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“So, with that settled, I’ve decided Momo is going to spend the rest of her days at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I don’t wanna dieeeee!”
“Apologies, but I must abstain from taking life due to my position,” the Saint chimed.

As soon as Momo had breathed fire, we abandoned our shopping trip and hurried to the church where the Saint worked. If there were a place equipped to handle an accidental burst of dragon breath, it would be here. Even in the worst-case scenario, treatment would be swift.

“As I suspected, the dragon gem is showing its side effects. I don’t wanna be pushed with the responsibility, so I’ll have to sink her.”
“Ms. Roche, save meee!”
“Now, now, let’s set the master-student squabble aside for a moment, Ms. Momo, would you mind showing me the flames?”
“Wha—here?!”

Even though the church was spacious, much of its structure was wooden. The idea of unleashing flames here was, to put it mildly, a little concerning, as I had only seen the variant of it suppressed by her hand.

“It’ll be fine,” The Saint assured. “I’ll suppress it if it gets out of hand. And Ms. Laika can handle the extinguishing if needed.”
“Don’t drag me into this without asking.”
“Alrighty then! Here goes nothing!”

Momo, clearly trusting her assurances, took a deep breath and exhaled.

However, instead of the ominous black flames she’d produced earlier, only a few feeble sparks flickered and dissipated in the air.

“…Uh… huh?”
“Oh my, there are some embers, but that’s all. Out of fuel, perhaps?” the Saint suggested, tilting her head in thought.
“It was much more intense earlier… I suppose humans don’t work quite like dragons,” I muttered.

A dragon’s breath was pure, destructive magic power expelled in raw, untamed form. For a human—especially one like Momo, who barely had any magic reserves—it was unsurprising that she would burn through her magic power in a single attempt.

“Still, the fact remains that she can breathe fire. This is rather… fascinating. Koutei, would you come over here?”
“What seems to be the matter, Lady Roche? This one must remind you, not long has passed since recovery, as such this one is not up for any heavy lifting.”
“Oh, so you weren’t broken after all,” I muttered as the noisy clanking of metal heralded Koutei’s arrival.

The golem, still wrapped in what seemed to be an excessive amount of bandages, shuffled into the room. I had completely forgotten about it since the fight against Claxton. Honestly, I’d assumed it’d been destroyed.

…But seriously, does a golem even need bandages?

“Ah, Lady Laika, it has been but a day since our last meeting! Being trampled by a dragon was quite the ordeal.”
“Koutei,” the Saint interjected, “I’d like you to take a look at Ms. Momo here. It seems she’s somehow inherited Claxton’s power.”
“Wha… how did this come to pass…?”
“No idea. But it’s because this idiot pulled off the mother of all idiotic stunts,” I replied flatly, pointing a thumb at Momo.
“Hehe, it wasn’t that big a deal,” Momo said, scratching her cheek sheepishly.
“I’m not complimenting you. Anyway, can you figure out what’s wrong with her?”
“Hmm… This one shall try and see. Pardon me.”

Koutei moved over to where Momo stood, its metal fingers delicately tracing an invisible path through the air—the same trajectory where her earlier sparks had scattered.

A faint “sizzle” sound echoed intermittently, as though water was meeting fire, and the faint smell of burning wafted through the room.

“Hmm… it is a curse,” Koutei declared. “Though nothing severe. A touch from yours truly should suffice to purify it.”
“Wait, my breath is cursed?!” Momo squeaked in alarm.
“Hahaha! Compared to the ghost ship’s curse, this one is child’s play. Even if you were to breathe it directly onto someone, they’d likely suffer no worse than a mild cold.”
“Well, Claxton aside, considering it’s you, Momo, I can’t imagine you’ve got much talent for cursing anyone,” I said with a shrug.
“Hehe, you think so?”
“Again, not a compliment.”

Even so, the reality of Momo spitting out cursed flames couldn’t be ignored. While the output resembled the dregs of an empty teapot, the undeniable connection to Claxton’s breath and the ghost ship’s curse could draw attention from particularly troublesome individuals.

And worst of all…

“Well, well, well. If it is a curse, I cannot ignore it now, can I? I am a Saint. A Saint.”
“You said it twice, you obnoxious Saint…” I muttered, glaring at her.

And then there was her—this self-proclaimed Saint, using Momo’s condition as an excuse to tag along. Somehow, she had already packed travel bags. She’d clearly planned to come with us from the start.

“This will not do, this will not do! Lady Roche, you still have mountains of work awaiting you!” Koutei protested, his metallic frame rattling as he gestured emphatically.
“Oh my, Koutei. It seems you’ve yet to grasp whose generosity is currently fueling your movements,” the Saint replied sweetly.
“Gyaaaah! This one’s core output has dropped below 30%!!”
“I’ve been thinking this for a while, but Ms. Roche, you’re oddly casual when it comes to Koutei,” Momo noted.
“She’s not casual; she’s just treating him like junk,” I said flatly.

From the looks of things, Koutei was the most severely wounded after the battle with Claxton. Without the Saint sharing her mana, the poor golem could barely function. And with that dynamic, it seemed no one was in a position to rein her in—except perhaps her green-haired Halfling watcher.

“Ehehe, Astera is busy overseeing reconstruction in the western district, so, for the time being, I am free.”
“This woman… is invincible,” I groaned.
“Even without personal interests, I am genuinely concerned about Ms. Momo’s wellbeing. It was sheer luck that no harm came from the first incident.”
“You’re right… I might sneeze again and—hehh…hehh…hehhk-CHOO!!”
“Could you not prove her point right this second!?” I snapped.

A faint burst of embers escaped Momo’s mouth again, fluttering harmlessly into the air. It wasn’t much, but even this tiny flare was a stark reminder of the potential danger.

If she accidentally let loose with her breath somewhere I couldn’t monitor her, the consequences could be catastrophic. As much as I loathed the idea of the Saint tagging along, there was an uncomfortable truth in her insistence on keeping Momo under supervision.

“But… what about your duties in Aldebaran? Isn’t this precisely the time when you should be stepping up?” I asked.
“All life-threatening cases have already been treated,” she replied matter-of-factly. “The other Ascles believers can handle the rest. Over-relying on me would be more problematic in the long run.”
“That may be true,” I conceded, “but isn’t this just a hassle for you?”
“Expeditions are routine for me. Besides, this particular incident piques my curiosity. There’s also the matter of that Thuru believer.”

She delivered the line with her usual flippant tone, but the mention of Thuru clearly stemmed from her serious intentions as a Saint. It seemed her motives were equal parts professional and personal amusement. With that in mind, there was little room left to outright refuse her.

“…Just make sure you help look after Momo,” I finally relented. “She’s more than I can handle alone.”
“Of course, leave her to me. I’ll be counting on you too, Ms. Momo.”
“Right! I’m counting on you as well!” Momo chirped cheerfully.

And with that, our journey to Rigel gained yet another unnecessary traveling companion.

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