023: Iron Fist... An Old Woman
AD 50, Antioch—a city northeast of the Mediterranean, about 500 kilometers north of Jerusalem.
In this world, the disciples of Christ Jesus were called Christians, and the original Christian doctrines began here.
A breeze swept through the streets, barren lands, and sea surface, as the people here enjoyed peaceful lives.
"Is this where you grew up, Teacher Novia?"
Domitius took a bite of the food she had prepared, looking at Novia.
"Yes."
Under the high, clear sky, the two walked together.
A few days earlier, after deciding to return, Novia had explained his reasons to Emperor Claudius and, unsurprisingly, received permission.
However, the next day, he discovered Domitius had also boarded the ship back. Though Novia could have thrown her into the sea to swim back to shore, he saw no need. It wouldn't hurt to let her see places beyond Rome—after all, this golden-haired girl would one day become a Roman emperor who participated in the Olympics as a competitor. Perhaps it was just her nature.
Three years apart from Antioch, though this place was merely Novia's hometown in this era, he still felt deeply moved upon returning. The lives of the people blended into the scenery, and the wind remained as ever—carrying a slight chill yet serene.
Thanks to the use of magecraft, no one around paid attention to the two, who would otherwise stand out in any crowd.
"You walked from here to Rome in just a year? No carts, no ships, and you were only fourteen?"
The golden-haired girl tilted her head slightly.
"Lucius was with me, so it was manageable. He taught me spear techniques for a while."
"I see. Then how about we walk back this time too? I could teach you... singing or something. Hmph, I'm a genius."
"Don't think about slacking off. If you do, I'll make you ride in a cart for an hour every day on the way back."
"Teacher, I was wrong. I won't dare again. Please, absolutely not that."
"Depends on your performance."
Novia said this because he had discovered that this "Nero" suffered from an unimaginable condition: her bottom would ache if she rode in a cart.
As the two engaged in idle chatter, they passed through bustling crowds until a small white church with its door open came into view.
For Domitius, who had grown up in Rome, it looked incredibly dilapidated. Though the tangled ivy and lush weeds had a certain charm, the cracked white exterior made her wonder if the church would crumble at the slightest breeze.
But remembering this was where her teacher had grown up, she prayed her grand-teacher wouldn't disapprove of her and nervously followed Novia up the church steps.
"Bullshit!"
A sudden roar echoed through the small church, causing a slight tremor.
Domitius instinctively glanced at Novia beside her. The voice was unmistakably Paul, Novia's mentor—clearly an older man, around sixty. Would her teacher have any thoughts about his grand-teacher using such coarse language?
But in her eyes, Novia showed no change in expression, merely quickening his pace, likely curious about what was happening.
"You Judaists! Don't give me that 'Old Covenant' nonsense! What era is this? I remember what happened sixteen years ago! If you're not careful, I'll have someone write a new one! None of you around the Mediterranean can out-argue us!"
As they drew closer, the voices inside became clearer, the old man's dissatisfied tone sharp and biting.
"Lord Paul, what I say is the collective decision of the elders in Jerusalem. Joining us would be a great honor for your sect, which originated from our Judaism."
The mage opposite responded coldly, his tone dismissive.
Judaism, a religion Domitius had heard Novia mention, could be summarized thus: while it contained some good things, they were few; everything in Jerusalem, however, was utterly damned.
"Get out!"
"Your Excellency, do you wish to become a sinner against the Lord? If you continue to obstruct, you and that Novia will eventually be nailed to Jerusalem's pillar of shame. How he has come this far—you should understand without my saying more. Only by joining us together can you cleanse yourselves of sin and receive God's grace."
Through the door, Domitius could almost see the speaker's smug expression. Such insults against the person she revered made the golden-haired girl grit her teeth in fury.
"The child I raised is no shame to any god. He is someone even the Teacher would praise. You may not believe it, but the truth is, you don't even believe in disbelief." The old man's stubborn tone carried a resolve to yield no further. "So what? What if he has come this far? It's still better than you heartless fools drowning in drunken dreams. Nothing in this world is spotless; we all breathe in dust. But that doesn't stop him from doing better. No one can withstand others' nitpicking."
"I know what you think. But the worst thing is slander—just as sixteen years ago, how you treated my Teacher, Christ Jesus."
The golden-haired girl glanced again at Novia beside her. The youth remained as ever, showing no discernible emotion.
So Domitius blinked and slightly lowered her voice. "Teacher, should I... take care of it later?"
"No need. I'll handle it myself—"
But just as Novia moved to push the large door open, the next instant it was pulled open from within. A magus stripped down to his trousers, unconscious, was tossed out onto the ground. Accompanied by a somewhat aged voice:
"Paul! With people like this, just use your hands! If I weren't old, I'd use my fists directly. What's the point of all that talk..." An elderly woman with purple hair, holding a staff taller than herself, stepped out. She immediately spotted Novia and Domitius, who were using magecraft. "Hm? You are... little Novia?"
In that moment, Domitius saw a smile spread across her teacher's face—an indescribable increase in its warmth, as if he had encountered a long-lost motherly figure.
"It's me, Martha... elder sister."
Sorry for not uploading yesterday I was playing canto 9 of Limbus Company
Note: I'm new to translating so please be kind and tell me any mistakes you all find, I will try to release a chapter a day but don't expect much
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