Meanwhile, outside the hot spring room, Aisha was in a state of agonizing turmoil, pacing back and forth in front of the door.
It felt as if a demon were whispering incessantly in her ear: Go ahead. Follow your heart. The Holy Maiden is so kind and gentle; she'll surely forgive you even if you do something a little daring!
But at the same time, an angelic voice pleaded: Control yourself! How could you betray the Holy Maiden's trust?!
Seeing the Archbishop pacing back and forth, the priest guarding the hidden chamber instinctively retreated slightly, averting his gaze to the hallway ceiling.
Hmm, that ceiling sure is ceiling-like.
Finally, Aisha settled on a "compromise." She didn't want to disobey Castorice's orders, but she couldn't bear to let this rare opportunity slip away.
Slowly, she pushed open the door and slipped inside. The changing area was naturally the first thing she saw. She wasn't going to join Castorice in the hot spring; she just wanted to... smell the Holy Maiden's freshly removed clothes. Surely that couldn't hurt, right?
Aisha quickly spotted Castorice's discarded white stockings in the wardrobe. Instinctively, she softened her footsteps, her heart pounding faster.
Approaching the wardrobe, she reverently cradled one of the stockings in her hands, as if holding a divine gift. Just then, the frosted glass door slid open, and Castorice emerged, wrapped in a bath towel, her hair still dripping wet.
Unbeknownst to Aisha, her hesitation at the entrance had taken too long. Castorice had just finished her bath and caught Aisha cradling her stockings.
Castorice: "..."
Aisha: "..."
After a brief, awkward silence, Aisha blurted out, "Wait, Holy Maiden! It's not what you think! I just got here! I haven't even smelled them yet!"
As Aisha advanced toward Castorice, the Holy Maiden's lips twitched slightly, revealing a hint of disdain. With one hand clutching her bath towel and the other holding her dripping hair, she was temporarily unable to free either to defend herself.
As Aisha took another step forward, Castorice instinctively retreated, backing herself into a corner with her back against the wall. Seeing Aisha continue to advance, Castorice reflexively raised her leg and pressed her foot against Aisha's cheek to keep her at bay. "I... I understand. You don't need to explain anymore."
But the next moment, Aisha tilted her head slightly, shifting Castorice's foot from her cheek to directly onto her face. Suddenly, Castorice felt something soft and wet gently brush against the sole of her foot, causing her entire body to tremble.
Normally, having someone's foot on your face would be the ultimate humiliation, right? But Aisha's first reaction was to stick out her tongue and lick her foot?!
"Ew~!"
As mentioned earlier, Castorice was extremely ticklish. Aisha's lick sent her into a reflexive panic, instantly withdrawing her foot and kicking out in a swift, startled motion.
Thud!
With a light thud, Aisha was sent flying backward, skidding three or four meters through the air before crashing to the ground.
Realizing what she had done, Castorice asked with a hint of concern, "Aisha, are you alright?"
Aisha swiftly sat up, clasped her hands together, and wore a blissful expression. "I'm fine! In fact, I feel my faith has grown even stronger and more devout!"
Castorice gave her a speechless look. She bent down to pick up the white stockings from the floor, then walked past Aisha to her wardrobe, where she unwrapped her bath towel and began to dress.
"Holy Maiden, would you like me to help you dress?"
"No," Castorice refused instantly.
"Then... Holy Maiden, may I help you with your hair?"
"No," Castorice shook her head again.
"Eek! Holy Maiden, are you angry? I'm so sorry! It was my fault, I promise I won't do it again!" Aisha immediately panicked.
"No, I'm not angry," Castorice sighed softly. In her mind, Aisha had long been synonymous with the word "pervert." So no matter how outrageous Aisha's actions might be, Castorice would only be mildly surprised, never truly shocked.
Besides, it was just a lick on her foot... It wasn't that big of a deal, right? There was no need to get angry over something like that.
"But you just had me fix your hair this morning. Why are you refusing now?"
"Because I don't have any plans for the afternoon, and I'm not going out. Leaving it down is perfectly fine."
If she were going out, she'd definitely want to dress up properly. But since she was just staying home, anything would do.
Castorice's hair was so long that styling it was a real chore. Why spend all that time re-braiding it now, only to have to take it down again before bed in less than half a day? It was too much trouble. Better to just leave it down and deal with it tomorrow.
"Whew, is that all?" Aisha sighed in relief after hearing Castorice's explanation. "I'm so glad you're not angry!"
Seeing Aisha's reaction, Castorice began to wonder if she should have pretended to be upset.
In any case, after taking some time to get dressed and spending a considerable effort drying her hair, Castorice began to consider what she should do next.
Aisha's original plan had been to raid the Black Hand's headquarters in the morning and the Barbarians' stronghold in the afternoon. However, Castorice informed her that the Barbarians knew nothing.
Aisha abandoned her plan and resorted to the most primitive method: a thorough, systematic search of the area to continue looking for Divine Artifacts and information about Divine Concealment.
With this exhaustive search underway, there was no need for Castorice to accompany her. She could simply wait quietly at home.
To be honest, now that they had obtained the Sorcerer Divine Artifact, Castorice doubted whether any other Divine Artifacts could still be found in the city. However, even uncovering a clue, such as the approximate location of another Divine Artifact, would be a worthwhile outcome.
After lunch, Castorice found a large, empty room. She opened her palm, and a massive purple scythe materialized in her hand. She intended to improve her proficiency with the weapon.
Despite her intentions, Castorice had no idea how to practice. Gripping the scythe's handle with both hands, she swung it a few times by feel, gradually adjusting to the weapon's balance and the optimal points for applying force.
