Morning, Redwood Town bathed in sunlight.
The town sat high and proud with magnificent views, a famous tourist spot where you could step outside and see towering mountains in the distance, and Mount Etna, the year-round active volcano.
"Again."
"Young man, you're amazing!"
"That feels so good."
…
The town was peaceful, yet full of all kinds of strange sounds.
"All right, finally done."
Damian let out a small breath.
He looked at the flushed faces of the men and women. One by one they wore satisfied expressions, having forgotten the battle just past.
Moments ago, he'd made a selfless contribution to the wounded men and women of Redwood Town—also known as "free treatment."
The men were easier—at most a couple of grunts—focused on healing and saving face.
But the women, beyond letting out "so comfy, so comfy" and a few "mm-hmm, ha-hei," practically all wanted a few more rounds.
And the way they were looking at him was odd.
What on earth are these aunties thinking?
As a wholesome, straight-laced family man, Damian felt his senses getting polluted—goosebumps all over.
Sigh!
Blame the Healing Needle for working too well on women.
With it, he restored vitality to the injured and the critical alike, earning a slew of grateful big fellows—and a swarm of girls with strange eyes at him, from little ten-year-olds to eighty-year-old grannies—each and every one, after treatment, eyeing him like wolves.
Truly terrifying!
So this is what it's like to be a "friend of women"?
Why does it feel like hungry wolves seeing a slab of pork belly?
"Shaina, your turn."
As he spoke, he gave the war-heroine a shot of Healing Needle.
Before long, Shaina's wounded left arm improved at once. She tipped her chin forty-five degrees and let out a soft "ah," an indescribable mix of shyness and relief.
"Damian!"
Freshly treated, Shaina's voice turned stern. "Your healing art carries a Cosmo ripple. You've actually awakened your Cosmo long ago, haven't you?"
"Yup."
Damian slipped into drama mode. "I'd only sensed a wisp of Cosmo before, so I didn't tell you."
"A wisp?"
"Speak the truth!"
Shaina reached out a claw and pressed it to Damian's throat. "If you don't, you're not leaving today."
Yep—still as blunt and rough as ever.
Changes face faster than a flip of a page.
Before Damian could answer, a little bun-headed tyke launched like a cannonball into Shaina's arms, hugging her arm and piping, "Let go of my fiancé! Let go—now—or I'll fight you!"
"My fiancé? This little brat… is your fiancé?"
Shaina froze solid.
The crowd of onlookers—men, women, old and young—turned with a uniform gossiping look.
Shaina stared in disbelief at the sturdy little dumpling, then gaped at Damian, snapping, "Damian! Explain yourself. What have you been doing out there?"
Shaina's claw pressed right up against his throat. Damian could feel the biting chill and a bead of cold sweat slid down his brow.
"Let go of my fiancé—let him go—or I'll fight you!"
The dumpling swung powdery fists, pummeling Shaina.
But with a Cloth on, Shaina only made the girl bare her teeth in pain—her little hands stung.
"Hey, kiddo, who are you? Don't talk nonsense."
Damian stared, dumbfounded, at the sturdy little bun-head. Unlike a little beauty like Pandora, this one had chubby cheeks, a bun hairstyle, and huge eyes—like a roly‑poly puppy that made you want to pat her doggy head.
"Fiancé—it's me! You just saved me. I only went to wash my face and you don't recognize me?"
The little girl's eyes reddened like she might cry on the spot.
Huh?
She was the same ungrateful little girl he'd saved earlier.
And you know what—washed up, he really hadn't recognized her.
Turns out the little thing was this puppy-headed dumpling.
Calling me "fiancé" in public—are you trying to start something?
Girl, you're way too much!
"Why are you calling me fiancé?"
Damian rapped her on the head with a knuckle. Her big head wobbled side to side, and she clutched it, crying out that it hurt.
"I… I swore to the gods—whoever saved me would be my fiancé."
The little girl answered with tears in her eyes.
"I don't agree. Don't call me that."
Damian warned.
He wasn't into lolis and didn't like raising-them-young. He hadn't the patience. And this one was even dumber-cuter than that imp Pansy.
No way. What kind of man am I!
How could I let a little girl take advantage?
Damian barked, "Fine—since that's the case, you should train into a muscle loli. To be honest, I don't like your look. When you've built yourself a strong set of muscles, then we'll talk fiancé. See these muscles?"
He yanked open his collar, bared his two big pecs, and pointed.
The little girl looked at those high pecs, then down at her own flat chest—and burst into tears with her face in her hands.
Felt like she'd never get married in this life.
"Come on, kiddo—don't play with this meathead."
Shaina scooped the girl up, shot Damian a glare, and murmured, "Let's ignore him. I know a more handsome big brother—I can introduce you."
Damian: "…"
.
Redwood Town, council hall.
"The Pope actually sent a gravekeeper like you to the front?"
"Did you tick him off again?"
Shaina crossed those long legs and sat opposite Damian, unable to help asking.
Damian shrugged, all innocence.
He wasn't about to tell her His Holiness had piloted the Gemini Gold Cloth to the graveyard to provoke him and been smacked back, and this little field trip was payback—His Holiness making things hard.
"Ahem, Shaina—seen anything lately?"
Damian changed the subject.
"We found people sacrificing to some evil god. The giants are products of the evil god's blood."
Shaina took a glass vial from a small wooden box. Black-red blood inside bubbled. "This stuff is called the Blood of the Evil God. I saw with my own eyes—someone drank it and turned into a giant."
"And those hunchbacks—what they drank is another kind called Believer, the blood of the evil god. Drink it, and you become a hunchback monster."
"Once humans become giants or believers, they're utterly crazed. And there's a cult mastermind behind them."
"These cultists are very strange—wearing armor like Cloths, with tremendous vitality. Even Silver Saints struggle to beat them."
"They call themselves Apostles."
"Their sect is called the Cult of Giants!"
Damian frowned. "Cult of Giants?"
Why did that sound like Attack on Titan? Hey—did this crossover just change channels?
Worry tinged Shaina's voice. "Based on current intel, Apostles and many giants are massing before a dead volcano on Sicily's Mount Etna—using the hearts of the dead as offerings to some unknown evil god."
"That's not good news."
"Our numbers are limited. Only by contacting the Sanctuary and calling in reinforcements can we take the next step."
Damian nodded and wanted to ask more.
Boom!
A roar rolled from afar. Even the tables, chairs, and rafters shuddered, and cracks spidered across the window glass.
Not an earthquake.
Damian and Shaina blurted in unison, "What an incredible Cosmo!"
They stepped outside at once and looked toward Mount Etna—only to see a mountain beside it tilting and collapsing, clearly visible from here.
That was the source of the Cosmo surge.
"Damian, you stay to guard Redwood Town and wait for reinforcements. I'll go take a look. If it's bad, pull out at once."
With that, Shaina took a few agile bounds and vanished from Redwood Town.
The instant she disappeared, a big black crow swooped down, cawing.
Hearing it out, Damian slipped on the mask he'd prepared and found a loose garment on the rack. In a flash, he was gone from Redwood Town.
No mistake—that Cosmo ripple just now was Seventh Sense.
A Gold Saint was fighting!
According to the crow's report, the battle ahead was fierce—someone might have taken a hit.
If they weren't dead, he could step in and lend a hand—bank a favor.
If they were dead, he could collect the body, bury it in his graveyard, and farm stats and skills.
And while he was at it, snag a Gold Cloth to wear—boost his odds against Saga!
(End of Chapter)
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