A demoness he’s seen countless times in ads: perfect legs, a dominatrix-style BDSM suit, and a mob of ridiculous followers behind her. It’s cathartic in a way—you’d expect hatred to win when facing the target of your displeasure—but seeing her frozen in a “please hug me” pose just makes Hajime pity her.
Why the hell is she acting like this? It’s alien to him, like the Saintess, who’s clearly bullshiting being KO’d. Merry’s doing fine on her own—she’s indeed S-tier.
Hajime glances at the portal.
Wait a goddamned minute...
“Let’s get out of here! This is no time for being one with the universe!”
He jumps through the portal, escaping the stupidity that almost trapped him.
On the other side, Hajime appears looking like he just survived a final battle. Before him stretches a massive crowd and a welcoming committee of high-ranking individuals with obviously quirky banners. One reads:
“Nobody Expects the Inquisitorial Audit?!”
Another says:
“All Confessions Are Free! Just Sub and Donate to Some Gibberish?!”
The city is a marvel—towering marble spires, statues, and ads blotting out the heavens. A utopia of faith and monetization. You can smell the taxes being over 35%. It’s the most horrifying place of this world!!!
He tries to use the gate again, but it doesn’t activate.
A message appears:
“Connection unavailable. Please enjoy the 5th Saintess Selection Documentary, featuring complimentary 50-minute ads every 20 minutes!”
Hajime sighs. There’s definitely a god that doesn’t want me leaving this hellscape.
Then—a heavenly spotlight shines down, censoring his groin. His pants have completely given out, and two tiny glowing stars now cover Hajime-kun’s nipples.
Flashes erupt everywhere, surrounding Hajime.
The crowd gasps. Even the bishops are kneeling and crying.
“What fresh hell have I walked into?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Hajime stands there, confused and humiliated. “Let’s just get off the stage and talk to someone…”
Valiant-san: “You’re taking this exhibitionism pretty well.”
Hajime: “Happened to me once before. You get numb to it.”
Valiant-san: “No, no you don’t.”
Hajime: “Don’t salt the scorched earth.”
Whalescalibur: “Please sign on to the *Sword×Hero Companion Service?, hero. The world is begging for it.”
Caladblock (shyly): “Block your tongue compass…”
Hajime hears some rattling behind him but ignores it like any true owner. He descends from the portal platform and approaches the praying clergy.
Nocture POV:
“Where the hell is the hero?! Nooooo! I had him right in my grasp!!”
She stomps in rage, forming a crater in the floor.
The Saintess, blood on her mouth and still pinned to the wall, sneers:
“You’re too late, demon. He’s gone to complete his training and recruitment arc in the safest place possible. Your corrupting influence shall not reach him!”
Nocture snarls. “That’s impossible skank! His devotion to my legs is absolute! Something must have happened—yes, he's been tricked!”
The Saintess smiles. “Deluded abomination. Your legs are nothing special. Back in my day, Noctrine’s legs almost corrupted Amanonus, but all heroes love purity above carnality. She failed—just like you.”
“Mother didn’t fail! She—she—YOU—!”
“Cut! That was perfect.”
With a snap of her fingers, every stream across the city shuts off. Forums explode with rage, only to be met with an emergency ad:
“Due to technical difficulties, this stream will be postponed. Please understand that we fight to preserve the purity of all advertisements. To support better service, please donate and subscribe!”
Donations skyrocket—fueled by tears, rage, and addiction.
The Saintess, now monotone:
“This was perfect content for a dramatic hero exit arc. Our hero, mourning his two most trustworthy companions, will channel his sorrow to surpass his ad time limits! When the new Saintess arrives, he’ll be remorseful—but then the lost companions will return! A joyous reunion! I’ll be cemented as the main heroine!”
Nocture growls. “You insane witch! You orchestrated all this just for clout! My mother was right—you’re a content monster!”
The Saintess smiles serenely.
“This is the sixth time this season. I’ll groom Hajime-kun into my perfect hero. He’ll redeem me from my responsibilities, and we’ll have a perfectly advertised family!”
“There it is!” Nocture shouts. “A crazy bitch dreading her dried ovaries!”
Her vision distorts—SLAP!—a sound echoes across the city. She’s been struck, but the Saintess hasn’t moved.
The Saintess raises her staff, adorned with holy cash-signs, and holds up Hajime-kun’s underwear.
She prays, taps the ground, and a beam of glittering holy light descends—money symbols shimmering in the glow.
“Now come demonspawn,” she declares. “Justify your next appearance in my heroic romance arc!”
Nocture roars, dark demonic miasma swirling:
“No way! I’ll save the hero from such a fate! He’s my one true pig!”
Caught in the moment, she doesn’t even realize what she’s confessed. For the first time, Nocture feels it—a stirring resolve. She would protect her one true paypig.