The goddess had remained silent since then.
Pia interpreted that silence as a willingness to “watch and see.”
A terribly self-serving and selfish interpretation.
But if she didn’t interpret it that way, she felt as though she couldn’t do anything—like she had achieved nothing—so she couldn’t help but think that way.
Sometimes, there were priests who thought their faith was absolute and looked down on the faith of others.
These were the ones who would proclaim, in front of commoners and sometimes even in front of nobles, that their faith alone was the truth and that their words were akin to the will of the goddess.
Of course, such people usually became silent as if struck dumb when they stood before Pia.
When they saw the holy light that emanated from her during her communication with the goddess, they couldn’t help but doubt whether their faith had been misguided.
Ironically, the kind of faith that left room for doubt in such moments was already a misguided faith.
With the exception of a few utterly stubborn priests, most would repent and reflect on their errors in Pia’s presence.
As for the extreme minority, they were typically sent back to relearn the doctrines from the beginning.
These individuals, demoted to a status similar to laypeople, often left the church, unable to endure the humiliation.
Then, what if the saintess, who was closest to the goddess, harbored a misguided belief?
Who could guide her?
“Probably the goddess herself,” Pia concluded.
“Is there… really a chance to meet the Hero Sihyeon again?”
Arna asked again.
Though she had heard Pia’s intent to persuade the goddess, she wanted to confirm it once more.
Arna had always been cautious.
Even during reconnaissance, she would double and triple-check to ensure the party’s safety.
Though there were rare occasions when a tiny mistake escaped her notice, she always had multiple contingency plans prepared in advance.
Pia had her life saved by those plans more than once.
No, this time was different.
Arna wasn’t asking out of caution.
She was merely confirming if it was truly possible.
If it was… truly possible…
Then she would surely follow Pia’s plan.
No matter the danger.
“I can’t say if it will succeed,” Pia admitted.
She truly didn’t know if the goddess would listen to her.
While she claimed to request compensation for their efforts as the Hero’s party, it was something the party had desired most of all.
Especially something that a saintess like Pia should never voice aloud.
Kalia’s strength was her own.
It was the result of rigorous training and effort from a young age.
While one might say her talent was a gift from the goddess, and part of the divine power she used came from the goddess, it was Kalia’s own effort that brought her to where she was.
The same was true for Arna.
Though her abilities as an elf were innate, her contributions to the party—particularly the efficiency she brought when working together to compensate for others’ weaknesses—and her vast knowledge of herbs, poisons, and edible plants were the fruits of her relentless dedication.
But Pia…
Pia could do nothing.
She could only follow the party from the rear, using the divine power granted by the goddess to assist them.
The only reason Pia, the saintess, could follow the party was because of the goddess’s grace.
For her to now ask the goddess for a reward was something that should never have been.
“But if it’s not me, but all of you…”
Those who stood by the Hero’s side, facing the Demon King with talents they had cultivated on their own, might be viewed differently by the goddess.
Only Pia had the power to stand before the goddess.
Thus, if she could convey the voices of her party members, that would suffice.
“If it’s the words of all of you who led the Hero’s party, the goddess surely won’t ignore them.”
At Pia’s words, Kalia and Arna fell silent.
Their gazes met, then shifted back to Pia.
It seemed as though they both had much they wanted to say to her.
Even Arna, who had been in such despair that she minimized contact with others until just recently.
But they chose not to say it in front of Pia.
Perhaps the person they were about to meet would speak on their behalf.
There was no reason to exhaust Pia just yet.
“Idiot.”
Dana muttered as she pressed her forehead.
Jet-black hair.
A similarly dark robe.
A large wizard’s hat, the kind you might imagine witches from old fairy tales wearing.
Of course, the hat wasn’t something she wore often, except when going outside.
However, as the owner of the Mage Tower, it was a symbol of her position and was always placed neatly in a corner of her desk.
Dana often grumbled about how ridiculous it was, but even so, she didn’t let that symbolic object roll around carelessly.
“Idiot,” was something Dana frequently said, especially to Arna and the other party members.
However, no one in the party ever genuinely got upset when they heard her say it.
If their lack of knowledge ever led to a truly dangerous situation, Dana wouldn’t waste time berating them.
Furthermore, she knew that excessive scolding when teaching someone could make the recipient focus on their feelings rather than the lesson itself, reducing the effectiveness of her guidance.
Dana was no “idiot” when it came to such things.
As a result, Dana only used those words in safe, relaxed situations—times when life wasn’t in immediate danger.
And even then, she didn’t mean it literally.
She usually said it when someone did something overly kind to their detriment or when they engaged in absurd yet amusingly useless behavior.
Sometimes, it was her way of snapping a party member out of guilt when they tormented themselves over something that wasn’t their fault.
Or when they blamed themselves for failing to save everyone, even though they had done good.
Now, in this moment, it seemed to be the latter.
“…Do you think it’s a foolish idea?”
Even Pia, who usually laughed off such comments, looked disheartened today.
“No,” Dana replied, sliding her hand down from her forehead.
The dark circles under her eyes were visible.
Normally pale, Dana looked even more ghostly after several sleepless nights in the Mage Tower.
“Your idea isn’t entirely without merit. Proposing a deal with a powerful being like the goddess is undeniably a big gamble… but if you truly want to meet a departed soul, that’s the only way. It’s a miracle beyond what our magic can achieve.”
“Then…”
“What I’m saying, you idiot, is about what you said before that,” Dana sighed deeply, as if speaking to the most clueless person in the world.
Papers scattered on her desk fluttered but didn’t fly away.
“What’s this nonsense about only following the party with the goddess’s power? Do you realize what could have happened to our party without you?”
“Kalia nearly lost her limbs several times. If it weren’t for the holy magic you cast, she might be missing an arm or a leg right now—or maybe both.”
Leaning against the wall, Kalia nodded in agreement.
“No matter how skilled Arna is in close combat, she couldn’t have completely protected the rear. If you hadn’t enhanced her with divine power, do you think she could have held off the goblins flooding in from behind? At least not all of them.”
“And I’ve also owed you more times than I can count. You healed even the smallest wounds I sustained,” Arna chimed in, agreeing with Dana.
“You were the one holding the final line of defense while I chanted spells. You crafted makeshift potions with holy power. You saved Kalia and me when we were nearly killed by the Demon King in the final battle. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it that far. In fact, the first person the Hero sought out was you, so I don’t understand how you think you weren’t helpful.”
‘But… it’s just power the goddess granted me—’
“Does someone who donates their parents’ money to the poor not deserve respect? Just because it’s not their own power but their parents’?”
“And if the power you used really was entirely from the goddess, then there’s no reason the Demon King should’ve been able to wreak havoc on this world. If everyone had power like yours, we could’ve collectively beaten him in no time. Not five years—maybe not even five weeks.”
Dana sighed again, deeply and heavily.
“So don’t say things like that. Blaming yourself won’t move the story forward.”
“…I understand.”
Though Pia wasn’t completely convinced, she eventually nodded.