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[WARNING: Gore]

“Using your last two teleportation stones for something like this, Master Varlog?” Yilla remarked as Varlog reappeared in their room inside the guild. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the impulsive one,” she added with a wry smile.

“Well,” Varlog sighed, settling into the chair beside the bed, “after what we’ve uncovered, you didn’t expect me to sit quietly, did you?” He leaned back, a subtle smile crossing his face.

“Ah… Marcilla is as arrogant as she was 16 years ago when she came with the rest of their party to face us. She actually thought those soundproof seals would work on demons of our caliber,” Yilla sneered.

“Oh, give the humans a bit of credit, dear Yilla,” he replied, gazing up at the ceiling with a relaxed expression. “Their short lives lead them to a narrow, yet overburdened perspective. One that often threatens to burst.”

“… Sometimes,” he continued, “they need someone else to see for them.”

Yilla clutched her hands to her chest, worry flickering in her eyes. “I just hope… it’s not too late for Van.”

“Let us have faith, dear,” Varlog said softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

==============================

21 years ago…

Nickelson yanked Van’s arm, dragging him toward the first battalion’s barracks.

“Listen up, folks!” he shouted, rousing everyone awake. Guards turned their attention to Nickelson as he pulled Van along, gripping him tightly by the arm.

“This here is the other summoned ‘Hero’… We’ll be in charge of his traini@$&^%!*(^&%(!*&^T$–!

‘Oh, we’re not doing this,’ Van thought, cutting off the flashback. ‘Not this time. I’ve had enough of this bullshit.’

He fixed a hard glare on Henry, the guard standing in front of him. “I’m not here to argue. It’s obvious why you’re here—you want to hurt me again. And you actually think nothing bad’s going to happen to you,” he growled, holding Henry’s gaze.

“Just like back then.” His voice faltered as he looked away for a moment, then softened to a murmur. “But honestly, I don’t care why you’re here. I’m… way too tired to give a damn.”

Henry’s eyes widened as he took in Van’s response. The knights behind him jeered, amused by the exchange.

“Look at Meaty…! Henry, the kid’s all grown up!”

“Yeah, I’m actually gettin’ scared now…” one muttered with a smirk, shamelessly relieving himself in the corner of the room.

“Shut the hell up, you idiots! Calling him a ‘boy’—you’re making me sound like that type of person!” Henry barked, snapping his head around to glare at them.

‘… I guess I still didn’t get that nobility status Nickelson promised… Psche, of course I didn’t.’

Van’s voice cut through the laughter. “Just one thing before we start,” he said, drawing Henry’s attention back.

“Oh? Start this?” Henry chuckled. “So, you want a fight now, Meaty? Even retired, we’re still A to B ranks by today’s standards. We could…”

He reached out, flicking Van’s forehead. Van didn’t flinch, his gaze steely and unyielding.

“We could take you down with just a flick of our fingers… And if you’re thinking of reporting us, don’t bother. With your little whore-magnet friend gone, and your…” Henry chuckled darkly. “Your sloppy-seconds mommy practically giving me her blessing to have some fun with you…”

Van’s fist clenched, the tendons standing rigid beneath his skin.

‘Amoria, letting some street thug approach her like that… It was strange, wasn’t it?’ The pieces settled uneasily in his mind. ‘Her ‘blessing,’ was it?’ So they knew each other…’

His fist tightened further, the thought digging deeper. ‘Not that it matters… nothing can hurt me, anyway.’

Yet his grip only grew harder, a faint tremor betraying the tension simmering within.

“There’s no one left to save you.” Henry continued, voice dripping with menace. “Unless you’ve got some direct line to Nickelson… but I’d bet he’d be on our side, as well.” He leaned closer, a sneer twisting his face.

“So… what was it you wanted to say? And if you think about screaming, we’ve surrounded this place with soundproof runes.” he said, a wicked smile spreading as the others smirked behind him.

“…Before we start,” Van said flatly, his voice steady. “I remember every face from my time in those rotten barracks.” He looked around, meeting each sneering expression before finally locking eyes with Henry. “But I don’t remember you—except from that time at the market. You act like some kind of leader, but I never saw you in the barracks. Not once.” He paused, letting the question hang in the air. “Who are you?”

Henry tightened his fist as he looked at Van’s stoic gaze.

“You little shit… Still acting so arrogant..!? The only thing that was ever good about you was who your friends were. Goalless… I bet you worked all those years just to get this house. Too bad we’ll be taking it in addition to reminding you of your place…” Henry hissed as he began walking around Van, glaring at him.

“But since I’m such a good guy, I’ll gladly remind you who I am… We know each other on quite… The intimate level…” He said as he grabbed Van’s shoulder from behind.

“You wouldn’t know my face…” He said, a sudden shiver sent spiraling down Van’s spine.

“Because I was always here… Behind you…” He said as he leaned in, Van’s eyes widening as he froze. As he was near Van’s ear, he grunted audibly.

[BACKGROUND MUSIC: Rammstein – Sonne [SLOWED] Best Part]

“.!!!!”

“Recognize that…?” He said with a leer.

“Hey, Henry the kid’s probably traumatize—” The others in the room chatters with a smirk, but a memory then cut through Van’s head as he heard Hernry’s grunt near his ear

…@%#HOLD%^#@&HIM#^(&@STILL$%… !@^don’t let&%GO… FILLE#%@HIM$^%ALMOST THERE%@!… ^%&HOLD#(@%TIGHTER#&%$^#@STEADY(@%HE’S NOT GOING@^#ANYWHERE… can’t esc@&!@pe%$^%… just one#%^!@more time$^…**

In one swift motion, Van’s hand shot backward, clamping onto Henry’s groin with a crushing grip.

“Henry?!” one of the others stammered, their smirks vanishing. “Stop messing around! We came here to rough him up, not—”

“Sound-proof runes, wasn’t it?” Van murmured, his voice low and calm as Henry crumpled, his face paling with each tightening squeeze. “Ah… ah… LET… GO…!” Henry gasped, his breath catching as sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Good.”

The mocking voices fell silent as Van’s grip tightened further. With a brutal twist, he tore through flesh and sinew, the sharp snap of veins and tendons echoing in the room. Henry’s scream filled the air, his agony rippling through his companions as they watched in horror, their confidence shattered. Bloodied and torn, Henry’s severed groin dangled from Van’s hand.

Henry collapsed to his knees, clutching at his mutilated body as blood pooled around him, each scream punctuated by desperate breaths.

“AHHHH!!” *INHALE* “AAAAAAAAAH!!!” *INAHLE* “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!” Henry cried, his body slowly falling sideways to the ground, still clutching himself in vain.

The others, thunderstruck but undeterred, snapped into action. One of them drew his sword and lunged at Van, the blade aimed directly at his throat.

Van didn’t flinch, watching as the sword hurtled toward him. He let it come.

“You’re dead!” the man shouted, his voice laced with panic as he channeled Magic into the blade, ready to pierce Van’s neck.

The sword shattered upon contact, shards scattering harmlessly.

“What…!?” the attacker managed, his voice dying in his throat as Van’s hand shot forward, wrapping around his neck before his second hand plunged into his chest with brutal precision.

“GAH…” The man let out as the bones from his obliterated chest were stabbed into his lungs.

Van’s face remained expressionless as he looked down at the man’s exposed chest. “So, you do have a heart. Could’ve fooled me,” he said flatly, fingers curling around the bleeding, still-beating organ. With a steady pull, he wrenched it free, fragmented and torn; making the man watch his own heart being pulled out of his chest.

“Hm.” Van studied the heart with a detached curiosity, holding the man steady by the throat. “Thought it might come out whole… like in the movies. Guess not… Oh well,” He sighed before crushing the scratched, torn and bloodied heart in his fist, its remnants bursting between his fingers.

“It didn’t have any value anyway,” he murmured, meeting the man’s fading gaze. The light left his eyes as he managed a final, desperate plea to his comrades.

“R… run…”

With one last flex, Van’s grip tightened, crushing his throat and snapping his neck with a sickening crack. He then let his body fall to the wooden floor. The remaining 10 members all froze, instinctively taking a step back.

Van ducked and picked up the broken sword’s handle. As he gripped it, the fragments drifted back to the hilt, reassembling in mid-air, restoring the blade through his passive ability.

“Not to your taste?” Van asked, stepping onto the corpse of the man he’d just killed. “I thought you’d laugh, like you did back then. Isn’t it funny when it’s done to you?” His smile didn’t reach his half-lidded eyes, a coldness radiating from his gaze.

“You… y-you bastard!” one of the remaining men shouted, his voice trembling. Van’s head snapped to him. “YOU CAN REVIVE AFTER DEATH! WE CAN’T!”

“Ah…” Van sighed, his expression distant, hands and face splattered with blood and torn flesh. “So, that’s why it was all right to do this to me, then? Maybe you’re right…” He took a few steps forward, his eyes dark and unfeeling. “But I’m not as nice as you.”

“I don’t care if you can’t revive.”

He lifted his gaze, meeting their eyes, each one recoiling under his stare. They could sense it.

‘What the hell…!? This isn’t… This isn’t Meaty! Who is this… monster?!’ one of them thought, panic flooding his mind. He turned and bolted toward the window they’d broken earlier, his only hope of escape.

‘SCREW THIS!’ he screamed internally, but Van’s sword hurtled through the air, piercing his skull from behind and exiting through the front like a bullet. He collapsed, blood pooling beneath his body.

“Oh, you don’t get to run. Not a single one of you,” Van said, his voice steady, almost casual. “You’re all staying here. No one leaves this place, not right now. So fight. Struggle if you want. Wriggle and writhe…”

Suddenly, another fractured memory cut through his mind:

%&^@%#(!@STOP$(&^@(&^%PLEASE@&^(@^)@#I732869^@$WANNA27(%^(@&$^GO@^(%(^#%(!HOME@$^i&%!@(&!^%#I38Y79WANT MY@&($^@(&$^MOM@(&^%@(*#%(*MY WORLD&@%(*^@#*

“Too bad you can’t revive yourself like I did, huh?” Van murmured, meeting the remaining men’s horrified stares.

