In the land of the Pervere Kingdom, destroyed by the Veil of Mercy, neither sunset nor sunrise occurred.
All that remained was a world dead in milky whiteness.
Confronting the death of this very world, Aslan walked.
And with every step he took, residual pain coursed through his waist.
Was this the cost of dedicating oneself to desire?
Aslan frowned at the pain, but then opened his eyes and continued walking.
“Aslan, I’m sorry.”
Just then, a voice came from behind.
It was gentle beyond measure, though hoarse, perhaps from yelling too much.
Turning slightly at the tender and soft voice of a woman, Aslan saw a woman with red, bloodshot eyes.
“Even after doing it so many times… I still want more…”
Aslan knew the origin of those bloodshot eyes and the hoarse voice.
Indeed, it was impossible not to know. The eyes were bloodshot from crying and panting while nearly sobbing. The hoarse voice was from emitting constant moans during the process.
Ultimately, it was all Aslan’s fault, and there was nothing to be done about it.
Thus, suppressing a sigh, Aslan forced a smile.
“It’s fine. I felt good too.”
With a gentle smile, the woman let out a small sound before smiling bashfully.
“That’s a relief. I was also thinking about trying something new next time.”
Aslan could no longer manage a smile.
Inside the cave, Aslan realized his own powerlessness.
Upon reflection, it was an obvious result. He had coupled with a woman who had perfect control over her strength and even experienced pain as pleasure.
They intertwined their bodies, whispered exciting words, and even spoke of conceiving a child—though it wasn’t explicitly stated, the woman interpreted it that way. In front of infinite regenerative power, Aslan surrendered.
Had it not been for his unyielding spirit, he would have fainted long ago given how much they did.
Aslan marveled at the woman’s curiosity and adaptability in exploring his body.
Moreover, he feared her relentless torment and her ceaseless pleading to be tormented further.
As a result, despite his indomitable spirit, Aslan’s back ached.
From overdoing it, his lower body felt stiff and tinged with mild pain.
His tongue was numb, unable to feel any taste.
Given all these clear outcomes, Aslan could only bitterly smile as Ereta looked pleased.
She was, indeed, the daughter of a spider.
Now, the daughter of the spider had gained knowledge.
Knowledge sufficient to consume a man entirely.
And Aslan felt like someone who had been half-eaten and then released.
‘It’s my fault for letting it happen… I’ll have to bear the consequences.’
A sigh escaped him.
Hardly swallowing it, he noticed the woman walking ahead suddenly glance back at him.
Her pink, flushed eyes.
Still filled with unsatisfied desires, she smiled mischievously.
“Shall we do it again when we get back?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“But I want to.”
“I don’t think I can. Sorry.”
With a pout, expressing her disappointment, she stuck out her lips.
Aslan reached out with the hand massaging his waist and pinched Ereta’s lips. She pushed his hand away with a kiss on his fingertips and smiled.
“Let’s go back first.”
“Okay.”
At Aslan’s words, the woman nodded.
The way back wasn’t far.
On the path leading from the seaside, there were only a frozen world and a man and a woman, where time itself seemed to have stopped along with the absence of the moon and sun.
Aslan and Ereta walked together. A brief silence flowed between them after a long conversation.
As Aslan walked, Ereta followed a step behind, occasionally smiling, stroking her abdomen, and glancing at Aslan.
That gaze held happiness.
Even though she had lost much—her mother, her faith, her divine power, questioning her own worth, fighting through countless trials—this moment here brought her an unwavering happiness.
Her happiness touched upon a future that naturally arose.
Thinking of a happy and peaceful future with Aslan, she nurtured the warmth in her arms, perhaps even the seed of life within her, and envisioned the days to come.
Perhaps other women might join, but if she were the first, she could generously accept them.
Gently caressing her lower belly, Ereta smiled softly.
But her joy didn’t last long.
Suddenly, she sensed something.
Though vague, Ereta couldn’t dismiss it as coincidence or mere feeling.
For her divinity was genuine, sharp enough not to overlook such sensations.
Ereta turned her head, the goddess of fire and mercy.
An unexpected premonition struck her.
A chilling, sharp sensation ran down her spine.
Opening her closed eyes, drenched in happiness, Ereta looked toward the source of this sudden premonition.
Nothing was visible; it was too far for the naked eye.
But she could feel it.
Something was wrong.
Stopped in her tracks by the unsettling anxiety, the one walking ahead, Aslan, halted as well upon seeing the swirling veil of death before him.
“Ereta?”
Despite Aslan’s concerned inquiry, Ereta couldn’t turn away her gaze.
“I’m being called.”
She simply voiced what she felt.
Based on her divinity and divine power, the woman nervously moved her lips.
Feeling the sticky attachment, hunger, and greed, the woman stared southward.
“The Poison-Spitting Dragon is….”
It was targeting Ereta.
*
Reth, the capital of the Polaena Principality and nominally the largest city, was now cloaked in an eerie silence.
