The Misfit Party trailed behind the crossdressing boy, whispering among themselves as they followed him deeper into the forest.
"It's already weird enough that a kid lives alone out here," Irving muttered. "But a crossdressing one?"
"I just need to get my reward money," Ivy replied dryly. "Then we continue our travel."
"He said he has a sister, right?" Kovalski chimed in, wearing the unmistakable face of a man with impure intentions. "It's been ages since I met a proper adult woman. The women in Merryhall were basically children and fat aunties."
In Murica, Solo had enacted strict pedophilia laws. Thankfully, Murican pedophiles had no issues obeying them—loli-looking demons like Bella were all fifty-plus years old anyway.
Bella smirked.
"But what if the 'sister' is actually a 'brother'? Kukuku~ Perhaps crossdressing runs in the family."
"Uhh—excuse me!" Kovalski shouted toward the boy. "What's your sister's name?"
"Catherine," Robert answered in a sweet, feminine voice.
"Clear!" Kovalski whispered triumphantly. "Big Sis Catherine it is!"
"Tch," Bella clicked her tongue, annoyed.
---
"I am eternally grateful, noble knights, for rescuing Robert."
A beautiful priestess—graceful, smiling warmly—bowed before them.
She would've been stunning were it not for the fact she was a sixty-year-old grandmother.
Kovalski froze like a statue.
Bella exploded into laughter behind him.
Apparently Robert lived in an orphanage hidden in the forest—an old stone house beside a tiny, equally ancient chapel, wrapped by a simple stone fence. A bizarre miracle it still existed among bandits and wolves. Yet somehow, it survived.
"You didn't tell us you lived in an orphanage," Irving said.
Robert, now surrounded by small, cheerful children, bowed his head apologetically.
"Ah—sorry. I was so excited to bring you all to Sister Catherine and the children that I forgot to mention it."
"Well, we're here now," Ivy said, grinning. "So please ask the kind sister about my reward."
A few minutes later, Ivy and Irving stared down at the handful of copper coins given to them, wearing identical expressions of disgust.
"I'm sorry we don't have much," Sister Catherine said shyly. "But surely noble knights such as yourselves understand."
She brightened. "Oh—the children also want to give you something!"
The children ran up eagerly and handed Ivy and Irving tiny gifts.
A few candies.
A couple pieces of leftover chocolate.
Some broken trinkets.
"These sweet angels…" Sister Catherine said proudly. "Even though it's so hard to get sweets in a forest like this…"
---
Moments later, those same sweet angels were bawling their eyes out.
Sister Catherine tried desperately to comfort them.
Robert stared at the Misfits with trembling lips—betrayed.
The Misfit Party marched out of the orphanage carrying several questionably valuable items and stolen food. Their loot.
"Haah… what a waste of time," Irving sighed as he stuffed "maybe valuable" things into their subspace bag.
The local bandits, ironically, had never touched the orphanage—they still possessed a shred of humanity and even dropped off food and sweets out of pity.
But today… the demons had ended that era.
"Tch. Next time I'll ask payment upfront before rescuing somebody," Ivy said—an ordinary human girl somehow more evil than the demons themselves.
"Let's hurry to the next town," Bella said, happily munching stolen bread.
"Yeah—and hopefully they've got a proper young nun," Kovalski said, brimming with hope.
"Eeeeh? Why a nun?" Bella recoiled.
"Because Sister Catherine reminded me that I've never been with a nun," Kovalski declared passionately. "There are no churches in Murica, and Ravendawn's churches were abandoned when Vandoria left."
"There are a couple towns around this forest," Irving said, checking his map. "Let's at least buy proper supplies and rest in a proper inn."
---
Brightfield Town, Entrance
Too many guards for such a small town.
All of them young.
All of them checking every traveler meticulously.
The Misfit Party observed from the bushes with binoculars.
"Not good. They're looking for us," Kovalski said.
On the gate wall hung wanted posters—four horrible sketches. So horrible that their human disguises ended up looking more like demons. Ironically making them more accurate.
And for some unknown reason, Ivy's sketch looked scarier than the real demons.
"WHY do they draw me so UGLY!?" she hissed.
"The news from Merryhall must've spread already," Bella sighed.
"Well, they're practically neighbors. We expected this," Irving said. "To the next town."
---
Loomwick Town, Entrance
Angry young guards.
Wanted posters.
Same situation.
"Sigh… next town," Irving said.
---
Fairview Town, Entrance
Also the same.
"WHAT THE—!? NEXT!" Irving snapped.
---
Rockdale Town, Entrance
Identical.
"W-W-WHY!?" Irving gasped.
What the Misfits didn't realize was simple:
The Merryhall firework festival—whose entire budget sat in the misfits' pockets—was the only firework festival in the region. Naturally, not only Merryhall locals, but youths from every neighboring town had gone there to confess their love under fireworks.
And all of them hunting the Misfits.
"Sigh… maybe skip to the next province?" Bella suggested.
"We can't," Irving answered after checking the map. "Past this town is nothing but endless grassland."
"And we still haven't bought supplies," Kovalski sighed.
"I guess we have no choice but to wait until the festival date is over." Ivy muttered. "Maybe they'll stop looking for us."
"And when is that?" Bella asked.
"In two weeks."
Everyone let out a simultaneous, soul-crushed groan. Questioning if the Single Piece really worth it.
---
Hearthguard Cairn, Grand Fortress
A few days after the Moth Pole destruction.
