Volume 6 Chapter 105 The Erased Wedding
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
When you think of weddings, you picture vows, the exchange of rings, and all those embarrassing yet joyful traditions. Different cultures have their own takes—probably varies by religion and sect, too.
Most wedding chapels in Japan are basically stage sets, and the priests are just vendors in costume. But that’s fine, right? If you’re not a believer, then what really matters is the atmosphere—that sense that this feels right.
The girls, having grown used to Earth’s subculture, probably wouldn’t mind the Japanese-style performance.
The problem is, in this world… gods actually exist.
Some of the ones who’ve crashed the event are probably just here for the novelty—might even find it amusing.
But there are definitely gods who care about tradition, protocol, and all that. Offend them, and you could get hit with divine punishment. That’s not a metaphor.
No detours this time. No unnecessary ceremonies. We’ll do what we want later at the reception.
The Pope—who was supposed to oversee our ceremony—seems to have decided to skip the theatrics too. He’s been silent since we arrived. A failure as a host, sure, but maybe he’s not wrong when it comes to survival strategy.
Among the upper class, a wedding is just a ritual—an official report to the gods that so-and-so is marrying so-and-so.
That’s it.
It’s over faster than a high school baseball player’s oath.
I guess the temple thought that’d be too bland. It’s customary for high-ranking priests to give long, convoluted sermons. Something about pomp.
I was ready to grit my teeth through one too. There’s the public image to consider.
Not that the sermon content matters—it never does. It’s just a competition to see who can drone on longer. A status contest among the nobles.
And nobles don’t mind spending money if it earns them prestige. It’s ridiculous, but honestly? A pretty clever way to rake in donations.
The Pope probably intended to go that route at first. But after seeing what divine punishment looks like, he must’ve gotten cold feet.
Can’t blame him. Rambling in front of actual gods is basically a death wish. If he’s figured that out, then he’s not entirely foolish.
――
Being so nervous in front of nobles that you freeze up—in terms of this world’s etiquette, that’s bad.
Shaking in terror? That’s the ultimate sign of deference.
But in the end, it’s all just a show. A performance.
If you really can’t do anything, you’re just dead weight.
Hmm. This is a problem.
If the Pope clams up, we’ve got no pinch hitter. And the other priests lined up behind him? Not moving an inch.
Most of the gods are here for the cooking competition afterward. What happens if we keep them waiting?
Plenty of them are short-tempered. A priest ought to know that much. But if they’re too scared to act, then what can you do?
Smart people say the brainy types tend to lack guts, after all.
Should I step in?
That could cause problems later—might be seen as disrespecting the Great Temple’s authority.
There’s a saying in this country: a useless dog barks well after the hunt is over.
”The gods are waiting, you know. Is it all right to proceed with the oath?”
I ask the Pope. He gives a stiff nod.
Well, people looking to complain will always find something. But maybe this’ll smooth things over a little.
”I swear! We will become husband and wife. In joyful times, we’ll celebrate together. In hard times, we’ll help and support each other to keep going.”
I’d been thinking of something cooler for the oath, but—
I had a gut feeling that dressing things up in front of the gods would be dangerous. Decoration is the start of deception.
The wives are smirking. No—El looks genuinely happy. That pure heart of hers must resonate with the divine.
Shea-Shea, on the other hand, looks a little disappointed.
Everyone’s glowing.
No, really glowing.
A shower of light falls on us like rice at a wedding—except… wait.
This isn’t a blessing.
This is teleportation.
Oh, crap.
* * *
I’ve been through a lot of teleportations, so I know my way around the sensation.
This one feels close to teleport magic. Like a super-sized version of the teleport taxis that sages run on the side for pocket money.
Is this… the gods’ magic?
Unreal.
The mana is unusual—no, overwhelming.
Seriously, this is way too much mana. To teleport just a few dozen people, this is beyond inefficient.
It’s like they brute-forced the spell using sheer magical brawn. No elegance at all. I guess for gods, that is efficient, but still—what a waste.
Wait a sec… if I had that much mana, couldn’t I pull off something like this?
Sure, only if I had god-tier reserves.
Still—might’ve just learned something valuable here.
* * *
”What the hell is this?!”
”Don’t panic! We’re in the presence of the gods!!”
The nobles and priests, suddenly dropped into the wilderness, are panicking. Not surprising—most of them aren’t exactly adventuring types.
