Chapter 104: Chapter 104

The shrine was structured with two circular spaces connected by a long corridor.

From above, it resembled an hourglass, with seven prayer rooms branching off like wings along the corridor.

Four on the left, three on the right.

That meant one side wasn’t symmetrical.

So, what existed in that empty space on the right?

"Pebula’s Eight Commandments.

One. All things are predetermined; accept the natural course of life as it flows.

An arch-shaped stone monument engraved with the Eight Commandments of Pebula stood in that space.

If you knocked on the wall around it, the hollow echo it gave off was unmistakable.

I had always wondered what lay beyond.

But I had never dared to defile the monument.

Not when I was a child studying doctrine, nor when I searched the shrine for an escape—I had never, not even for a second, imagined doing such a thing.

Even though I called myself a heretical disciple, even though I resented Pebula, even though I doubted Her will, from the moment I was born until now—

I had always been Her follower.

My faith had grown alongside me.

I took a deep breath.

Then, just like I had done as a child, I knocked on the upper part of the monument.

The hollow sound echoed back.

If there was an exit in this shrine, this was the only possible place.

I spread my hands and began chanting.

Even though my faith was still unsteady, even though my progress was slow, the difference between being in my own body versus another was staggering.

My body effortlessly conducted divine energy like a rushing waterfall, refining it with precision.

As the power flowed, any empty spaces within me were filled with even purer energy.

A brilliant white light.

Like a miniature sun, the divine power expanded and lengthened, molding itself as if guided by a blacksmith’s touch.

It took shape—into a massive hammer, crackling with blue lightning.

—Seventh Spell. Judgment.

I gripped the hammer and glared at the monument.

"...You’re laughing at me right now, aren’t You? I know this is ridiculous too."

There was no need to use a divine spell.

Weapons from the shrine were lying around everywhere—why waste energy just to smash some stone?

And yet, I still chose this method.

Because I needed reassurance.

Even now, as I prepared to destroy this monument, I was still the same child who sought Pebula’s permission.

I found myself unconsciously relieved by the divine power at my fingertips.

This is how I was born. This is how I lived.

"I’ll just check what’s outside and come back. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

I’ve suffered enough—just this much should be fine, right?"

As long as I came back—it wouldn’t matter.

I didn’t know if Pebula would believe me.

But even I didn’t have the guts to kill my own god.

If someone brought up Elin’s case, well... I’d just say, "People say all kinds of things when they’re angry."

Because at the time—I really meant it.

The longer my thoughts dragged on, the more my resolve wavered.

I shut my eyes tight and raised the hammer.

The divine weapon had no weight, but my arms suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

"Forgive me, even if You find me disgraceful, O Pebula."

Judgment shattered the monument far more dramatically than I had anticipated.

The pristine white stone crumbled instantly, scattering in a storm of dust.

Even without a mirror, I knew my face had gone pale.

I released the spell and sighed.

“...I’m definitely going to hell.”

Well, at least I wouldn’t be alone there.

I knew plenty of people waiting for me.

Letting out a deep breath, I lifted my head to inspect the now-exposed space.

Hoping—praying—that beyond the broken stone, there would be an exit.

As the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} dust settled, my vision cleared.

"...What the hell is this?"

A spacious chamber, about the size of a prayer room.

And inside that room—

Were dozens of coffins and gravestones.

It didn’t look like an exit at all.

I was completely overwhelmed by the bizarre sight, yet I found myself stepping forward—as if drawn in.

Names carved into tombstones passed through my vision.

Some were common even today, while others had only been used centuries ago.

At first, I thought they might belong to the previous disciples of the shrine.

But I didn’t recognize a single one.

"Are these... really coffins?"

Maybe if I opened one, I’d get some answers.

Acting on impulse, I lifted the lid of the nearest coffin.

Inside, lying in perfect condition—was a preserved corpse.

It looked so intact, so undisturbed, that it seemed as though the person inside could wake at any moment.

I took an unsteady step back.

Then, realization struck me.

A terrifying suspicion clawed at my mind.

I moved like a madwoman, ripping open every coffin lid I could reach.

One after another, lids slammed onto the floor.

And then—I knew my unease hadn’t been unfounded.

The bodies inside were all different.

Their ages, heights, body shapes, and facial features—they were all varied.

But they all had one thing in common.

A shiver ran down my spine.

I turned back to the gravestones.

The coffins were arranged in alphabetical order.

The moment I realized this, my feet moved on their own.

I passed V—past M—past H—until I reached the beginning.

Three coffins stood side by side.

