The Southern Holy City of Granfroze was a city of water and canals, literally the most prosperous metropolis in the southern half of a country divided by a massive inlet.
Canals branched out from the Holy Court District, where the Cathedral of the Chryscles Holy Church stood, and water transport was woven into the very fabric of daily life. For the city’s inhabitants, the most familiar mode of travel was the boat rather than the carriage. No matter where you stood in the city, you could hear the cool, rhythmic splashing of small vessels cutting through the water.
The Cathedral’s high-minded lectures claimed that these vast canals, which would have taken decades to construct by human hands, were a divine gift from the first Saint who had laid the city's foundations in ancient times. They were the most visible and familiar miracles available to the people.
We, Silvery Grey, had finally returned to the place we called home.
"Nngh... uwaah, we’re finally here..."
Liesel let out a weary sigh, stretching her body, which had grown stiff from the long carriage journey.
Except for Atri, who had served as the driver alongside Rosche, all the women looked utterly exhausted. Between the poor suspension and the low-quality seats, it hadn't been a comfortable ride. Honestly, my own lower back was aching.
Still, the journey through the wilds—where monsters or bandits could strike at any moment—was over. The faces of Ruerie and the two girls from Seeklore showed relief that far outweighed their fatigue.
"You can relax now. The knights in the Holy City are all quite capable," I said.
"...Yes," Ruerie responded with a small, fragile smile.
Between my bluntness and social awkwardness, we hadn't spoken much, but I felt like the ice between us had thawed just a little. Ruerie still seemed to be measuring the distance between us, so perhaps it was just my imagination, but considering I’d lectured her so haughtily about not pretending to be a villain, I was just grateful she was willing to speak to me at all.
The two girls from Seeklore had regained some color in their ice-pale complexions. They were recovering enough to offer simple responses, though it would likely be a long time before they were truly whole again. I could only hope that in the Holy City, which boasted some of the best security in the world, they could find the peace they needed to heal.
I wanted to say the long journey was finally behind us, but it was a bit premature to set down all our burdens.
The Holy City was a massive sprawl, standing as a twin pillar of the nation alongside the Northern Royal Capital of Eisen-Vista. We were currently in the South Entertainment District, just past the southern fortress. It was the city's outermost rim, a lively hub of inns and entertainment for travelers. For the record, there were West and East Entertainment Districts as well.
To reach the Holy Court District by carriage, we would have to navigate through the lush agricultural "Fertility District" and the bustling "Commercial District," zigzagging across countless bridges. Because of the canal network, traveling by land in the Holy City was an exercise in taking the long way around.
Our base was in the Holy Court District. If we stayed in the rattling carriage, the sun would be down before we arrived, and Liesel and the others would be crippled by muscle aches.
The locals knew better: from here, you switched to a boat. Rosche patted the horses, thanking them for their labor, and looked at us.
"Well, this is where I part ways with you for now. You all should go ahead by boat."
"Are you sure?"
"I’d only keep you waiting. I have to report the business with the Ruffians to the authorities."
Being near the fortress, this district housed a station for knights responsible for patrols and peacekeeping. Since we couldn't rule out the possibility that other remnants of Staffio’s gang were operating in the country, sharing information was vital. This guy was surprisingly diligent about his work.
"I’ll take the carriage and horses back to the post, if you don't mind. The knights are perpetually short on supplies."
"Yeah, that helps a lot."
And just like that, he made a smooth move to take the troublesome carriage off our hands. Was this guy really just an ikemen? Right, he was. A total ikemen.
"The annihilation of the Ruffians and the subjugation of the Grim Reaper... expect a reward from the Cathedral within a few days."
"Ugh... can I turn it down?"
"Certainly not. Reward and punishment are the core principles of the Holy City."
A reward, huh? There was no joy in being praised for killing people, and as for the Grim Reaper, the memory of how I’d even defeated it was a total blank.
