I am the heroine's godfather!

Christine was puzzled: "What if we can't recoup the costs?"

"It's amazing that you could even think of that."

Estia covered her mouth in surprise, which drew a glare from Christine.

Lorian calmly stated, "Because they are confident they can recoup their costs."

"Hey? Why?"

Messiah asked with a smile. Lorian glanced at her and said, "The cost of hiring adventurers will be fixed within a certain range, and this range is what they can earn back through business activities at the campfire party at night."

Wow! Lorian, you're amazing!

In any case, Miss Messiah provides a lot of emotional value.

Christine scratched her head: "Then aren't we losing out? We have to work again, and we haven't even earned any money yet."

"You don't have to buy it."

Lorian said calmly, "Rather than a loss, this solution is more of a win-win situation."

"By commissioning visitors, we can generate foot traffic and then recoup our costs through business activities. At the same time, we can spread the word about the village through the adventurers who come here, so that even more people will come to visit during the next harvest festival."

"In the process, adventurers also receive a reward and can replenish necessities such as food at a relatively low price."

Having said so much in one go for a rare moment, Loran paused for a few seconds before continuing, "The person who devised this plan is not like an ordinary farmer."

--------------

The fields of Wheat Village stretched out into a golden sea in the morning light, the full ears of wheat swaying in the wind as if beckoning to adventurers from afar. Lorian stood on the edge of the field, watching Messiah dart through the wheat like a merrily squirrel. Her long golden hair shimmered softly in the sunlight, and she would occasionally turn back to wave at him, her smile brighter than the warm autumn sun.

"Lorian—! We need help here!" she shouted, standing on tiptoe and holding a scythe.

Lorian sighed, picked up his tools, and walked over. Estia and Christine had already been assigned to another area; the former gracefully used wind magic to swirl the wheat stalks, while the latter's scythe-wielding movements were so unrestrained that she nearly slashed off the straw hats of passing villagers.

"Be careful, are you harvesting wheat or hacking people?" Lorian casually reminded him as he passed by.

"Mind your own business!" Christine glared at him, but then quietly eased her grip.

The field that Messiah was in charge of had several bundles of crooked wheat stalks piled up on it, clearly showing that this saint had no talent for farming.

perhaps?

But I remember in the last side story, Miss Messiah helped a villager with farm work, didn't she?

Never mind, let's just leave it at that.

In short, Lorian walked to Messiah's side, squatted down, and deftly cut off a clump of wheat, the blade precisely slicing along the root.

"Cut at an angle with the sickle, and don't use too much force with your wrist."

He grasped Messiah's wrist to adjust his position, his fingertips accidentally brushing against her slightly cool skin.

"so?"

Messiah swung her sickle as instructed, and the wheat stalks fell neatly. She turned around excitedly, her nose almost bumping into Lorian's chin: "It worked! Lorian truly is omnipotent!"

Lorian took a half step back, somewhat helplessly: "...It's just common sense."

Suddenly, Christine's roar echoed from afar: "Estia! Your wind magic blew my wheat away!"

"Fool, that's because you tied it too loosely."

The elven princess, who had somehow appeared beside Loran and Messiah, lightly tapped her fingertip, and the out-of-control bundle of wheat landed steadily at Christine's feet. As she turned, her emerald hair brushed against Lorian's shoulder, and the faint scent of grass and trees made him momentarily dazed.

The lingering summer heat hadn't completely subsided, and the midday sun was growing increasingly scorching. Villagers brought over chilled blueberry juice. Messiah, holding a wooden cup, approached Lorian, her forehead still dusted with wheat husks: "Try this! The proprietress said it's made with blueberries picked this morning!"

Lorian took a sip from her hand, the sweet, sour, and refreshing taste bursting on his tongue. Messiah blinked expectantly, "How is it?"

"……good."

"Just not bad?" She nonchalantly took a sip from where Lorian had drunk, pouting, "It's super sweet!"

Lorian opened his mouth, as if to say something, but was interrupted by Christine. The half-dragon slapped him on the shoulder: "What delicious drink are you sneaking a sip of? Let me try it, let me try it!"

"Blueberry juice, the hotel owner over there is giving it away for free."