The names inscribed on them were—

A dry, mirthless laugh escaped my lips.

What the hell am I looking at?

It felt like I had been thrown into a nightmare.

I already felt sick, but I couldn’t stop myself.

I reached out—placed my trembling hands on the lid of Siora’s coffin—

My fingers shook so much that it almost sounded like I was knocking.

Like the rattling of my own heartbeat.

I already knew where ‘Siora’s’ body had gone.

I collapsed, unable to endure it any longer.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Memories I had once dismissed as isolated incidents—things I had refused to believe—now surged forward, exposing themselves for what they truly were.

[The Evil God ensnared people into worshiping it, and once faith took root, it used its believers as sacrifices.]

"Our cult offered disciples as sacrifices?"

"Please... No, please."

"The Saint of that time accepted human sacrifices. It wasn’t forced. Those who volunteered were rigorously evaluated before being chosen."

"Say something—anything, please."

"The chosen sacrifices were given one of the God’s many names. That name became their new identity as they offered themselves. They became vessels for the god’s incarnation. It was a great honor."

"...Just say anything. Please."

"It only proves that in the eyes of the ancient gods, the concept of good and evil was meaningless."

I curled into myself, clutching my head with both hands.

I called Her name over and over again, but—as always, there was no answer.

I had thought it was strange.

Every body I had inhabited was a blonde woman.

Their names had followed a sequential order.

But I had never connected that fact to what I had learned.

Or maybe—I had refused to.

The truth was undeniable.

I had been using the bodies of sacrifices, interfering in the fates of others.

Elin had been right about everything.

So then, was it really the Saint of Pebula who had created the Black Serpent?

If this wasn’t just the act of a single fanatic, but Pebula’s will—?

If everything had always been predestined—?

Then wasn’t my desperate struggle to escape nothing more than deception?

A deception against the world.

"I do want to destroy Morion. But it's just revenge—nothing more than a personal grudge."

"Shredding it apart won’t be enough to satisfy me."

[You sure know how to dig deep.]

But no one else was here.

[Yeah, I get it. I really do. You’ve spent your whole life suppressing everything because there’s no point in being miserable, right?]

The voice—was coming from the coffin.

I scrambled backward in pure horror.

See, Betty?! I told you ghosts were real!

As if to prove my point, one of the coffin lids slid off and crashed to the ground.

A pale white hand gripped the edge.

A moment later, the corpse sat up.

Instinctively, my eyes darted to the name on the tombstone.

Viga’s face emerged from the coffin.

She must have come back to take revenge for me using her body!

"L-listen! I didn’t do it on purpose! I never meant to take over your body—it was basically a scam contract, if you think about it—!"

[If you want to play the victim, maybe you should get rid of that thing in your hand first.]

I was still holding the Judgment Hammer.

...Wait. This was a Seventh Spell. When had my casting speed recovered so much?

Guess it’s true that when people are in danger, they turn to religion.

I didn’t dismiss the spell. Instead, I subtly hid the hammer behind my back.

Viga narrowed her eyes at me, suspicious.

Even if I had been betrayed by my god, I still had to protect myself!

[I don’t have much time, so I’ll just say it straight.

Pebula never ordered sacrifices. The Saint was just completely insane.]

"Y-yeah, well, of course you’d say that. Elin said they were all volunteers, too."

[What are you talking about? I’m not Viga.]

I blinked in confusion.

Viga—or whatever she was—took a step toward me.

I instinctively backed away, but my retreat was cut off by the gravestone behind me.

She stopped just half a step away and met my eyes.

A strange smile played across Viga’s brown irises.

[And don’t think this is some dream, either. If it were, I’d tell you to wake up. I’m your soul fragment.]

If this wasn’t a dream, then what the hell was it?

I scowled, and Viga burst into laughter.

[Wow. This is actually hilarious. I’ve never gotten the chance to tease myself before. It’s more fun than I thought.]

"Okay, I get it. You’re as annoying as I am."

[You really don’t remember? You left me with Cruello.]

A soul fragment, huh.

Since when did I start shedding pieces of my soul like breadcrumbs?

[I wanted to return a long time ago, but it doesn’t work that way. Luckily, because Cruello started the resurrection ritual, I was able to restore your memories.]

"Hold up. Resurrection ritual? Can you just—explain things clearly, for once?"

[Alright. Answer this—why do you think Viga died?]

I didn’t even hesitate.

And Viga—or whatever she was—corrected me just as quickly.

[I was murdered. By the Saint. The very one you’re thinking of.]