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

Chapter 83 Mirad (Part 1) (4K) (Thanks to the street drug dealer for the patronage!)
The Miradria City Theatre is located below the Acropolis. The semi-circular theatre is built into the hillside, making clever use of the slope of the hill. No matter which row you sit in, you can see the stage and the distant cliffs.

The monsters and people living here are fond of the open-air design of Creteia-style theaters and scoff at the indoor theaters popular in neighboring countries.

Miradria's countless playwrights, actors, and critics have denounced those boxes with velvet curtains as trapping the audience's hearts, saying that only by bathing in the magnificent crimson moon and breathing in the air with the stars hanging in the sky can one obtain the essence of drama.

"...The child was born into poverty, the blood of an unknown woman soaking through the terracotta birthing bed...The bishop's bronze knife gleamed with blood as he severed the umbilical cord...!"

A singer with a transparent lower body holds a scepter and sings on the stage in the center of the theater.

Her singing voice was quite clear and bright; before Mirand had even descended the hill, he heard her high-pitched voice pierce the night.

The half-goat woman plucked the strings, and the deep notes swept across the back of the chair. Although it wasn't their most skilled instrument, the flute, the music was still mesmerizing.

Mirad found a seat and looked towards the stage.

This seems to be an epic drama depicting a hero, and we've only just begun. The hero is successfully born with the help of a passing bishop, but his mother cannot hold on and dies in the bishop's trembling hands, which are constantly releasing miracles of restoration.

"...When the wheat ears turn the hills yellow for the twelfth time at harvest time, the curse of the Milotaur climbs up from the bay. A herd of iron hooves crushes the vineyard fences, and Creteia sways amidst the deafening mooing of the cattle!"

When the hero turned twelve, Milotaur and his companions attacked Creteia.

Mirad lowered his eyes; he already knew what was going to happen next.

"Hurrah!"

The sudden cheers from the man in the front row made Mirand glance at him.

Seemingly feeling uneasy under Mirand's gaze, the man turned around to meet his eyes. Realizing his rudeness, he paused, then chuckled awkwardly and said...
"Um...ah, sorry, sorry...I got a little excited. Of course, I wasn't cheering for the monsters attacking the city..."

It wasn't that she was judging by appearances, but in Mirand's opinion, such a man shouldn't be here, especially since he was so engrossed in heroic dramas.

He was quite obese, with a pair of crystal glasses on his face, and his white robe made him look like he had just come from the Magic Research Institute... which might actually be true, because Mirad could smell the scholarly aura on him.

“It’s alright, getting engrossed in a play is understandable. Besides, Clementia’s plays need applause and cheers from the audience. I’m just a little curious… what are you cheering for?” Mirad asked.
Are any relatives or friends involved in the filming?

Rubbing his hands together, the man said somewhat embarrassedly, "You guessed right. Yes, my wife is about to appear on stage. She's been honing her acting skills for a long time for this role... Sir, would you like to join me in cheering for her later?"

"...Your wife plays a twelve-year-old hero?" Mirad's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected the Sabasid Cult to have an audience here...

"No, no, no, she's playing..."

A deafening howl interrupted him, followed by a dull thud that drowned out the clatter of hooves from the half-sheep men.

The man turned his head to look at the theater, shouted, raised his hand, and clapped along with the sound of hooves.

The music became more rapid at this moment. Mirad followed his gaze and saw a nearly two-meter-tall orc standing in the center of the stage. Huge bull horns grew on both sides of his head, his legs were covered with fur, his tail swished behind him with a crackling sound, and he swung his giant axe with great force, occasionally even passing straight through the semi-transparent singer.

The orc's clear gaze searched the audience seats, finally settling on the man's side. The previously frightening grin on her face softened instantly.

...It must be the Minotaur.

It seems like he's just playing himself.

"Send the young boys and girls to the hunting grounds of those livestock! Only in this way can their hungry bellies be filled!"

A man dressed as a lord made his entrance shouting... Ah, yes.

Yes, there is such a person.

Mirad, seeing the flamboyantly dressed man, ordered the guards to bind the two pairs of boys and girls, preparing to hand them over to the Minotaur.

The melody suddenly becomes more intense, mimicking the fast-paced rhythm of battle.

The blond, blue-eyed young actor pushed through the weeping queue, strode forward, and snapped the tips of the guards' spears in two.

“Give me a short sword and a ball of yarn…” he said.

