In the world of FBO , the NPCs who managed the temples dedicated to the gods were special beings.

  After all, they were the ones who oversaw the temples—the very points of contact with the actual gods.

  It was unthinkable for them not to be important.

  The clergy known as priests, who served these gods, held no direct political power, yet their influence was great enough to sway politics.

  These were, after all, the gods who had created the world.

  Celestial beings that no human could ever hope to match, no matter how hard they tried.

  With the priests managing a portion of the divine power bestowed upon mortals, their authority was anything but weak.

  An organization wielding such influence, with temples established across every continent except the central one—all managed by priests—meant that even the nobility, who ruled over human society, couldn’t afford to make enemies of them lightly.

  If someone were to attack even a single temple, the news would spread instantly across the entire continent, and the assaint would immediately be branded an enemy of the gods.

  At that point, living openly would become nearly impossible.

  With the temples as their enemy, the armed might of the Temple Knights would descend upon them, and even if they fled, the watchful eyes of the faithful would never allow their escape.

  Even the king of a nation couldn’t afford to recklessly oppose the temple as an organization.

  Hearing all this, one might think the temples held enough power to dominate the world—but that was far from the case.

  First and foremost, this world had no corrupt priests who hid behind religion to act as they pleased.

  Or rather, it would be more accurate to say such individuals couldn’t exist.

  In many fantasy stories, religious organizations were often depicted as hotbeds of corruption, with only a few righteous clergy barely maintaining appearances—a common trope.

  From there, stories often followed the formu of purging the corruption and restoring the organization to its true, pious form.

  However, in this world, falsifying the words of the gods was outright impossible.

  There were no crooked cult leaders who spouted nonsense like, *"The gods demand you offer your beautiful daughters,"* or *"I am the gods' chosen—give me tribute, and I shall ensure your peace in the afterlife."* No schemes where greedy chartans exploited devout, ignorant followers to line their own pockets.

  Such things simply couldn’t happen here.

  If someone falsely cimed, *"The gods have spoken,"* divine punishment would strike them down.

  If someone waged war under the pretense of divine will, decring, *"I act for the gods' righteous cause,"* divine punishment would follow.

  The gods demanded only one thing from the temples and priests: the maintenance and inspection of the divine system they had created.

  Any attempt to twist their mandate for personal gain—whether out of misguided righteousness or malice—would be met with divine retribution, no exceptions.

  To even think of exploiting the gods' power or interpreting their will for personal ends was fundamentally wrong, a truth ingrained into the very marrow of this world.

  Thus, corruption within the temples was nonexistent.

  Any tainted elements would be swiftly excised by the gods themselves, leaving no room for concealment—a principle upheld throughout their long history.

  That said, did this mean every priest was a stern, incorruptible paragon of virtue?

  The answer was no.

  While there were named characters as saintly as depicted in paintings, there were also zy, unmotivated priests among their ranks.

  Within the temple organization, what truly mattered wasn’t piety—but competence.

  As long as one properly maintained the divine system without exploiting it for personal gain, even a ck of devout faith wouldn’t prevent them from working within the temples.

  Some even held side jobs as adventurers or merchants while still being affiliated with the temples.

  Naturally, the temples had their own hierarchy.

  In the game, the ranks of the temple priests were divided into seven tiers: Archbishop, Bishop, High Priest, Priest, Head Priest, Priest, and Priest Apprentice.

  Each major continent had one Archbishop, four Bishops, sixteen High Priests, and countless lower-ranked priests.

  If we could meet someone who had, even temporarily, reached the very top of this hierarchy—it would be a guaranteed win.

  **"No way we’d find her that easily."**

  **"My apologies. Even with my connections, I couldn’t locate her."**

  **"Nah, I didn’t expect her to just show up right away either."**

  The woman we were searching for—Cudia—was a priestess who could potentially become our greatest ally as our guardian.

  The god she served was Akam, the God of Battle.

  In other words, she was a full-fledged combat-oriented priest.

  Her fighting style was that of a martial monk—healing herself while crushing enemies barehanded.

  Her body bore countless scars, her face included, and she had devoted her entire life to battle, to the point where one might say she had forsaken her femininity.

  The reason she had risen to the rank of Archbishop was precisely because of her relentless, ascetic strength.

  She was a living legend of her generation, having crushed all who threatened the gods' system and monsters alike with her fists, tirelessly upholding order and peace.

  For a mere commoner like me to even dream of securing an audience with her was absurd from the start.

  But as long as there was an event quest to recruit her as an ally, the possibility wasn’t zero.

  Some might worry that attempting such a quest would incur divine wrath, but I had already expined to Nel and the others—as long as we didn’t spread harmful rumors or interfere with the gods' system, no divine punishment would befall us. Thus, they had agreed to seek out Cudia.

  **"We don’t even know if she’s on this continent. The highest chance is probably the central one."**

  Even if we *could* meet her, the odds of finding her in the royal capital were near zero—she was likely wandering the world on another training journey.

  **"Liberta, it’s your turn. Ugh, are Rainbow Chests really this rare?"**

  **"If they dropped easily, they wouldn’t be special. Alright, my turn now. Be right back."**

  **"Be careful."**

  **"With my current stats, losing to a Mochi would be harder than winning."**

  Ideally, we would’ve met Cudia before our meeting with the Duke, but that was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

  With only one day left, the chances seemed nonexistent.

  Ingrid had helped gather information, but we still hadn’t found her.

  So now, we were stuck grinding the Mochi Dungeon for Rank-Up Orbs.

