With more urgency than force, the men in robes lead Straf into a room off to the side of the church, and Cycelia follows right after them. They shut the door behind her when she enters the small meeting room. There are two very modest couches facing each other across a small table, and an unlit fireplace set in a nearby wall. The men nudge Straf towards one of the couches.

「Sit! Sit!…」

One of the old men practically pleads Straf, pointing his hand at the couch. Straf looks over his shoulder at Cycelia with his brows furrowed, and she returns a small nod.

With a resigned sigh, he sits down. Cycelia walks up to his side, and he shuffles over to the center to make space for her. She sits down right beside him, and the robed men sit down across them.

「So… How much do you know?」

The mostly bald man who greeted Straf and Cycelia at the door asks.

「Uhhh…」

Straf turns his eyes towards Cycelia for another helping suggestion, but instead of signaling something, she tilts her head, being apparently curious about his answer as well.

「…I know the church is dedicated to Mercia?」

He turns his gaze back to the old men, and replies with a shrug of his hands.

「Yes. What else?」

A beady-eyed old man asks, nodding his head with his brows raised.

「…Alright, I give up. That's about all I know.」

Straf rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders as he admits.

「What!?」「How is that possible!?」「How!?」

The old Mercia's priests exclaim in shock with their eyes wide open. Cycelia is equally shocked.

「…So you have never heard of Mercia's commandments!?」

The bushy-browed man asks.

「Nope.」

Straf casually shrugs.

「…And you have never prayed to Mercia?」

The balding man asks, leaning forward.

「Nope.」

「…And you don't even know who Mercia is!?」

The beady-eyed man asks. Straf rolls his eyes.

「Nope. And I don't think I care to know beyond the level of surface trivia.」

Straf adds, crossing his arms with his mouth sharply aslant.

「Brother, fetch Mercia's commandments!」

The mostly bald man turns his gaze to the beady-eyed one. He nods in response and shoots up to his feet, then rushes out of the room, hastily closing the door behind himself.

「But how could this be?… Surely… Surely as a child you would have been taught at least the basics in passing?」

The bald old man turns his confused eyes full of disbelief to Straf's nonchalant face, and sticks his hands palms-up over the table in search for answers.

「Guess I kind of missed out on being a child.」

Straf scoffs with a shrug of his shoulders.

「Straf…」

Cycelia utters out softly with large amount of pity in her emerald eyes, clutching onto her medallion.

「Do you at least know what Mercia promises?」

「Nope.」

Straf nonchalantly replies, and the two remaining Church of Mercia priests glance at each other. The third one returns with an old book. He rushes back to his seat.

Thud.

「Read this! It will explain everything!」

The beady-eyed man says as he slams down a book, as thick as two phone directories stacked on top of each other, onto the table.

「You gotta be shittin' me! I'm not reading all that! I'm not interested in knowing how many consecutive strides I'm allowed to take backwards on Thursdays!」

Straf blurts out when he sees the sheer thickness of the book with a plain, solid color cover. Cycelia turns her lightly troubled and embarrassed smile to the priests.

「Er… Well… I will give you a summary in that case-」

Slightly taken aback and unsure how to react, the balding man scratches his temple as an awkward atmosphere fills the room.

「Why didn't you start with that?」

Straf asks, and scrunches his mouth to the side.

「…Anyway, Mercia is our goddess of peaceful, graceful, and timely demise, as well as rebirth. Her commandments are very simple…」

The old man continues, and Straf rubs his chin with his brow lightly raised as he listens.

「…Lead a wholesome life, be mindful and respectful of all life, and avoid living in a way that may lead to a violent death.」

「…And she's your creator goddess and whatnot, the all-creator and so on?」

Straf asks with a bored, unimpressed expression on his face. The old men exchange confused glances.

「What?… No… What do you mean, all-creator?」

The balding man asks, furrowing his brows at Straf.

「What? Someone had to create all this stuff, right? So was that her, or do you have another deity responsible for that? Is it a pantheon? A fucked up, murderous cannibal family?」

The confusion is contagious, and Straf catches it as well. He shrugs his hand, furrowing his brows back at the old men. Cycelia tilts her head, blinking her emerald eyes at him.

「Huh?…」

「The world was always here. Nobody created it. It might sound confusing, but it's all explained here… But perhaps it will be better if we finish the summary first?」

The old man scratches his bald head, before the bushy-browed old man chimes in, catching onto Straf's meaning. He taps the old book, and shrugs his robed shoulders.

「Yes… Anyhow, if you are interested in learning more about that, read the tome. It'll teach you everything you need to know… Ahem. Moving on…」

The balding man clears his throat, and continues. Straf glances at the weathered book's plain cover with his brows furrowed, before quickly returning his gaze to the old men across the table.

「…Returning to the wholesome life… You need not do anything special. Living your life in peace is enough. However, there are cases where your life may be upturned…」

「Wars, unrests, crime… Envy, perhaps.」

As the bald priest continues, the beady-eyed man chimes in. All three Mercia priests nod along with his statement.

