Hadden’s life as a priest was peaceful.

  He woke up, prayed to the Goddess of Light.

  Ate, prayed to the Goddess of Light.

  Cleaned the Cathedral—a point of pride, being a member of the largest Cathedral for the Church of Light in the entire world, making him clean extra hard and well—prayed to the Goddess of Light.

  Ate once more, prayed to the Goddess of Light.

  Performed sermons for the believers, listened to their confessions and let them lighten their burdens, prayed to the Goddess of Light.

  Ate one final time, prayed to the Goddess of Light, and then Hadden slept.

  The next day, he did the very same things, on repeat.

  Some might call it mundane and repetitive, but Hadden liked his stable and peaceful life.

  The Church of Light was unique among the world’s religions. They didn’t ask for donations, nor did they stockpile money. The royals generously provided for their expenses, so there was no need to further pursue financial matters.

  Whatever they wanted to do, they did, and the royals paid for it without question.

  If they wanted to train more priests, they trained more priests; if they wanted to build another cathedral, they built another cathedral; if they wanted to conduct a grand ceremony, they conducted a grand ceremony. Not many obstacles to their decisions, really.

  They even had internal harmony and unity. The Saintess didn’t oppose the Pope, the Pope didn’t oppose the Saintess, none of the Cardinals had any desire to take either of their spots. No factions, no arguments, nothing.

  Nobles never tended to donate to them, perhaps because of how uncontroversial and unobtrusive they were. When the Priests of the Church didn’t advocate for donations, and the nobles had nothing to gain from it… Donations were something rare indeed.

  So when a black haired man with golden eyes walked into the cathedral, accompanied by a blonde boy with green eyes, dressed in extravagant ceremonial suits, none of the priests gave them any special treatment. Rich or very rich, all were treated equally in the Church of the Light.

  “Good day, my dear priest! We’d like to hire the Saintess to act as our healer for a few months.”

  Hadden nearly choked as he watched the two men sitting in front of him, casually spouting absurdities. “W-what?”

  “We’re in need of her healing expertise. No one else will do. So, how much would that be?”

  Hadden honestly wanted to scream and rant. He was this close to popping a blood vessel. As if she had nothing better to do than follow them around as some kind of shiny trophy.

  “Look, dear believers,” Hadden had to use every drop of patience he had to maintain the calm and soothing tone he always used with believers, “I understand you need a healer. One of us priests will come along with you for a nominal fee. But adamantly asking to hire the Saintess is nothing but foolhardy behavior. That too to be a healer. Surely you must understand this.”

  The black haired man leaned forward, the aura of nobility seeping out of his every pore. How high up was this man? The Northern Duke? Or perhaps the Southern? An illegitimate royal? Maybe a branch family of the royals?

  “I understand, honored priest, I understand.” The man said, just as soothingly and kindly as Hadden had. “But I don’t think I mentioned this was to destroy an S Class Dungeon? A top secret mission.”

  Hadden blinked. “An S CLASS DUNGEON?” He was only a priest, not a saint. It was understandable for him to lose his cool.

  “Mhm,” the black haired man nodded, and dropped a large pouch onto the desk. It looked full to the point it’d burst. “And this is a donation of a few hundred gold coins. Not as payment for the Saintess, of course, that would be at least multiple thousand gold coins at the very least. But that’s all negotiable, yes?”

  Hadden stared at the man blankly, his gaze moving from the pouch to the men to the door.

  Truly, he would probably never forget this day.

  I was kidding! KIDDING! K-I-D-D-I-N-G!

  When I said you could move the Saintess to be a healer, it was figurative! This is terribly inefficient, I tell you, Mister Dominic! Please, let’s go to the Guild instead! We can hire a Rift Sealer who’s experienced at healing!

  (?﹏?`?)

  Will there be anyone as good at healing as the Saintess there? Dominic asked, not taking his gaze away from the priest’s back.