”That structure over there… looks like the Shrine of the Apocalypse.”
The cardinal whispers to me.
Yeah. This is a venue for a taste-off. The impatient gods must’ve gotten ahead of themselves and messed up the sequence.
Divine energy crackles in the air, chaotic and unstable.
The gods who came for the wedding are clashing with the ones here for the cooking showdown.
A channel war, huh?
If the world ends over something like this, I… I don’t even know.
According to myth, a lot of divine battles start over absurdly petty things.
Are we really going to have Ragnarok because of a scheduling conflict?
I’m just a powerless human. All I can do is watch and pray this doesn’t spiral out of control.
I’m also worried the nobles and priests dragged into this won’t do something reckless.
Please, don’t provoke the gods.
My stomach can’t take this.
At least Uno is guarding my wives. That’s a relief. Even a dragon’s powerless before divine might, but Uno knows better than most what divine wrath feels like.
Knowing your own limits is a kind of strength.
Then there’s that summoning Hero, acting like a big shot.
What, planning to fight a god? Are you insane?
I really wish they’d stop. Luckily, no one seems reckless enough to move under this pressure. Everyone’s just slumped down, radiating survival instincts.
Good.
Eventually, the chaos begins to settle.
Looks like the gods decided to enjoy the cooking competition peacefully.
Phew.
For now, the world is safe.
* * *
Ugh. All that careful planning—completely up in smoke. This is bad.
Given the circumstances, I’ve got no choice. Time to improvise and make the best move I can.
It’s that same feeling—like swimming in a pool where your feet don’t touch the bottom, or the anxious rush you got when your training wheels first came off.
But I have to do it anyway.
Cooking’s my strong suit, so I’ll manage. Probably.
――
The Shrine of the End: a squat, square mountain of rock, rising alone from the plains. It reminds me a bit of El’s mine.
At the summit—flat like a tabletop—there’s a reservoir, a field, and a small shrine where a handful of priests live and train.
There’s no way a path could climb those near-vertical cliffs, so they haul people up in a big basket using a wooden crane.
They haven’t evacuated yet, so the priests are still up there on that rock.
Compared to their brutal training, they say being locked in a dungeon is easier. Why anyone would do that willingly is beyond me.
Still, I respect them more than the pampered priests back in the royal capital.
――
The cardinal said the Shrine of the End has no strategic value. So why would the Demon King want it?
The terrain’s similar to El’s mine, so I figured I’d take a look. Not like there’s any gold or silver here…
Wait—wait, wait, wait!
There’s a pretty decent deposit of uranium buried under this mountain. Could that be what they’re after?
Ever since I learned there’s uranium in this world, I’ve been studying it using the materials I brought from Japan.
Conclusion: even in a medieval fantasy world, with the right knowledge, you can build an atomic bomb.
If you don’t care about radiation, and you’re fine working goblins to death, it’s doable.
Where did the Demon King get that kind of knowledge? Maybe one of the summoned Heroes taught them.
An atomic bomb in a fantasy world… What a buzzkill. Honestly, I’m disappointed in the Demon King.
That said, it’s just speculation for now.
I was thinking it might be okay to forfeit this round—but that’s not how it’s going to play out.
――
The cooking competition venue is set up along the river, not far from the Shrine of the End.
The Demon King’s side has gone all out. There’s even running water in the kitchen.
I always thought goblins were just weak little monsters screeching gya gya, but surprisingly, they’re pretty dexterous—skilled craftsmen, even.
For muscle, there are the strong, reliable Orcs.
They’re excellent as laborers, too. The Demon King really knows how to make use of them.
”Isn’t this basically a fortress? Win or lose the taste battle, they’ll use this place as a base!”
A noble was making a scene. What an idiot. Even if you’re thinking that, you don’t say it out loud.
Do they really think the enemy can’t understand human language?
The Demon King’s troops stationed at the venue are surprisingly few. Mostly goblins and Orcs. Not exactly intimidating.
Some people are starting to think, Hey, maybe we could win if we fought…
Getting cocky already, huh?
”I’m shocked. Those goblins are really high level, right? They look tough.”
Ms. Shirakaba was definitely onto them.
Some of the summoned Heroes guarding the Conqueror King seem to be catching on, too.
