A Moment of Slacking Felt Great, and Slacking Forever Felt Even Better

A moment of slacking felt great, and slacking forever felt even better.

Heka held to this principle and worked hard at slacking under the Black Mountain Merchants' supervision.

Others might have been trying to reduce their workload a little, enjoy the rare feeling of being alive, or lessen the extent to which they were exploited.

Heka slacked so that he could live as long as possible.

After all, the Black Mountain Merchants had never given him even a single stable promise—such as letting him leave once the work was done, or simply letting him live.

Heka felt that getting a complete corpse was probably the limit of what he could hope for.

Perhaps, seeing how obedient and compliant he had been, they would later give him a slightly more dignified funeral.

As for anything else, Heka knew they probably would not give it to him. The Black Mountain Merchants knew that even if they made such promises, Heka would not believe them.

The two sides simply refrained from making any tedious and hypocritical promises in a place where neither could possibly reach an agreement.

"Will it hurt a lot?"

The tuft of hair atop Tuft of Hair's head had already been shaved away. He had then been led in by a youth dressed in gray robes and made to lie down on a recliner in a side room of the church.

"If you're asking me, I don't know either. It'll probably hurt a little."

Heka, who had been looking at the colored murals on the stone wall around them, turned his head and looked at Tuft of Hair, who was lying on the recliner but could not help lifting his head to look at him.

Riel had rejected Heka's swordsmanship teacher's request, so he had taken the matter of finding a doctor for Tuft of Hair very seriously.

It was just that the doctor hired by the Black Mountain Merchants clearly could not deal with the lump on Tuft of Hair's head.

What surprised Heka was that, before he could make any further request, the Black Mountain Merchants had directly brought Tuft of Hair to this church of the Wealth Church.

Heka recalled the sincere smile of the deacon who had received them that day. The Black Mountain Merchants had probably donated quite a lot of money to the church.

"Father Alwin."

Before long, the small door at the side of the room was pushed open, and two fully armored Black Mountain people stood outside.

Perhaps because they were inside the church, however, they were exceptionally relaxed. The two men, tired from standing, simply slouched there and chatted with each other.

After greeting the young attendant who was preparing things inside, they immediately stood at attention, his eyes filled with worship and respect.

Following the youth's voice, Heka shifted his gaze from the murals above to the face of the man at the door.

He was a man with a faint smile. His exact age was impossible to tell, and a faint scent of blood clung to him.

Heka frowned and immediately turned around, pressing his back against the wall.

Fortunately, this priest, who carried a hint of blood in his scent, did not have a health bar.

Otherwise, Heka truly would not have known how to kill a priest who was at least a minor boss on his own territory.

"Sorry for the trouble, and for making you come back specially."

The young attendant turned aside, revealing Tuft of Hair lying on the recliner behind him, and spoke in a slightly apologetic tone.

"Everything is for prosperity. There is no such thing as hardship."

Alwin came to the rattan couch. He gently pressed around the edges of the lump on Tuft of Hair's head with his palm, then reached out and took a little black, viscous ointment, spreading it over the lump's edges.

"This is an anesthetic.

"The clearer the divine art, and the closer it is to the standard ritual, the easier it becomes.

"My divine art is only at the entry level, so I still need these aids."

Alwin seemed to be deliberately explaining this to calm Tuft of Hair, who was trembling slightly.

After the anesthetic was applied, Tuft of Hair's consciousness began to grow hazy.

Tuft of Hair, who had been unable to stop tensing up because of the unfamiliar surroundings and the slightly chilly ointment, now found his eyelids trembling uncontrollably.

Could a topical anesthetic really work this well?

Heka raised his brows. Of course, he had seen anesthetics take effect before.

Injectable anesthetics generally took only three or four seconds to render a person numb, while topical ones needed at least twenty minutes before they began to work.

Alwin used one hand to straighten the lump. Then he took the gleaming little knife handed to him from the side.

With a quick swish, the lump was instantly cut away.

Seeing this, the youth behind Alwin immediately carried the lump away on a tray, while Tuft of Hair, who had been drowsy just moments before, suddenly opened his eyes wide.

Watching the blood gush out at once, Heka could not help moving closer.

The lump had probably contained some blood vessels. This method of cutting it away had caused the already fragile vessels to burst completely.

If Heka had not already seen the priest use divine art to restore fractured bones to their original state, he would have thought the man was not saving a life at all, but bent on killing someone.

When the pale yellow light described by the bard flickered between that palm and hand, the blood flowing from the wound atop Tuft of Hair's head immediately stopped.

The skin around the wound also began pulling toward the center, finally closing together in the middle of the wrist-sized wound.

Heka carefully circled around the priest, who had begun washing his hands. He was now certain that this priest seemed extremely interested in him.

Although the man's gaze remained fixed on Tuft of Hair, he always kept Heka in the corner of his eye.

After the gray-robed youth carried the used instruments out of the side room, only the two people who were still conscious remained inside.

Alwin reached out and touched Tuft of Hair, who had fallen asleep under the effects of the anesthetic and divine art, then looked toward Heka, who had retreated to the corner and resumed standing there as punishment.

"Heka, is it? I've seen your portrait. You've changed a great deal."

The priest's words made Heka purse his lips. Then, like a crab, he began edging toward the doorway where the two Black Mountain people stood.

"May God bless you."

After leaving behind that cryptic sentence, the priest departed the room.

Once the room had fallen quiet again, Heka breathed a sigh of relief. He then picked up Tuft of Hair from the rattan chair, preparing to leave this church of unknown allegiance at once.

The Black Mountain Merchants had equipped the expedition with eight fully armed soldiers in all. Four had fallen behind and were following on foot.

The remaining four were traveling with Heka and the others, while one had disguised himself as a coachman.

Heka guessed that this was probably the combined result of the tense situation lately and the steaming chunk of meat he had shoved into the mouth of the great dog known as the Black Mountain Merchants.