Still, maybe I should just take it. If I was going to commission a high-grade prosthetic, I’d need a small fortune. Even without that, I was still a burden to the girls. It was better to have savings.
"Until we meet again! Do not weep too much in my absence!"
"Just get going."
I traded quips with Rosche, but as he turned to leave, I let out a breath.
"Anyway... thanks. You were a real help."
"...Oh?"
Thinking back, he really had saved us. He’d drawn away a third of the Ruffians to wipe them out, he’d stood at the front of the party in the ruins like it was second nature, and he’d stayed awake the longest during every night watch. He’d even volunteered to drive us all this way and gave me advice that hit far too close to home... Damn this ikemen.
He’d acted like a chaperone, supporting everyone from a step behind.
If you could ignore the fact that he was pretentious and noisy, he was a mountain of high specs. Heaven really did bestow multiple talents on the handsome. It was a staggering social disparity.
Rosche blinked in surprise for a moment, then flashed a brilliant smile.
"Heh. You are quite welcome. See that you never lose that honest heart of yours."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Until we meet again! Do not weep too much in my absence!"
I heard you the first time. Just go.
With a boisterous laugh, he walked away, his back radiating narcissism until he vanished from sight. We headed for the nearest pier. Since Shiarie hadn't woken up yet, Atri—the strongest among us—carried her.
"Wolka..."
"Yeah?"
Atri, holding Shiarie easily in a bridal carry, had a look of profound melancholy on her face.
"................I hate boats."
"..."
Atri absolutely loathed boats.
It wasn't just a dislike; it was a soul-deep phobia. For example, if Liesel ever took a contract that required sailing to the Royal Capital from the northern port, Atri would likely turn pale and beg for her life with tears in her eyes.
Ruerie tilted her head curiously. "Are you not fond of the water, Atri-san?"
"...I find it foolish that humanity ever thought to traverse the surface of the water."
"Th-that much...?"
It wasn't that she couldn't swim—in fact, she was an excellent swimmer—but she was extremely prone to motion sickness. I remembered a previous job where we’d been forced onto a boat; she’d turned green in minutes and spent the rest of the trip clinging to Yulitia and whimpering.
Even a warrior of the Arsvalem Tribe had her weaknesses.
"Master, you're up."
"Hey! Don't you 'Master' me!"
Atri was mostly triggered by large ships, and the small boats on the city’s canals were usually fine, but deep-seated trauma isn't easily swayed by logic. If she needed someone to cling to for emotional stability, Liesel was the perfect size to be held. Liesel fumed, but Atri didn't let go.
"Thank you, Liesel..."
"W-wait, I never said... I never said it was okay!"
We’d come this far together; I wasn't about to make Atri walk home alone at the very end. Liesel would just have to be the noble sacrifice. Deep down, Liesel probably didn't mind being the one to comfort her.
I didn't like to toot our own horn, but our party was somewhat famous in the Holy City.
A-rank adventurers weren't exactly rare in a city this size, but our lineup was a magnet for gossip. We had the small, "cute" Master; Yulitia, whose lovely appearance hid terrifying sword skills; and Atri, whose exotic tribal attire drew every eye. Even I was known, apparently, as the weirdo who used a mysterious style of swordsmanship. I took issue with "weirdo," though.
The female boatman who greeted us at the pier clearly recognized Silvery Grey.
"Oh, you lot—"
She started to smile but stopped abruptly. Her eyes moved from my eye patch and prosthetic to Shiarie in Atri’s arms, then to the traumatized survivors of Seeklore. Her expression softened into something quiet and somber.
"...I see. Alright, I’ve got you. Forget the fare, just get on."
"No, we can't—"
"It’s fine, don't give me any lip. You made it back. That’s what matters."
She likely saw dozens of adventurers every day and could read the situation at a glance. I felt bad about the free ride, but I appreciated her tact in not prying.
"That girl... sorry, but she’ll have to lie on the floor. Hold on a second."