If you can’t gauge the enemy’s strength, you’re a second-rate warrior.
Knowing the enemy and knowing yourself—that’s the foundation of battle.
I had a hunch.
The moment I heard the Demon King who invaded the Totoana Empire secured the temple first, I knew something was off.
They’ve probably been defeating resurrected summoned Heroes one after another, racking up experience points.
An infinite loop, farming levels.
Summoned Heroes don’t get lost easily, even after dying. Depending on their stats, some can revive at full strength.
So what happens if the enemy captures the resurrection point?
You’d be killed again and again, feeding your experience points straight to the Demon King.
That’s the kind of tactic a gamer-turned-summoned-Hero might come up with—
—but to have it turned against them by the Demon King’s forces…
In normal RPGs, only the Hero and their companions can level up, so eventually, they’ll win through sheer power.
But if the Demon King’s side can also grind experience…
Then what? A no-win scenario?
Come to think of it… where did I set my resurrection point again?
The idea of dying over and over until I break… yeah, hard pass.
From now on, securing the resurrection point will be the most important factor.
Registering near the battlefield used to be smart—zombie rush tactics and all that.
But now, it’s high-risk.
Did the game suddenly flip from easy mode to hard?
Is the real mastermind… the god?
Trying to make the fight more thrilling?
* * *
I want to steer things toward ending this war—but for that to happen, there needs to be mutual deterrence.
A scenario where both sides stand to lose if they keep fighting.
Right now, the Demon King has the momentum.
That’s making more people on the human side open to peace.
But if they start thinking they can win, the nobles will push for war.
The ones living comfortably won’t wake up until disaster’s knocking at their door.
And by then, it’ll be too late. What a pain.
If I could just understand the Demon King’s objective, maybe we could still talk.
I’m hoping this taste battle gives us a glimpse of their intentions.
Then there’s the issue of divine interference.
I refuse to keep fighting just to amuse the gods.
If I can get them hooked on a cooking competition instead of a war…
Well, it’s worth a shot. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Yeah. I’ve settled on a clear policy now.
Sure, my detailed plans have all flown out the window—but that’s just a minor hiccup.
The whole point was gathering intel and building a strategy.
And now, I think a new path has opened up.
No—I know it has.
* * *
”I am Gaugaruga of Donguri Valley! Servant of the Demon King, wise goblin, salt peddler, healer—and the greatest boar cook you’ll ever meet!”
It came out of nowhere—no build-up, no main character stepping forward. Just this goblin declaring himself like he was summoned from backstage. The awkwardness? Off the charts.
No mics, either. Guess we’re shouting across this field the old-fashioned way.
At least nobody’s making speeches. Just roars and whoops—battle cries? Cheers? Hard to tell. Both sides are screaming their lungs out… and then, just like that, silence. A switch flipped. Must be some kind of tradition.
Apparently, in this world’s schools, students spend their entire first year learning to be silent. Makes sense, though. If everyone’s yelling all the time, no one can teach a class. Those who fail? Expelled—literally. Kicked out. Heads roll. It’s a whole different culture.
It’s quiet now. Does that mean it’s my turn?
Heh. One of the perks of being a summoned Hero: default Mind Communication. No language barriers, no misfires—just thoughts carried on words, directly into the listener’s mind. Much more effective than yelling your lungs out.
That said, I did bring a megaphone. But if I use that machine, I’d have to speak the local language for it to work, and that’d mean wasting my precious god-given cheat.
”My name is Saburou… the Little Cooking King!”
I introduce myself calmly, but with all the spirit I can muster.
Sure, there are flashier titles out there. I’ve been stacking them like trading cards. But divine titles—those given by the gods—aren’t something you toss around lightly.
When you receive a title or blessing from a god, you show gratitude. Naturally. At first, it was just the star-wandering god, Sha-sama. After that came help from the Goddess of Purification, Keras-sama. Then one god after another started getting involved—and now I’ve got a whole divine entourage.
Every time I offer prayers of thanks, more blessings come flying in. It’s never-ending. I could pray every day for the rest of my life and never catch up. Worse, if I take too long, they might think I’m ignoring them—and gods don’t take snubs well.
So I made a decision.
I’ll thank all the gods in this world. Eight million¹ or so. That includes the forgotten ones, too. It’s absurd. But among them are kind gods, scary gods, lazy gods, jealous gods—doesn’t matter. They’re all part of the divine foundation that upholds this world. Of course I’m grateful.