Suddenly, the only sound in the room was the whoosh of the scythe as Castorice swung it. She had started with great enthusiasm, but after just fifteen minutes, boredom began to set in. By the half-hour mark, she was struggling to keep going.
Finally, after about forty minutes, she set the scythe down. Without any guidance, her blind practice felt pointless and aimless, like a headless fly buzzing around with no sense of progress.
Castorice tentatively tried twirling the scythe in her hand like a baton. In her imagination, it looked cool, but the moment she attempted it, the scythe slipped from her grip with a loud thud, its blade lodging less than five centimeters from her foot.
Startled, Castorice realized the inherent danger of wielding a bladed weapon without proper training.
If only someone could teach me how to use this properly, she thought wistfully. But the problem was, she didn't know anyone who specialized in scythes. Besides, as a demigod, it felt awkward to ask for lessons from ordinary mortals.
It was like Superman, soaring through the sky, asking an ordinary person for advice on proper running form—utterly absurd.
Castorice twirled a strand of hair by her ear around her finger, savoring the silken strands sliding across her fingertips. She repeated the motion absently, silently thinking, Oh well, maybe another time.
After retrieving her scythe and leaving the room, Castorice wandered through the Death Church. Every Death Priest she encountered stopped what they were doing and bowed slightly. "Holy Maiden!"
Castorice nodded politely in acknowledgment. As she moved on, the priests gazed at her retreating figure, their eyes drawn to the gentle sway of her long purple hair. Soft murmurs escaped their lips:
"The Holy Maiden is so beautiful."
"Just seeing her makes me feel redeemed. It's truly divine!"
Meanwhile, Castorice eventually returned to her own chambers. She sat on the chair, stroking Little Pollux, then lay on the bed for a while before sitting up again. Crossing her legs, she idly played with her hair.
In short, it was incredibly boring.
Cipher had Aria, Feidric, Douglas, and others to chat with anytime. They could even read novels, play cards, or play games. But compared to that, Castorice had nothing to do.
Now that Aisha and Kaia were out gathering intelligence, Castorice wasn't familiar with any of the other Death Priests. Even if Aisha and Kaia were here, she doubted she could drag them into a card game.
Isn't there anything else I can do to pass the time?
For some reason, the thought of "rewarding herself" suddenly popped into Castorice's mind. Well, in a sense, that would kill some time, but only for a short while. And she had far too much free time on her hands.
As Castorice pondered, she stretched out her white-stockinged foot and pressed it against the drawer handle of the bedside table. With a gentle tug, she pulled the drawer open, revealing a book and a pen.
It had been an absentminded, casual gesture, but the moment she saw the book, another idea for passing the time flashed into her mind—something that could devour hours!
Castorice hopped out of bed, picked up the book, and flipped through it casually. The pages were completely blank.
She remembered noticing, when she first arrived, that the Death Priests' headquarters was filled with paper documents. This small bedroom, with its sparse furnishings, felt more like an office.
So, paper and pens are readily available. Could she write a novel for fun?
Although she hadn't been a professional writer in her previous life, she had transmigrated from an era of information overload. Her breadth of knowledge and experiences far surpassed anything this world had to offer. Surely a story she wrote would be more captivating than their current literature.
Besides, writing a novel perfectly suited Castorice's persona. A spark of interest ignited within her, and she began brainstorming ideas.
First, a disclaimer: While Castorice remembered countless outstanding anime and novels from her past life, outright plagiarism wouldn't work here. The concepts were simply too advanced for this world's understanding of art.
Even in her previous life, transferring a wildly popular work from one country to another could result in a lukewarm reception or complete obscurity. Now that she had crossed entire worlds, the cultural gap would be immeasurably wider.
Ultimately, original content was best. The most famous story in this world was undoubtedly the legend of the Demon Lord and the Hero, so Castorice decided to use that as her theme.
However, instead of focusing on the Hero's arduous journey to defeat the Demon Lord, as everyone else did, Castorice could create a twist. Inspired by Puella Magi Madoka Magica, she envisioned each Hero accompanied by a spirit companion.
Imagine: the protagonist's mentor, a seasoned Hero, gets their head bitten off by a monster right at the start. Later, it's revealed that the endlessly respawning Demon Lords are actually former Heroes.
Or perhaps she could tell the story from the Demon Lord's perspective, showing him abandoning his world-destroying ambitions to find a girlfriend in a human city, complete with all the typical arrogant posturing and satisfying comeuppances.
The possibilities were endless!
As Castorice brainstormed and wrote, time slipped away unnoticed. The entire afternoon vanished in a flash—proof that time always flies when you're engrossed in something you love.
After a lavish dinner prepared by "Chef" Kaia, Castorice returned to her room and wrote a little more before finally resting. The next morning, she woke up early and went downstairs, where she once again witnessed the Death Priests engaged in their collective prayers.
"They're all up so early," Castorice murmured, marveling at the sight of the Death Priests maintaining identical, deeply devout postures. The spectacle was truly awe-inspiring.
Just then, Aisha, who had just finished praying, opened her eyes, her gaze filled with shock. "I... I've mastered a new Divine Magic!" she stammered in disbelief.
Instantly, every priest in the room turned to Aisha with stunned expressions. A new Divine Magic meant a god had taken notice, granting their follower new power. While such occurrences were commonplace in other churches, this was the first time in a decade for the Death Church!
Aisha immediately clasped her hands together and offered another fervent prayer. Then, she tentatively invoked the newly acquired Divine Magic: "Seventh-Level Divine Art—Styx Touch."
The next moment, a viscous mass of deep purple liquid materialized in Aisha's palm, slowly dripping onto the floor.
Castorice, standing nearby, paused in surprise. This technique... Why does it seem so familiar?