She pulled out several thick blankets and fashioned a makeshift bed for Shiarie. Ruerie bowed deeply, her voice thick with emotion.
"Th-thank you so much...!"
"Don't mention it. You’re in the Holy City now. You’re safe."
She was a spirited, dependable woman, helping me and the survivors on board with a firm hand.
Most of the boats on the canals were small, carrying anywhere from a few to a dozen passengers. Essentially, they were gondolas. I remembered from my previous life that there were cities like this in the other world—one with canals and small boats must have been the motif for the Holy City.
However, these boats had a unique feature specific to this world.
They were powered by magic stones, using a mechanism that functioned like an engine. While they were only slightly faster than a carriage, they spared the boatmen from having to row. They could simply hum a tune and steer.
While the world’s general civilization level was standard fantasy, these magic tools were rapidly modernizing urban life. Technologies that used magic stones as power didn't require magical aptitude from the user, making them accessible to everyone. This meant that adventurers and knights who harvested stones from monsters were becoming essential workers for human society.
The boat pushed off.
Atri sat to my right, with a grumbling Liesel held firmly on her lap. Anze was to my left, while Yulitia, Ruerie, and the two survivors sat opposite us. Shiarie was at our feet. I had to be careful not to kick her; I didn't want to lose the progress I’d made with Ruerie.
As we left the entertainment district and entered the peaceful scenery of the Fertility District, our conversation shifted toward what came next.
Anze, declaring herself our "Patron" with immense enthusiasm, volunteered to handle everything for Ruerie and the others. They would be taken to the Cathedral for treatment and rest.
In truth, we had no better option than to leave them to the Church, so it was a massive help. Anze really was the missing piece our party needed. When I told her that, she looked so radiantly happy that I felt like the sunlight itself was purifying the area. That girl had some seriously heavy feelings.
As for us, we’d return to our rented inn in the Holy Court District and let our acquaintances know we were alive.
I doubted anyone would call me "safe" given my injuries, but we were back. I wasn't looking forward to their reactions, but we couldn't just stay hidden. After that... I’d focus on rehab, and with Anze’s help, I’d find a new prosthetic and work toward returning to society one step at a time.
"By the way, Wolka-sama."
It seemed Anze was on the same page.
"Regarding your new prosthetic... may I have a moment of your time?"
"Sure."
At the mention of my leg, Liesel and the others straightened up with sudden intensity. Ruerie followed suit a second later, her back going stiff. She didn't need to be that formal.
"Thank you," Anze said, her expression thoughtful. "As promised, I will search for the finest prosthetic the Holy City can provide. However, I have a concern."
I motioned for her to continue.
"Your 'Quick-draw Technique'... it involves such an instantaneous, explosive burst of Strength that I fear standard prosthetics—even high-grade ones—are not designed to withstand it. I worry about how long even a top-tier model could endure your swordsmanship."
"..."
She had a point. I’d already proven I could shatter a prosthetic with one move. If this was going to be my leg for the rest of my life, having it break and need repairs every few months wasn't sustainable. I needed something that could last years.
"Furthermore," Anze continued, "a quality prosthetic must be custom-fitted to the user's body. If your height were to change due to growth, for instance..."
"...Ah."
That was a blind spot. If I grew taller or my muscle mass changed, the fit would be ruined. For a commoner, it might be fine, but for a swordsman, an ill-fitting leg was a death sentence for my career.
"You are seventeen, Wolka-sama. It is highly likely you have not finished growing."
Seventeen was late for a growth spurt, but it wasn't impossible. Wait... if a top-tier leg was already expensive, and I had to replace it every time I grew or used my technique? Was this going to cost an even more astronomical amount than I’d feared?
"That is why I have a proposal. For now, it is merely a possibility I am exploring..."
"Let’s hear it," I said immediately.
