Painter's group of drifting mercenaries was still on vacation and needed time to arrive at the Black Forest. The former Pope decided to stay in Paradise and wandered around the Lost Tower when he had nothing else to do.
Initially, Teest insisted that Nol should lock up this slippery character, preferably sealing the windows too. Unfortunately, though Painter appeared untrustworthy, he was actually well respected. Even the reclusive General was willing to trust him, so Nol didn't want to be too heavy-handed.
He was still hoping to extract information about the dragons from Painter.
Thus, the former Pope received a set of new clothes and could use the Lost Tower's cafeteria for free, restricted to the first floor only.
The Mad Monk was cautious, and so was his Lord.
Painter wasn't allowed to access other floors, and the monsters wouldn't speak freely in his presence. Most of the time, the former Pope would nibble on half a sausage, reading romance novels in the first-floor hall.
Since the global announcement, including those who came on their own, sent back by the Temple of Life, or discovered and rescued by Paradise, the number of monsters here approached that of a medium-sized mercenary group.
The most commendable part was that these monsters, regardless of their type or strength, were very cooperative.
They took care of each other in an inconceivable way. Even natural enemies would at most quarrel but never fight or devour each other.
The Master of Paradise wasn't to be underestimated. Nol's control over Paradise was evident.
Painter mused seriously, taking another bite of his sausage.
The former Pope's ignorance was understandable.
Every inch of land in City A was precious, and Joy Garden was a high-class community. Those who could settle in Joy Garden had some abilities and self-respect, not thick-skinned enough to freeload—
After all, Paradise's leveling plan was too detailed, highly feasible, and even considered everyone's rest and entertainment. If they still slacked off, sorry, but Paradise would cut off all support.
As former modern people who would get depressed over an unclean toilet, Paradise's support was too important, and they dared not slack off at this time.
However, since there were more people to deal with, Nol rarely appeared.
He didn't like crowded places and didn't want his presence to be too strong to avoid suspicion of being the "Creator". All the proposals he gave were under the guise of "Player support" and "all managers".
To other neighbors, this mage was incredibly mysterious. He always stayed and ate with a white-haired knight, rarely visiting the cafeteria and mostly dining in his room.
Like right now.
With the plan set, Nol returned to his work.
He sat at the desk prepared by Teest, with a stack of blank scrolls on his left slowly diminishing as he wrote text and formulas on them, piling them high on the right.
The small pot in the kitchen stewed red wine deer meat, bubbling with aroma. Teest sat beside Nol's desk, holding a basket of berries, almost as high as the stack of papers.
"You let that red-haired fox wander around outside," Teest complained softly. "Painter will definitely snoop around."
"Mr. Painter won't tell anyone. He promised. Even you can't deny his credibility."
Nol dipped his pen in the ink. "I need him to trust Paradise more. Since we're not involved with the Eternal Son, the innocent need not fear a crooked shadow."
Teest tossed a berry into his mouth, crunching noisily. "How long do you plan to let him roam around?"
"Until I'm ready; maybe a day," Nol replied.
Arranging six strong individuals wasn't too difficult.
But for the initial group battle, Nol had to meticulously plan everyone's armor setup and tactics, rehearsing them over and over in his mind like a surgical procedure.
This wasn't just a game. It wasn't just about clearing a level. He wanted everyone to return safely.
Teest looked like a jellyfish sunburned on the beach for two days. "You stubbornly refuse to go out. Your knight is turning into a private chef."
The word "docile" wasn't in the Mad Monk's dictionary.
"You can go play in Grape Collar. I'll be fine." Nol paused his writing, rubbing his eyes. "Actually, I thought you'd go out on your own sooner."
After saying this, he saw confusion flash in Teest's eyes.
…Wait, did this guy really not consider the option of "going out on his own"?
After a few seconds of stunned silence, Teest abruptly moved away from the table, jumping down as if his butt was bitten. "Right, I should go to Grape Collar to buy ingredients."
"Oh, okay."
Just as he was about to leave, Teest solemnly came back. "The stew will be ready in half an hour. Remember to turn off the fire and leave half for me."
"Alright." Nol nodded solemnly, continuing his strategy writing.
Teest sighed with relief. His boot tip hadn't yet crossed the threshold when he retreated back. He tilted his body, eyes on Nol. "I'll be back in time for evening prayers."
"…Understood."
Nol paused his pen, crossing out the mistakenly written "test"—he had written Teest's name instead.
...
After a dramatic performance of "looking back three steps", Teest reluctantly left "home".
Before Nol spoke, Teest hadn't considered the option of going out on his own. Faith was terrifying! He absolutely couldn't become a tasteless fanatic like Eugene.
