Lance couldn't help but curse inwardly. These religiously brainwashed fanatics are truly troublesome to deal with, he thought.
His patience was commendable, at least when it came to engaging with capable individuals like Grendel, as he was willing to patiently and thoroughly try to understand them.
But his patience did not extend to fools, especially those brainwashed by the Church. They're like stones from a latrine—foul and unyielding—and can cause a heap of trouble if you're not careful, he mused.
If she weren't still useful, she would have died last night, Lance considered.
It could only be said that under the Church's brainwashing, the logic of its Clerics deviated from that of normal people. The nun, for example, still stubbornly believed she bore some sacred duty, fundamentally denying everything Lance said.
"If that's the case, then use your Divine Arts on me," Lance said, spreading his arms wide. "Come on. Let your God see whether I am the heretic you claim I am."