“…I’m going to send those monsters to eternal slumber,” Mirad whispered in agreement.

……

The ball of yarn rolled across the stage floor, finally settling into a pool of blood. Supported by a broken pillar, the young hero leaped high into the air and ended the life of the last Minotaur with his short sword.

The man in the front row called out his wife's name, and the sharp-eyed Mirad could see the Minotaur lying in a pool of blood, his face filled with shame.

"Sir...?"

The man looked over with pleading eyes, and Mirand smiled and joined in the applause, applauding the Minotaur's natural performance.

In fact, he didn't need to worry about a lack of support at all... The flowers that the audience threw onto the stage almost drowned the monster.

"Dana... your acting has been recognized! And the script... it's a classic yet innovative adaptation... allowing Mirad to escape death and thus appear openly at the center of the Minotaur's banquet... the moment he stood up from his plate with his dagger in hand was truly unexpected..."

The first act has temporarily ended. The man, whose face was flushed from the loud applause, can finally catch his breath. He turns around and speaks to Mirand.

"This also foreshadows the hero's return after defeating the Demon King... I think Princess Siolitta's adaptation is successful, sir. What do you think?"

In the play that just took place, the young hero voluntarily underwent open-chest surgery because he possessed the blessing of resurrection.

Seeing the boy who had been dead for a long time, the Minotaur were naturally not too wary, which allowed him to be resurrected. He then took out a short sword disguised as a dinner knife that he had hidden under his body and stabbed at the bewildered monster.

…It turns out this adaptation was done by Siolitta.

Haha. Mirad smiled kindly.

"In terms of dramatic effect, it is indeed quite good. But don't you think it's a bit disrespectful to historical facts? The miracle of the resurrection of the saint... actually only appeared for the first time after he killed Medusa."

The man frowned slightly. "Ah, that's true... but a twelve-year-old child, without the blessing of a hero, just killed so many Minotaur... Isn't that what has been criticized about this play all along? It abandons logic in order to highlight the hero's greatness... I think Your Highness's brilliant writing makes up for this shortcoming!"

Mirad smiled, not intending to delve into the matter. "...Sometimes the facts aren't that complicated, and there's no need to go into so much logic." "Oh dear, that's true. Take the resurrection miracle of the Saint of Rebirth, for example...that miracle is truly magnificent. More than a thousand years before the resurrection secrets of the modern goddess Hel, there was such a complete resurrection miracle...The Blessing of the Hero is truly an illogical thing."

Mirad couldn't help but ask, "Is that miracle... really that illogical?"

"Of course! You might not know, but I know it all too well, since my job is... oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Crete... currently working at the Miradria Magic Research Institute, specializing in necromancy. So I'm a bit sensitive about this kind of topic... I hope a little chat won't bother you?"

When the conversation turned to his area of ​​expertise, the man, who had initially been somewhat reserved, suddenly became very talkative, his face radiant. He adjusted his slightly slipped silver-rimmed glasses, and a faint, magical glow emanated from his fingertips.

"Of course, I happen to have some free time and would like to listen to you tell me about it."

Mirand still wore that gentle smile. Seeing that the other party was willing to give him some time, the man completely relaxed.

“Excellent!” He used the air as a slate and his fingers as a pen. The fluorescent light at his fingertips formed intricate images and words. “Did you know that the resurrection of men and women is currently being studied in two different directions? When the deceased is male, the outcome of resurrection is far more complex than when female… Without exception, resurrected women become monsters. When men are resurrected, most remain male, but a small percentage also undergo sex change and become monsters. The academic community currently believes that at least two factors influence this!”

"Two kinds?" Mirad's curiosity was completely piqued.

"That's right! Whether the soul exists or not, and whether the conditions for becoming April are met!"

The man spoke passionately, drawing a simple human figure as he spoke, then adding a human figure with a crooked lower body next to it... This seemed to be a representation of the soul.

April Milad watched Crete intently working on his task, recalling Siolitta's explanation.

Elop is the result of a very rare and ingenious combination of multiple factors.

As a man, he prefers men to women; he has a strong desire to become a woman; and he prefers to be with men.

Three conditions must be met simultaneously for a male to potentially transform into a monster called Elup.

Crete sketched the final soul into shape and continued his explanation.

"First of all, if the soul has already entered the cycle of reincarnation at the time of resurrection, then a male will definitely be resurrected as a monster. For example, by the way, there is the White Desert on the other side of the land and sea, where there are cases of pharaohs who were male in life being resurrected as monster girls."