  Why weren’t we out adventuring? Because we’d received updates about Dent.

  Word had spread that adventurers from the western continent were swarming all the best leveling spots, creating serious tension with adventurers from the southern continent.

  While they seemed to get along fine with noble-born adventurers, conflicts with commoners were escating, and hunting grounds were growing dangerously hostile. We’d been warned to avoid trouble unless we had a way to handle it.

  Since our only options were to wait for our bodies to mature or seek the Duke’s protection, we had no choice but to temporarily halt open-world hunting.

  Instead, we focused on gathering skill-enhancing items and mass-producing Rice Lotion for funds.

  At Css 2, with leveling mostly complete, the Mochi were no challenge.

  Even the Mirror Mochi boss died in seconds.

  With most skills already maxed and leveling intentionally halted using Training Bracelets, this was purely a loot-farming routine.

  I wouldn’t call it *pointless*, but it *was* a waste of time.

  A Gold Mochi Key drop would’ve been nice, but after days of runs, even Nel’s Real Luck hadn’t triggered—just endless Rice Lotion.

  This time, the Mirror Mochi dropped a wooden chest containing only the minimum guaranteed magic stone.

  I immediately exited and used one of our spare Mochi Dungeon Keys to dive right back in.

  Each run took under two minutes. With three keys, we could chain them efficiently.

  **"Good work, Amina."**

  **"I’m exhausted… Day after day of nothing but alchemy. At least Ingrid handles the bottling, but doing the same thing over and over is so boring."**

  **"Lady Theresia’s thrilled, though."**

  Thanks to the sheer volume of materials we gathered daily, Amina’s Alchemy had maxed out.

  At this point, the only reason to keep making Rice Lotion was for money.

  **"I’ll go make the delivery for tomorrow. Rest up."**

  **"I’ll come too."**

  **"I’ll help with dinner prep."**

  **"Then, Lady Amina, please take care of the rest."**

  Once again, our efforts had yielded little, so as a final task, we headed to Nel’s family home before sunset to deliver the Rice Lotion.

  Despite not knowing when we’d produce more, every batch sold out instantly, so Theresia bought everything we made.

  After packing the bottles into boxes with cushioning and loading them onto a cart, we set off.

  With our improved dungeon-clearing speed and Amina’s enhanced alchemy setup, production had skyrocketed—along with the sheer volume of Rice Lotion we transported.

  For two kids, pushing such a heavily den cart would normally be exhausting, but for us, it was easy.

  If anything, loading and unloading the boxes was the tedious part.

  **"Hey, Liberta… How long are we going to stay like this?"**

  **"I… don’t know. I’m sorry."**

  **"It’s not your fault."**

  The walk to Nel’s home was anything but cheerful.

  The uncertainty of whether we could continue living freely weighed on her words, cing them with unease.

  She had asked this same question multiple times, and each time, my inability to give a clear answer filled me with guilt.

  **"……"**

  The rest of the journey passed in silence until we reached Nel’s family store.

  **"Ah, Liberta! Nel! Perfect timing!"**

  **"Lady Theresia?"**

  **"Mom? What’s wrong? You seem flustered."**

  Normally, we’d head around back to unload, but Theresia—who had been pacing in front of the store—spotted us and immediately dragged us and our cart to the entrance.

  **"Well, you see, a customer came specifically to buy Rice Lotion after hearing rumors about our shop. We were out of stock, so I told them to wait, saying you’d arrive soon."**

  **"That’s unusual. You’d normally never py favorites like this, Mom."**

  **"This person is special!"**

  For Theresia to go out of her way like this—it had to be someone truly noteworthy.

  **"Shopkeeper, I’ve already passed my duties to the next generation. There was no need to trouble yourself so."**

  **"Nonsense! We’re all indebted to you. After everything you’ve done for peace, this is the least we can do."**

  As this exchange reached our ears, a woman stepped out from inside the store.

  She carried a traveler’s woven parasol and wore loose, dark blue robes reminiscent of a monk’s attire.

  Tall for a woman—standing over 170 cm but under 180—her short-cropped gray hair framed a face marked by a missing left eye, a single sharp, hawk-like right eye, and scars running down her left cheek and across her nose.

  The moment I saw her, my eyes widened.

  Could this be why Nel’s Real Luck had been so quiet tely?

  **"Lady Cudia?!"**

  **"Oh my, does a lovely young dy like you know my name? May I ask yours, dear fox girl?"**

  **"I-I’m Nel."**

  **"Nel… A fine name."**

  Her natural aura of authority was overwhelming.

  Even in the game, she had stood out among named NPCs, but her presence in person was on another level entirely.

  Her gaze slowly shifted to me.

  **"And might the young man share his name as well?"**

  **"Liberta."**

  Those piercing eyes seemed to see right through me. My back straightened instinctively, tension coiling through my body.

  All the pns I’d mentally rehearsed for this moment evaporated, leaving me speechless.

  **"Liberta, there’s no need for such tension. My past titles are just that—past. Though I’m called a legend and was once an Archbishop, now I’m merely a humble Priest. Just a traveler seeking to soothe my weary skin with this wonderful product."**

  Her tone was gentle, clearly trying to put me at ease.

  But standing before Cudia—a woman whose sheer presence was more imposing than I’d ever imagined—my mind raced, struggling to form coherent words.

  **"Take your time. Tell me what you wish to say."**

  Her calm, dignified words finally steadied me enough to speak.

  And what came out of my mouth was—

  **"Please fight me!!"**

  All my carefully prepared phrasing vanished, leaving only a blunt, straightforward challenge.