear, I’ve overheard much future knowledge that explorers let slip. And yet there is still much I don’t know.”
Even a saint who has received countless Secret Arts as Artein’s representative governing clear wisdom cannot know what will come to pass in the distant future.
“Is it possible that in the future as well, the forerunner of Twisted Truth possesses such vast Faith that they can bestow infinite knowledge upon their Socialites?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
《I wish that were true. :(》
“Then let me ask you just one thing.”
“You may ask many times if you wish.”
Seraphina glanced about nervously, worried that priests might be listening from beyond the wall, and then suddenly leaned in close and whispered.
“In the future… has it been revealed?”
Had she been an ordinary Socialite of Twisted Truth, she would have blinked in confusion at such cryptic words.
But I am a half-elf whose Knowledge is so vast that the Eye That Pierces Truth cannot express it in numbers.
Because I grasped what she truly meant, I lowered my voice as much as possible and spoke softly.
“No one knows. In the future, you remain still ‘Saint Seraphina.'”
“…Ah.”
Seraphina exhaled a breath of relief and stretched her legs out before her.
A gesture unbecoming of a noble saint.
I pretended not to notice and spoke up.
“Saint, but are you alright? You look tired.”
“Of course I’m fine.”
Her face looked anything but well as she stared blankly and drank from her cup.
“I’m getting less than four hours of sleep each night while diligently using Secret Arts, replenishing my holy power through prayer, becoming a confidant to those who suffer, and working feverishly through the temple’s accumulated paperwork, but I’m not tired at all.”
“You seem quite exhausted, actually.”
“True. In fact, I’m nearly dead on my feet. If I didn’t have four applications of the Health Restoration Mystery, I would have collapsed long ago. And knowing such a bleak future as well—there isn’t a single day when my heart finds peace.”
The saint raised her cup with an expressionless air.
“Are you certain you won’t regret not returning to the future?”
“I am a half-elf who has regretted only once in my entire life.”
I held up my own cup to the same height and gently clinked it against hers.
Clink.
With the cheerful sound, the blue liquid that had been still rippled gently.
After draining her drink, Seraphina pressed both palms to the ground and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Explorer from the future, thank you for meeting a foolish end together with me.”
“An end? You seem to be laboring under a misunderstanding.”
At my words, the saint squinted one eye slightly.
“I will not die. At least not in a Dungeon of B-rank or lower.”
Death in an S-rank Dungeon would be a good death.
An A-rank, while regrettable, can be accepted as a fitting burial.
But B-rank and below will not do.
Surely any true explorer should close their eyes while exploring in a Dungeon of high difficulty, should they not?
“Very well. Then I alone shall die.”
“Why do you speak this way? You’ve already grasped what I’m trying to say.”
…….
I pushed aside the cup containing the Blue Muzzer and spoke.
“Let us commit a benevolent rewriting of history, Saint.”
The saint will survive.
Unlike the original history.
***
Just over a week remains before the Demon Horde assaults the Sanctuary of Rest.
It’s rather tight for preparing a defense.
Since perfect preparation is impossible, remaining at the temple is nothing less than a declaration that one does not shy from death.
“Are you serious?”
Seraphina spoke as she patted my back.
As a side effect of sitting in this ramshackle chair, my back was beginning to ache, so I writhed as I answered.
“I am always sincere when it comes to exploration.”
“Yet your body movements are remarkably restless for that claim.”
“Did you give me this chair so I could entertain you by dancing while seated? Below my waist, my body no longer obeys my will.”
“…Your manner of speech is quite light as well.”
Finally, the saint rose from her seat, grabbed my shoulder, and hoisted me to my feet with a heave.
“In any case, Kar, your lie—pure as dust, your sincere wish, your burning zeal, your unwavering honesty—all of it came through to me.”
《When and from what aspect could she have felt such beautiful sentiments? I’ve spoken carelessly with an indifferent face the whole time!》
How could the herald of a demon god and the avatar of a divine beast possibly sense the warm emotions and resolve that flow between human and human?
He waved a hand, erasing the meaningless words.
“From this moment on, I intend to gather every holy knight stationed at the temple and prepare for an attack. The priests and laypeople will continue tending to the patients.”
Seraphina glanced at the Pure White Armor hanging from a makeshift rod propped against the wall.
At first glance, it was rather heavy equipment for a priest class to wear.
“My original self was too occupied with a pressing schedule to sense the demon horde’s advance beforehand, but I learned of it well in advance. So if Kar were to help me, we might be able to twist history itself. That premonition feels quite strong.”
The intuition of a high-ranking Harmony Faith devotee—something akin to a saint—bordered on foresight itself.
It was an analytical conclusion naturally derived from all the information gathered by consciousness and the unconscious alike.
“If you possess any knowledge of the future that might be useful, please share it all with me. And I would be even more grateful if you would help me change into this armor.”
“Hmm, would it not be improper for me to assist with your disrobing?”
“…Oh, that’s true.”
Though the remark sounded thoroughly suspicious, it was merely an oversight.
Sleeping less than four hours a day while pushing oneself to the limit for over a month—such exhaustion had a way of turning a person’s ordinarily supple mind into something mushy and stretched thin.
“First, I shall explain the matter of the demon horde approaching the temple.”
“I am listening.”
The saint adjusted her visor without fully donning the helmet, pushing the face guard upward.
“Demon hordes are typically commanded by their strongest or most cunning leader. However, if they are of different kinds, they do not obey one another. There are some exceptions, but as a general rule, they have the habit of gathering only with their own kind.”
Yet the demon horde approaching this time was numbering considerably.
It swarmed with a loathsomeness that defied description.
Seraphina, who had been tapping her helmeted head, leaned her back against the wall.
“As a level 9 priest, I ultimately failed to halt their advance, which leads to the conclusion that there are at least five hundred thousand of them.”
“A flawless deduction.”
Seraphina, a level 9 priest, was practically a living fortress.
Healing and defense.
She possessed exceptional prowess in both these domains.
Yet in the end, she had been overwhelmed.
It was because the enemy’s numbers were simply too vast.
“Over one hundred thousand demons of the same kind gathered together. This means the leader is a Great Demon.”
Like the one dwelling in the highest reaches of the Nightmare Dungeon.
Though there was considerable difference in rank, at least in terms of immediate danger, they were of comparable threat.
If she were to grow complacent and wait even a week before acting, history would not be twisted—it would be trampled under the feet of time’s legitimate flow.
“All of the same kind, then…”
The saint fingered her helmet absently, then continued in a low voice.
“Then their weaknesses should all be identical, and if we exploit that weakness well enough, we could endure however we must.”
“In theory, yes.”
“Your tone suggests it may not work so well in practice.”
“The issue is that the demons’ physical characteristics are not particularly conventional.”
If creatures possessed classic vulnerabilities like a heart, one could employ a cowardly strategy of focusing attacks on that single point, thereby easily overcoming the numerical disadvantage.
But the problem was that demons were not limited to the “biological” form alone.
“Every single one of the five hundred thousand demon horde we will face is a High-Intelligence Golem.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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