In the grand council hall, Tubrat Silverfist, Calgirra Oakenbrew, and Orroth Sandbeards listened grimly to a foreign office report.
"Our ship carrying the bodies of Sir Togar Bluespire and the eighty-five victims arrives tomorrow morning. Madam Nelfilyn Bluespire is en route to receive them."
"Thank you. You may dismiss," Tubrat said.
The staff left.
"At least the Muricans were decent enough to return the bodies," Orroth murmured.
"They were," Tubrat agreed. "Their ability to retrieve that many corpses from the seabed is impressive. Any new communications from them yet?"
Tubrat and Orroth looked at Calgirra—whose sub-clan managed the foreign office.
"Nay," she lied smoothly. "Other than the three-country meeting tomorrow, nothing new."
A military officer burst in.
"Grand Councils! Urgent report!"
"What is it?" Orroth asked.
"The Moth Pole… has been destroyed."
"W-WHAT?!" Orroth sputtered. "What do you mean destroyed?!"
"Wasn't Dwordoug there with the demons?" Tubrat asked.
"Yes, sir," the officer said. "A survivor reported that Minister Leviathan and Ambassador Mara suddenly went hostile after meeting the Grand Marshal… and attempted to kill everyone."
Tubrat and Orroth froze in shock.
The dwarf trembled as he continued:
"The Grand Marshal and his troops fought the demons," the officer continued. "But the demons were too strong. So the Grand Marshal ordered the airships to collapse the Moth Pole… burying the demons—and the Grand Marshal—under thousands of tons of rubble."
Silence.
"A-Any chance the Grand Marshal survived?" Orroth whispered, trembling.
"I'm afraid not, sir. It's thousands of tons of rock…"
Orroth covered his face, trembling with grief.
"Send a rescue team," Tubrat said weakly. "Search for more survivors."
"They're already dispatched, but with the size and depth of the crater… we doubt we can dig fast enough."
The councillors fell silent.
Dwarves understood mining better than anyone—this would take months.
"You're right… Just tell them to try," Tubrat murmured.
"Anything else?" Calgirra asked.
"No, ma'am."
"You're dismissed."
He saluted and left.
"Oh… Dwordoug…" Orroth whispered, shaking. "How could this happen…"
"I suppose what he feared was true," Calgirra said coldly. "The demons did have ill intent."
"But why?" Tubrat asked.
"The reason is irrelevant," she replied. "Murica and Ravendawn have taken too many Dwarven lives—including two main clan elders. We cannot let it go unanswered."
"But they promised an investigation," Tubrat said. "What if a third party orchestrated this? We'd be fools to fight each other."
"Even if so, Murica and Ravendawn must still pay," Calgirra insisted. "If we do nothing, all nations will think dwarves are weak. And it open the doors toward our slavery again. Don't you agree, Orroth?"
Orroth slowly uncovered his face.
Sadness turned to burning fury.
"Calgirra is right. Murica… must… PAY!"
Tubrat leaned back in defeat.
---
Oakenbrew Mansion
Later, Calgirra returned home.
"I'll be in my study with our guest. No interruptions."
"Yes, madam," the butler replied.
She locked the door behind her.
"So? How did it go?" a soft, feminine voice asked.
A stunning human priestess in priestess robes sat on the couch sipping dwarven wine. Calgirra bowed deeply.
"Priestess Gabrielle. It is done, the council has agreed to war. And Dwordoug died with the demons."
"Excellent. And Murica? Any attempts at unnecessary contact?"
"No, Priestess. After my men cut communication when they tried to inform us about the Moth Pole incident, they haven't attempted anything else—aside from tomorrow's scheduled meeting."
Gabrielle smiled pleasantly.
"Excellent. Now then—it's time for your daily prayer, isn't it?"
"Yes, Priestess."
Calgirra drew a pendant from her clothes—an ankh-like symbol with two horizontal bars, the mark of Goddess Celes. She clasped it reverently and began to pray.
Gabrielle raised a hand, releasing mana toward her.
"Repeat after me. O Celes the great and the beautiful, please protect your humble servant."
"O Celes the great and the beautiful, protect your humble servant…"
Calgirra's eyes turned white as she repeated the prayer in a trance, word for word.
Gabrielle smirked as she watched her puppet slip deeper into the goddess's control.
Minutes later, the prayer ended.
"Very good," the priestess said.
"Thank you, Priestess."
"What of the mercenaries?"
"They await for orders in one of my plantations. Should I send them beyond Dwargonia's borders?"
"No… keep them close. Just in case."
"As you command."
"And for tomorrow's meeting… have you chosen the right dwarf to represent our 'holy' interests?"
"Yes. His motive is personal, but it aligns with ours."
"Perfect. The church and the goddess will be pleased."
"Thank you, Priestess."
Gabrielle smiled sweetly.
"The war between Dwargonia and Murica may be devastating, but fear not—the church will come to your aid. Soon, all dwarves will open their eyes to Celes's glory. You will no longer need to pray in secret."
"Yes… I eagerly await that day," Calgirra murmured, still entranced.
She bowed deeply and left the room.
Gabrielle sipped her wine, her expression shifted into a malicious grin.
"Fufufu… Work well, my little puppet. I can't wait to see two heathen nations tearing each other apart."
The Church of Celes, had long been unwelcomed due to historical enslavement. But the past year, they had formulate a plan and secretly dispatched one of their Seven Virtues—Priestess Gabrielle—to corrupt a Grand Council member.
And now their plans were finally unfolding.