Even if he were to kiss the back of the Hero's foot in the next moment, the observing Little Girl would not find it strange.
Although she wasn't physically touched, the Hero felt a peculiar sensation in her heart from such esteemed treatment, but she was frustrated due to the lack of pen and paper to express her pent-up words.
Indeed, it was strange; she had no idea what she did to deserve such treatment by the Bishop.
No matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't figure out the answer. Swallowing her saliva, the Hero's toes twitched anxiously.
Can't it be faster...
In the next moment, the preparations by the Cruising Bishop were finally complete.
He began to chant the Spell Chant in a low voice.
It was like a song, like a prayer, like chanting.
Placed in an exquisite glass bottle, the Stigmata of the 'Martial Monk' profession slowly shattered and then, along with the glass-like container, turned into countless light spots.
