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*The final interlude to Hero’s journey.

“You may leave now.”

The Illustrious Priestess, a pale blonde-haired girl, delivered her words without so much as a blink, casting only a brief glance at Joey with her cool blue eyes. There was a clear air of aloofness about her.

“Thank you for your effort. The exit is this way.”

The middle-aged head priestess gestured toward the exit without hesitation, as if she had repeated this routine countless times, like a worker on an assembly line.

The next morning, after learning the location of the hero-worship shrine from the inn’s owner, the four of us set out at first light. Even at a leisurely pace, it didn’t take us long to reach the shrine—not that there was much scenery to appreciate along the way. Still, I was growing tired of the constant stares we’d been getting. It was especially bad that morning, with townsfolk running their errands, crowding the streets, and eyeing us curiously, as if we were red pandas dropped among a colony of raccoons.

At the shrine, we endured the suspicious gaze of the receptionist as we handed over the invitation they had sent. After waiting two hours without a hint of hospitality, the matter concluded abruptly with the priestess’ dismissal.

“…What?!”
“So, he’s not? Let’s head back.”
“As I expected, this was a waste of time.”
“Now, now. Think of this journey as a valuable learning experience.”

Relieved to put this ordeal behind us, I did a mental “hurray” and, along with Shizu and Fiore, made my way toward the exit.

Hearing only three sets of footsteps, I stopped and turned around.

“What’s the matter, Joey? Don’t stand there like a statue and get in their way.” I called out to him, seeing him frozen in place with a dumbfounded look plastered across his face.

Both the Illustrious Priestess and the Head Priestess nodded in agreement, while the trainee priestesses busied themselves cleaning the area around Joey, as if to emphasize his presence was unnecessary.

“Wait, are you serious?! This doesn’t make any sense! They went out of their way to summon me to this backwater shrine, claiming I’m the prophesized hero from Amitia. And now, without even consulting their so-called god, they’re telling me to leave?! Who would jump through all these hoops for nothing?!”

Joey stood his ground, but as usual, his inability to read the room was only making things worse. A quick glance around confirmed it—any lingering sympathy the kinder priestesses and staff had shown him vanished in an instant.

“Maybe the real mistake was thinking you could be a ‘hero.’ Clearly, this must have been a misunderstanding.”
“Yes, it must be a mistake. Unless, of course, they were searching for a clown.”
“I agree—it must be a misund—oh! But you’ll always be a hero to me, Master!”

“Oh, I’ll accept that—if your idea of a hero is someone who doesn’t know their own worth. Otherwise, I’d recommend taking a long look in the mirror and evaluating yourself honestly. Just some heartfelt advice.”

“Oh, please. Don’t ask the impossible of him. If he were that sharp, he wouldn’t have rushed all the way here just because someone called him a hero.”
“Then again, when he got hit with the cold truth that ‘he isn’t needed’ or ‘only hot hunks are welcome,’ the smart move would’ve been to turn on his heel and leave.”
“W-Well, I mean, Master might not be much to look at, but he’s kind of like comfort food—you never really get tired of him.”

“Hey, are you just here to insult me?!” Joey erupted in unwarranted anger at our blunt opinions of him.

The Illustrious Priestess shot Joey an annoyed look as his loud rambling continued. With a sigh, she wore an expression of utter exhaustion.

“…Well, it’s true we shouldn’t take an oracle lightly. It may be a pointless endeavor, but fine. Take the ‘Trial of the Sword,’ and return once you’re finished.” She gestured toward the gate at the far end of the shrine.

◆◇◆◇

The inner sanctum of the shrine, their place of worship, was adorned with exquisite works of art and valuable artifacts. The grandeur of the space made it difficult to believe it belonged to an isolated community with fewer than 10,000 citizens.

Led by the Illustrious Priestess—who, it turns out, was named Eleanor—we made our way through the shrine. Joey, however, became distracted by the artifacts and drifted away from the group to examine them closely. The Head Priestess, clearly proud of the collection, explained each item’s origin in a boastful tone.

“This painting on that pot was created by an exceptional potter, inspired by our sect’s teachings. It’s at least 500 years old and a national treasure… Oh heavens, please stop touching it! No, don’t turn it upside down! That plate next to you was a gift from the Holy Kingdom, and it’s also a national—hey! I said don’t touch anything! And stop flipping things over! That tapestry is from a nation far to the south—though, admittedly, it’s now in ruins… Aaahhh! Why are you pulling at the weft!? How did you even—no! That was a magical artifact from ancient ruins! Why in the world did you take it apart!? STOP! Put that ancient weapon down—how did you break it already?! That orb belongs to a dragon—DON’T YOU DARE DROP IT! No, no, no, it doesn’t open!!!”

Ignoring the Head Priestess, who was practically frothing at the mouth from her shrieking, Joey rejoined us with a fed-up expression. “Sheesh, they’re so fussy. Let’s move on,” he muttered, walking ahead at his usual pace without a care for the chaos he’d left behind.

Eleanor, however, trembled, beads of cold sweat forming on her brow. She seemed to have finally grasped the full horror of Joey’s cluelessness. I mentally added a note to myself: never invite him to the castle.

Now burdened with regret and grief, Eleanor resumed guiding us, opening a door at the far end of the shrine. Inside stood a stone statue of a tentacled sheep—giving off the unsettling aura of an ‘Evil God’—with a weathered sword embedded in its chest. The statue rested on an altar.

“What you see before you is a key part of our sacred teachings—”
“So I just need to pull this out, right?”

Ignoring Eleanor, who was just about to launch into a dramatic explanation, Joey spat into his hands and grabbed the hilt of the sword.

Joey bent one leg, braced the other against the statue, and began counting, “One, two, and—” just as Eleanor delivered a swift kick to his back.

“How dare you use our deity as a footrest?!”

“Ow! That hurt, man! What’s your problem?!” Joey protested, rolling across the floor from the impact.

“I should be asking you! How dare you treat our sacred deity like a stepping stool, you squid-faced fool!”

As the Illustrious Priestess, her anger was understandable. Still, the sudden kick and her loud jeering clashed with the composed image she initially projected. I couldn’t help but suspect that she might be a little vain.

“By the way, I have a question—is your ‘deity’ the sword, or the statue?”

For a split second, Eleanor’s face twisted into a ‘Crap!’ expression as her eyes darted nervously.

“Uh… well, yes, the hero’s sword is technically our deity. But the ‘Trial of the Sword’ involves pulling the sword from the statue of the Evil God that the hero defeated. To put it simply, the sword and statue together form our deity.”

Her explanation sounded half like an impromptu excuse.

“Wait, so that means I was doing it right all along?”

As expected from someone who never learns from experience, Joey went for the sword again, prompting Eleanor to frantically try to stop him.

“I told you, it’s not just about pulling the sword! The Hero and Priestess must join hands and connect spiritually. Only when their hearts are in sync will the ceremony be complete, making it possible to draw the sword.”

“Alright, let’s do this together. The sooner we finish, the better.”

Without hesitation, Joey grabbed Eleanor’s hand and strode toward the sword.

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