Kwaarrrrung!
The resounding noise of thunder. Aslan’s foot, which struck the surface of the thick layer of poison, forcefully pushed its master away.
Due to the fall from a considerable height, the water surface was harder than the ground. Thus, the thunder call pushed Aslan’s body away.
By the recoil, the left foot that fully received the impact of the fall shattered.
A concussion found its way through the shock transmitted from the left foot.
But…
“Aslan…!”
He could rise into the air by kicking off the water surface.
His life had been saved.
Even though the water filled with poison was approaching again, Aslan knew he would have time to make a judgment with this brief reprieve.
There was still a long way to the ground. The patches of land scattered between the puddles of poison were few and far between.
There was nothing close enough for two people to land on simultaneously.
Aslan embraced Ereta around her waist and turned his head to select a landing spot while holding her tightly.
At least one patch of land was near. Knowing they couldn’t both reach it while embracing, Aslan moved without hesitation.
“No, no…!”
“Heaven, Thunder Call.”
Kwaarrrrrrung!
Pulling the startled Ereta, he thrust her away with an arm imbued with the Thunder Call. Though it would likely cause some pain, Ereta’s figure flew through the air and crashed onto the ground.
Kung, her rolling body coughed as if in pain, but the purpose had been achieved.
Ereta was safe.
Aslan was satisfied with that fact.
Phwoaaak!
The water surface filled with poison shot up a massive spray, and Ereta gasped, her pink eyes filled with fear as she took a breath.
“Aslan, Aslaan!”
The deep poison within Olpasbet was deadly enough to kill a deity and had already served its purpose. Though it no longer possessed the toxicity to kill a deity, it was still powerful.
For an ordinary human, even a splash could spread the poison and endanger their life.
And yet, Aslan had fallen into such a pool. Realizing what was about to happen, Ereta stepped into the poisonous puddle without hesitation, her pink eyes clouded with fear.
The moment she stepped in, she understood the future that awaited Aslan, who had fallen into this poison.
Aslan was going to die. Because of her.
Without realizing it, Ereta clenched her teeth together. She didn’t know whether it was due to the poison’s effects or the fear manifesting physically.
It wasn’t long before Aslan, floating on the water surface and convulsing, was found. Ereta hugged Aslan’s body and cut through the poisonous puddle, heading toward the ground where she had fallen earlier.
“Ugh, ah…?”
Even during that brief crossing, Ereta could feel the poison seeping into her body.
Despite being infused with Bijou’s courage, which was brimming with vitality, she could feel the innate toxicity that eroded life.
She suppressed it as much as possible using Bijou’s courage, but Ereta wasn’t optimistic enough to feel hope when performing an act with such clear limits.
But thanks to that, Ereta managed to barely reach the ground. As she collapsed, throwing Aslan’s body over herself onto the ground, she finally saw Aslan’s condition.
“Aah, no. Asl, an.”
Aslan’s state was literally on the brink of death.
His entire left arm was shattered. It was impossible to tell where the muscles ended and the bones began.
His left foot was also broken, and the poison was seeping in. His right arm, covered by armor, hadn’t been affected by the poison, but the rest of his body was darkened and tinged purple from the poison.
Even in such a state, his convulsions made Ereta sense the impending death.
“Guh… uh… hhh.”
And it was the same for Ereta. Feeling the poison spreading throughout her body, she panted and, employing Bijou’s courage, placed her hand on Aslan’s chest.
“You mustn’t die.”
Her teeth chattered, and her muscles contracted involuntarily. Her breathing became rough, and her consciousness began to fade.
Still, amidst all this, Ereta poured as much life as possible from Bijou’s courage into Aslan.
Aslan must not die, even if she herself might.
Aslan, who spoke of changing the world because he believed she could do it, despite the absurdity of it all, someone who faced calamities and hardships head-on without turning away…
Because she valued him more than herself.
When her life force from Bijou’s courage ran out, Ereta hesitated not a moment and poured her own life into Aslan.
Even if it was futile, like pouring water into a pot with a hole, she divided her life with the single-minded hope that Aslan would survive.
Until her own life ran out.
As her consciousness gradually grew heavy like something soaked in water, and her eyelids closed, Ereta continued to breathe raggedly and poured life into Aslan’s body.
She wanted to use even the tiniest bit of her life for Aslan.
Because it was all her fault.
She had excited Aslan due to her mother and forced him to act hastily, falling for obvious provocations and confronting the Artist alone.
Because of that, she had pushed Aslan too hard and put him in danger.
