I'm Working at the Church as a Priest, but I Want to Be Cut Some Slack from the Mutilated Bodies of the Heroes that Keep Getting Sent to Me

Beneath the quiet ceilings of a church, a devoted priest tends to his sacred calling—or at least, that was the life he once imagined. Instead, his days are consumed by a duty far grimmer than hymns and prayers: the mutilated bodies of heroes, sent to him one after another in a ceaseless and horrifying procession. These are the champions meant to embody hope, yet they arrive at his church broken, bloodied, and beyond saving. Caring for what remains of these fallen protectors—granting them dignity in death when glory failed them in life—has become his crushing daily burden, and the endless tide of carnage is steadily wearing away at his strength, his patience, and his peace of mind. All the poor man wants is a moment of respite, a single day where nothing gruesome crosses his threshold. But as long as heroes keep marching off to grisly ends, his solemn work will never cease—leaving this exhausted priest with nothing to do but pray for the one miracle he truly needs: someone, anyone, to finally cut him some slack.