"You have to go get it yourself? That's too much trouble. Messiah, let me have a sip of yours."

"don't want--"

Messiah protected the blueberry juice: "Christine, go get it yourself! One cup per person."

As the sun set, the bronze bell at the village entrance rang. The old village chief, his back trembling, raised the megaphone: "Thank you, brave warriors! The bonfire party will begin soon—"

A bonfire three meters high was lit in the center of the square, and the aroma of roasted meat mixed with the rich fragrance of cider filled the air.

"Would you like to dance, Lorian?"

The firelight illuminated half of Messiah's profile, making the girl's eyes sparkle.

"I'm not very good at."

Lorian wasn't lying; in his past life, he truly hadn't had the time or inclination to learn this.

"Huh? It's very simple, come on~"

"No."

Despite Miss Messiah's coquettish pleading, Lorian still refused, so Messiah could only pout and watch the people dancing around the campfire.

The firelight reflected in the girl's eyes, which held a hint of envy.

Lorian sighed and said, "Let's go."

"what?"

"Dance."

Lorian stood up, the tips of his ears slightly red, perhaps due to the firelight: "Let's get this straight, I didn't dance well."

Mysia was stunned for a few seconds, then overjoyed, she jumped up and pulled Lorian into the crowd of dancers. They found an open space and began to dance gracefully.

Her skirt swirled in the firelight, creating a golden arc.

"Follow my steps!"

Messiah placed Lorian's hand on her waist, humming a cheerful folk song as she guided him to spin around. The pair of the golden couple drew cheers from many onlookers.

Lorian's martial arts instincts allowed him to perfectly replicate every dance step, but his stiff posture made Messiah laugh and lean on his shoulder: "Lorian looks like a puppet when he dances the ritual dance!"

"It was you who insisted..."

His explanation was interrupted by a sudden burst of fireworks. The night sky exploded with countless sparks, and as Messiah looked up, Lorian's gaze swept over the shimmering light dancing on her eyelashes. When the largest golden chrysanthemum firework bloomed, he suddenly felt a strong urge to quietly tighten his arms around her waist.

But in the end, he didn't do it.

Estia sat alone on a platform made of stacked wine barrels, looking down at the bustling crowd. A familiar scent wafted on the night breeze, and she knew who it was without turning around.

"Not dancing?"

Lorian appeared beside her without her noticing and handed her a glass of mead.

“The elven dance is only for grand celebrations.” She took the wine glass, her fingertips briefly touching his. “Also, you danced quite well just now.”

Lorian looked towards Christine, who was surrounded by children in the distance—the half-dragon was using fire magic to roast a giant marshmallow, and the smell of burning flesh made the little radish heads scream and run away.

A faint smile appeared in his eyes: "You've worked hard today."

“Compared to fighting, this kind of hardship…” Estia took a sip of her wine, the moonlight turning into tiny ice crystals in her eyes: “It’s not so bad.”

The revelry continued late into the night. On the way back to the hotel, Messiah, clutching her spoils—strawberry jam and maple syrup bought at a 30% discount—hummed an off-key tune. Christine suddenly nudged Lorian on the shoulder: "Hey, your ears were so red they could bleed when you were dancing."

"hot."

"Come on! The fire is ten meters away!"

Estia interjected softly, "It is indeed quite hot tonight."

"Come on! You're just speaking up for Lorian!" Christine angrily strode to the front.

"What? Did Lorian blush while dancing?"

"No way? You didn't see the dance you did with him?"

"Hmm, I thought it was the light from the fire!"

"That's it."

"Nonsense! How could that be! Messiah, don't listen to his nonsense!"

The moonlight cast long shadows of the four people, intertwining and falling on the path lined with wildflowers.

This was the most ordinary daily life in an era before the flames of war were ignited, before the journey began, and before the winds of fate lingered on the surface of the water, not yet carrying them far away.

Chapter 186: The fierce battle continues!

The pillars of lava burned away the Pope's defenses, which had been a shield protecting the nation for thousands of years. Now, they had been broken by a Satan and an elf working together!

"What a disgrace..."

The dying pope sighed softly, letting the flames engulf him.

"Won?"