The knights gripped their swords, steeling themselves, their fear twisted into rage. “ALL AT ONCE! KILL HIM!” one of them yelled, and they charged, weapons drawn and skills activated, their last stand against the figure they no longer recognized.

—————- Meanwhile, outside the apartment———

“Haah… Took them long enough,” Nickelson muttered as he approached Van’s apartment, holding the nobility approval. He glanced up at the building. ‘Hm… Looks like Meaty’s already in. I was almost certain it was a mistake to send that scout with the contract, considering his ties with the old first battalion… but thankfully, no incidents arose from it.’

He sighed, taking his first step up the stairs.

“Excuse me?” a soft, feminine voice interrupted from behind, accompanied by a light tap on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

‘Someone I didn’t sense?’ he thought, turning slowly. As he faced her, he froze—a young woman stood before him, two heads shorter yet strikingly composed, with crimson hair flowing down her back and skin as smooth as marble.

‘YOU…!’ Nickelson’s eyes widened, scrutinizing her face. ‘THE DEMON LORD!’ He hurriedly placed his palm on his hilt, his face pale as he was ready to draw his sword.

The girl’s voice broke his thoughts. “Sir Nickelson… are you all right?” She leaned in slightly, her eyes filled with curiosity.

Nickelson shook his head, looking more closely. ‘No… no horns… It’s not her.’ He let out a quiet breath. ‘Of course, it can’t be.’

‘She can’t be here.’

“Yes, I’m fine. And busy. What do you need, citizen?” he replied, regaining his composure as he turned to face her fully.

“Hmm… Apologies for interrupting,” she said, her gaze flicking to the parchment in his hand. “Are you, by any chance, here to deliver that to Van?”

Nickelson’s eyes narrowed. “…State your business. Why would that matter to you?”

‘She called him Van…’ Nickelson noted mentally, swallowing hard as he felt his muscles tense, though he remained outwardly composed.

“Ah, I suppose introductions are in order!” she said brightly. “I am… Falicia. I’m a former slave, released from the… horrible demons who tortured me every day, brutally, since I was a child. Until Van saved me that day, 16 years ago, when they went to defeat the Demon Lord…” She paused, glancing down briefly. “I heard from Marcy he’s around here. May I deliver that parchment to him myself?” She extended her arm, graceful yet firm, her gaze unwavering as she met Nickelson’s eyes.

Nickelson’s gaze fell to her outstretched hand. ‘Graceful… but unyielding,’ he thought, feeling his grip on the parchment tighten as his mouth went dry.

“And if I don’t…?” he challenged, his voice low, his breaths short and controlled.

“Hm… That would be… disappointing,” she replied softly, her eyes steady, unfazed.

They stood in silence, the night settling heavily around them. The air felt unnaturally still, as though even the wind dared not disturb the girl’s crimson hair or the dark, adorned gown that cloaked her. Rather than intimidated, she seemed almost amused, intrigued by his resistance.

The moment stretched on, feeling endless. The longer Nickelson looked at her, the more she seemed to merge with the surrounding darkness, less a person than a presence within it. His heart felt suspended, each beat uncertain, as he weighed his next move.

After a brief frown and a steadying breath, Nickelson reached out, finally placing the parchment in her waiting hand.

“Thank you!” she said, flashing a smile as she moved past him, taking his tension and the suspense with her. She began ascending the stairs, pausing only to speak over her shoulder. “You have a daughter, don’t you?”

Nickelson froze, his breath catching.

“Oh, what a lucky girl she must be! Send her my regards,” she continued, her voice calm. “She must be so proud to have such a…”

“Fearless…”

“Man protecting her.” Her words lingered in the air, deliberate and unsettling, a faint smirk playing on her lips. As she resumed her ascent, she added, “Thank you for safeguarding this fair city.”

Nickelson stood motionless, watching her disappear up the stairs, before he turned and strode into the night without a word.

‘Now, then…’ She thought with a light smile as she gracefully opened the door and closing it after gently entering through.

Van reached the guild, noting the lights still spilling from the hall into the empty streets. For a moment, he’d felt eyes on him, a faint presence trailing him, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

He paused outside, standing in silence as he stared at the building. Amoria’s last words echoed in his mind.

‘I don’t have time for this right now.’

He shook his head, brushing away the thought and the unwelcome emotions it stirred, before stepping through the doors.

Inside, he spotted Marcy, leaning against a chair behind the counter, eyes closed, her expression stoic—a stark contrast to her vulnerable demeanor from an hour before.

The guild was silent, save for the creak of wood beneath his boots as he approached the counter.

“Marcy,” he called flatly. “I need the—”

“Contract. Yeah, I know.” She cut him off, retrieving the paper from a shelf behind her and slapping it onto the counter with a firm hand. “You can go. I don’t need you sticking around anymore.”

She met his gaze, her tone blunt, eyes hard.

Van looked at her, his expression blank, though his thoughts remained tangled in disarray. A weariness seeped into his face—a heaviness he hadn’t felt since first arriving in Varolon. He reached for the paper, took it, and turned to leave, the sound of creaking wood following him as he moved toward the door.

“Also,” Marcy’s voice cut through the silence, stopping him mid-step.

“Don’t misinterpret what happened.” Her tone was sharp, almost bitter. “I thought about it and came to a conclusion.” She spat the words, her gaze unwavering.

“The only reason I threw myself at you like… like some wounded bitch was because I missed him. I don’t feel anything for you—no attraction, no allure… The only man who ever earned that was Magus.” Her gaze fell, her voice softening. “And now that I know that, I’ll never make that mistake again. Whether you’ve changed your mind or not… you’re not him. And you never will be.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes momentarily flickering away from his. “For now… Call me Marcilla. I don’t feel like being that familiar with you…” She hesitated, her tone wavering. “Just… just for now… until I get my shit sorted.” Her voice stuttered, the words feeling hollow, as if they hadn’t fully reached her own ears.

She clenched her fist, her brow furrowing in frustration.

“…I see,” Van replied, his tone flat, as he resumed his exit.

But as he moved, a sensation like blood dripping from an untreated wound began to rise within him, seeping through the cracks in his armor. Words bubbled to his lips, unbidden, laced with a venom he hadn’t realized he’d been holding…

“The only reason I ever enjoyed drinking with you… Marcilla,” he began, his voice unsteady, his breath ragged. The way he spoke was foreign, his tone colder. Marcy snapped her head upward as she sensed the shift,

“… was because I wanted to fuck you, and I hoped you’d let it happen in your drunkard state.” His words dripped with bitterness, his tone cutting and cold.

A soft gasp escaped Marcy, her eyes widening in shock.

“And the reason I walked away an hour ago… was because I realized just how unworthy you are of me… You—” His voice faltered as a memory blazed through his mind—of that retired royal guard with rotten teeth and a leering grin, who had once tried to charm Amoria.

“…are just some used hero’s goods.” His words came out cold and mechanical, echoing bitterly; as he repeated the words of that former Royal Guard. “I don’t need, nor do I want to be alluring for a wounded, used bitch like you.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Van’s fist tightened, his entire body tensing as if he’d just struck himself with a greatsword.

Van took a deep breath. ‘…Alright, any minute now,’ he thought, steeling himself as he turned, bracing for the Marcy in his mind—the one who would raise her sword to his neck, unflinching.

But instead, he was met with the sight of Marcy standing there, eyes wide and glistening, tears slipping down her cheeks, her quiet, broken gasps the only sound in the silent room.

His eyes widened, shock flashing across his face as a quiet, singular gasp escaped his mouth.

“..!!”

He looked away, snapping his head toward the night outside. For a moment, he lingered, as if caught between staying and leaving, before quickly turning and stepping out, leaving Marcy alone in silence.

He stumbled into a dark alleyway far from the guild, ducking behind a dumpster. His heart pounded violently as he leaned against the cold metal, sliding down to a sitting position and clutching his chest.

His chest tightened, his vision narrowing as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. A metallic taste filled his mouth as each breath came shallower, the world around him slipping out of focus. ‘What… Why… Why did I say that..!? what’s…’ His thoughts splintered, his mind a frantic blur. ‘What’s wrong with me!? Am I dying..?!! Is this a heart attack..!? Haah… Haah… Fine… Okay, fine… Let it come… If I die, it’ll pass, and I’ll revive perfectly fine… Come on…!’ Each breath felt like a battle, his mouth gaping, yet his lungs refused to fill.

‘No… Wait, think… I can’t have a heart attack… Not with my resistance… What is this..!?’ His mind raced, his breaths growing shallower and faster, suffocating in the open air. ‘Am I being attacked!!?’

“Panic…”

“…Attack,” murmured familiar voices as Mike and Rika appeared beside him, standing over him with concerned expressions.

“Haa… Haa… Don’t be ridiculous…” he rasped between breaths, looking up at the two figures looming over him. “I’ve died thousands of times, and I revived perfectly fine… I’m used to death—I have a Resistance well over 30,000… I…” His words trailed off as his eyes snapped back to Rika and Mike, suspicion flickering across his pale face.

“It… It’s you, isn’t it!? You… drugged me again, or something, right!?” His glare sharpened, and they flinched, memories of his promise—the one where he swore he’d never make the mistake of trusting them again—surfacing in their mind and plastered in his accusing gaze.

“RIGHT!?” he demanded, his voice rising above the quiet of the alley, his breaths ragged, the silence pressing in on them, broken only by the distant chirp of crickets.

The two looked at him, their expressions shifting from concern to a chilling blankness.

“We really are…”

“… nothing but…”

“… used goods in your eyes…”

“… all of us.”

“Aren’t we, Van?” They spoke in turns, their voices hollow.

“Haa… Haa… What did you expect, you stalkers!?” He forced a bitter chuckle, eyes dropping to the ground as if searching for steadiness there. “Y… You heard everything Amoria said from your relentless stalking, haven’t you…!!?” He let out, his voice low and raspy.

