Chapter Three Hundred and Forty-Eight. Going down the list.

Chapter Three Hundred and Forty-Eight. Going down the list.

Bob could count the number of times, as an adult, that he'd wanted to hurt another human being on his digits without having to take off his shoes. Or even unzip his pants. Despite wading through oceans of monster blood and viscera, he considered himself a peaceful man. He'd rather walk away from a situation that made him upset than endure a confrontation, at least, when the only one being abused was himself. He'd learned that he couldn't walk away from the gross abuse of his fellow man when he'd had his encounter with those noble assholes in the Karcerian Empire.

He'd also learned that he did have certain lines which people would do well not to cross, namely hurting Monroe, although he'd always known, in the back of his mind, that if anyone hurt his cat he'd repay that action tenfold.

Further, his social experiences had never provided him with the opportunity to accidentally hurt anyone, emotionally. When he was young, no one had wanted to be associated with him, and once he'd become an adult he hadn't gone back to that particular well. It wasn't until he'd arrived on Thayland that he'd ever had someone he could call a friend.

All of this was to say that Bob's experience with crying teenage girls that he'd apparently wronged was second to none. Closer, in fact.

"I'm sorry?" Bob asked as he gently patted Nora's back while she sobbed against his chest.

"You left me!" She burbled.

At least that was what Bob thought she'd said.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He was pretty sure that was the correct response.

This had been going on for quite some time, and he was left to idly wonder if dehydration was going to be a concern, or possibly the tipping point for coherent conversation.

In all of his previous social interactions on Thayland, any awkward conversations had been defused with the swift application of Monroe. His social defense kitty had saved him many times, but in this instance Nora had ignored the appearance of the most handsome kitty in the world, leaving his impurrial majesty to lounge across the huge table where he'd so recently enjoyed lunch with his friends.

Bob was also increasingly aware of the disgruntled muttering of various patrons of the Tavern as select cuts of meat and slices of cheese were quite literally magically disappearing from their plates.

Monroe's rumbling purr was only occasionally disrupted as he devoured his purloined feast.

At over half a ton, he'd definitely reached the 'Oh lawd he comin'' stage of the Chonk Chart, and could really pack it away.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Nora's sobbing was tapering off enough that he was able to understand her.

"I honestly didn't even think about it," Bob confessed. "I mean, you're a great kid, but you've got friends, family, and responsibilities here."

This was apparently the wrong answer, as Nora renewed her sobbing with a vengeance.

It took half an hour of repeated apologies and sobbing for Nora to calm down enough to sit down at the table with him, where his faith in reality was restored by her plying Monroe with pets.

"I was stuck having to deal with all the people from Earth who were in charge of their towns and Dungeons," Nora said. "Not all of them were nice."

Bob rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. The ship I built had just been attacked in space by a warship from the Church of the Light on Parceus, and I didn't have confidence in the King of Greenwold to be able to protect me from them."

"I had to deliver the taxes to the King of Greenwold myself," Nora shuddered. "You know how scary he is."

"Oh, I know," Bob assured her. "When I introduced him to the Secretary of Defense, I was certain that I was going to be the reason he decided to just clean sweep Earth."

"One of the towns lied about their taxes," Nora continued. "I didn't know it, but somehow he did. I had to go back and bring the leader of the town back, and then the King set him on fire." She shook her head. "The King simultaneously burned him and healed him at the same time. He kept it up for a long time too, he said it was a number of seconds equal to the number of mana crystals they'd stolen from him."

Bob winced. He hadn't even met the King of Greenwold when he'd made the conscious decision to never, ever, steal from a Dragon. He briefly wondered who in the hell had missed every single reference to dragons in every single cultural myth, ever.

"That had to be unpleasant," Bob offered.

"It was awful!" Nora half shouted, wiping her eyes.

Bob held his breath, afraid the waterworks were about to reopen, but she continued.

"I was only sixteen! I wasn't the heir, so I wasn't prepared to take over the obligations of a Noble House," she complained.

"It sounds like you did well, though," Bob said cautiously.

"The King just kept telling me to keep up the good work, then he gave me more work!" Nora grumbled.

"Yeah," Bob replied sympathetically, "we have that saying back on Earth, the reward for a job well done is more work."