  The man had arranged a meeting with all the bigshots of the Church of Light. As the largest cathedral in the world, a place considered as the core spot of a religion, everyone important to the religion hung around here. Including the Saintess.

  W—Well, no, no one can be as good as the Saintess when it comes to healing, b—but, this… She’s not a Rift Sealer! They would never agree to put her in danger for just money!

  (?﹏?)

  Even if I offer multiple thousand gold coins?

  Even if you offer multiple thousand gold coins!

  (???)?

  Even if I offer tens of thousands of gold coins? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? S-Rank Artifacts? SSS Rank Artifacts? A Holy Sword? The Truths of the Universe? If I reveal myself to be a demigod and perform a hostile M&A over their religion? Even if I pressure the royals?

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  (???O﹏ O???)

  T—The Saintess, she’s worth that much?

  ( ? ? ?;)? ?

  No, no. Dominic smiled, shaking his head. The Saintess certainly isn’t worth that much. My disciple, however, is. When I can provide him the very best, why would I compromise? When I could provide him a Holy Powered Saintess healer, why would I compromise to a Rift Sealer Healer?

  I—I see.

  (>/////< " )

  I’m so envious of your disciple.

  Wanna become my disciple too?

  The sound of an opening door brought Dominic’s focus back to the antechamber before Gabrielle could respond and she let the conversation lapse. The priest gestured for them to enter the church’s private council hall, his expression solemn.

  Dominic walked in, followed closely by Calvin. Inside the room was a large, semi-circular table, with five people sitting across it. Two very old men and two middle aged men, and one young woman, sitting at the very center of the semi-circular table.

  “Greetings, dear believers,” the woman said, calmly and kindly, “I am the Saintess. I understand you want to hire me?”

  Honestly, Calvin increasingly believed he was still dying. This had to be all a fever dream to let him pass away more peacefully. Satisfying all his unfulfilled wishes so that he wouldn’t become a resentful ghost and haunt this wretched world.

  But it was nice, having his deepest fantasies fulfilled. He appreciated that a lot.

  He looked around at the cathedral, barely hiding his awe as he walked behind his master.

  Just a day ago, he wouldn’t have been allowed near the premises, let alone inside the building. The guards would beat him till he ran away. He’d even been beaten when he approached the cathedral during a festival for a ‘free food’ event, so he’d know.

  Ironic how that worked. The Church of Light would feed anyone and everyone—except those who really, really needed it. Calvin himself and the other homeless people, those of other religions who didn’t conceal their allegiance, any beastmen who were still present in the Empire of Nohl after the Kingdom of Yarea formed… all deemed unworthy, offered nothing but hatred and scorn.

  The Church’s logic insisted people like Calvin must have clearly sinned in a previous life, or they wouldn’t be born into such a wretched fate this time. It was an interesting thought process, one that always evoked Calvin’s rage and scorn. Futile emotions. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it.

  But his master… This man, he could do everything about it.

  He could freeze time itself. Even ending the world must only be an annoying process—or inconvenient, considering the fact he wanted to accumulate good karma— not an impossible task.

  Could Calvin try and end the world after learning his master’s skills? With his master’s permission, of course. Only end the world a teeny tiny bit.

  When the priest opened the door and they stepped inside, the sense of dissonance and disbelief only intensified.

  Calvin recognized the figures sitting around the semi circular table. He’d seen them all during Church events, waving their hands regally as the crowd went mad for them, basking in glee that they were able to breathe the same air as these mystical existences.

  The Saintess. The Pope. The Three Cardinals.

  These were the most powerful people in the kingdom, only weaker than the Royals and S Rank Rift Sealers.

  And right now, he was standing in front of them. As an equal. To negotiate.

  The wonders of power, money, and an outfit change, he supposed.

  “Greetings, dear believers,” the Saintess said, clearly suppressing her confusion, “I am the Saintess. I understand you want to hire me?”

  “You’re the Saintess?” Dominic asked, and the condescension in his tone made Calvin’s stomach bubble with such pure glee.