“Everything between us… it’s all built on… haa… a lie. Nothing between us is real… Nothing was ever real.” Images of his five-year journey with Magus and the party flashed before his eyes, their smiles, their faces. “All of you are—” then, the memory of Amoria’s words about Magus struck through his brain like a blade, leaving another wound, another crack.

“… Just Magus’s puppets. Nothing more.” He chocked out with a gulp, echoing Magus in Amoria’s story.

Mike and Rika looked down at him, their faces draining of all residue emotion.

“… Thank you for…”

“… saving us from Salem, but…”

“… this is where…”

“… our courtesy…”

“… our debt to you…”

“… ends.”

“The panic attack…”

“… Will pass.”

They spoke as one, voices void of warmth.

“Farewell.” they said in unison before vanishing from sight, leaving Van alone and breathless in the dark alleyway.

Van stared at the spot where they had stood. There it was—his old armor and sword, the ones he had lost when Salem took him.

“Haah… Haah… God… Damn it… Damn it all to hell!” Van panted, struggling to his feet as his breath steadied and his vision cleared. He grudgingly grabbed his old armor and sword, neatly packed in a leather bag, and slung it over his shoulder instead of putting it on.

He kept his casual clothes.

“Damn all of you to hell!” he growled, lifting the crumpled contract to his face and scrutinizing the address scrawled across it.

‘…I’ll soon be able to go to sleep. Panic attack, my ass..!’ he thought, clenching his teeth as he started down the quiet street toward his new… home.

“WHY!? Because I said the TRUTH!!? IS THAT WHY!? Am I that weak!!?” he muttered aloud, berating himself as he walked. ‘This is the truth…!! E… Everything! I’m done hiding it. The only thing keeping me here is Varlog and Yilla—and that promise he made to help the Capital, all because I rushed here like some heartbroken teen… Over a kiss! A KISS!’ He shook his head, the image of Alicia in someone else’s embrace flashing vividly in his mind, his jaw clenching as he tried to shake it off.

‘I overreacted. I had no reason to respond the way I did and just leave… Am I seriously that pathetic!? GET A GRIP!!’ He slapped his forehead, frustration boiling over.

Each powerful slap dented his already-broken armor, the cold metal pressing harshly against his skin, blood pounding beneath the surface as if ready to burst.

‘As for these girls… I feel nothing toward them. I have no friends or connections here. Once I’ve dealt with this dragon attack… I’m out of here as fast as I can, and go back to the Demon Realm.’ he resolved, his grip tightening around the contract as he approached his new residence.

In the distance, he spotted it—the Royal Academy where he and Magus had first been summoned. The massive, towering structure stretched across several kilometers, surrounded by a tall iron fence that separated it from the nearby streets. On the opposite side of the road, a row of houses and shops stood closed for the night.

Following the directions on the contract, he reached his destination: an apartment above a tavern, with a whole floor to himself and an entrance at the back. True to his word, Nickelson had provided a place that was neither extravagant nor rundown. The tavern seemed respectable, its lights still on, casting a warm glow.

…But what he didn’t understand was why there were lights on in his supposed apartment as well.

With a shrug and little energy left to investigate, he climbed the stairs and reached the door.

‘…Right. I forgot the key. It’s probably back at the guild,’ he thought, recalling Marcy’s tearful expression after what he’d told her.

‘Well, not like she’d give it to me anyway.’ His gaze softened briefly before hardening again, his jaw tightening. ‘Not that I care. I don’t care,’ he thought, clenching his fists in silence.

“Besides… the door seems to be unlocked,” he noted with a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging in resignation.

“Well then… let’s greet the guests, shall we?” He pressed the handle and pushed the door open.

The sight that greeted him was a disaster. The apartment was trashed—the wooden walls stained, a foul stench permeating the air, with holes in both the floor and walls. The bedroom door was smashed, and through its gaping hole, he could see the bed’s padding ripped to shreds.

But what stood out the most was the group of twelve men lounging around a table in the middle of the room. They sat with their feet up, cackling and taunting each other, surrounded by stains of vomit and urine, spilled alcohol, and scattered food. At that moment, this place resembled a dumpster more than a home.

And then… Van recognized most of them.

“Ah,” one of them called out, locking eyes with Van, a malicious grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

“Look who’s here, boys—Meaty’s back!” he shouted, prompting cheers from the others as they turned to Van, raising their jugs high and spilling alcohol everywhere.

Van stood stoic, his face unreadable, as he—the former Royal Guard with rotten teeth and worn, tattered uniform whom Van had the displeasure of meeting recently—approached. He placed a heavy hand on Van’s shoulder, his hot breath brushing against Van’s face as he leaned in close.

“What’s wrong, little Meaty?” he sneered in a low whisper. “Mommy’s not here to protect you anymore…?”

“…Yeah,” Van replied quietly, looking up at him.

“I’m on my own.”

Every step was measured, deliberate. Yet his posture sagged under the weight of centuries.

He had long since strayed from any known path, wandering aimlessly for over a millennium. Even now, his steps pressed forward—because to stop would mean facing something he dared not name.

Well, that… and because he had finally decided on a goal. A person he must get to in time.

He had risen from the deepest pits of Arataxia, drawn by a fragment of himself abandoned on the surface. A piece left waiting to be found.

“Knight.” A voice, soft as breath, carried through the silent forest. He halted mid-stride.

Slowly, he turned. His armor swallowed the night, blending seamlessly with shadow. Even the moonlight avoided it, recoiling from the void it housed. He loomed there, sword in hand—a blade equal to his height, forged in iron, baptized in blood, and consecrated through ritual.

It was the World Sword, gripped tight in his gauntlet.

And upon him lay the weight of the dark World Armor.

“… Please, stop this.” The figure hovered just above the ground, her wings shimmering faintly against the bleakness. Golden light radiated from her presence, “You still have a place with us… with me,” she murmured, her voice fragile. “You always did…”

He stood, unmoved, the cold around him sharper than frost.

[The only place I have…] His voice slithered into her mind, not spoken but felt—an echo without origin, sliding between her thoughts. […is above your eternally dead corpses.]

Tendrils of shadow crept from his feet, the grass beneath him withering into brittle ash.

[It has been so long, and at the first sight of me in a few centuries, you tell me to yield…]

Her wings dipped slightly at his words. She looked down, lips pressed tight, unable to meet his gaze.

[Go back to your Goddess, Evelyn.] He relayed, [There is no stopping. Not until every corner of Arataxia is consumed in fire and shadow. And not until he is ash… and ash… and ash again, until the end of all eons.]

“I… Please… Knight…” Her voice wavered, “I… I am so sorry… You didn’t deserve… any of that…” The words cracked, and pure tears fell, tracing glowing paths down her face.

For a moment, the knight stood silent, the night thickening around him like smoke. Then his voice returned, cold and deliberate, threading deeper into her mind.

[Those tears might be real…] It slipped through her like venom. […But your words? They were never yours. Not even before your ascension.]

The forest seemed to close in, each leaf and branch strangled under the weight of his presence.

[The only pure thing within you…] His tone sharpened. […is your intent to stop me before I reach that boy. Before I foil the whore of a thousand nights—the one unjustly crowned as a Goddess and called divine.]

His words hung like smoldering embers in the cold night, a curse etched into the air.

[As for you…]

[I shall never forgive you. And I shall never forgive him.] He growled, his emotions like a metal saw, grinding against the flesh in her head, [Your Goddess, who nurtures despair—] His grip on his World Sword tightened, [And the others, complacent in the suffering they allow—]

He straightened his posture as he looked to the heavens,

[They shall all get theirs.]

Not even crickets dared to chirp in his presence. Not even the venomous snake dared to draw near. Evelyn could only purse her angelic, glowing lips as she looked down.

[Such is my oath.]

He concluded, an ominous red glow emanating from beneath his helmet.

Turning away, the World Sword scraped across the ground like distant thunder, leaving deep furrows in the earth. His walk was slow, deliberate, and unrelenting—each step swallowed by the swirling shadows that consumed everything in his path.

Evelyn looked away, vanishing without a word.

Her task was complete.

[Excellent… My child. You’ve stalled him long enough,] a vibrant, commanding voice echoed through her mind, bright and overwhelming.

[SEAL.]

The chant filled the heavens, and with it, a radiant mana circle expanded across the sky, its brilliance turning night into day. At its center, the Knight stood still, shadows flickering across his form as he looked up slowly, unflinching.

[Whore,] he said, voice calm and sharp as steel. [Did you think you’ve accomplished anything?]

Beyond the mana circle, past the clouds, a towering figure loomed—wings spread wide, surrounded by legions of angels. Her presence alone bent the heavens to her will, making the very ground beneath Knight tremble.

[Oh, you poor, pitiful wretch,] her voice rumbled, causing small tremors to ripple outward. Disgust etched her face as she looked down upon him. [You imagine yourself superior, yet you’ve fallen into this trivial ploy… Yell, rage, defy—none of it will change your fate. Divine punishment is inescapable.]

Her gaze narrowed as she leaned forward, the contempt in her expression almost palpable.

[I don’t think of myself as above you, nor beneath you, nor even as your equal or enemy.] Knight’s voice was low but unwavering. [I am your executioner. And I will see my oath fulfilled. Your schemes—childish, vile as they are—end here.]

The angel’s brow twitched, irritation flickering across her face. [Arrogance. Such arrogance… You had your moment years ago. But I am no longer what I was.] Her wings spread wider, light cascading around her. [Every god in this realm is bound to me by sacred contract. I am prayed to by millions—] her words ground through clenched teeth—[millions who worship my name.]

Her voice dropped into a snarl. [And you dare interfere with the powers of one of my subjects? You wretched cur…!]

Knight remained unfazed, shadows pooling at his feet.

[He was never yours.] His voice carried an unsettling calm. [I heard his call as he crossed the dimensional boundary—the day he arrived here, 23 years ago. He is not your subject.]

Knight lifted his sword slightly, shadows coiling tighter around him.

[He is mine.] His tone hardened. [My protégé, to protect and nurture. This time, I will not fail.] He straightened

[Delusional, even in your demise…!] Varolia’s voice thundered as she thrust her palms forward, casting the colossal seal down upon the Knight.