T/N ¹: In Shinto belief, “eight million” (yaoyorozu) is a symbolic number meaning countless or infinite deities.
If the priests ever found out I was lumping them all together like that, they’d blow a vein. But the gods themselves? They seem pleased. The blessings keep pouring in.
Still, I can’t pull that trick during this introduction.
If I can’t name any divine titles, then the best move is to say nothing at all.
But “Little Cooking King”—that one’s safe. I got it at a small local contest when I was a kid. It’s got nothing to do with the gods of this world. For a boar cooking showdown, it’s the perfect fit.
I’m getting flooded with disappointed vibes from the heavens, but thankfully, no smiting. If I’d name-dropped a specific god, I’d be in serious trouble.
There are way too many jealous gods out there.
Totally unrelated, but it’s like maxing out all the heroine affection meters in a dating sim—you make one wrong move, jealousy explodes, and it’s instant game over.
And I’m not the only one walking the tightrope. My wives have been getting showered in divine blessings, too. It’s like living on a mountain of TNT.
I mean, for us, the whole Demon King thing is honestly kind of a sideshow, isn’t it?
* * *
”Oh, Little Cooking King! For this wild boar cooking showdown, we’ve prepared a herd. Go ahead and pick one from the pen. I’ll let you choose first.”
The goblin from Acorn Valley growled the words—gruff and direct.
So the competition starts with selecting the live boar. That makes sense. No aged meat allowed under this rule. Shame, really. Properly aged boar is delicious.
The pen holds about a dozen wild boars. No piglets—it’s not that season. The youngest is probably from last spring. Some big, old veterans in the mix, too.
If I were going purely for taste, the young females are best. Tender meat, rich subcutaneous fat. The males? It’s breeding season—their meat reeks. But…
Being told to pick first seems like a fair gesture. It’s not. This is a cooking duel. The kind of boar your opponent picks tips their hand about what dish they’re aiming for. In that sense, going second is a strategic advantage. Like playing rock-paper-scissors after seeing the other guy’s move.
Sure, male meat stinks this time of year. But if you handle it right from the live stage, it’s manageable. Every kind of meat has its quirks. Even beef and chicken can smell weird if you’re not used to them. Whether you call it “odor” or “flavor” depends entirely on your experience.
Spices and seasonings are fair game. And boar pairs really well with ginger-soy or miso. I actually like the funk.
If I wanted to appeal to human nobles, picking a young female would be the easy route. But is that really the best move? Strategically, I’d rather win over the Demon King’s camp.
Maybe it’s worth taking the risk—showing I can handle the tricky male meat.
I should’ve let the goblin from Acorn Valley choose first. Or… no. Maybe I can pull him into my arena instead.
Dishes flicker through my mind like a revolving lantern. Flavors, techniques, the palates of potential judges—all whirling together.
Come to think of it, we never actually nailed down the judging rules.
In this world, flavor duels are often settled in loud, chaotic crowds. Super vague. At court banquets, only a handful of nobles taste the food; the winner is declared by decree. At village festivals, everyone gets a bite—whoever wins over the crowd takes the crown.
This event feels more like a festival. The humans will cheer for me no matter what. But the gods watching? They’ll see through everything—bias and bluster don’t fool them.
Okay, I’ve made up my mind. My targets are the Demon King’s goblin and the orcs. I’m going to make them fall head over heels for my cooking.
Notes:
• El – She is a giant woman, appeared as Saburou’s captor, living alone in a large tent, skilled in hunting and cooking, proposes marriage to Saburou.
• Shea-Shea – Mauro’s daughter. Hurt by Alexander. Became an eager fiancée after advice from protagonist.
• Shirakaba – A paladin who seems to be a skilled fighter. He’s introduced as someone with a strong defense and healing abilities.
• Gaugaruga – Servant of the Demon King, wise goblin, salt peddler, healer—and the greatest boar cook. Appeared on v6c105.
• Keras – God of Purification in this world. While not directly involved in the narrative, Keras is referenced through the High Slime, a noble being that serves as a servant of the god. The High Slime is summoned by the protagonist due to their connection with the earth spirits and their status as a spirit vessel. A figure who purified the cursed old Toyata Village, making it a viable relocation site.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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