「…You may turn to a life of violence. Mercenary work, army… Perhaps less legal things. You may even kill someone when living a life like that.」

「And then Mercia gets sad, and you get fucked?」

Straf scoffs, smirking at the men. Cycelia tugs at his sleeve.

「Straf, language, please…」「Tsk…」

She says in a hushed tone into his ear, smiling awkwardly at the priests. He clicks his tongue and lets out a sigh.

「No. Indeed, Mercia is saddened by senseless slaughter, but a life of violence, killing, and even ruthless murder are not enough to be abandoned by Mercia.」

The bald priests holds his palm up, and slowly but firmly shakes his shining head, apparently ignoring Straf's coarse language.

「How come? What gives? You're saying people can just murder each other, and it's alright? Mercia loves you?」

Scoffing again, Straf spreads his hands, shaking his head with a ridiculing smirk on his face before re-crossing his arms.

「No. Knowingly and willfully ignoring her commandments is abandoning Mercia, not Mercia abandoning you. One can abandon a life of violence and return to a wholesome life anytime.」

「So it's an opt-in, opt-out. What if you opt-out? Fiery pits? Torture by demons? Freezing your ass off? Void? Watching mediocre shi- Stuff get adaptations?」

Straf lets an amused huff out of his nose, and asks with a snide smirk.

「No… I was getting to that. Allow me to finish, and I will answer your question…」

The old bald man shakes his head, holding his palm up towards Straf again.

「…For those that heed her commandments, Mercia promises rebirth in a kind and peaceful world. She is a goddess of rebirth, after all. And for those that ignore them…」

He adds, and lets out a long, troubled sigh.

「The only punishment for disobeying Mercia is one that you pick for yourself. Some may think it's not a punishment in that case, but I am inclined to disagree…」

The bushy-browed priest chimes in, turning his eyes from the bald man to Straf. The other two nod along with solemn faces.

「…If you revel in death and violence, when you inevitably meet the same end, you will be sent to live a life full of death and violence until you finally have your fill.」

He adds, shrugging his robed shoulders.

「It is thought that some never make it out back to Mercia's arms. Stuck in a loop of endless death and rebirth in a world of death, they don't know any better anymore.」

The bald man comments, and spreads his hands.

「Whether that sounds like punishment or not is up to you.」

The beady-eyed man chimes in.

「So… Why was this necessary?」

Straf asks with his brows raised.

「So that you know what to do to follow Mercia's commandments. I don't know how it occurred that you hadn't the slightest morsel of knowledge about Mercia, but it is what it is.」

The bald priest explains, spreading his hands.

「You said commandments… She physically showed up here a few times to spread them, right?」

Straf asks, inquisitively rubbing his chin. The Church of Mercia priests exchange lightly puzzled glances.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

「Well, yes… Long ago, she took on a physical form and informed the first members of the church of her wishes. There were a few, sparse reports of her appearances, but…」

The priest nods his shining head, then shrugs his shoulders.

「Does she have massive tits?」

「Straf!?」

Straf nonchalantly asks the priests, shrugging his hand. Cycelia to jumps up in shock.

「Wha-?」「Huh?」「Err?…」

Their reactions range from shock to confusion, perhaps unsure if they heard Straf correctly.

「…Pardon?」

The bald priest says with his brows furrowed.

「I asked if she has real squeezable ones. Pumpkins, since they're in season right now. She showed herself, right? You should know.」

Straf asks again, and Cycelia stares at him with her jaw dropped.

「I… Er…」

The bald man exchanges deeply confused look with the other two, and stares at Straf.

「…If it would make you… More likely to follow her commandments, there is a historic statue of Mercia not far from here.」

The beady-eyed priest says, and points at a wall in some vague direction.

「Yes, that's right. Supposedly, a sculptor saw Mercia with his very eyes, and he felt compelled to capture her form in stone.」

The bald priest nods, turning his eyes to Straf.

「She allegedly appeared as a very beautiful woman with… Generous?… Proportions?」

The bushy-browed man comments, nodding as well, shrugging his hand as he carefully picks his words.

「Huh. The pieces are falling into place… I'm going to see that statue. Let's go, Lia.」

Straf stands up and places his hands in his coat's pocket as he squeezes past her legs. She unfreezes from her shock.

「Huh? Now?」

「Of course now, Lia. Someone probably already stole our horse…」

Cycelia asks as she stands up, and Straf looks at her over his shoulder with a faint patronizing smile, then grasps the door handle.

「Wait! Take the tome with you!-」

The bald priest calls out.

「I don't want it. I'm not going to change my religion, my political views, my opinion on democracy or my views on banker families anytime soon.」

Straf replies with his mouth scrunched to the side, and makes a hasty exit. Cycelia bows politely towards the priests before following him outside…

…

Ten minutes later…

While Straf is heading directly for the statue, Cycelia is swiveling her head around in search for their cart and horse.

「…Maybe it got scared and ran off to somewhere?」

「Someone stole it.」

Cycelia suggests, and Straf sighs out as he walks through the thin, late evening crowd.