The seal’s radiance engulfed the earth, light pouring forth in waves that reduced trees to cinders, swallowing the ground beneath in a blazing flash.

A wicked grin stretched across Varolia’s face, twisting into a sneer as the air shimmered with divine energy.

[With this… You will be sealed for all eternity.] Her voice echoed through the heavens, reverberating in the mind of every living thing within miles. [You’ll suffer eternal torment—forced to witness your beloved thrive in endless joy, far beyond your reach…!!]

The sky trembled at the force of her words, and clouds scattered across the horizon, fleeing from her wrath.

This was it. The end of the Knight. His fall was finally at hand.

But then…

Knight raised his sword—

And with a single swing, the World Sword cleaved the sky in two.
The impact sent a shockwave so powerful it ripped through clouds, scattering them to the edges of the horizon. Lightning cracked in the open wound he had torn across the heavens.

The force hurled angels from the sky like leaves in a storm, their bodies crashing into the earth with a thunderous roar that toppled trees and shattered boulders. Animals fled in terror, some collapsing under the immense pressure.

[What…!?] Varolia gasped, the disbelief burning in her wide, horrified eyes.

But Knight did not stop. With a growl rumbling deep within his chest, he gripped the World Sword with both hands, rising upright like an unyielding colossus.

[Do not think, whore,] his voice seethed, [that you alone amassed power across time.]

[Impossible!!!] she roared, her voice thundering through the heavens. [No one knows your name…! I ensured that not a single being—mortal or divine—would ever know of your existence below… How is this possible!? From where do you draw strength, you WRETCH!!?]

Her fury reverberated through the hearts of her angels, each of them trembling beneath the weight of her wrath. Wings faltered, divine auras flickered, and even the most stalwart among them felt the edge of her seething rage gnawing at their resolve.

[Detain him… Hurt him… Stop him at all costs!] Varolia snarled through clenched teeth, waving her hand toward the army above. The air hummed with angelic chants, their weapons gleaming with divine light as they closed in from every direction.

|Shall I intervene, my Goddess?| Dauz asked, hovering beside her with a confident smile. His cold gaze swept over the chaos below. Golden hair flowed smoothly around his sharp features, his soft eyes hinting at a quiet intensity. Sun-kissed skin and a chiseled physique embodied the effortless grace of divinity. Bright, expansive wings unfurled, encasing his form like a radiant cocoon, amplifying his celestial presence.

[No.] Her voice dripped with venomous certainty. [Let the others wear him down first.]

|As you command,| Dauz murmured, settling into place beside her as they watched the battle unfold.

As Knight fought below, Evelyn drifted silently toward Dauz. Her wings trembled with fatigue as she reached his side.

|Come here,| Dauz said softly, extending his arm toward her. She hesitated for only a moment before curling into him, pressing close as if to draw strength from his warmth.

|You did well, girl,| Dauz whispered, his voice low and approving. Evelyn closed her eyes, leaning into him, content for the moment.

Dauz and the Goddess looked down at the scene below—the Knight bathed in angelic blood. With each swing of the World Sword, a dozen angels fell, their radiant forms shattered like glass.

Each life he claimed left marks upon the earth, carving jagged scars into the mountains that surrounded him. The ground beneath his feet quaked with every blow, sending tremors that rippled through forests, splintering trees and shifting rivers from their course.

His presence was a force of nature—relentless, unyielding, and filled with grim purpose. And though the angels descended upon him in waves, they crumbled like sand under the weight of his oath.

============= ELSEWHERE ============

Meanwhile, Amoria escorted Van outside the apartment. “We’re lucky she’s so naive,” she sighed.

“Yes… Playing it off as me coming for advice on how to deal with my ‘dad’ was a smart move… Good night,” Van murmured, his voice trailing off as he turned to leave.

“Van?” Amoria called softly, making him stop and turn to meet her gaze.

“Don’t… Don’t come near me or her… Ever…” She cleared her throat, fists clenched tight at her sides. “At least for now, okay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, dissolving into the night.

A heavy silence settled between them. Van’s gaze drifted to the side, where a shadowed figure stood just beside Amoria, their aura unmistakable—making their presence known without uttering a word.

Van gave a silent nod, turned away, and disappeared into the night.

Amoria’s fists remained clenched around the fabric of her gown, knuckles white.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp and cold. “Coming to my house at night… Have you lost your mind?” She faced him fully, her expression hollow, the light drained from her eyes.

The figure stepped forward with a sneer. “I’m just a curious man, Miss Veil. And… I take it you and ‘meaty’ aren’t close anymore, huh?”

Amoria’s gaze dropped briefly, as if seeking the right words to say in the cobblestone below.

He leaned closer, his grin widening. “Then you won’t mind if I have a little fun with him, right? Me and a few other ‘retired’ knights have a bone to pick with meaty… for all the good times we had, thanks to his loose tongue back in the day… And, to discipline him for talking so inconsiderately to a respectable lady as you, next to your very daughter…” His words dripped with venom, his grimace baring rotten teeth.

Amoria remained still, her voice brittle. “…Do as you like. He and I… We were never close.” Yet even as the words left her lips, they trembled; their meaning don’t quite reach her eyes.

“So, begone in the next few seconds, or else,” Amoria said, turning her back on him and walking toward her house. She paused briefly at the door, glancing over her shoulder. “I don’t need to remind you what’ll happen if my daughter even sniffs your foul stench lurking near her, do I?” Her glare sharpened, slicing through the air and making the retired knight visibly shiver.

He chuckled nervously, swallowing hard. “Heh… As terrifying as ever… Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare. So, relax…” He murmured, avoiding her gaze and scratching the back of his head.

Amoria’s lips pressed into a tight line as she narrowed her eyes at him one last time. Without another word, she sealed the door behind her, leaving only silence—and the cold darkness of the street—to keep the royal knight company.

The knight exhaled slowly, stretching his shoulders.

“Now then…” he muttered, following the path Van had taken.

“If I’m not mistaken, Meaty has a place, right? Looks like he’s headed toward the guild. Guess we’ll have a little welcome back surprise waiting for him…” His tongue flicked across his cracked lips, his grin widening.

“I can’t wait to break you—see that face again…” His voice dripped with malice as he whispered to himself. “For making respected knights into street trash… You thought you could waltz back in here and live a good life? You fucking slab of meat…” His fists clenched, knuckles cracking. “We’ll remind you exactly what you are—very soon.”

Magus knew that no matter what he forced the queen to do, the king would oppose him—even with the Goddess looming overhead.

… So, he branded the king, with the queen standing silently beside him. He made her husband her slave; he was controlling her through his passives. And she agreed. She stood by and watched, her gut twisting at her husband’s suffering, yet unable to place him above Magus.

Soon after, the king ‘allowed’ the knights involved in your torment to be punished, and you were transferred to the second battalion for the final month of your training under Sir Brennan’s command.

Amoria explained all of this while watching Van closely.

‘He’s… really attentive,’ she thought, noticing how carefully he absorbed every word. ‘He doesn’t even seem shocked at this point… Did he accept Magus’s mental state by now…?’

“Yeah, I remember,” Van said, his tone even. “Brennan was a Greatknight and the king’s right hand—ranked above Nickelson in the chain of command. But he was a noble man, preferred to stay out of politics, and was always humble when he worked with the Second Battalion. I doubt he knew what I was going through, but…” Van paused, reflecting for a moment. “He was empathetic enough to ask. Eventually, he even looked past my passives—just before we left for the mission. He was a good man.”

Amoria cleared her throat. “…Back to Magus. When the two of you set off on that journey together, the more time he spent with you, the more stable he became. You surrounding yourself with women? I get it now. His passives would naturally turn every man into your enemy, but every woman into your ally.”

Van’s gaze sharpened. “Why didn’t he ask the Goddess to remove the passives?” he asked, his voice steady but deliberate. He noted how Amoria’s face tensed—how her posture shifted under the weight of the question.

“He… H-he did…” Amoria murmured, her voice faltering slightly.

“And?” Van pressed.

“She told him she couldn’t, and that…” Amoria trailed off, visibly uneasy.

“That… what?” Van’s tone was quiet but firm.

Amoria hesitated, struggling to meet his gaze.

“She said that changing a skill would require sacrificing some of her life essence… so she refused,” she admitted reluctantly, guilt lacing her voice.

Van’s expression remained neutral—cold, almost detached.

“When was that?” he asked, the question slipping out effortlessly, as if her discomfort didn’t matter to him.

Amoria shifted uncomfortably. “…Around the time he took his own life,” she whispered, her words barely audible.

Van nodded slowly, a sharp click of his tongue breaking the silence. “Alright… Now get to the part where the two of you getting together wasn’t just some accident. What was special about Millina? And why did he sleep with you?” His voice was cold, every word precise and measured, his patience visibly thinning.

Amoria’s breath faltered. ‘I thought he’d hesitate… but he didn’t. It really matters to him, doesn’t it?’ She stared at Van, a flicker of awe creeping into her thoughts as she realized how deeply he wanted the truth.

“Well… Like I said, it wasn’t an accident,” she murmured, her voice uneven.

Van remained silent, his gaze steady, waiting for her to continue.

Amoria’s brows drew together, “He never liked Millina. He never truly loved any of us…” she admitted as she swallowed hard.

“Him being broken over Millina… loving her… That’s just what he wanted you to believe.”

“In case…” she hesitated, the words catching in her throat, “in case you ever found out…”

Van’s expression remained unchanged.

She swallowed again, her hands tightening on her lap. “… In case you ever found out he was sleeping with me.”

Van’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm, almost eerily so. “Why?”

Amoria met his gaze; unflinching. Her own eyes damp. Her lips trembled as she spoke.

“Because of you, Van.”

==================================

‘… I can’t wait until it’s over.’ Magus thought as the group moved through the dense forest. ‘I wonder if we’ll live close to each other once this whole demon lord thing’s over?’

His eyes drifted toward Van, walking several steps ahead, side by side with Amoria.

