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The Martial God didn't respond right away. Worse yet, something about his demeanor felt off.
"Martial God?" I called out cautiously.
He responded curtly.
—Lately, the reasons you summon me feel a little insolent. Or is it just my imagination?
Insolent… I knew what the word meant, but I couldn't understand what he was implying.
As I sat there trying to figure it out, the Martial God let out a sigh.
—Messenger, I am the Martial God.
"Yes."
—I'm not a historian, nor a mage, much less an antiques dealer.
"Right."
—If you have questions about martial arts, I'll always welcome them. But summoning me for things like this? Honestly, it's a little offensive.
Was he sulking? Maybe there was more to it, especially from the Martial God, but with my limited vocabulary, I couldn't think of a better way to describe it.
I hesitated for a moment. But the truth was, I'd always had one way of dealing with someone who was upset: first, address the issue head-on. "I'm sorry. I had no idea you felt that way. It's entirely my fault.."
He hummed.
"Martial God, you've been so generous with me that I crossed a line without realizing it. I sincerely apologize. I won't summon you again unless it's about martial arts."
The Martial God cleared his throat slightly.
—Well, it's not like I'm saying never summon me again.
It was as I expected. The Martial God had a straightforward personality, so it would fluster him if I bowed my head too much. I'd learned that while smoothing things over after he got upset in Hell.
—Just don't keep calling me over trivial matters. That's all. I,...
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