Teest slapped his face, determined to regain his old rhythm—find a high-ranking member of the Eternal Church, interrogate, and leave them at the Evergreen Church's door.
Well, he had to be back in time for evening prayers… and now that he was with Paradise, causing trouble between the Temple and Paradise would upset Nol.
Never mind, he could get by without taking that step. Background checks, planning, and detailed interrogations, he was sure to have a fulfilling and enjoyable day!
Half a day later, Teest stared blankly at a bird outside the window, his long hair softly glowing in the midday sun.
The room was a mess, with magic blast holes, curse scorch marks everywhere, and broken attack tools scattered at his feet.
Yet, not a scratch was on Teest, not even a drop of blood.
Suspended beside him was a bloodied and battered body, a man in his forties or fifties, groaning intermittently in mid-air. His limbs were hung high by golden threads, resembling an overly plump puppet.
Next to the man, two knight corpses kneeled on the ground, bowing to Teest. Their former master's blood kept flowing, blooming on their armor.
…So boring. Teest toyed with a small blood spot on the glass.
The priest of Grape Collar was one of Teest's earlier targets, holding a significant position within the church. This priest was known for his cruel enjoyment in torturing and consuming young, healthy servants from outside the region.
The priest's movements were elusive, and Teest had been unable to pinpoint his whereabouts, hence the delay in making a move.
But now?
There was no need for Teest to painstakingly investigate and track him down. He simply had to pick up the whimpering "youth" Fischer and inquire about a name and address.
There was no need for Teest to carefully plan his approach either. The Eternal Church follower's private knight had lunged at Teest with a sword, failing to even scratch his skin. And with a counterstrike from Teest, the knight instantly turned into a living corpse, clearing the way for him—
With a familiar knight leading the way and the effects of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" for concealment, Teest strode boldly into the mansion.
From the moment he stepped into the estate to finding the Eternal Church priest, the entire process took no more than ten minutes.
Servants in the mansion bustled around, oblivious, while the house's master lay bleeding in his study, writhing in agony and despair.
"…Haa." Leaning against the windowsill, Teest sighed. "A pointless interrogation, utterly meaningless."
Lacking challenge and novelty… the corpse couldn't even be displayed, leaving Teest devoid of the slightest satisfaction. His mood was no different than accidentally crushing a fat rat while cleaning.
"Urgh… Ah…"
The priest screamed inhumanly, eyes bulging in terror. "Monster… Wu…"
Teest turned around irritably. "You're a priest of Grape Collar. Why not show a bit more devotion? I'll have to return empty-handed because of you, with nothing interesting to talk about. It's all your fault."
"I've… told you… everything…" The Eternal priest trembled, far from his usual dignified appearance. "God… will not forgive… me, nor… you…"
"That's your god."
Teest toyed with the blood-stained 'Betrayer' in his hand. "My God is much gentler, though not very skilled in kissing."
The priest stared in terror, his fat, segmented limbs twitching painfully.
His lower half was all tightly packed segments, many of which Teest had ripped off, making him look like an overused pot scrubber.
"So, aside from the 'Demon King being unusually active', do you really have nothing interesting to report?"
Teest asked again, his hand lifting and sending the 'Betrayer' flying, slicing off another of the priest's fat segments.
The black-and-white segment bounced on the floor before curling up.
"'Eye of the Storm'… left… the Holy Land…" the priest confessed amidst screams. "Nothing else… truly… Ahhh!"
Teest rolled his eyes. Indeed, their 'Eye of the Storm' had left the Holy Land and was now weeping in the Lost Tower.
Hours of questioning proved that the priest knew no more than "Eye of the Storm" Fischer. What they didn't know, Nol had already shown him.
The only thing these charlatans might know more about than Nol was information related to the "Chosen One" and the "oracles". Unfortunately, only the Pope had the full details, leaving even Fischer, a High Priest, unable to help.
And this priest knew just as little.
Teest picked up the sharp segment from the ground, weighing it in his hand, before driving it through the priest's skull. He then carefully burned the scattered remains with golden flames, leaving nothing behind.
"The deer stew must be ready by now. I wonder if it's to his taste." Teest commented to himself as he watched the burning remains. "The timing should be just right."
…It's so boring, almost less interesting than basking in the sun on dragon scales.
Teest had often pondered the end of the 'Mad Monk'.
He imagined battles with the two major churches, then losing interest after learning the truth. The one thing he hadn't considered was becoming bored before uncovering the truth.
Who would enjoy playing a one-sided, crushing game repeatedly? These prey no longer satisfied him. Neither their shallow knowledge nor their unoriginal fighting styles.
He needed new excitement.
Haa, time to head home.