‘She doesn’t hate him. She doesn’t even avoid him, huh…?’ Magus’s gaze lingered on Van, catching a faint chuckle from inside his helmet as he spoke with Amoria. ‘He seems…’

His eyes loosened. ‘Better.’

Memories stirred—back to when they first gathered their party. Magus had offered to send some his way, but Van kept saying he wanted something genuine. Authentic… He remember calling Van old fashioned.

Magus’s gaze shifted to Amoria.

‘She tries to hide it, but I can tell.’ He sighed, ‘She tries her hardest not to look my way… Hah, she really cares about him. She really does. Good for you, man… Finally found something… Authentic, huh?’

He pursed his lips quietly.

I don’t think I have to tell you this, but… You were that authentic connection for him, Van. You weren’t affected by his passives, and stayed by him throughout it all, when you had every reason to leave. You were everything to him… and for a while, Magus had been happy for you, Van. As long as you two were together, he could keep himself stable.

He could stay away from me… By then, he was an expert when it came to using his passives.

But then… you pulled him aside.

And you said this.

======== CHAPTER 3 ==========

“Listen, man, Amoria has… feelings for me, as you know,” Van started, somewhat reluctant.

“I think we need to split up the party, at least until we get to the Demon Lord. I’ll take her and-“

“What!? Dude, no—I can’t fight bosses without you!” he interrupted, eyes wide with panic.

‘Wait— WHAT!? No… Nononooononononono, You can’t… You can’t leave me with these dolls…!! You can’t leave me alone!!!’ He growled internally as he reached out for Van in desperation, cupping his palm as he leaned on the table they spoke.

Van glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow beneath his helmet.

“S-sorry…” he mumbled, quickly letting go and leaning back awkwardly in his seat.

‘You’re seriously… Seriously thinking about leaving…?! After… After everything…!? No… You can’t leave me!!’ He thought as he recalled Fohrd walking away from him.

“L-look… Don’t worry, I would never steal your girlfriend. I would never do that to you,” he added, his tone a strange mix of sincerity and urgency.

“Dude… Look at your passives. It’s bound to happen sooner or later if we stay in the same party,” I said bluntly, not sugarcoating the truth.

But then, something shifted in him. He looked desperate.

“Look, I’ve been with a lot of girls, so I know,” he said, reaching out again—this time, placing a hand on Van’s shoulder.

“Amoria truly loves you. For real. That’s something I’ll never have, and something I can never take away. It’s not about passives or skills; you won her over without any of that. You’re better than I’ll ever be in that regard,” he admitted, his voice heavy with honesty. “So… stay, alright? Please… Please.” He paused, then added, almost pleading, “I… I really do need you with me… m-man.”

“… Fine,” Van sighed, “I’ll stay.”

========================

Magus had been relieved when you said you’d stay. He even respected it, understanding your concerns—they were valid, after all.

But soon, a realization crept in.

You would leave him eventually.
To be with me.

And that truth… It killed him inside. He understood it—accepted it, even—but he couldn’t handle it. It pushed him farther over the edge, unraveling what little control he had left.

“So…”

“… While fighting the 4th Demonic General, he abandoned Millina. Left her for dead. He never gave me the details.” Amoria revealed.

Van’s voice lowered. “And that night… He…”

=======================

Magus slipped into Amoria’s tent, his eyes wide, gleaming with intent. He leaned down over her, as he had with the queen. His breath whispered against her ear, his hand sliding across her body with deliberate care.

At first, Amoria resisted. Van’s face flickered in her mind…

But the resistance didn’t last. It never did.

Not more than a few seconds passed before she surrendered. Her resistance lasted longer than that of any woman Magus had ever touched—but in the end, it still crumbled. The last of it escaped through a single tear, trailing slowly down her cheek.

All night, Magus toyed with her, and she responded to every move. She matched him, willingly.

Yet, his mind was elsewhere.

‘If I control you…’ Magus growled to himself, his thoughts dark and frantic. ‘Then I control him.’

His hand lingered on her skin, but his mind churned with obsession.

‘I’ll make you mine… And through you, I’ll make Van stay. Forever. He will NEVER… NEVER leave me alone. NEVER!’

Magus’s eyes burned as he looked skyward, visions of Fohrd and Lala swirling in his mind.

‘I’ll do this RIGHT this time…! He won’t leave! He CAN’T!’

==================

Van exhaled slowly, his arms folded tight across his chest. His gaze dropped, and he sat there for a moment, weighing everything in silence; his teacup is now freezing cold, dead.

“And then…” Amoria cleared her throat, her voice brittle. “And then, we settled in the capital. The Goddess forbade him from leaving the city, forced him to stay and protect it. She wanted Varolon safe, and having him within the walls ensured it.” Her words dragged with exhaustion, “She… She sealed him there. The rest… you know. Sixteen years later, he took his own life.” She paused, then whispered, “He’s… gone.”

Van said nothing, a long pause between the two.

Amoria’s voice softened, almost hesitant. “He told me everything. Because, I think… I was the closest thing to you that he had left. And… maybe he hoped for something from me. A real reaction. Something… genuine.” She lowered her gaze. “But I accepted him, regardless… As I always have… As I… You know.”

Van’s fists tightened, his knuckles whitening. “I see.” His words came slow, deliberate. “So… you’re saying he killed himself because he was lonely? Is that it?”

He leaned forward, his glare piercing through her. Amoria faltered under the intensity of his gaze, unable to meet it.

“Y-yes…” she whispered, nodding slowly.

‘It’s not… not a lie,’ she told herself.

Van’s eyes darkened. He raised his head, the moonlight casting shadows across his face. “Then tell me…” His tone sharpened, shifting into something colder—something dangerous. “Why did you tell me you rode his cock after we beat the Demon Lord? Did he tell you to say it? Was there some reason for it?”

His voice was laced with venom now, each word dripping with contempt, as if someone else entirely had taken his place.

Amoria held steady, bracing herself. ‘This is just anger. He has every right to feel it…’

“No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “I wasn’t even… feeling guilty at the time. I just thought you deserved to know.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced herself to continue. “I… I can’t explain it. Or why I did it. He even told me to lie about it. Logically speaking…” She took a breath, steadying herself. “I would never have told you.”

Van stared at her, his expression unreadable, a void of emotion.

“Anything else…?” He asked. She gripped her gown tighter than she ever did beneath the table.

“… That’s… That’s the story of Magus. You wanted to know… That’s it.” She concluded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Then Van let the silence stretch—uncomfortably long—before rolling his eyes, a bitter sneer twisting his lips.

“… Fuck you, Amoria.”

His words cut through the air like glass, jagged and unforgiving.

“W-… What…?” She murmured as she raised her gaze in confusion.

“No… fuck all of you.” He shifted on his seat, “But you…” He pointed at her, his gaze sharp and unforgiving. “You, in particular, deserve the biggest punch to the face.”

Amoria lowered her head, biting her lip. She didn’t respond. ‘What… W-what is he saying…?’ She shivered inwardly.

Van’s voice turned low, simmering with restrained rage. “I know you’re hiding something,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then, louder, he added with a sneer, “And I know exactly what it is.”

“…!!” Amoria let out a soft gasp as she heard him speak.

He rose fully to his feet, turning his gaze toward the moon as it bathed the scene in pale light.

Amoria kept her head down, her lips pressed together in silence.

“Hearing all this shit, piecing together how he only has daughters in his family, how he never had anyone… This time, I’ll tell you exactly how that motherfucker killed himself. And why he did it 14 years later and not earlier. And while loneliness was a part of it… I am sure it wasn’t the whole reason,” he said with a growl as he leaned in. “I’ve pretty much figured it out from you and from what you told me about that bitch of a Goddess… and something else you’re still keeping from me, thinking I wouldn’t notice. But I’ll save that for later.”

“…!” Amoria’s head snapped toward Van as he began detailing the past.

===========================

Magus probably—no, definitely—loathed his life. Hated everyone. Hated everything. Saw you all as dolls, just like you said…

And, most likely, since the Goddess wouldn’t let him leave, he wanted to check out early—especially after I left.

But then… he held Liz in his arms. The eldest. Yours.

He looked down at that baby, smiling so vibrantly at him… and something changed. Right there, in that moment, he decided to live—for her.

=============================

Van’s gaze sharpened, his tone turning almost triumphant as he studied Amoria’s face, which grew pale with his every word, staring at him in disbelief.

“So far, I’m hitting all the shots, huh?” He didn’t give her the chance to answer—her expression already told him everything he needed to know.

“Good. I’ll continue.” Van spat, his voice sharp and relentless.

==============================

Magus watched that child grow. He clung to her—because of his loneliness, because he wanted to be a part of her life as much as he could. She was his. His blood. He’d have gone to the end of the world for that child. He would do whatever it took to make sure she never felt the same way he did. Lonely. Terrified.

But then… something changed.

When that child turned 14.

===============================

“PLEASE, STOP!!” Amoria begged as she tugged at his shirt, but Van pushed her off, his fury unwavering.

And as she fell on her behind, Van continued;

“Instead of crushing on some kid her age, or some other attractive adult…” Van’s voice dropped, laced with venom.

“She was attracted to her father, wasn’t she?” His words were a slow, deliberate drawl, dripping with disgust. “Those passives… Those vile, shitty passives—they affected all your daughters, too, didn’t they!?“

“And Magus noticed it. He saw the same thing in his daughters—those girls he loved so much—beginning to look like dolls to him, too.” Van’s voice was low and deliberate, each word sharp as a knife. “He must’ve run straight to you with that realization… hoping you’d help him. Or at the very least, reject him. After everything you knew, after everything the two of you had gone through—it wasn’t just his burden to carry, was it? He wanted it to be yours, too. But…”

Van leaned closer, looming over Amoria as her breath hitched, her face draining of color.

“This is how you reacted,” Van sneered, and without pause, he guessed it:

“It’s alright… If it’s with you…”

“I don’t mind…” You smiled. “Despite those passives… I love you for who you are… And I suppose Lizzy and the others feel the same…”

Amoria’s arms buckled under her, and she collapsed onto them, barely able to hold herself upright as Van’s words hit like blows to the chest.

