Dominic stared at Hannah silently.

  I do understand your frustration.

  At one point, he’d had the same mindset, though so long ago he barely remembered it.

  There were any number of ways he could answer her accusation. He could try to justify it, argue about mortality and philosophy, reveal the truths of the Universe and see whether she would understand. Realistically, she wouldn’t, for the answers were just so… inane.

  But at the end of the day, Dominic wasn't at fault for any of this world’s troubles. He’d been here, what, a single day?

  True, he could have claimed a universe earlier, rushed into it instead of prioritizing the war… However, thousands of universes came into being every single month. How many could he cover, even if he ground his way through each one at maximum speed?

  Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Fifty? Sooner or later, he would be stretched too thin, unable to maintain their borders and compromising them to Soul Eaters.

  However powerful he may be within a given universe’s boundaries, he was still only a demigod. Not an omniscient and omnipotent godking—if only such a thing existed, everything would be solved then. Alas, such an existence remained only a theoretical concept.

  There were too few gods and far too many Universes. It was simply impossible to save them all, as much as he might want to. Pondering what ifs would be dumb. That road of thought would end up nowhere.

  There were many ‘ifs’ he could have done, that could have happened. He hadn't, and they hadn’t happened. What was over was over, even though he felt the slightest twinge of regret as he saw the clear pain in the girl’s eyes, for it reminded him of himself, a distant, infinitely long past version of himself.

  “I did not create this universe,” Dominic finally said.

  “Was it all—” Hannah screamed, then caught herself midway and subdued her tone, going back to the simmering, pressured tone of before. “Was it all a goddess then, or a god? A god beyond even you, so ancient that they created this Universe? Are they… are they evil? Is that why they gave humans free will, why they filled this world with sin?”

  The Saintess let out a shaky breath, looking increasingly convinced by her own theory, “Are you rebelling against the evil god? Did they seal you in some prison before? Is that why you could not descend and save us all?”

  Dominic stared at her with slightly widened eyes. Yeah, no, she’s not similar to me at all. Even in the beginning of his life, he’d never had quite this much of an active imagination.

  “No,” he replied to her, his tone kind. “None of what you’re theorizing... Listen to me. This universe was created on its own. No god made it. It spawned on its own, just like countless other universes. I could try and explain our prevailing theories on just why this happens, but I doubt you would understand until you reach the demigod status—and you too, Calvin.”

  His disciple seemed surprised at being suddenly included in the conversation, but he nodded.

  “As for why I didn’t arrive sooner... I had no… reason to, and I was occupied by fighting back even greater threats in another Universe, the Soul Eaters. I've just reached this place. And yeah, I have all intentions to help your world, even if just to accumulate good karma. Ascending to godhood requires me to gather a sufficient amount of good karma, you see.”

  A few seconds passed. They both stared at each other silently.

  It was Hannah who broke the silence. She bowed down and begged, “Please, please help me. You... you have to help us. Without you… I've... there are so many people that I've wanted to help, but I've not been able to. Please, please help me save them all.”

  Dominic tilted his head. “What do you mean, Saintess?”

  What would one expect the Church of Light to do when they encounter a village afflicted by the plague?

  Well, when Hannah was six years old, she expected a lot. She expected that the priests who came by would help them, cure them, save them, just like in stories of the Goddess's miracles spread by village elders and wandering bards.

  Instead, the priests did a simple check through the village huts one by one, testing the residents’ affinity for Holy Power.

  When the priests reached Hannah's house, they’d already combed through most of the village. They’d given up on the village, and it showed. These last few homes were a mere formality, their eyes blank, tone dead, and emotions apathetic. They didn’t even respond to her elder sister’s begging with the slightest sympathy.

  But then, Hannah was found.

  She still remembered the way the priest's eyes lit up when Hannah's energy reacted with theirs, when she was deemed to be a Saintess Candidate. For their Saintess Candidate, the priests allowed her family to join them. Even tried to cure them despite how ‘expensive’ it would be. One whole gold coin for brewing the elixirs and related healing potions, it wouldn’t be worth any random peasants’ lives.

  Thanks to their grudging intervention, Hannah’s sister survived. She was living a healthy life, settling in one of the villages nearby her hometown and having married a man she loved dearly.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Their mom, however, wasn’t so lucky. The plague had spread far too much in her body. The best they could do was ensure she died painlessly and peacefully.

  All that was only because Hannah had been chosen as a Saintess.

  What if she hadn't been chosen? Would she and her family have been abandoned like all the others in the village too? Would they have withered and died too?

  Even as a six year old, she knew the answer—undoubtedly.

  Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t dared protest, nor begged the priests of the Church to go back and at least try and help the villagers. She hadn’t known her own worth, after all, and wasn’t willing to shake the boat.

