The city revealed itself properly only after the heroes were allowed to walk it.
Not as summoned saviors.
Not as guests of kings.
But as observers.
The Church of Elements assigned each hero a white mantle marked with a neutral sigil—neither priest nor soldier. It was, they were told, to prevent misunderstandings.
Haruto suspected it was also to make sure no one mistook them for gods.
Life in the Capital
The streets of Lumeria were alive in a way no modern city Haruto had known.
Markets spilled outward from stone plazas. Merchants argued loudly, children ran between stalls, and the scent of food—grilled meat, spiced bread, fermented roots—hung thick in the air.
People bowed to priests.
They did not bow to heroes.
That alone surprised Kenta.
"I thought they'd… stare more," he muttered.
"They're used to powerful people," Takumi replied. "Kings, knights, mages."
Haruto noticed something else.
Everyone wore symbols—rings, pendants, beads, stitched cloth patterns. None were identical.
Faith here was not singular.
It was layered.
They first visited a public elemental shrine—far smaller than the great church.
A woman knelt before a stone basin where water flowed endlessly despite no visible source. She whispered a prayer, dipped her fingers, and touched her forehead.
"She's asking for safe travel," their guide explained.
"Water governs continuity and flow."
Nearby, a blacksmith hammered iron while murmuring under his breath. His forge was etched with earth runes.
"Earth does not answer prayers," the guide added.
"It responds to effort."
Hana tilted her head.
"So elements aren't… persons?"
"Not as mortals understand personhood," the guide said carefully.
Haruto filed that wording away.
Civilization Gods
Further into the city, they reached a square surrounded by tall marble halls.
Here, statues stood.
Not of elements—but of ideas.
A warrior holding broken chains.
A figure carving stone into tools.
A robed form holding scales and scrolls.
"These are the Civilization Gods," the guide said.
"They govern law, war, knowledge, craft, and order."
"They look more human," Mio noted.
"Yes. That makes them relatable."
Riku crossed his arms.
"Convenient."
No one corrected him.
Beyond the central districts, faith began to change shape.
They passed a modest stone hall where no statues stood at all.
"That is the Way of Silence," the guide said.
"A philosophy more than a religion. Followers believe truth is discovered through observation, not prayer."
Takumi's eyes lit up.
Nearby stood a shrine layered with wind chimes and paper seals.
"The Sky Path," the guide continued.
"Popular among travelers and messengers."
"What about elves and others?" Haruto asked.
The guide nodded.
"Elves maintain ancestral shrines tied to forests and ruins. Dwarves honor lineage and craft. Mirelens worship achievement itself—success is their prayer."
"And Frosterns?" Kenta asked.
The guide hesitated.
"They do not worship gods openly. They respect forces—cold, fire, endurance. Their faith is… lived."
Haruto noticed how carefully that was phrased.
In a quieter district, a child tugged at Haruto's sleeve.
"Mister," the boy asked, eyes wide, "are you really a hero?"
Haruto knelt slightly.
"I don't know yet."
The boy frowned, thinking hard.
"My mom says heroes bring change. Sometimes good. Sometimes bad."
Then he ran off.
No cheers followed.
No awe.
Just expectation.
That evening, the heroes ate at a public hall rather than the palace.
People laughed. Argued. Prayed before meals—or didn't.
Faith here was not absolute.
It was practical.
Hana broke the silence.
"This world doesn't feel like it revolves around us."
Takumi nodded.
"That's… unsettling."
Haruto stared into his bowl.
For the first time since being summoned, he felt something solid settle in his chest.
This was not a story where heroes arrived to define meaning.
Meaning already existed.
And whatever they did—
They would interfere with it.