In fact, there was more than one memorial site in the Northlands commemorating the War of Resistance. The ruins of White City were merely one of them.
Because the former site of White City had been sealed off, Skard suggested building another martyrs' memorial atop the Nether Mountains south of Ascore, to give the people of the Northlands an outlet for their reverence and longing for the heroes who had fought against the natural disaster's invasion. Water-Drawing City and the Silvermoon Federation later followed suit.
At that moment, Fischer stared at the stone statue before him, depicting him with Chainsword and staff in hand, his expression resolute as he charged forward. In particular, when he saw the Northlanders endlessly praying before the "Fischer Memorial," commemorating him with such devout remembrance, the muscles in his face would not stop twitching.
"So, Fischer, how does it feel to be a martyr?"
The shield warrior Skard raised an eyebrow at the utterly dumbfounded Red Robe Mage beside him with a wicked grin.
".Honestly, right now... my feelings are a little complicated."
Fischer rubbed his gleaming bald head and sighed.
For some reason, although it ought to have been a glorious thing—something he could have bragged about for the rest of his life in the past—he instead felt an inexplicable sense of shame.
If Lucifer, who was currently in Water-Drawing City, knew what he was thinking, he would surely look utterly envious, wishing that he too had died in that great War of Resistance.
That way, at least, he would not have to face the socially fatal scene of his likeness having been made into a life-sized magical doll by unscrupulous merchants—and then collected by someone he knew.
Meanwhile, Fischer's adopted succubus daughter Sophie had long since laughed herself breathless behind him.
Taking advantage