  Not only her village, but many many villages over the years. Plagues were common in the outskirts. And all those lives were lost… because it was too expensive to cure them.

  That was it.

  It was an unnecessary drain on the resources, precious dungeon resources and precious gold coins. Hence, the kingdom, who could not care less about the plague, abandoned all of them. As long as their top brass was not affected, the King and the Rift Sealers did not even bother trying to find a specific potion for whichever strain of the plague currently ravaged their people.

  The Church, lapdogs of the King, couldn’t care less. Hannah witnessed a lot more of this apathy, and she could never do anything about it.

  She had willingly taken on these chains, after all. First for her family, then for the hope of helping others, then for power, and finally for stability. Unless she was ready to be ruined, she couldn’t risk anything—not when it wouldn’t even change anything in the first place.

  Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder—would it have been better? If she went against the Pope and the Cardinals, not willingly given in to them.

  If she had tried to bring some change, if she had tried to save those people, maybe her villagers, maybe plague victims, maybe orphans, maybe slaves. Maybe if she had protested more, all of those lives could have been saved.

  But at the end of the day, she knew that she was helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.

  She had no power, may it be physical, intellectual or financial.

  Until these two clients came by. When they offered a hundred thousand gold coins, every hope she’d killed, thinking it was impossible, everything she believed would never happen, sparked back in her mind.

  With a hundred thousand gold coins… Could she save everyone? Could she have helped all those people? No, could she now help all the people she saw struggling with those coins?

  She could.

  A major chunk would be lost in necessary bribes to the nobles. The merchants would take up another chunk, of course. But with the power from bribing these people, she would have been able to go against the royalty. Not directly, of course, unless she wanted a full-out war, but she would have been able to indirectly exert more influence.

  She would have been able to build orphanages. She would have been able to build hospitals. She would have been able to donate food to those who actually needed it.

  She would have been able to be a Saintess. A true Saintess, someone who brings hope to her people, who spreads love and makes living easier for the downtrodden.

  Of course, in practice, the Pope and the Cardinals would surely have only brought her back in line again, threatened her, blackmailed her, destroyed her hopes. She was their trophy, not an agent of her own choosing, nevermind how closely her desires might align with the ideals of their goddess.

  But now, she saw another hope.

  She was dealing with a demigod. A demigod who intended to change the world, to gain ‘good karma’, as he put it. He didn't want to end this world, he didn't see them as ants, and even though he may just want to gather ‘good karma’ for godhood, it still meant he wanted to help them.

  And that was more than she could have ever hoped for.

  With the demigod’s assistance, could she change this all? Could she finally protect and save those who needed saving?

  That was why Hannah had fallen to her knees. That was why Hannah begged him for an opportunity, for his help.

  And when the demigod didn't immediately refuse, only looking curious, she continued, “Please, Your Demigodness, Your Holiness, Your Almightyness, this world is corrupt... The Church, the Royalty, the Rift Sealers, those of the other kingdoms… Everyone in power, they are corrupt. I do not know if you intend to change this, if that matters in your grand scheme. But if you could help me constrain the Pope and the Cardinals, then I could bring a change.”

  She paused, letting out a shaky breath, “I could use the money you offered to actually help people, and perhaps it’d even indirectly help you gain some good karma.”

  Maybe it was a misstep, offering help to a god. But she was too emotional, too overwhelmed, to think straight right now.

  The client stared at her solemnly for a few seconds. Then, he smiled softly and asked, “Do you really intend to do good for this world?”

  Hannah nodded fervently.

  “Why?”

  Hannah looked at him silently. Many reasons passed through her mind. It is my duty as a Saintess. My duty as a human being. I would have wanted someone like the current me to help me. I would have—

  But only one reply really stuck in her head.

  “Why not?”

  That caught the client off guard. He stared at her silently for a few more seconds, then his smile grew wide and bright, almost smug. “All right then, Saintess, you've got yourself a deal. I'll help you constrain the Pope and the cardinals as you said. Hell, I'll help you take over the religion itself. We could do a non-violent merger and acquisition. Of course,” he looked at the other client—the younger man, clearly still a teenager, “all of this is after I help my disciple. And for that, I'll need your help.”

  “You, you, you'll actually help me?” she repeated, stunned. It was one thing to make a desperate plea for help, but when one has always been rejected, it became unbelievable that someone would actually agree.

  “Of course I will,” the client replied, looking baffled. “Why wouldn’t I? And also, my name is Dominic and my disciple’s name is Calvin. What’s yours?”

  “H—Hannah.” His promise to help her despite her impudence and rudeness stunned her even more than when he’d revealed he was an actual demigod.

  “Hannah, hm? Nice name,” Dominic nodded, “Let’s get my disciple to S Rank and get his revenge, then we’ll think of a way to take over your Church, yes?”