If my bad feeling was right, the girls would just offer to pay no matter the cost. Anze would probably try to cover the whole thing out of her own pocket. I couldn't accept that. I was already living off their kindness; I couldn't let my pride—and my wallet—sink any lower. I was clinging to Anze’s "idea" like a lifeline. Please don't say the Church will pay for it.
"Wolka-sama, are you familiar with the Magisterica in the Royal Capital?"
"Yeah..."
I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't about money.
I knew the Magisterica. I was from the capital, my parents had been scholars there, and Liesel had been a member briefly. It was the world's premier research institute, responsible for almost every magic tool in existence. In the original work, it was said they’d advanced human history by a century.
Wait.
"There is a renowned Sage there. If anyone can solve your physical limitations in a more... permanent way, it would be her."
Anze didn't say it explicitly, but her voice carried a faint, shimmering hope—the hope that my leg could actually be healed.
In that moment, a fragment of memory from the "original work" surfaced in my mind like words written in shifting sand.
In the original story... in the Royal Capital arc, which the protagonist got dragged into... there was one girl who could pull off that kind of miracle.
"The person’s name is—"
It was... El... El—
"She is the current head of technological research at the Magisterica and a member of the Sevens. The Canon of Creation, Lady Elfiette."
Right. That was it. She was... well, not exactly a mesugaki, but she had that "I’m a genius beauty!" vibe. She was a bit of a "choirine"—an easy-to-win heroine—but...
Wait, she’s a major character from the original work!!
"...I see. That’s quite a reputation," I managed to say.
Inside, I was vibrating with sheer panic. I couldn't stay calm. If I followed Anze’s suggestion, I’d be getting involved with a high-tier heroine.
And wasn't she the one with several screws loose? Her ethics were "fluffy" at best—she’d perform horrific human experiments in the name of progress. Even the original protagonist had despised her, refusing to even look at her despite her status.
Anze? Why is that name coming out of your mouth? The plot was moving too fast. I hadn't expected to collide with the original storyline like this. But then, I lived in this world now. Colliding with the "plot" was always a possibility. I’d just been too busy surviving to realize it.
Is this a good idea? Or a death flag? Getting involved with her seemed like a recipe for disaster. For a mob character like me, it was practically a neon sign pointing toward my demise.
Then again, if anyone could fix a body that Holy Magic couldn't touch, it was her.
"—No."
It was Liesel. She’d left the Magisterica because of her ideological differences with them regarding magic. She still scowled whenever the organization was mentioned.
Master, with all the dignity of the eldest member of the party, spoke in a low, commanding voice.
"...No! Absolutely not!"
In the next heartbeat, she regressed into a tantrum, flailing on Atri’s lap.
"I won't have it! Seeking help from that shitty brat Elfi is absolutely, positively forbidden!"
Shitty brat?
Wait, did Master know her personally? The sociopathic Sage? Well, if Liesel was at the Magisterica, they might have crossed paths, but how many decades ago was that?
I said I can't keep up!
"—A-choo!"
At that very moment, within the halls of the Magisterica, a distinctly unladylike sneeze rang out.
In a room that was stark, sterile, and milky-white—looking more like a modern laboratory than anything out of a fantasy setting—a girl was busy manipulating dozens of floating magic circles.
She sniffled loudly.
"Ugh... is someone talking about me? Well, I am a brilliant, beautiful genius, so I suppose it’s only natural!"
She was talking to herself with staggering overconfidence.
At first glance, she looked like a researcher who had forgotten the concept of self-care. her hair, which reached her back, was a chaotic mess of cowlicks and tangles. She had a lazy gaze, a loose mouth, and wore a wrinkled lab coat so oversized that the sleeves swallowed her hands.
Yet, her hair—which transitioned from white at the roots to a shimmering emerald green at the tips—gave her a mystical air. Her features, though unadorned by makeup, were undeniably beautiful. She looked to be in her mid-teens, though her height was a bit below average.