  These people were nothing in his master’s eyes, not even worthy of recognition, clearly too disappointing even for their titles—and he, Calvin, was recognized by such a person! True, through sheer luck, but luck was also an important part of a person, no?

  Calvin could live with that, being an unlucky person who suddenly struck the lottery. A life changing, world ending, reality bending lottery.

  Before the Saintess could reply, Dominic continued, “Yes, as I told the honored priest,” with a casual wave towards the man who arranged this, “I want to hire the Saintess to heal my party as we dive an S Rank Dungeon. We wish to destroy it once and for all, begin ending the scourge that plagues this world.”

  Scourge was a rather heavy word. Even an orphan with minimal education knew how much profit permanent dungeons brought. Sudden rifts wrought far more damage to the world, it was those that Rift Sealers closed.

  Not that Calvin knew much about dungeons. If his master was using this excuse confidently, perhaps the whole ‘dungeons bring us profits, it’s why we don’t close them’ was a lie spread by the royals.

  Wouldn’t be the first time the royals lied, that was for sure.

  “...and the royals know about this?” Pope Lathan, a man with deep wrinkles under his eyes and around his mouth, asked. His hair was almost completely white—he too had decided to sport a clean shave, like his master.

  “Did I say this secret mission is being conducted by this kingdom?”

  Calvin’s heart skipped a beat as sheer confusion filled his mind. He looked at his master. Was he really asking the Church of Light, the royals’ lapdogs, paper tigers who would never dare to—

  His master continued, before any of the members present could express their outrage beyond their expressions darkening. “I’ll give you twenty thousand gold coins.”

  The absurd offer silenced any protest before it could begin. The Pope’s expression froze midway between outrage and greed, the Saintess’ paused between distaste and fear, and the Cardinals looked at one another like they were questioning their hearing.

  “Twenty thousand gold coins?” Pope Lathan asked in disbelief. “Do you even understand the amount you are offering? Which kingdom are you from? I am pretty sure no kingdom is rich enough to pull this—”

  “Forty thousand.”

  The Pope paused, his eyes widening.

  “Sixty thousand.”

  “W—Wait, it’s not about the amount, we can’t just betray the royals—” the Saintess began, only to be interrupted by Dominic.

  “If I understand correctly, your highest spending ever till now was a hundred thousand gold coins in a year, during the year of the Great Plague.” Dominic stated, a wicked grin spreading over his face. “And it’s true, forty, sixty, seventy, all these numbers just don’t sound as good. How about a hundred thousand gold coins? All at once, right in your coffers, secret secret. No one will know. Not the royals. Not the other priests. Not the believers.”

  Calvin could feel his own breathing quicken at the sheer number his master was proposing, let alone the members of the Church. They were practically hyperventilating.

  “S—Surely taking the Saintess along for one m—mission is not worth that much.” Pope Lathan said, trying hard to sound stable but his stuttering gave him away, “What do you really want?”

  “Think of this as me buying your entire Church, then.”

  Calvin let out a splutter of laughter. He couldn’t help it.

  Everyone in the room—including his master—turned their attention towards Calvin at the sound. The expressions on the Pope's and the Saintess’ faces finally broke the dam.

  Calvin just kept laughing, tame chuckling that evolved into deep, belly aching laughter, tears forming at the edge of his eyes.

  “Oh, so this is all some sort of… joke?” the Pope asked, sounding more relieved than outraged.

  Dominic raised an eyebrow and waved his hand. A purple rift appeared in front of him, and gold coins began pouring out. Endlessly, hundreds upon hundreds, filling up the floor in a sea of gold coins within seconds.

  “Here’s thirty thousand,” Dominic stated theatrically as he clicked his finger, closing the rift. “Surely you don't expect to see all hundred thousand before the task is completed?”

  “Ah, well. That is… Could you excuse us a few minutes? I believe we need to deliberate.”