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“Wow… That’s such a cool tattoo.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks to this, I can’t go to public baths… Wait, no! It’s a stigmata, stigmata. Is this your first time seeing one?”
“I’ve seen Miss Roche’s before, but I thought the design looked different.”
“This is the first time I’ve seen this mark too. Which god is it from?”

On the young man’s exposed arm, a sacred mark was etched— light radiated outward from a stylized star, illuminating the ground below.

I examined it closely once more, but it didn’t match any divine symbol I could recall.

“It’s a mark of the Outlander God, Amatsugami. Basically, a deity said to watch over us Outlanders.”
“It’s a minor god with a short history, so it’s understandable if you haven’t heard of it. Only a small number of people worship it, mostly Outlanders,” added the Saint.
“So, what business does a messenger of this obscure, lesser-known god have with us? As you can see, we’re quite busy.”
“I can feel the thorns in your words. I’m here for the ones who attacked that boy over there. It’s probably the Outlander Killers.”
“Outlander Killers?”

The name was so bluntly fitting that I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

Yet the young man didn’t get angry at my reaction. Instead, he laughed along, as if he shared the sentiment.

“We made the name sound a little lame on purpose. If we gave them a cool name, it might inflate their egos, right? I don’t know what kind of fancy name they call themselves, but ‘Outlander Killers’ gets the point across just fine.”
“I see. That’s an amusing strategy. So, why are these Outlander Killers spreading curses around?”
“Hold on. We can talk about that after we finish the treatment. Miss Roche?”
“I’ve already begun. Please remain quiet.”

While we carried on with our conversation, the saint quietly focused on dispelling Plerion’s curse.

No matter how powerful it was, a curse cast by mere humans couldn’t possibly withstand the purification of a saint— someone who could rival even the ghost ship, but…

“…It’s no good. I can’t completely purify it.”
“What? Even you can’t break the curse?”
“The curse itself is trivial compared to something like the ghost ship. However, the problem lies in its nature— every time I try to heal him, the curse is reapplied.”
“W-What does that mean?”
“Pardon me for a moment. Let’s see… Status, Status… Ah, ‘Death God’s Finger’ Looks like there’s some kind of remote magic trigger set up.”

Switching places with Roche, the young man stepped in front of Plerion and began tracing his fingers through the air as if manipulating something unseen.

“Hm? Oh, don’t mind me. This is the Gift I received from my god— I can view this world’s information like a game system window.”
“I don’t quite understand what you’re saying, but for now, can we assume you know Plerion’s condition?”
“Yeah. He’s got a bad status effect— he’s under the influence of a spell called ‘Death God’s Finger,’ And that spell is probably acting like a transmitter, continuously receiving the curse from a distance.”
“Master, wasn’t Death God’s Finger a spell that lets you track someone’s location?”
“You remember well. Though it seems the caster is remarkably skilled.”

Death God’s Finger— it was one of the most basic curses, even Momo had made use of it before. The spell could be activated with nothing more than the simple gesture of pointing at someone, making it far from a practical magic under normal circumstances.

“But those guys will do anything to kill Outlanders. It wouldn’t be surprising if they’ve mastered a beginner-level spell to the point they can hunt someone down no matter where they run.”
“Why do they obsess over Outlanders so much?” I asked.
“Their claim is that Outlanders are an existence that disrupts this world’s natural order. Food, architecture, technology, hygiene… It’s true that the knowledge Outlanders brought has had a significant impact,” the Saint explained.

“Even so, that doesn’t give them the right to kill us on sight. We didn’t ask for this either— one moment we thought we were dead, and the next, we woke up in a world we’d never seen before,” the young man added.
“You thought you were dead…?” Momo asked.
“…I see, so you’re a ‘transmigrator. ’ Don’t worry about it— that’s my issue. What matters now is healing this kid we got caught up in this mess.”
“I’ve managed to weaken the curse enough to stop it from reapplying, but unless it’s completely cured, his life will still be at risk.”

The saint cast a gentler purification spell than before, and it seemed like a bit of color returned to Plerion’s face. Even so, his breathing remained frail. With a child’s fragile stamina, it was impossible to tell how long he could hold on.

“Ugh… ha… ah… Where… am I…?”
“Hey, you’re awake, Plerion. How are you feeling?”

Thanks to the weakened curse, Plerion’s consciousness began to return. He glanced around briefly, as if struggling to grasp the situation, and when his eyes landed on me, he furrowed his brows slightly.

“…The worst… Waking up to your face…”
“It’s good that you can still joke. Do you remember what happened?”
“……The… pink-haired one… is she… okay…?”
“I-I’m perfectly fine! Look, I’m right here, completely healthy, so please hang in there, Plerion!”
“Calm down, Momo. Plerion, I’ll be blunt— you took a fatal curse in Momo’s place. If things stay like this, you’ll die of weakness.”
“……I see.”

Even after hearing the death sentence, Plerion remained surprisingly composed. Maybe he had already sensed it from the state of his body, or perhaps he simply lacked the energy to complain.

“Master, do you really have to tell him that now…?”
“Would you rather I wait and tell his grave? He deserves at least a little time to prepare himself. If he’s got any last words, I’ll listen— and the saint here can throw in a prayer for free.”
“Miss Roche, is she always like this?”
“Yes, Saint Mikaboshi. She’s a dear friend of mine.”
“Shut up, two saints over there.”
“…I don’t want to die.”

Plerion’s breath hitched as he forced the words out, barely more than a whisper.

“I… don’t want to die… I can’t die… not yet…”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because… I haven’t made you eat your words yet… you damn fake teacher…!!”

Even on the brink of passing out, Plerion’s eyes burned with a fierce light as he glared at me.

After all the humiliation in front of a crowd, and even facing death from a curse, he still hadn’t lost his rebellious spirit. His stubborn determination was genuinely admirable. Honestly, if he’d started crying about wanting to give up, I’d considered leaving him to the saints with whom he seemed to have some unfinished business.

“…Interesting. I’ve changed my mind. Plerion, I’ll do you a favor— try your best to survive so you can pay me back with spite.”

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