"Hmm, which experiment should I run today?" she hummed to herself. "I have such fresh test subjects... maybe something really dangerous? I can kill as many as I want!☆"
She spoke of slaughter with the same casual tone one might use to decide on a dinner menu. A knock at the door interrupted her.
A scholar, wearing a perfectly fitted and pressed lab coat, entered.
"Lady Elfiette, the subjects have arrived."
"Oh, finally!"
Elfiette vanished her magic circles in an instant, spinning around with her baggy sleeves fluttering.
"Let’s go say hello to our noble little guinea pigs!☆"
"I doubt they are worth your breath, My Lady..."
"I know, I know. Almost nobody is worth my breath. I’m just going to remind them where they stand in the food chain."
Elfiette dashed out of the room, her arms spread wide as she ran down the corridor like a toddler. The scholar followed with a weary sigh. They stopped at a door labeled "Fourth Laboratory."
The door slid open automatically. Inside, another scholar looked up from his notes.
"Welcome, Lady Elfiette."
"Thanks! I’m here for the meat!~"
The lab was packed with red-filled flasks, grimoires, and bottled monster parts. Beyond a reinforced glass partition was a larger space where the "subjects" were held. Elfiette practically vibrated with excitement.
"Ooh, they look so lively! I’ll go introduce myself."
"Be careful, My Lady."
"Aha! As if there’s anything to worry about!☆"
She bypassed the lock with a wave of her hand and stepped into the holding area.
"Yahoo! Nice to meet you, Ruffians! How’s life?"
The subjects were indeed the Ruffians. Ten men were strapped to chairs, their limbs bound. The leader bared his teeth.
"Where is this? Who the hell are you!?"
"Freshness is key for research!~" Elfiette giggled.
"R-research!?"
The men turned pale. Elfiette’s grin widened.
"To answer your question... I am a brilliant beauty! Second Seat of the Sevens, the Canon of Creation—Lady Elfiette!☆ And this is my playground."
"El—"
"Hmm? You’ve heard of me? Wow, even the bottom-feeders from other countries know my name! I really am amazing. But then, I’m a genius beauty, so obviously!"
The leader was speechless. The name Elfiette was famous worldwide as the genius behind half of modern magic technology. But rumors said she had debuted sixty years ago. People expected a wizened old crone, not a teenager who acted like a sugar-addicted child.
"What are you going to do to us?" one of the men whimpered.
"What do you think happens to trash like you?" Elfiette tilted her head, her smile never wavering. "You attacked three promising parties in the capital. You killed the men and were going to sell the women after 'playing' with them. What’s the ending for guys like that?"
"..."
These Ruffians belonged to the same syndicate as Staffio’s group. They had been caught by the Royal Knights after their crimes became too blatant. Elfiette had been given a third of the catch. The other two-thirds had been sent to other members of the Sevens.
"But I’m actually grateful," Elfiette chirped. "Because of scum like you, I get to do all the nasty experiments I can't do on regular people! Thank you for being such wonderful, disposable guinea pigs!"
She was terrifyingly cheerful.
"You’re lucky, really! Some of your friends went to the Third Seat. He’s a 'Justice Monster.' He’ll make them regret being born until their very last breath. So scary! But I’m merciful. I’ll make sure every part of you is put to good use—from your hair to your fingernails!"
"D-don't screw with us!" the leader screamed. "What right do you have to do this!?"
"What right did you have to attack those adventurers? Tell me. What right?"
The room went silent.
"Besides, I do have the right. If we say black is white, it becomes white. That’s what it means to be the Sevens." She struck a cute pose. "Nobody can tell me no!☆"
She laughed.
"Your lives are garbage anyway. Aren't I kind for letting you contribute to the progress of the world?"
The screams that followed were no longer human. Amidst the Crucible of resentment, terror, and despair, Elfiette’s laughter was the only sound that remained pure.
"Aha! So much energy! Okay, I’ve decided! The first experiment will be—"