What should I do if the hero is resurrected in the Monster Girl Encyclopedia?

Chapter 166 Farewell
Several days later, outside the Cathedral of Créteil.

It's much quieter here than usual.

After prayers directed at the current supreme god went unanswered, many believers chose to worship an additional fallen god to whom each prayer was answered. Multifaith is commonplace in neutral nations, pro-demonic countries, and the demon realm, but it's taboo in anti-demonic countries where the main god is the primary deity. However, in Cretea, which was returned a thousand years ago… this is perfectly normal.

Although the doctrines of the supreme god and the fallen god seem to hinder each other on the surface, in practice they are far from being so mutually exclusive.

Moreover, reality is clearly more convincing than dogma.

From the magical streetlights erected along the streets to the giant mirrors reflecting images at intersections, and the new-style stores with centralized management and everything you could want... the people of Creteia have begun to accept these changes.

The bachelors returned the same greeting to the pretty girls waving at them on the street, while secretly wondering whether the girls were monsters using humanization magic or humans in the process of becoming monsters... They knew, of course, that there was not much difference in the outcome, but they still had some reservations about the former.

The housewives strolled through the market, their fingers brushing past the discounted fruits and vegetables from the demon realm, and unanimously opting for the grains and fruits they were more familiar with... Although these seemingly normal fruits and vegetables were mostly grown and harvested with the help of demons, they still had some hesitation about the former.

The scholars shuttled between the Miradria Magic Research Institute and the Cretia Academy, their dark circles so pronounced they could be used as sunglasses. As geniuses in their respective fields, how could they bear to see their knowledge, after a millennium, become pages of falsifiable, worthless manuscripts? They voraciously sifted through emerging manuscripts; scholars have always embraced knowledge with open arms, holding nothing back.

Perhaps one day, bachelors will overcome their inner worries and timidity, tidy themselves up, and wait early on the street they often walk along, hoping to meet a girl they see every day but don't know by name, and then go up to her and say hello.

Perhaps one day, housewives will feel that they have exhausted the recipes they have made and it is time to try something new. They will buy strangely shaped fruits and vegetables from the magical world and use their familiar stewing and roasting techniques to turn these unfamiliar fruits and vegetables into dishes that their families are familiar with.

Perhaps one day, the scholars will finally catch up with the times, and they will be able to proudly declare that they have once again stood at the forefront of knowledge, holding truth and wisdom in their hands. The combination of noble rationality and the intellect of monsters will surely lead Creteia to glory.

“Milad, my devout child.”

Bishop Patrice's deep voice rang out at the church entrance. The old man was not wearing his formal vestments today, but simply a linen robe, his lion-mane white hair fluttering gently in the breeze. He sat on the steps outside the church, his eyes fixed on the enormous magic mirror that stood at the street corner.

...The video playing there was the closing ceremony of the Games. He and Mirand were supposed to both be presenting awards, but the grandfather and granddaughter, tacitly agreeing to skip work, decided to leave. So Siolitta became the only presenter...and is now fluttering her little wings up and down near the podium, completely lost in her activity.

Mirad smiled as she watched her busy figure darting around.

He sat down next to the old man. "So, in your eyes, I can still be considered devout nowadays."

Mirad still maintained her habit of praying to the chief god every morning... but as always, there was no response. Instead, the fallen god would occasionally deliver strange divine pronouncements in the form of a divine voice, such as "Remember to eat more sweets today."

“Because you are still walking in the right way, a way that is in accordance with the righteousness and benevolence that the Lord God has taught you. My child, you are still pious in the eyes of the Lord God.”

"...Is this passage in the scriptures?"

He put in a lot of effort to memorize the entire scripture. If he made a mistake, the old man would drag him to the training ground for an extra round of practice.

"No, I made it up on the spot."

Bishop Patrice readily admitted it, without a trace of remorse on his face.
"You have some doubts about this... It seems you've forgotten, Mirad. Go back and copy it twice as punishment, then come with me to the training ground for another round of practice."

The old man patted Mirad's shoulder forcefully with his large hand, clearly deeply moved, "My child, you can't let the monsters outdo you!"

"Yes. If you're willing, I can practice with you for an entire afternoon."

The bishop's hand froze instantly, his cloudy eyes fixed on Mirand. After a long pause, he let out a cold snort, causing his white beard to tremble.

"I knew it! Why did you suddenly decide to spar with this old man? You're leaving too? Where are you going? Like Ryan and Chloe, those two kids, Rescue?"

“I made a promise to someone to witness and try to change that place.”

"That place, Ryan told me about it before he left. He said there was too much nonsense going on there, and he wanted to go and see if it was true."

"What do you think?"

"...It's probably true. You and I both know how far those who hold power can go if they are not restrained."

A silence fell over the two of them.

Then, Mirad spoke up.

"I'm with Luo Gen..."

"Great! I could tell you two were so lovey-dovey back then, you looked like a married couple! That kid is nice, sweet-talking, capable, and kind-hearted... But that little Lilim who's always following you around like a shadow is..."

"Ophie and I are together now."

Mirand interrupted him, his voice not loud, but it froze the old man's smile on his face.
"As for Siolitta, how did she introduce herself to you?"

"you…"

Bishop Patrice's expression shifted, finally settling into a long sigh.