“And from what I know about that whore of a goddess…” Van continued coldly, “…he must’ve gone to her when he noticed how his daughters acted—probably around the time they hit puberty. But like you said… Changing his skills would’ve cost her a piece of her lifespan. And she? She DEFINITELY deemed it unworthy.” His voice darkened further.

“So she told him to deal with it… or…” Van’s gaze narrowed, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.

“… Embrace it, huh?“

Amoria trembled, her head sinking lower as the weight of his words bore down on her.

“And with no way out…” Van continued, relentless, “…he took his own life. Not because he was lonely, no… but because he wasn’t a fucking psychopath like her. He took his life because he wanted his daughters to have a future—a real one—and not become his mindless dolls.”

Van’s voice steadied, turning almost contemplative. “Whether it was Liz he held that day, or one of the others, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he realized those passives would poison them too… So he ended it—before it got that far. Because yeah… he was a control freak, and maybe even a borderline psychopath…”

Van’s gaze flicked toward Amoria, sharp as glass. “But the only real thing in his life was those girls. They were the only thing that was ever authentic.“

He let the weight of his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his tone shifting—sharp with accusation.

“But that’s not even the real kicker,” Van said with a humorless chuckle. He turned his gaze back to Amoria, his face shadowed in the pale moonlight, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Because none of this adds up to your behavior, does it?”

He leaned in slightly, the faint light casting his face in harsh angles. “Don’t think I didn’t notice,” he whispered, a jagged edge in his voice.

“Marcy wanting to fuck me after telling me I reminded her of him was the first clue, but you…” Van claimed.

“The way you said, how I wasn’t the first thing in your mind,’ or how you casually threw in that ‘Fortunately‘ when Magus avoided trouble… And the way you’ve been trying to make me sympathize with him this whole time.”

Van’s eyes bore into hers, unwavering.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

He tilted his head, his voice dripping with disdain. “And let’s be honest—nobody would’ve really loved that harem fucker. The passives did all that for him. And you know he brainwashed you—and your daughters. So, if he’s dead, you should hate him, since there’s NO PASSIVES that dictate you should love him. But you love him still. Why?”

Van leaned closer, his sneer twisting into something darker. “I’ll tell you why.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to feel suffocating.

“The reason you don’t hate him… is because…”

Van’s mind flashed back to Magus’s passives—two in particular:

Passive: Godly Attraction
You are instantly more interesting to women of your species than any other male in the vicinity or afar.

Passive: Godly Charm
You will charm any woman of your species simply by existing, outshining every other male around you.

Van’s jaw clenched as the realization settled over him. His voice dropped, trembling with rage:

“That harem fucker…“

His breath came slow, deliberate.

“He’s still alive, isn’t he!?“

Then, a small voice pierced through the heavy silence.

“M-Mom…?”

Both Van and Amoria gasped, their heads snapping toward the hallway, where Lizzy stood frozen. Her wide eyes darted between her slumped mother and the towering figure of Van.

“W-what’s… happening?”

[DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN, WASTING YOUR EMOOOOOOOOOOOOOTIONSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, LAAAAAY ALLLLL YOUR LOOOOOOOOVE OOOOOOOON MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~]

“Hm,” Van hummed thoughtfully.

“What is it?” Amoria asked, glancing at him.

“Nothing… Just curious.” His gaze drifted upward as he murmured,

‘I never realized he was so lonely it drove him to this…’ Van reflected. ‘And those times I suggested adding more girls to the party and he refused… Was that the reason?’ He lowered his gaze, a somber look settling over him.

‘But… Then…’ His thoughts drifted to Millina—and how shattered Magus had been after her death 4 and a half years into their journey. So broken that he lowered his guard and ended up with Amoria accidentally.

‘Then… Why?’ Van wondered, ‘Was Millina really that special to you? Was she different from everyone? How…?’

“Van?” Amoria’s voice broke through, pulling him back from his thoughts.

“Ah, yeah, just got a frog in my throat,” Van said, clearing his throat before continuing.

“You’d think the capital would want tighter control over us, given our prowess. The king, queen, and their closest nobility knew about my skills—and his—after all. And Magus was using his powers to manipulate key figures, with enough potential to topple the kingdom…”

He trailed off before adding, “Why weren’t Magus and I branded with slave marks? Wouldn’t that have been the easiest way to keep us from stepping out of line? Salem Dyke—the… former Shadow Lord—actually tried that on me.”

“… Well, long long before you two, another hero was summoned,” Amoria began. “The previous king and the Shadow Lord—the head of the investigations department—thought the same and branded him with a slave mark to keep him in check.”

Her voice lowered slightly. “But the moment they did, the royal family began falling ill, one by one. Then, the head of investigations’ family followed. It only affected those who agreed to the branding. Yet the king, desperate for control, dismissed it as mere bad luck, stubbornly ignoring the Holy Church’s warnings. Even without a vision or revelation, they knew this was a clear act of disrespect toward the Goddess. But the king—driven by his hunger for power—refused to relent, insisting the slave mark remain on the hero.”

She paused, her tone darkening. “And then famine and plague swept through the entire kingdom, nearly wiping everyone out—except those who weren’t human. Only after that did the head priest of the Holy Church receive a vivid dream. In it, the Goddess held him in chains, warning them not to test her again.”

Her voice wavered slightly as she finished. “The mark had to be removed.”

“Only after all that, huh…?” Van remarked dryly.

“Yes…” Amoria murmured reluctantly. “Only after they relented and unsealed him did the kingdom recover. Prosperity and health returned soon enough.”

Van tilted his head, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. “… So she can just wipe out humanity whenever she pleases? Just like that?”

“That… is one way to look at it,” Amoria admitted cautiously. “But if you serve her, if you pray to her, she will keep you safe. What happened before was divine punishment—for defying her and defiling her champion.” She took a deep breath, her shoulders loosening, “So, the current king knows better than to ever try something like that again.”

“And what about me?” Van asked, his tone teetering between mockery and knowing, one brow arched as he fixed his gaze on her. “I was summoned too, wasn’t I? Sure, I get it—maybe they held back on branding me out of fear of divine punishment or whatever. But what about a few days ago, when Salem Dyke gave it a try? Or better yet… what about those knights and their… training methods?“

Amoria exhaled slowly, carefully choosing her words. “M-maybe… she thought your experience was necessary…” she murmured, her gaze dropping, the words not quite meeting her eyes.

Van let out a soft, mocking scoff.

“As for Salem… perhaps he realiz—..believed, that the Goddess didn’t care about you,” she continued quietly, her voice faltering as she struggled to meet his eyes.

Van chuckled, low and dark. “Ah, Amoria. I know you like to believe everything happens for a reason, or that she has some grand plan for me. But let’s not pretend our sweet, loving Goddess gives a damn about me.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “You’ve already told me how she’s more than happy to mock me through Magus. I was lucky they didn’t brand me as a slave. But let’s be real—if they had, she wouldn’t have batted an eye.”

“And yet…” She swallowed hard. “She brought you here, right when we needed saving the most… and now, here we are, talking over tea.” Her voice trailed off, a mixture of hope and hesitation clinging to her words.

Van’s expression shifted in an instant, his gaze darkening as he leaned forward. “Let me make this very clear, Amoria,” he said, his tone low but sharp as a knife. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in his demeanor.

“No one—not a single person—brought me here. I brought myself.“

His words cut through the air like a blade. “That bitch of a Goddess doesn’t control what I do. Not what happens to me. Not a single thing in my life. You want more proof? My Dark Soul passive. She can’t TOUCH ME… And she never will.”

“Do not… speak of her like that,” Amoria whispered, her voice tight with distress.

“Or what?” Van growled, his gaze unwavering.

“… Please,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “At least… not with me.” Her words were barely a whisper as her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of her gown, bunching it over her thighs.

A beat of silence lingered between them.

“… Fine,” Van muttered, leaning back, his glare softening ever so slightly.

‘If I didn’t know any better… Rather than a protective deity…’ Van thought as he relaxed, eyeing the now-timid Amoria. ‘She’s more like a prison guard, that Goddess,’ he mused, picturing heavy steel chains coiled around Amoria’s neck, limbs, and even her tongue.

“… Continue,” Van murmured calmly.

Amoria took a slow, steadying breath, her fingers gradually loosening their grip on the fabric of her gown. “Magus got what he wanted—an audience with the king and, more importantly, the queen. It’s customary for both to be present at such meetings. But, as I mentioned, they knew of his powers. They were prepared. Magus was caught off guard when he realized the queen’s throne was empty.”

“Fortunately, the request wasn’t something the king considered threatening or condescending, so he approved it—and allowed him to meet you.”

‘Fortunately, she says…’

“The king needed Magus. And he needed him satisfied—careful not to offend the Goddess. So, while the king frowned upon Magus’s probable influence over the headmistress that recommended him to have an audience, the meeting proceeded without incident. The king decided to give you two the chance to meet from time to time.”

Van fell silent, lost in thought.

“Tell me… How did that recess go?” he asked finally, his voice low but deliberate.

“… I’m sorry?” Amoria tilted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“I only know what I saw from where I stood, only what I heard from him, and what we talked about that day.” Van’s gaze remained steady. “I want to know how it was… for him.”

His expression softened slightly as he added, “I want to understand.”

“There isn’t much to understand, Van,” Amoria said softly.

“…”

“He was lonely,” she continued gently. “Every woman he met felt one-dimensional to him, like an object. And every man despised him—for his influence in general and, especially, over women. Magus grew tired of it. His mind was deteriorating, and he saw no way out. That day, he wanted to tell you everything—how the weight of it all was crushing him.”

She looked into Van’s eyes, her voice quiet but unwavering. “But then he saw the weariness in your gaze… the slump in your shoulders as you came out to meet him… how you could barely lift your eyes to his. And he decided not to burden you with it… He’d… Instead, talk about how…”

Van gave a knowing chuckle, gently continuing where she left off. “He’d tell me how good he was doing. And talk about how he got together with that elven professor like it happened just yesterday… Constantly checking if everything was okay with me… And I’d keep my mouth shut about my so-called ‘training.’ for the next 2 years.”