Even then, she couldn’t afford to lose Aslan, who had helped her at such a crucial moment.
‘No, that’s not it.’
Because she liked him.
That was reason enough.
So Ereta poured out her life without reserve, to save Aslan.
Even without his left foot and left arm, he needed to stop the bleeding and expel the poison, so she had to use all her life force.
“Huu, ha, ugh…”
And then, drained of life, she fell weakly.
In her fading consciousness, Ereta trembled slightly.
Death was approaching.
The incoming death brought darkness, and in that fading consciousness, Ereta could see the scenery beyond the darkness.
That scenery was twilight.
What people called “life flashing before one’s eyes.”
In that life-flash, there was a girl.
A smaller girl than the present Phey. A girl with snow-white hair and skin, and pink eyes.
A priestess known as the Spider’s daughter within the sect, and one who received the Spider’s full favor.
The girl was Ereta.
Younger Ereta, not so distant past.
Ereta had no parents.
Rather, she had no memory of her parents.
Whenever she asked others in the sect, she only ever heard vague replies about how her parents had handed her over to become a priestess.
Ereta didn’t believe those words.
Because she could vaguely understand.
That she had no other parents.
Not in the sense of being abandoned or already dead.
Ereta had never had parents to begin with.
In her faint, pale memories, the girl had been created from nothingness.
Somewhere along the line, she had heard that people like her were called hybrids.
Hybrids.
People with spider legs, dragon tails, extremely tall like giants but dim-witted—her fellow hybrids who were not whole, unlike her.
Thus, Ereta quickly realized her uniqueness.
Not just in appearance, but because the Spider, who acted as her mother, cherished and favored her greatly.
Unlike the harsh treatment other hybrids received from the Three Evils, the Spider cared deeply for and loved the girl.
From a very young age, the Spider had stayed within her mind, speaking many words to her.
When Ereta was sad, it consoled her; when she was curious, it provided answers.
Even though it wasn’t physically present, it always looked after her with its warm, soft divine power akin to flames.
It kept her warm on cold nights by surrounding her with fire.
To Ereta, the Spider felt less like a deity and more like a mother.
And the Spider treated the girl like a daughter.
Therefore, Ereta called the Spider “Mother.”
Perhaps, perhaps.
She thought the Spider might really be her mother.
Hence, the moment of abandonment was shocking.
On the other hand, it was something she had somewhat expected.
She thought it couldn’t be helped.
Even if she hadn’t been regarded as a daughter, even if she truly wasn’t one.
So Ereta thought that what had come was inevitable.
Like the other brothers and sisters in the sect who were used up and discarded, she was merely expendable too.
While thinking that maybe the words Aslan told her were lies, she still believed them for that reason.
Through this life-flash, Ereta finally understood.
That her mother hadn’t abandoned her.
Without any reason, evidence, or anything, Ereta instinctively knew.
Even against the light of Aslan that had shaken everything she had seen in her lifetime, she was certain.
That Aslan had lied.
And upon realizing this, Ereta neither felt anger nor betrayal.
She simply felt relieved.
Just knowing that her mother hadn’t abandoned her allowed her to feel relief.
Because that was all she could do in the face of impending death.
“Choo, wer…”
Ereta, who had lived her life as a priestess and the Saint of Slaughter, actually loved interacting with others.
She enjoyed and cherished the warmth of others and loved it.
Though the ways she had experienced that warmth might have been wrong, the woman loved being loved.
Perhaps even the violence Aslan had once inflicted on her was something she enjoyed, stemming from such affection deprivation.
Perhaps she had been starved for visible and tangible love rather than invisible affection.
So when she saw her mother being dragged away, trapped in a cage, she might have thought she could finally embrace her mother directly.
Right after that, she fainted, shocked by the realization that she could think such thoughts despite the pitiful state of her mother, but that feeling was genuine.
Upon realizing this, Ereta soon thought.
The mother who wandered the universe, bringing about its destruction.
Even such a mother probably hadn’t experienced an embrace.
Ereta wanted to teach her mother the warmth of an embrace.
Regretfully, she couldn’t do that.
Ereta closed her eyes. A silence that felt eternal approached.
When that silence crept in and gnawed at Ereta’s consciousness, a kind of warmth slowly spread.
Like the fire the Spider gave her on cold nights when she shivered from the cold.
Maybe it was the Spider’s unique way of embracing her, since she couldn’t embrace properly.
Ereta opened her eyes and saw the scenery beyond the flickering afterimage.
There was the Spider.
Transparent body containing flames, all its legs torn off except for two emaciated ones.
