Chapter 86
“Then this is your seventeenth life.”
“…Ah.”
He let out a quiet exclamation and slowly raised one hand.
“Seventeen cycles…”
His large hand covered half his face. The half-exposed expression twisted in a way that made it impossible to tell whether he was smiling or crying.
It felt like I had seen something I wasn’t supposed to see.
But his distorted expression was quickly composed again.
Hmm, it would be better to change the subject.
“Do you have any plans for the future?”
“I should return to the church first.”
Tessilid’s answer sounded tired—no, perhaps bored. His eyes turned hollow again.
Then, as if remembering something, he changed his words.
“But in my current state, going back immediately would be difficult. I need to recover my strength first.”
“…Ah. So you knew your aura and divine power were gone.”
“It’s my body.”
At this point, most people would probably despair a little—but Tessilid remained steady. He even smiled, albeit bitterly.
What a sun-drenched sweet potato. Probably high in sugar content.
“Do you know how to recover your power?”
At my question, Tessilid rolled up his left wrist and showed me his arm. On top of a white sacred mark, there were black lines wrapped around it like layers of chains.
It looked like it was tightly bound with iron wires of barbed fencing.
<It’s a sealing restriction. That’s suppressing his divine power and aura.>
Tessilid spoke as if assuming I already understood.
“The way to undo a seal like this is usually through good deeds.”
“How did you even get this seal?”
This wasn’t in the original story.
“I got a little carried away with bad thoughts for a moment.”
He brushed off the question, avoiding details.
“By the way, Ailet, what about you? Are you heading back to the Gilete Marquis territory now?”
No, I was planning to follow you.
But if I said that outright, it would sound like stalking.
While I chose my words carefully, Tessilid spoke first.
“Are you traveling?”
“Yes.”
“I see… you don’t have clerical certification yet.”
Huh? Why bring that up?
“If you’re traveling as a healer, it would be better to register with the Church. I can vouch for you. How about accompanying me to the Holy See? It’ll be a bit of a detour.”
Oh. So he really was making an offer first.
As I narrowed my eyes, Tessilid misunderstood my expression and added quickly.
“To be honest, I’m currently weak and need protection from someone. Please.”
“…Alright, fine.”
[‘The Word That Builds Worlds’ is displeased, even if only formally, about registering with another religion.]
‘It’s fine. Think of it like getting a license.’
After calming the voice of the Word, I asked Tessilid:
“You said you’re not going directly to the Holy See. Where are you stopping first?”
“First…”
He smiled.
And the plan he told me next was something I quite liked.
“Let’s earn travel expenses first.”
Chapter 18. Regressor and Possessor
“In this life, I want to live properly.”
I can’t remember where that came up in conversation, but in the carriage, Tessilid had declared it so.
“Be even more proper than before?”
“I appreciate you thinking highly of me.”
“Don’t you have anything else you want to do?”
“Well…”
His profile bathed in sunset light looked like a sculpture. Yet his sea-blue eyes were empty, his faint smile devoid of emotion.
Like someone who might disappear at any moment.
He continued speaking.
“If you help me, I might think about it.”
His tone carried no enthusiasm at all.
He was someone who didn’t rely on anyone—because everyone who had helped him before had met unfortunate ends.
✠
In every world, there are people who refuse honest labor and instead try to live through crime.
Between the Hegelix Mountains and the Pannabel Forest, forming the border between the Elfenheim Theocracy and the Lagneif Arcane Republic—
bandits like that had settled here.
They robbed travelers who couldn’t even afford teleportation stones, or set traps in mountain villages to lure victims.
Tessilid and I were currently dismantling such hideouts one by one.
“Kyaah! A monster—A monster!”
“Watch out for the girl with pink hair!”
“P-please spare me! Aaaagh!”
They were living in caves like primitive creatures.
As expected, their collected treasure was minimal. If they were competent, they would have relocated already.
While I gathered the travel funds, voices of gratitude echoed beside me.
“Thank you! Thank you so much, sir knight!”
“How can we ever repay this kindness!”
“Waaah! I was so scared!”
Tessilid was handling the rescued hostages. The women’s eyes sparkled as they called him “Sir Knight.”
Of course they were. He was the world’s most handsome man. In a situation like a rescue, it made perfect sense.
[‘The Architect of the Tower of Trials’ is satisfied with the harem-type buff.]
Let’s get used to this. I’ll be seeing it often.
Tessilid finished comforting the hostages surprisingly quickly and returned to my side.
“You worked hard, Ailet. I’m sorry I’m the only one receiving thanks when you were the one who cleared the bandits.”
“It’s fine.”
“Next time, let’s find a bandit group with more male hostages.”
“…Why go that far?”
“Do you dislike it?”
“No, I like it.”
Honesty is a virtue, after all.
[‘The Scales that Judge Souls’ wonders if you are pursuing a reverse harem.]
No. I’d rather not watch a sweet potato pass turning into a playboy.
We handed the bandits over to the local guard and continued onward. Following Tessilid’s destination, we walked along the mountain path.
“How is it? Is the seal loosening at all?”
“Only dealing with hostages like this isn’t enough.”
With no power, good deeds were hard to accumulate.
Tessilid looked down at his wrist, thinking.
“Ailet… what’s the best good deed a powerless person can do?”
“…I think I know the answer, but I won’t say it.”
“Right. It’s sacrifice.”
Hey.
Then he muttered again.
“Maybe this method won’t work. Perhaps I need to nearly die and barely survive…”
“….”
“Just kidding.”
I know you’re not kidding, you sweet potato.
“We’re here, Ailet.”
After half a day, we arrived at a remote village surrounded by fields.
Nephiro Village—the early major setting of the original story.
“What’s the plan?”
Tessilid smiled lazily.
“Judging by how you asked, you seem to know this place.”
“Yeah, roughly.”
A village where young men disappear the moment they set foot inside.
On the surface, it was bandit kidnappings—but behind them was something more than simple criminals.
“I’ll save you the explanation then.”
This time his smile looked slightly pleased.
“I’m not here on an official church mission. In a way, I’ve gone AWOL. Let’s finish this quickly.”
“I like efficiency.”
“I knew you would.”
We continued discussing the plan.
Then a woman in the nearest field noticed us and panicked.
“W-why are you here?! Get out! You can’t enter this village!”
Before she could continue—
“Oh? Travelers?”
“Eek!”
A kind-looking middle-aged man suddenly appeared. The woman dropped her potatoes in shock.
“C-chieftain…”
The man smiled warmly.
“It’s rare to see travelers here. Welcome.”
But his eyes were those of a predator.
“Need a place to stay, do you?”
“YES!”
This was Nephiro Village.
A village where the bandits and the villagers were in cahoots.
And thus began the iconic episode where the protagonist earned the nickname “Sweet Potato Pass.”
