In order to deter that, the Faith could isolate a priest somewhere to “train.” There, they’d forgo all contact with the opposite sex for a period of time, which was used to prevent outbreaks of love syndrome among the priests.
If that wasn’t enough, the Faith would penalize the parties involved severely.
All of this instilled a twisted sense of morality among the clergy, but it let the Faith maintain its patriarchy.
Priestesses were largely limited to healing and volunteer work and were almost never given any positions with political power. The rare exceptions included the saints, and the heroes’ entourage—and even then, they were only there to monitor and honey trap certain targets. Naturally, they were expected to use their bodies to advance the aims of the Faith.
All in all, as much as the Faith tried to paint a picture of spotless integrity, immorality ran rampant behind its cloistered doors. There was a never-ending list of priestesses who’d been driven to suicide.
The Faith had responded by wielding the power of religion in one hand, and its authority in the other, to suppress—no, to silence—any discontent.
And it had succeeded...for a while. Up until a certain female pastor had broken the mold and started to insist on things like gender equality and freedom for people to live the lives they wanted to live...
Most of the Faith’s freely married priests and pastors were clergy members the church had reassigned overseas for supporting said female pastor, making them “risks” to the Holy Land.
Sooner or later, Shakti thought, the Holy Land’s social system would fall apart. She’d heard reports to that end from Zaza, a spy for the Kingdom of Isalas.
As a sidenote, the Artom Empire was an exception that followed not the Faith of the Four Gods but the Church of Creation, a religion not unlike Japan’s Shintoism.
Its priests were referred to as shrine maidens or shamans, and they devoted their days to carrying out what were pretty much Shinto rituals.
With a few exceptions dependent on social class, most didn’t have to follow stringent rules and were free to marry whomever they wished.
“It’s not easy for women to succeed in this male-dominated society,” Shakti said. “Even when they have the talent, some guy will probably just steal the credit for their achievements. That sort of old-fashioned thinking is still just seen as the norm here.”
“Maybe it’s that our way of thinking is too futuristic for the people here?” Lisa mused. “I mean, I think even Japan was pretty male-dominated up until, what—the Edo period? The early Meiji period? And even then, things didn’t change that much for a while. It wasn’t until the Showa period that women started to get some more power in society.”
“I suppose that’s part of it. But still—women make up half the world, you know? If we’re going to be living here from now on, don’t you think we should do what we can to improve the social status of women here, even if it’s just by a little bit?”
“Wait—don’t tell me you’re thinking of getting into politics, Shakti?”
“I do think it’d be interesting to, if I could. But no. Even if I managed to get something done as a politician, the patriarchy wouldn’t let it stand. The moment I started to dismantle the power they take for granted, they’d make it their top priority to crush me. I guarantee it.”
“Mmm... By our standards, civilization here really is behind the times, isn’t it?”
“That’s just how it is. It’s generally the men who are most obsessed with status and glory—and I can’t imagine them liking the idea of a female politician standing in their place and speaking her mind. Here, they think a woman’s place is in the kitchen, and it’s just so...urgh.”
“You don’t hold back, huh, Shakti?”
“What we need is to change people’s views over time. Have you ever heard of Mohism? It’s a philosophy on Earth that preached equality and altruism...but the people in power at the time saw it as a nuisance, so they crushed it. And in the end, the philosophy that came out on top was something that better suited the interests of the people in power: Confucianism. At the end of the day, however noble your ideas are, you’ll just be brushed off unless you can get enough people to support them.”
“Huh? What did they have against a movement that wanted equality and altruism?”
“If everyone’s equal, no one’s more important than anyone else. And when the emperor’s authority was seen as absolute, that was one of the most dangerous ideas you could have had. It could have caused a rebellion.”
Imagine, for example, a philosophy that extolled the “virtues” of revenge and conquest. Leaders could use that philosophy to justify invading others with their armies to expand their realms.
And what if a new philosophy arose, built on kindness and altruism, in the midst of that? The answer: Those same power-hungry leaders would see it as the ultimate thorn in their sides.
They wanted every system of belief to validate their own behavior. They’d never allow something that denounced the very foundation of their existence.
Social structures evolved slowly—trying to change them all at once would only result in backlash.
So even if Shakti did go into politics here, she could only see one outcome: being helplessly crushed by the status quo and its supporters.
And she especially couldn’t see the political realm here being willing to welcome in a reincarnator.
“On another note, Ado and Zelos said they fought the Four Gods, didn’t they?” Shakti said. “And it sounded like the goddesses weren’t all that strong.”
“They were saying Zelos alone might be able to beat all four, so... Like, we’ve gotta be sure now, right? Sure that the Four Gods are only stand-ins, I mean,” Lisa said. “I wonder where the real god went?”
“Who knows? But whoever they are, they can’t be any good. Just look at who they left in charge.”
“Mmm... Yeah. Everything I hear about the Four Gods makes them sound like a bunch of sadistic criminals.”
The Four Gods weren’t deserving of worship, that much was certain.
They were careless, they were irresponsible, and they seemed entirely willing to destroy the whole world if it was in their own interests.
“And that’s why we’re going to punish them, isn’t it? Though...we’ll have to make sure the world isn’t about to cave in on itself first,” Shakti said.
“By the way,” Lisa noted, “I don’t see Ado around. I wonder what happened?”
“Yui must have dragged him off somewhere, right? I can’t imagine she wanted to leave him here with us two.”
“Ohhh. Yeah. That makes sense.”
From the way Yui looked, it was hard to imagine her capable of such ferocity—but she became a completely different person when it came to Ado.
She couldn’t even stand the thought of him cheating. Just seeing him in the company of other women had been enough for her to draw a kitchen knife on him.
She’d probably had Ado on her mind ever since arriving in this world months ago.
And then, the moment she’d breathed a sigh of relief, her emotions had gone wild, creating the carnage that now surrounded Shakti and Lisa. Yui hadn’t just gone berserk in any house either—no, this was the mayor’s house and de facto assembly hall. And now, the place was a wreck.
“Well... I guess we should clean up.” Shakti said. “I feel awkward standing in the middle of this mess.”
“Yeah. Yui did all the damage, but I guess it never would’ve been this bad if we hadn’t been here...” Lisa said.
They sighed and started cleaning up the room.
As they got to work, they listened to the sounds of a ferocious battle between a middle-aged man and his three birds just outside.