His expression twisted slightly at the memory. “Until two years later.—when he finally went to the queen and got the fifty knights who were involved fired the next day. Nickelson? All he got was a slap on the wrist.”

Amoria gave a slow, solemn nod. “… Yes.” She looked away, her voice trailing off.

Van’s eyes narrowed, a sudden twitch betraying his confusion. “Wait… How did he get to the queen? I thought they were keeping her away from him.”

Amoria sighed. “Van, three years is a long time. The only time Magus could truly be himself was with you. The rest of the time… his mind just kept deteriorating, further and further.”

Her voice grew heavier, dark with emotion. “You were all he had. And when he realized you’d been suffering in silence all along…”

Van remained still, waiting for her to finish.

“He wasn’t just enraged,” Amoria whispered.

“He was pushed over the edge.”

Her expression darkened as she began to explain.

=================

Magus couldn’t help himself. He figured, if it was a man, it was by default an enemy. He slipped through the castle walls like a shadow, killing the guards that crossed his path without hesitation. It was the first time he had ever killed someone directly… but by then, it barely mattered.

That night, he reached Her Majesty’s personal chambers.

Magus knelt beside the queen’s sleeping form, leaning close to her ear, whispering her awake with soft words as his hand drifted over her body. She stirred—but rather than panic, her mind went blank. Her body responded instinctively, arms wrapping around him as if embracing a long-lost lover.

What followed was an intimate encounter—no words exchanged, only whispers, touches… Everything that would cause the Queen’s emotions, and loyalty to her husband to sway and break. And when it ended, Magus slumped by her bed, his expression hidden from view, his back to her.

“My…” she whispered, clutching her bare chest at the sight of him. [Godly Innocence] had taken hold of her heart. She reached out, holding him gently from behind, as a mother would hold her son as he’s distress… As a lover would hold her beloved to understand, “Hero Magus, isn’t it…? I feel your pain. Please… share it with me.”

Magus sat still, his head lowered, his face hidden from the queen.

“No… You’re just saying that,” he whispered, his voice trailing off.

He knew what to say to dig into her guilt. To trigger that motherly instinct, to make her prod and insist further.

“It’s all just my skills…” he rasped, his voice tight, trembling. “You don’t really care about me. Not for what I am. You just…” He sniffled, hiding his face further, his body shaking as though on the verge of collapse.

“… No one understands me,” he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice cracking. “Nobody truly loves me…”

The queen’s heart clenched at the sight of his despair, her chest tightening with sympathy. “No… You can’t think that!” she whispered, pulling him closer as she stroked his hair. “You are worthy of love. And if no one else will love you… then I shall. I’ll take that place. You won’t have to suffer alone ever again.”

She pressed her hand gently to the back of his head, cradling him as she whispered, “Skills or no skills… I can feel it. I know I can love you with all my heart…! You mustn’t give up..!!”

Magus’s eyes opened slowly, unseen by the queen.

He stared at her hand—and in his mind, it became the velvet arms of a doll, wrapped around his body. From the doll’s fingertips, strings dug deep into his flesh, weaving through his bones, pulling tight.

‘Finally,’ he thought with a hollow sneer, ‘She’ll be the greatest doll yet.’

He raised his gaze, slowly turning his attention to the chamber door beyond the bed—his thoughts drifting to the king.

‘She manages the finances… gives you advice… That’s what I learned from the maids. You handle the kingdom’s external and internal affairs… Which means…’

His glare hardened, his heart thudding steadily, each beat like a hammer against his ribs, slow but heavy. His blood simmered, the rage swelling within him, bubbling just beneath the surface; his eyes widening so hard, his eyelids were on the verge of ripping.

‘You knew about Van’s torment, didn’t you, oh-great-King?’

The memory of Van’s broken voice filled his mind—those heart-wrenching cries, the confessions of everything he had endured. Each word scraped across Magus’s soul like jagged glass.

‘You motherfucker…’ His jaw tightened, teeth grinding with a slow, deliberate pressure as his palm pressed against hers. ‘I’ll make you regret you weren’t swallowed as a sperm cell… you worthless shitstain…’

The fury within him burned hotter. And Magus, cradled in the queen’s arms, let the venomous thought fester:

‘I will make you pay for it all.’

“Woah…” Van muttered, leaning in as his elbows pressed against the table. His gaze sharpened as he locked eyes with Amoria. “She actually did it?”

Amoria exhaled slowly, gripping her cup tighter. “If you go back to the graveyard and walk a few hundred meters past Magus’s grave, you’ll find her name. Lala Brimmen. The date on the stone reads over twenty years ago. She hung herself in her room…” Her voice faltered, lowering to a near whisper. “And I’d bet my life on it… while that rope dug into her skin, she fully believed… she was making Magus happy.” The words lingered in the air, followed by a heavy silence.

Van shifted in his seat, “Amoria,” he began softly, drawing her attention back to him. “If you know all this… and you know how dismissive your Goddess is toward humans… And, lets be honest; her borderline psychotic approach to it… Why do you still follow her?”

Amoria’s lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a slow, tired sigh. “She keeps me safe… gives me strength. My skills and blessings are given due to my devotion toward her,” she murmured, “But more than that…” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “I needed something to hold on to after he died.”

Her gaze drifted, “I’m not a good person, Van. I used to think I was, back when I was younger. I believed that if I followed my faith—if I prayed to her and obeyed her teachings—I’d be pure… blameless.”

She looked directly into his eyes now, her voice more deliberate. “But meeting you… made me realize I’m not as pure as I wanted to believe.”

Van’s brow furrowed, and he shifted slightly at her words, though he said nothing.

“You radiate… this vile aura,” she continued, her voice soft but unwavering. “It’s the very thing she warns against—through scripture, dreams, and prayers. At first, as you know, I tried to avoid you… even after you saved me that day.” She dropped her gaze again, her tone dipping into something bittersweet. “But despite everything… I fell for you… Even if it was… fleeting.”

The silence between them stretched on.

Van lowered his gaze, his jaw clenching slightly. “…”

Amoria inhaled slowly, her breath trembling as if steeling herself to continue. “After Magus died… I had no choice but to believe in her again. I had to.” Her voice wavered, barely keeping itself steady. “I have to believe that all of this—everything—means more than just entertainment to the gods.” Her words turned bitter, the sharp edges of doubt bleeding through. “It has to mean more. It can’t just be some… cruel joke.”

“Alright, I get it. You don’t have to explain yourself… Continue,” Van nodded.

Amoria gave a small, shuddering exhale before continuing. “…After Magus found out—standing there in the crowd outside Lala’s room, realizing she was gone; recalling he had told her to kill herself prior… he broke. He ran, sprinting through the academy like a madman, desperate to find Fohrd… But when he did, Fohrd wouldn’t even let him speak. He pushed him away… told him he’d rather face the bullies again than have anything to do with Magus. He blamed him… blamed him for Lala’s death, saying the last time he saw her, she was with him.”

“And the others…” Amoria continued quietly. “Male students caught wind of it—they grew curious, started questioning Fohrd about why he and Magus weren’t together anymore. By then, Fohrd had stopped hiding it. He was done with it all.”

Her voice dipped lower, “That’s when Magus found himself surrounded by enemies… and by dolls, as he called the girls. Because that’s what all of them were to him by then.”

Van shifted in his seat, his expression tightening as he absorbed the story.

“By then…” Amoria murmured, her gaze growing distant.

Van leaned in slightly, bracing himself. “…He turned… Uglier.”

==========================

“Please, Headmistress. Make it happen.” Magus bowed deeply, his voice heavy with urgency as he stood before the older, now confused woman seated at her desk at the Royal Academy’s peak.

“Let me see Van Hellix. Please.” His words came firm, his head still lowered in deference.

‘It’s been so long… I just need to see him again! That’s what this is—checking up on my best friend of ten years!’ he thought.

The headmistress’s expression softened. “Ah… Magus, I…” She hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Even as headmistress, there are limits to my influence within the city. And Van Hellix… he’s in the custody of the Royal Guard’s First Battalion. That is far beyond my reach. I am deeply sorry, but…”

“NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Magus’s voice erupted suddenly, startling her into silence.

“I need to see him!” He took a step closer, his desperation spilling into every word. “I’m here, living my dream life, but he’s over there, probably training like hell. I have to know he’s okay—I have to see him!”

The headmistress exhaled slowly, clearly pained. “I understand, dear… I do. I’ll try—perhaps I can arrange a status report—”

“NO! THAT’S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!” Magus roared, slamming both palms onto the desk with a sharp crack, sending papers fluttering.

The headmistress flinched, her renowned S-Class composure shaken by the sudden burst of aggression. Normally, such disrespect would have earned immediate consequences, but as she locked eyes with Magus… something shifted.

She trembled, overwhelmed by the weight of his presence. [Godly Charm] had long since ensnared her will, bending her judgment to his sway. But now—this outburst—this bold, commanding force… it shattered the last of her resistance.

Passive: Godly Submission
Description: Any girl of your species will want to submit herself to you at the SLIGHTEST show of assertiveness, aggression, anger, or persuasion from your end.

Yes. Once again, those passives of his took hold, wrapping around the headmistress like invisible wires.

“There is…” she whispered, swallowing hard. “Nothing in the world I want more than to help you… truly. My heart aches for your pain. I remember times when I, too, longed desperately to see old friends… only to find them just out of reach.” Her voice softened as she leaned closer, patting his shoulder with tenderness.

“But…” she continued, swallowing her tears, “this is beyond my ability. The kind of access you’re asking for… It’s far beyond my authority. Only someone of the highest stature could grant something like this.”

He clicked his tongue in growing irritation.