Lester leaned on his sword, panting heavily. Estia squinted. The aura of death disrupted the direction of the wind, and she couldn't judge the situation inside, but her intuition told her that the Pope of Death would not be defeated so easily.

And that was indeed the case. The very next moment the flames engulfed and killed the Pope, the decaying Throne of Thorns twisted and was reborn from the pillar of lava.

The shattered head of the dying pope transformed into countless tendrils, spreading wildly along the cracks in the ground. Estia retreated, panting, blood seeping from her fingertips from excessive bow-pulling. Lesteen's greatsword was embedded in the magma fissure, its blade corroded and pitted.

"This old thing... is even more troublesome than the old lich's creations!"

The King of Satan spat out a mouthful of blood, and his molten fighting spirit erupted once more, burning the roots that had wrapped around his ankles to ashes.

The apoptotic pope high in the sky had completely transformed into a colossal tree where flesh and decaying wood had merged. Hanging from its canopy were not branches and leaves, but countless elven souls. They howled as they rushed downwards, each impact causing ripples to spread across the city's protective barrier.

Estia's hand trembled slightly as she nocked the arrow—the emerald arrow needed to gather pure natural power, but the life force of the entire forest was being rapidly drained away.

"Tsk, I thought I wouldn't need this... Little princess of the elves!"

Lestinger suddenly ripped off the demonic bone chain around her neck, and dark red runes ignited in her palm: "Put your arrow in!"

Estia instantly understood his meaning, drawing her bow to its fullest extent. The dying Pope instinctively went on the defensive, only to find that the arrow was not aimed at him at all—the arrow carried pure wind and pierced the dark red rune that was now burning with flames.

The moment the emerald arrow pierced the runic flames, the Satanic Flame and the elven hurricane strangely merged, and the arrow, for some unknown reason, burst forth with black and red lightning!

As if sensing a threat, the dying Pope suddenly unleashed hundreds of long whips of thorns, entwined with the souls of the dead, from the treetops.

"It's now!"

Lesterlinger leaped into the air, using her greatsword as a fulcrum, her molten battle aura forming wings that enveloped her, allowing her to withstand the lash of the whip. Estia, at the instant the arrow left the bowstring, flipped it, the string slicing through her palm, the blood staining the once-majestic arrow crimson—

Forbidden Elf Technique: Blood Pact Strike!

The lightning arrow pierced the veil of the dead, but was blocked by a bone shield that suddenly appeared just before it hit its core. The Deathly Pope's cold laughter echoed from the treetops: "The same trick again, I thought you could fall for it a second time..."

The words stopped abruptly.

Lestinger's lava wings exploded with a deafening roar, the splashing magma landing precisely on the surface of the bone shield. Taking advantage of the moment when the defensive array was disrupted by the intense heat, the arrow finally tore through the barrier and embedded itself deep into the trunk of the giant tree!

“Ahhhhh——!”

A piercing roar shattered the clouds, and the giant tree's trunk split open into a bottomless crevice. However, the disintegrating roots did not perish; instead, they carried even more souls into the earth. Estia knelt on the ground, her face deathly pale as she watched the churning earth in the distance—the roots were moving towards the core of the sacred tree!

"Damn it, is this old bastard just going to die?!"

Lestinger was quite exasperated: "Why does he act like some kind of damn old lich?!"

Lucifer, who had entrusted the feather to Lestinger, did not appear in person due to the intensity of the battle, but she could still see everything that was happening here.

The immortality of the Deathly Pope and the Lich King's Court is strikingly similar, and the Fallen Angel King's aura emanates from the Fallen Pope...

It seems that not only the Death and Corruption Churches, but also the scum of the Abyss Lord's servants—the Abyss Walkers—were involved.

Moreover, the demons probably still have their spies.

These are truly turbulent times.

--------------

The fallen pope stood on a throne pieced together by the dead, with seven eyeball necklaces floating around him, each pupil reflecting the image of Loran.

"do you know?"

She licked the blood from her fingertips as her severed left arm slowly regenerated: "Back when we betrayed you, the King of Kadia gave you the same look... and then I turned him into a human skin lantern."

Loran's Sanctuary Judgment was stuck in the ground, its blade covered in black veins.