「Maybe someone just took it to a stable? Maybe-」

「Lia, someone stole it. Not the first time, either…」

She quickly comes up with another theory, and Straf shoots it down just as quick, then sighs again.

「…I'll go take a proper look around! Be right back! Let's meet at the statue!」

Cycelia declares as she runs off along one of the wider streets.

「Lia!…」

Straf calls out, but soon gives up and lets out another, much larger sigh than before.

「…Tsk. Whatever… If she's not back by five minutes, I'll go find her.」

He mumbles to himself, rubbing the back of his vaguely aching neck with his hand. He continues walking onward down the road.

Only a few minutes later, he arrives at a small plaza, at the center of which there is large statue.

「Huh…」

Straf hums out as he walks up to the statue with his hands in his pockets. He tilts his head slightly while looking at it.

「…Athea!」

He calls out towards the sky, looking at it with his mouth heavily aslant.

《…What?》

Athea's voice asks in Straf's head. A displeased tone almost slips into her voice, but she manages to restrain it enough to be nearly imperceptible.

「Do you have any twins? Body doubles? Anything like that?」

Straf says as he looks up.

《What? No. I have sisters, but none that I would call a twin. What brought this bizarre question on?》

She replies with significant confusion in her voice.

「'Cause this statue really looks like you…」

He says, returning his eyes to Mercia's statue.

「…But what the fuck is up with those gaudy wings!? I don't remember seeing wings on you! Do you sprout them whenever you feel threatened by gravity!?」

Straf exclaims, pointing at the white stone statue of a very beautiful woman smiling softly at the viewers ahead of herself. Frozen between steps, apparently lightly carrying herself with immense grace on toes of her shoes, her flowing dress covers just enough to not be indecent, but reveals more than enough to let the mind wander. However, most of her body is covered by her furled, dove-like wings, which she is keeping at perhaps a forearm's length away from herself. The wings heavily obscure the view from her sides and back, taking up most of her silhouette.

《What?…》

She asks in a very confused tone.

《…That's… Aghhh…》

After a brief silence, she lets out a displeased groan.

「Yeah?… What?」

Straf spreads his arms at the sky, before returning his hands to his hips in fists.

《That old thing… Ahhh… Can you just ignore it? Please. I just so happened to run into a sculptor with a photographic memory when announcing to the people that the demon lord is dead.》

Athea lets out a sigh, then almost audibly cringes as she explains.

「Ignore it!? Did you seriously just show up to the people with wings? You fucking fraud!」

Straf exclaims, pointing his hand at the large wings on Mercia's statue.

《I did not! It's just something that he added! An artistic touch! I think it's great that he was creative, even if it's a little embarrassing! Just leave it be! It has nothing to do with you!》

She shouts back in Straf's mind. He scoffs at the statue with a malicious smirk.

「Leave it be? As if! Here's my critique!…」

《…What are you-? Do not do something stupid!》

Straf's grin grows, and Athea's tone turns nervous.

「…Actually, I don't need to snip the wings. I don't even need to go all out… Come to think of it, I still haven't tried any spell modifiers yet.」

《What spell modi-!? Don't you dare! I'm warning you!》

As Straf mumbles to himself and rubs his chin, Athea outright turns to panicking. He turns his gaze up towards the beautiful stone woman, grinning at her.

With his hands in his pockets, he stares, and stares, and stares. Nothing happens.

「Tsk… Do I actually need to say it?… That's so fucking stupid…」

Straf clicks his tongue and shakes his head in frustration.

《Do not-!》

Athea shouts as he raises his hand and points a fingergun at Mercia's statue. A few passersby turn their confused gazes to Straf.

「Uh… Lesser minimize『Force Ray』.」

Straf says with a grin on his face. A needle-thin blue line projects from his index finger towards the statue's center mass, and hits its dove-like wing.

SMASH!

The moment the line makes contact, the statue shatters into hundreds of pieces, flying off into the air as if launched from a catapult. The stone chunks sail far over the rooftops at a high speed, roaring through the sky. Straf appears a little surprised, though also amused, chuckling to himself with one of his hands casually in his pockets, and other still in shape of a fingergun.

「Oh shit. I thought it'd just tumble over, and they'd have to glue your head back together! That's even better! Hahaha!」

《What. Are. You. Doooooiiiing!?!》

Straf cackles as Athea screams into his head. The citizens' confused and shocked gazes slowly turn hostile, and vicious.

「You bastard!」 「Blasphemer!」 「I'll put your head on a pike for that!」

The small crowd that happened to witness Mercia's departure back into heavens has now turned into a large and furious mob, and it only took seconds.

「…Eh?」

Straf turns his eyes to the crowd encircling him. The people arm themselves with random items that they can find. Discarded bottles, broken barrel pieces, some craftsmen armed with hammers seem to have joined in, too. On top of improvised weapons consisting of virtually everything, some people in the crowd are also armed with bona fide personal weapons in the form of swords and daggers, and are brandishing them at Straf.

Mostly unbothered by the situation, Straf grimaces a little, and blows a puff of air at the barrel of his fingergun…