The sunburst on the ceiling remained, but the seven gods of light, one at each point, had disappeared, replaced by the four elements opposite one another, with Gaia and Orin at the two bottom points, and Maelstrom at the single top point.

There was a tiny part of his brain that quietly whispered, sooner or later, one of the Endless would sneak in here and paint his picture over Maelstrom's.

"It's good to see you well, and fully on the path of tier eight," Huron replied with a gentle smile. "Allow me to welcome you to the Church of Vi'Radia on Greenwold."

"Big changes," Bob said acknowledged, reaching over to pat Monroe's shoulder.

The super-sized chonk was sitting beside him, cleaning a paw.

"There certainly have been," Huron agreed, looking over at Monroe. "May I give him a treat?" Huron asked.

"He won't turn down food," Bob assured him.

Huron pulled a huge fish, flat and wide, from his own inventory, the scent of which immediately caught Monroe's attention. The paw, clearly clean enough, hit the floor, and the massive floofy tail began to twitch in time with the huge cat's nose.

"We catch these in the harbor," Huron explained, then blinked as the fish had disappeared from his hands, reappearing in Monroe's paws.

"That's new," the old priest commented, and Bob caught the flash of mana around his hands.

Special Skill 'Mysterious Paw' granted. This skill allows the Divine Feline Hunter to expend an amount of mana equal to maximum number of Thresholds reached in the Stealth Skill, to teleport an object into his grasp. The maximum distance is equal to the maximum number of Thresholds reached in the Stealth skill in feet.

"Part of his new path," Bob explained. "All hopes of keeping the meat in my sandwiches has been lost. What spell was that you used to clean your hands?"

"Cleanse," Huron explained. "As you were a curator, I'm surprised no one told you about it. It's a combination of all four elements. Water dampens and washes away, earth abrades and absorbs, air moves and evaporates, while fire heats and flashes to steam."

"Neat," Bob replied, "could you do it again?"

This time Bob was ready, and as he focused on the mana, he nodded. It would take a bit of practice, but that was a handy spell.

"I take it you'll be free casting it?" Huron asked with a smile.

"Yes," Bob admitted.

"A rare talent," Huron nodded, "I'm able to free cast certain spells that I've cast with the System for decades, but my responsibilities being what they are, I don't have the time to dedicate to mastering many, and I lack the talent, which means it takes years for me to master a single spell."

"But," Huron sighed, "I didn't ask you to visit me to hear an old man prattle on."

"I'm pretty sure you're old by choice," Bob said. "There's no way you aren't level capped, so you're not reincarnating for some reason or another."

"You're right," Huron agreed. "For many years I delayed my own advancement, knowing that I would need either a replacement, which would be ideal, or at least someone to take my place in the interim as I regained my levels and my power. Sadly, there was no one I would have trusted completely, as the most driven of our clergy were dedicated to the seven gods of light, rather than Vi'Radia." He smiled. "With the recent changes, many of the clergy have adopted Vi'Radia's tenets, and with the loss of the influence of the seven gods of light, I have multiple candidates to take my place."

Bob nodded. Mike had, in private, waxed poetic regarding the changes to Annisa. According to him, her zealotry had disappeared completely, leaving in it's place the woman he'd grown to cherish.

"So you'll be pulling the trigger soon," Bob surmised.

"I will," Huron confirmed. "I wanted to introduce you to my successor before I did so."

Bob shook his head. "Why me? I'm hardly important, and certainly not involved with the Church."

Huron reached out to rub Monroe's ears before he answered. "You're on the path to Divinity," he said after a moment of kitty adoration. "You, and Monroe as well."

Bob opened his mouth to object, but Huron raised a hand to forestall him.

"I know it's something you haven't sought, and from what I know of you, I doubt you'll ever ascend to the heavens," he smiled gently. "However, there are many, both here on Thayland, as well as those who returned to Earth, who have taken the Divine Blessings crafted by the System to allow your veneration. You've added to those blessings since you've returned, which many have taken as a sign that you're walking the path towards ascension."

Bob frowned, reaching out to dig his hand into Monroe's ruff.

"Your prominence, alongside the Endless' decision to make you the patron saint of Maelstrom, has served to mark your importance to the Church," Huron explained. "Your attitude towards the Church will carry over to those who venerate you, which means that it's in the Church's best interest to make sure we establish open and honest communications with you. Luckily, I believe you've already worked with Voren."