But before setting off, Teest hesitated for a moment, slowing his pace.
...
Nol ate half of the red wine stewed deer meat, accompanied by soda juice, small pieces of cheese, and fresh berries. Teest's cooking was as exceptional as ever.
However, sitting alone at the dining table felt awkward no matter how he positioned himself. The combination of long hours at the desk and dining alone made him feel as if he had returned to his work life on Earth.
Previously, Nol didn't think there was anything wrong with such a life. He had seen some restaurants placing dolls opposite single diners and couldn't understand it at the time.
Now, he suddenly grasped the subtlety of it.
…It's all because this place is too much like a home!
Nol hurriedly finished his meal and threw himself back into work. This time, however, he occasionally looked up at the slowly setting sun—darkness fell, and his knight hadn't returned. The stars gradually lit up. Daylight completely vanished from the window, and still, his knight hadn't returned.
Teest must be in trouble, right?
Nol became restless. As soon as this dreadful thought emerged, his desire to work vanished.
But who could harm a Death Knight? Even Eugene would need his team and enough magical tools. Considering this, the Temple of Life could indeed hurt Teest…
However, Teest had the A Midsummer Night's Dream and wasn't the type to cause trouble for no reason. He was the Mad Monk, after all. He must be fine…
But such matters were unpredictable. Teest's mind wasn't entirely stable, defying conventional logic. Perhaps he found a uniquely dangerous way to court disaster…
Nol abruptly put down his pen, rubbing his face vigorously.
He knew his worry was unnecessary, but it was hard to control. He stood up and, for the first time, left his room.
Anakin and Solo were already familiar with the Lost Tower and had rushed to the cafeteria to enjoy the food. Fischer was having a mental breakdown in his small room, likely crying for a while.
Painter was still in the hall.
He sat upright in the armchair, almost finishing a romance novel, his sausage replaced with a steaming onion pie. Surprisingly, despite his fondness for greasy food, there wasn't a single crumb or stain around Mr. Painter.
"Good evening, sir," Painter greeted Nol, getting up leisurely.
"…Good evening, Mr. Painter." Nol nodded absently.
"You seem a bit anxious, or maybe I'm mistaken?" Painter put down his book, his pale green eyes filled with concern.
Painter had a way with words. With just a soft question, he exuded a compassionate and tolerant priestly aura, compelling one to open up.
This was different from Teest's "Dream Manipulation". In Nol's view, Painter's "persuasion" was even more terrifying—because he knew Painter was sincere.
"I'm just a bit worried." Nol lowered his eyes. "I don't want to see any losses, whether they're your people or mine."
Of course, that was only half of his anxiety. How could he say the other half: "The Mad Monk has been out for twelve hours, and I'm a bit worried he might have run into trouble"?
If he dared say that in front of the former Pope, Painter would never discuss dragons with him again.
Painter seemed to sense something, smiling softly and sitting back down. "You're a very responsible person."
"I just don't want a guilty conscience." Nol also took a seat, glancing occasionally at the door. "You're not wearing that little idol today?"
"It seems the Mad Monk told you." Painter touched his empty chest. "Last time I saw you two, it was my last week as 'God'. This time, I wasn't chosen."
Nol pursed his lips. "If it's convenient, could you tell me why you do this?"
Painter looked at Nol for a moment, then turned his gaze to the brightly lit first floor of the Lost Tower. "You're already doing something similar. Life is much happier with someone to rely on, a place to think of as home. My brothers and sisters are also pitiful people, unfit for the world… I can't provide perfect shelter like you, so I create 'consolation' in a cruder form."
He paused, looking at the magically created night sky above the tower.
"I think that's the meaning of faith in this world. Unfortunately, nowadays, the essence is often lost."
Nol initially just wanted to start a casual conversation but was taken aback by such a sincere answer.
"For you," Nol asked seriously after a while, "is 'God' a sort of 'consolation'?"
"A consolation that brings kindness and happiness," Painter said softly. "For Paradise, you're a good 'God'."
"And I hope the same for the Mad Monk," he added meaningfully.
Nol was still pondering a response when the door banged open.
Teest entered, his left hand holding a bulging shopping bag and his right a beautifully wrapped dried flower bouquet, looking excited.
Nol immediately smelled the strong scent of blood on him.
Teest ignored Painter, stopping in front of Nol and handing him the dried flower.
It was a dried blue rose, accompanied by many baby's-breath, carefully wrapped in golden paper and decorated with black and white stripes—the source of the blood scent.
Nol noticed the blue rose's head was tied to the stem with golden thread.
"I went back to 'Old John' and found it in the drawer. I've always remembered it."
Teest said, looking very satisfied.
"I came back before evening prayers!"