In reality, the original souls of those pharaohs had already entered the cycle of reincarnation. The souls inside their bodies were entirely new, but they possessed past memories and personalities.

The relationship between flesh, spirit, and heart... I probably don't need to elaborate on this. The findings of this study have greatly advanced the development of the science of life structure!

"But if a soul exists, then we need to consider the second factor. That is, whether the conditions for becoming Elup are met. Specifically..."

What Crete recounted was largely the same as what Mirad had learned from Siolitta. It seems that when it comes to monsters, that talkative little girl is quite serious.

"Oh, right, there's an exception to the first situation, which is the resurrection technique I just mentioned. With the help of Lady Hel, the goddess of life and death, even a soulless corpse can have its soul revived. Because resurrecting a male requires union with a female, and since the conditions for becoming an Elup are not met, it will definitely not become a female."

"But the resurrection miracle of the Saint of Rebirth transcends these three, a miracle that is unique in the world... Is that right?"

Milad said, "...he has to thank God for his blessings."

"A miracle is a miracle precisely because it's ahead of its time, defying reason and logic. It doesn't require the resurrection technique that necessitates borrowing Lord Hel's divine power, nor does it suffer from deviations in resurrection due to the soul being separated from the body for too long... It's incredibly peculiar no matter how you look at it. Alas, one can only say that the power of the supreme god is indeed beyond our comprehension,"

Crete untied the kettle and took a sip of water. "It's been a long time since we've had such a pleasant conversation... My wife listens attentively to what I have to say, but sometimes she can't help but doze off..."

"Very interesting content, thank you for sharing, Mr. Crete..."

Mirad looked toward Crete's seat, where a tall woman completely blocked out the light source, casting a shadow over Crete.

It was his wife, the Minotaur.

It seems that she will not have any more scenes in the performance, and this monster couldn't wait for the curtain call, so she ran from backstage to share her joy of making her first appearance on stage with her husband.

"Because I couldn't quite understand it, but I could barely understand it... When I finally understood it, I thought I didn't need to understand it so clearly... and I couldn't help but fall asleep."

Minotaur chuckled twice, picked up Crete, and they kissed deeply in front of Mirad without any hesitation.

After a long while, their lips parted. Crete murmured, still slightly dazed.

"Congratulations, my little Dana... Your acting was absolutely perfect, especially the part where you were hit by Mirad, the pain and disbelief were portrayed so well!"

"Is...is that so? I'm definitely feeling good...Is this...your new friend?"

Letting Crete sit on her lap, Dana looked at Mirad curiously. She knew her husband often got carried away and would spout academic nonsense to laymen, and very few could tolerate it.
"Yes, this is... um... may I ask your name, sir...?"

Crete was eager to introduce this kind and attentive man to his wife, but halfway through his sentence he realized he hadn't asked for the man's name yet.

"Milad".

“Oh! What a coincidence, today is the day that the resurrected saint Milad visited Miladria. I watched ‘Milad’ with a stranger named Milad at the Miladria City Theater… I can hardly talk about Milad anymore.”

He chuckled twice, then adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses.
“I can sense the demonic power within you… You must be engaged by now, right? If your fiancée allows… Sir, would you mind joining us for our celebratory dinner? But it will have to wait until the troupe’s performances are all over… This play is quite long.”

It was another banquet.

Mirad curled his lips into a smile, about to politely decline, when Dana, who was holding Crete and staring at his left middle finger, seemed to notice something. She whispered something in Crete's ear, and the obese man's eyes widened instantly.

"So it wasn't a stranger named Mirad, but the resurrected saint Mirad himself? My God... Lord Hel... I'm so fortunate to discuss drama and life and death with someone like you..."

"I told you, most people couldn't keep up with your conversation. Only someone as powerful as a resurrected saint could listen to your rambling from beginning to end!" Dana teased Crete, laughing heartily.

“You must be very busy, so Crete and I won’t bother you any longer… If you have time, you can come find us on Olive Road. I own a restaurant there. It’s very conspicuous! It’s the one with the bull horns on the sign!”

"I'll go see it if I have the chance. As for now, the second act has begun. Why don't we watch this play to the end? Leaving halfway through isn't a good habit. 'Even a bad play has to be watched to the end before you can throw away the bad stone.'"

Speaking a Créteil proverb, Milad looked toward the stage.

The music started again.

(End of this chapter)