Looking at the Spider, Ereta realized that its emaciated legs were wrapped around her body.
Soon, she sensed that divine power was flowing into her through those legs.
“Ahh…”
The hoarse voice that escaped. The Spider reacted to that voice and pulled Ereta closer.
Inside the cold body of the Spider, only a dying flame flickered.
Ereta stretched out her arms and embraced her mother, sensing the strange firmness of the Spider that held her.
She rested her chin gently and breathed softly.
She didn’t speak.
The flowing divine power spoke for her.
The Spider hadn’t abandoned her.
It had tried to save and resolve the situation but had to stop at saving her due to interference.
And in doing so, it lost most of its divinity and was dying.
This world’s rule, Geladridion, didn’t permit its physical form.
So the Spider was dying.
Even as it was dying, it endured and didn’t die to see Ereta.
It didn’t want Ereta to see its pitiful state and feel the pain that came with it.
Knowing the Spider held these conflicting feelings, it made a choice.
“Mother…”
What was happening now was the same as what happened before when Aslan and Ereta fought each other, aiming to take each other’s lives.
Pouring divine power to save her daughter.
Only the cost to the Spider this time was different.
Rustle. Ereta could feel the Spider’s body crumbling in her arms.
Through the divine power flowing into her, Ereta understood what was about to happen.
“No, don’t…”
A priest without divine power cannot endure.
Neither can an evil deity without divine power.
The Dark Ram Herd, which constitutes the rules of Geladridion, does not tolerate such ‘violations’.
The Spider will die.
“No!”
The Spider crumbled from within, and Ereta gradually regained her senses.
She felt the warmth spreading in her arms slowly fading.
“No, no, no, no!”
She shouted.
Begging it not to leave, asking to take it back, saying various things, but the Spider didn’t respond.
Because the Spider couldn’t speak human language.
Its final communication was transferring divine power.
Even amidst the pain and loss of disappearing existence, the Spider only held Ereta.
Quietly holding Ereta, using its newly regenerated, emaciated spider legs to stroke her back.
That strange firmness and coldness informed Ereta of reality, and she shed tears.
Psss.
The Spider that lit fires.
The evil deity said to burn the universe and create the next world disappeared like that.
Tingling, leaving behind only the ashes of the verdict and the former evil deity.
Ereta collapsed onto the pile of ashes and cried.
In the silent grief where not even a painful groan could escape, the woman quietly wept and bitterly mourned.
Clap, clap, clap.
What stopped her bitter mourning was applause.
Ereta lifted her bowed head, and the sound of clapping ceased as it approached.
“Is the reunion over?”
A low voice, like that of an old man or someone with strange bloodline.
Ereta slowly turned her head and glared at the Artist.
The Artist flinched under Ereta’s gaze and smiled.
“What a terrifying expression. Quite unsettling. Is that how you feel?”
Ereta did not answer. Instead, she picked up the axe lying beside her.
The axe, used by its rightful owner since before she became the Saint of Slaughter, resonated with divine power and blazed.
Puwhoaack!
Flames soared. The heat coursing through the axe scorched the ground and consumed the pools of poison.
As the burnt poison pools dissipated into thick toxic smoke, the scorched black earth saturated with poison and fire was revealed.
Ereta stepped onto it.
Approaching the Artist.
Her unsteady steps made the Artist smile nervously, feeling a chill down his spine.
Chiiik.
The scars on her body burned and regenerated, and the tattoos glowed red.
Ereta understood.
That divine power and mana tattoos mixed, converting the life force of slain beings into divine power.
As naturally as a deity sensing its own divinity, or a living thing blinking or moving its body, she comprehended it.
As the divine power flowing through her body turned into flames swirling around her, the toxic smoke and heat emitted by the Artist clashed and rippled.
Stopped at a distance from each other, the woman firmly gripped the blazing axe with both hands.
The axe glowing red with boiling flames. The Artist looked at the axe blade and Ereta’s expression in turn and said with a gentle smile,
“It’s been a while, Saint of Slaughter.”
She still didn’t reply.
Instead, Ereta assumed a stance. Raising the axehead upward, gripping it with both hands, she pointed the handle’s end at the Artist.
Ready to sever his head and body at any moment.
The Artist smiled contentedly upon seeing this.
“Well then, shall we dance?”
At those words, Ereta charged forward.
Her fiery eyes left streaks of light through the thick toxic smoke, and the axe and mace collided.
-Tzeerrreeeng!
The shockwave spreading outward from the collision of weapons devoured the poison pools, scattering poison in all directions.