Technically, it wasn’t an ordinary silence.
This silence was artificially induced.
The city was circular.
Prominently jutting out of the vast territory, the land encircled and supported this round city.
The sea breeze swirled around the city, causing eerie echoes whenever it passed through the empty streets.
The enormous harbor and the massive bridge stretching from it, dotted with towers that seemed to have grown between the gaps.
There was nowhere untouched by magic.
From the smallest pebble in the city to its grandest tower, magic adorned every corner.
The magical city of Reth was once a treasure trove of magic in the southern continent.
Now, it was no longer a city of magic.
Rather, it could be called a city of blood and poison.
A population of forty thousand turned into blood.
Above that, roughly a thousand corpses of priests and devotees spread poison.
Though the sharp cuts on their necks were self-inflicted,
the wounds on the city’s master and its servants were carved by the hands of the priests.
Cuts engraved on hearts, broken necks torn apart, slashes slicing waists and splitting them open.
Torn-open bellies spilling intestines mixed with shattered bones, even fragments of heads bearing traces of human intellect and memory.
The chaotic currents of life strangely resembled death.
Life and death flowed through the city.
Ironically, those who created death flowed like life.
Chiiiiik!
Flowing poison.
Be it acid, poison, or anything else, it was exceedingly toxic, capable of killing life.
It flowed green and blue, resembling nature blossoming with verdant foliage.
Though excessively ominous to mix with the currents of life, life and death merged as if they were originally one and flowed together.
Thus, offerings were made.
The offered sacrifices seeped into the sewers, filling all the veins until they reached the heart.
The heart where all sewers converged.
At the center, something stirred.
That something was a beast that had eaten its kin of the same rank and hierarchy, only to be punished and vomit everything it had consumed.
Since then, the beast had endured endless hunger and insatiable longing.
It recalled the entity that had boldly proposed an offer by coming to its universe.
Not human, not a woman—an existence whose very reality was unknowable.
No, from the start, an entity whose existence was incomprehensible.
Even after spewing poison to erase its soul, time, and history, it stood unaffected, like an illusion yet firm like an unreachable sun.
The entity that introduced itself as Valerie, the daughter of the goat, said it could teach the beast a way to satiate its hunger.
The words weren’t heard clearly, but the meaning was unmistakably understood.
The entity said it needed difficulty adjustment.
Without fully comprehending the meaning, the beast agreed.
What followed was simple.
The beast spent a long time passing through Geladridion’s boundary and reaching the inside.
Losing a great deal of divine power, it became practically equivalent to a common monster.
But it was fine.
Because the beast had learned the trick, and following it would soon restore its strength.
Besides, there was an abundance of prey on this land.
What the beast did was straightforward.
Using the prey that still worshipped it, it gathered and piled more prey.
Fortunately, the prey themselves had enclosed themselves in the city, making it the perfect banquet for the beast.
So the beast went a step further.
Instead of eating the piled prey immediately, it had its worshiping prey prepare them nicely.
Finally, ordering the worshiping prey to willingly sacrifice themselves completed the banquet.
Compared to the giant it had once eaten, the taste and quantity were woefully insufficient.
But it couldn’t be helped.
If it lacked strength, it risked being eaten by the prey meant for its feast.
Thankfully, the beast, which had melted several universes in the past, was patient.
It could endure insignificant meals for the sake of an unparalleled feast.
Thus, amidst the flow of life and death in the sewer, the beast opened its mouth and swallowed.
The banquet of poison and blood gathered from across the city seeped into its mouth.
The life dissolved in poison moistened its throat, and the poison transformed into bile filled its body.
The beast was in Reth.
A desolate city where over forty thousand people had melted away, flowing into the sewers—once a city of magic, now fallen.
Amidst the stacked ruins of melted buildings lay the dragon’s nest.
Within it, the dragon unfurled its wings.
Tuuuuuuaaaaah!
Wings breaking through from the sewers overturned heaven and earth, wildly scattering metal, sewage, and paving stones.
Unfazed by the flying debris, the dragon stretched lazily, raising its head high.
Its four wide-open eyes gleamed brilliantly.
Eyes that burned the boundless darkness and universe, retaining their light even in the final fragment of a collapsed universe.
Thus, what lingered in those eyes was ambition and wrongful desire.
Unlike other artificial or law-bound evil deities, beings that started as living creatures and ascended to divinity.
The Three Evils, the inevitability of the universe.
The last survivor among them, the Poison-Spitting Dragon.
Standing tall, surpassing the tallest tower in the city, the survivor roared.
!
That roar carried greed.
The unyielding desire that refused to let go of the rank it once devoured and the omnipotence it once possessed.
The ugliness it sought to achieve ultimately, even after sacrificing and enduring everything.
Amid overflowing poison and boiling, foul divinity, the Poison-Spitting Dragon rolled its four eyes, looking somewhere.
What it sought was one thing.
The divinity possessed by the daughter of the spider.
Like exhaling deep hunger, it let out a long roar.