"Sigh. At least you've stayed true to one person. As for that demon, she told me she was your fiancée as soon as she saw me. Child, let me see your left hand?"

Milad did as he was told, taking off the glove on his left hand to reveal his middle finger, which was surrounded by pinkish-purple stripes.

He made a conclusion after only glancing at Bishop Patrice.

"...Harmless. It's just a magic mark."

"I think so too."

“Loran, Orpheus…that Lilim.”

The old man counted on his fingers, his brow furrowing deeper with each number he counted.
"Anyone else? Was the one who promised to stir up trouble in Rescuetier a boy or a girl?"

Mirad's gaze swept across the bustling streets and up to the horizon. There, the clouds were still white, and the sky remained a deep blue.

"……Have."

"A girl?" "Yes."

Bishop Patrice remained silent for a long time. He knew the true nature of the children he had adopted well; Mirad was, in every respect, a textbook example of a perfect hero.

...Only when it comes to emotions, he is as dull as an uncarved mountain rock.

From the bishop's perspective, this was undoubtedly a good thing. The Church of God required believers to practice self-discipline and abstinence; not being seduced by women was certainly self-discipline and abstinence! But as a family member, Patrice had watched Mirad grow from an infant into a dull-witted hero, living for twenty years without even holding a child… His eyes held a different kind of emotion. This was a major source of sighs that Bishop Patrice often had to bear whenever he thought about it.

But now, the child seems to be thinking about things outside of fighting... and once he got it, there was no stopping him.

...Have you been holding it in for too long?
"That Mirror of Reflection... it's pretty useful."

The bishop muttered something, fumbled around in his simple linen robe for a while, and pulled out a small magic mirror. He skillfully opened the mirror and pressed and pointed at it with his thick fingers... His movements were countless times more skillful than Mirad's own.

"I'll give you my magic endpoint. If you encounter any problems, remember to come to me."

Mirad stared blankly at the old man's smooth and skillful actions, unsure how to react.

"You won't be using this every day..."

“Sigh, running up and down between Miradria and Cretia is exhausting, and you’ve carried Cretia so high. My old bones can’t take this kind of strain. If I want to debate the scriptures with my fellow believers, then this little thing is the only way.”

"Oh."

...Didn't you win the gold medal in your wrestling match yesterday?

Furthermore, there are clearly flying monsters and teleportation magic readily available near the cliffs between Miradria and Creteria. It seems you chose not to do that because you thought it would be better for your health, and instead opted to climb the cliffs.

Never mind. Whatever makes you happy.

Mirad smiled and nodded in agreement.

"Remember to eat on time and drink less alcohol. Don't delay your meals because of exercise... Eat meat and vegetables."

As the parting drew near, Mirand became increasingly talkative.

"...I believe you are still as sharp as ever."

"Of course! I'll show you at the training ground why your old man was known as the Radiant Holy Cross back in the day!"

"It could not be better."

Silence fell between the grandfather and grandson once again.

They looked at the giant magic mirror not far away.

The citizens of Creteia and Miradria removed the bells hanging from the porch and tied these pure white objects to the altar. Several priests of the goddesses of life and death stood on either side of the altar, guiding the silent ceremony.

These bells, which have hung for thousands of years, once carried the living's longing for the dead. Whenever the wind blew, the sound of the bells was regarded as the whispers of the departed souls returning. The sound of the bells rang for a very, very long time... so long that the inhabitants of Miladria became accustomed to it.

Now, the departed have returned.

A gust of wind swept across the square, swirling up countless flower petals and ribbons.

This time, thousands upon thousands of bells fell silent.

The camera zooms out from the Magic Mirror, bringing the entire solemn and silent altar into view. Then, the scene changes.

The athletes gently placed their medals in the center of the altar, while the monsters and night demons placed their magic power gauges, which were filled with magical energy, beside them.

The citizens of Creteia offered carved stone statues, while the inhabitants of Miradria offered flower seeds from the demon realm, representing life and hope.

The followers of the main god drew ancient symbols on their chests, while the followers of the newly emerging fallen god stood not far away, but there was no major conflict; they bowed their heads and chanted.

The gargoyles and wyverns that had been quietly waiting in the stands suddenly took flight and hovered in the air.

The mermaids surfaced in the temporarily introduced sea area, singing ethereal hymns, which the sirens echoed in response.

The Medusas held their lovers tightly, their petrifying eyes closing at this moment, choosing to remember this moment with touch rather than sight.

As Hyolita ascended into the air, she abandoned her usual playful demeanor, clasped her hands together in front of her chest, and declared in an unprecedentedly solemn voice.

"In remembrance of the past—"

"Let's celebrate this moment of reunion—"

"May this be a blessing for a future of coexistence—"

"Kretaea... welcome home."

As the last sentence fell, all the bells shattered silently at the same moment, turning into countless shimmering stardust that fell and sprinkled on everyone's shoulders.

Bishop Patrice and Milad gazed at each other for a long time, and like the believers of the Lord God present, they drew an ancient symbol of the Lord God on their chests.

Citizens and monsters, citizens and citizens, the dead and the living.

There will still be hatred, there will still be hostility, there will still be estrangement.

But love will quietly grow, hope will sprout in the songs, and understanding will take root when we stand side by side.

Everything will move forward, only the bell will no longer ring.

(End of this chapter)