Before the terrified basilisk could bite Priest Siana, Ihan spoke quickly. “I didn’t raise it to extract its venom.”
“Huh? Then what were you going to use it for?” Priest Siana cocked her head.
To a priest raised within the Flemeng Order, animals were only kept when there was a definite use for them.
Cows were kept for their milk.
Chickens for their eggs.
And a dangerous, difficult-to-raise creature like a basilisk—there could only be one reason someone would bother raising it: to harvest its priceless venom.
“I didn’t raise it to extract venom. The professor was going to attack me—uh.” Ihan broke off mid-sentence.
It sounded crazier than saying he’d raised it for venom.
Saying he’d raised it just to harvest the poison sounded like the saner option.
“Huh?”
“…Anyway, I didn’t raise it to extract venom, so could you put that syringe away?”
“All right.” Priest Siana did not understand, but when Ihan asked that way she at least stepped back with the syringe.
Only then did the baby basilisk let out a relieved sigh.
“Don’t frighten it too much. It’s still a baby. If you scare it, who knows what it might do.”
“We should get it accustomed, right?”
“……”
One might picture a priest as kind and devout, but that didn’t automatically mean weak or soft.
A kind, faithful person could turn downright fanatical when the time came.