She sniffled as tears welled in her eyes as she looked at his troubled state, “I am so, so sorry, Magus… I’ve come to know you well over this year, and it breaks my heart to see you in so much pain… I think of you as my own son, and to know I can’t do anything to ease it… I can only… I can only offer myself… If it will ease your pain…”

“I see…” Magus inhaled deeply, grounding himself as he looked at her… but what he saw wasn’t the tearful woman speaking words of sympathy. He didn’t see those eyes that desperately sought his gaze, those lips pursed for his anguish…

Instead, a faceless puppet stared back at him, her strings threaded into his fingertips. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

Because he knew.

He knew that no matter what she said… None of the words she said to him had any meaning to them.

Behind her, the silhouette of Lala hung suspended like a grotesque marionette. A rope wound around her neck, and as Magus twitched his fingers—just slightly—her lifeless form jerked into a dance. Even in death, she obeyed his will.

‘I told her to kill herself… and she did it,’ Magus thought bitterly, his gaze shifting back to the puppet-like headmistress.

Snap.

Something inside him tore loose. But the wire that snapped wasn’t attached to Lala or the headmistress… it was tied to the fragile threads of his reason.

‘There’s no reason it wouldn’t work on you too… you fucking puppet.’

“Then…” Magus’s voice lowered, slow and deliberate, as he leaned in. The headmistress froze, her breath catching—not in fear, but in a rush of unwanted excitement that tightened her chest. The subtle thrum of arousal stirred within her; her thighs pressing closer together as she listened with growing anticipation…

… And then, Magus finally spoke; “I’ll hate you forever…”

Her face blanched, the warmth draining instantly as dread took hold. She forgot to breathe.

“If you won’t let me see Van Hellix…” Magus whispered, “If you can’t do that for me… I’ll hate you forever.”

Her heart twisted painfully, her eyes widening as she stared blankly in the air of her office. “I’ll curse you, every day I wake up… And every night before I sleep. Until the day I die,” he whispered, leaning just a breath away from her ear, “And more than that…”

He then murmured, his voice barely over a whisper, “I’ll never touch you.”

Magus’s words lingered as he began to walk away, but the headmistress’s trembling voice called after him.

“Wait…” she whispered. Magus paused, his hand on the doorframe.

“I’ll… I’ll do it.” Her sniffles filled the room as tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll get you an audience with the king and queen… Only they can grant what you’re asking.” She looked at him, desperate as water drippled from her eyes; crying carelessly, as if she’d returned to her youth “Just… Please… Don’t say those things again. Don’t tell me you won’t touch me… Please… I’ll do anything you want…!!” Her voice cracked as she lowered her head, crying into her gown.

Magus turned back slowly, his expression softening into a twisted smile as he strolled toward her.

‘…Jackpot,’ he thought as he stood right next to her seat, his fingers grazing her tear-streaked cheek.

“Good girl,” he cooed, his voice smooth. “I’m proud of you.”

Relief washed over the headmistress, her hands clasping his, grateful for even the smallest trace of affection.

[Goddess Varolia questions whether Van Hellix is worth the trouble…]
[… But finds your new attitude refreshing.]

‘Hmph, what ‘new attitude’…? Magus thought, a flicker of disdain flashing through his face. ‘Psychotic bitch. This is just a means to an end.’

“So, you’re into Lala, right?” Magus asked abruptly, draping an arm over Fohrd’s shoulder.

Fohrd stiffened, his gaze darting away as a blush crept across his face. Sweat beaded at his temples. “I-I don’t know what… you mean… I just… uh… like being around her, is all.”

“Come on, come on!” Magus whispered playfully, giving him a friendly shake. “It’s written all over your face, man. You don’t even need to say it.”

Fohrd looked down, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Magus’s words. “What… What do you want, Magus?”

Magus tilted his head, studying him. ‘Is he really that sensitive to teasing?’ He thought, amused but curious.

“Relax, buddy,” Magus reassured him with a light pat on the back. “I’m just gonna set you two up, that’s all.”

“W-what!?” Fohrd whipped his head toward him, excitement bubbling to the surface, quickly overshadowed by overwhelming anxiety. His voice cracked, his words spilling out in a tangled mess.

“Nononononono! It won’t work! I-I mean, sure, the thought might’ve crossed my mind at some point, but… me and L-Lala as a c-couple!?” Fohrd visibly trembled, his imagination running wild—romantic walks, awkward dates, and… holding hands.

“Holding hands!” he gasped aloud, as if the mere thought was scandalous. “Noooooo, it’ll never work out!” he wailed, shaking Magus off like a wet dog.

Magus chuckled, effortlessly catching him again. “Aww, come on! You’ll be all lovey-dovey! Hand holding, sweet kisses—”

Fohrd’s expression shifted mid-frolic. A flicker of something darker passed over his face, too quick for Magus to catch. “Besides…” he murmured, voice quiet and resigned.

Magus raised a curious eyebrow. “…?”

“Miss Brimmen… s-she…” Fohrd swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Doesn’t she… like you?”

Magus exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. ‘Ah, I guess she does hug me a lot… but seriously, friends hug each other. He sighed inwardly. Man, what a pain it must be to be a virgin, worrying about every little thing like this.’

“I’ll admit,” Magus began, releasing his hold on Fohrd and stepping back, meeting his hesitant gaze. “I know I’ve got some… influence on girls. Surely, you’ve noticed that too?” he muttered, watching as Fohrd flinched slightly at the words.

“But,” Magus exhaled, “It’s on me to decide how to use that… talent. And I never, not once, saw Lala that way. It’s not like I need another doll or…”

“A… doll?” Fohrd repeated, confusion sharpening his voice. “What do you mean by that?”

“A-ah, forget it. Just a figure of speech.” Magus raised his hand between them, brushing the comment aside with practiced ease. “Anyway,” he continued, recovering quickly, “as far as Lala goes, I know girls, and I know she doesn’t think of me like that. Honestly, I feel more like her older brother than anything else. So, don’t worry—leave it all to me. You don’t even have to lift a finger!” Magus grinned, his tone light.

‘It’s true. I’m THAT charming—she’ll listen to me. I’ll persuade her to be with him. And besides, Lala isn’t like all the others. We’re friends. Friends work differently.’ He rationalized.

“I… don’t have to do anything?” Fohrd repeated slowly, unease creeping into his voice. “I don’t know, Magus… This doesn’t feel right.”

“Why?” Magus snapped, sharper than intended, “This is the least I can do for a friend. Sure, I might be all-powerful and irresistible,” he added with a smug grin, “but it’s not like I’m heartless. Just trust me—sit tight, and she’ll come running to you,” Magus assured, waving dismissively as he turned on his heel to leave.

‘…It’s the least I can do for someone willing to be my friend.’ He smirked to himself as a new idea began to form.

‘Maybe… maybe I’ll even bring him along when Van and I go on the Demon Lord journey. He’d get along with Van, I bet.’ The thought drifted easily as he imagined Van and Fohrd sitting around a campfire, awkwardly discussing the weather and other mundane things. The image made him chuckle—two guys, totally out of their element, but strangely at ease with each other.

“B-but… I-I’m not strong enough to protect her—” Fohrd stammered, pushing out the doubt that had been eating away at him.

“YES, YOU ARE! JUST KEEP QUIET AND WAIT~!” Magus called back with a cheerful tone as he strode off, waving dismissively.

Fohrd stood there, conflicted but ultimately folding under the weight of Magus’s confidence. Despite his doubts, he decided to place his trust in Magus’s hands. For now.

Then, a familiar message prompt blinked before Magus’s eyes.

“?”

[Goddess Varolia advises you to stay out of this. It will not go as you plan.]

Magus’s lips curled into a sly grin. “You’re saying that, but here you are… watching it all unfold. Aren’t you curious too, oh mighty Goddess? To see how I’ll use these skills… like this?” His voice dripped with mischief as he chuckled under his breath.

[…]

[Goddess Varolia sighs. It is up to you how you wield the you’ve been granted. She can only advise.]

“Well, I appreciate your… insight.” Magus gave a mock bow toward the empty air and dismissed the prompt with a flick of his hand. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m gonna get my friend some well-deserved ass.” His grin widened as he turned away, his gaze now drifting toward his passives—two, in particular, catching his eye:

Passive: Godly Submission

Description: Any girl of your species will want to submit herself to you at the SLIGHTEST show of assertiveness, aggression, anger, or persuasion from your end.

Passive: Godly Charm

Description: You will charm any girl of your species simply by existing. More charming than any male nearby.

“While I’m curious how that elven beastmaster counts as part of my species…” Magus muttered, narrowing his eyes at the two skills. “These abilities don’t have to be so… one-dimensional,” he resolved, his gaze lingering as if daring the nature of the passives to defy him. “If I’m assertive enough, Lala will submit, right? That means she can ‘submit’ to the idea of being with Fohrd. And with [Godly Charm] backing it up, everything will fall right into place.”

He inhaled deeply, his heart twisted at the thought of manipulating her, but he squashed the discomfort. “It’s for a good cause. It’s for a good cause…” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else.

[Goddess Varolia sighs at your blatant denial, urging you once again to embrace these skills as intended; for yourself. You are not equal to anyone. Indulgence is your privilege as the Hero.]

“DENIAL,” Magus said aloud, mocking her words with exaggerated disgust, his face twisting theatrically. “I’m not in denial! And this IS me enjoying the skills—just in a way you didn’t expect! Ever heard of QA testing? That’s exactly what this is!” he barked, throwing his arms toward the sky as if challenging the heavens themselves.

[…]

“…Ma’am,” Magus added in a softer, more formal tone, realizing he was pushing the limits of familiarity with the deity.

[Goddess Varolia scoffs. ‘Do as you wish,’ she replies.]

‘It will work,’ Magus reassured himself with a nod. Without another word, he disappeared into the hallway, determination fueling each step.

========================================

“Oh?” Van murmured as he listened to Amoria. “He fancied himself a matchmaker?” His brow arched slightly.

“Well… he wanted to keep them happy. Especially Fohrd—for the company,” Amoria explained.

“I see…” Van muttered, his gaze drifting to the side, as if weighing the story in his mind.

After a brief silence, Amoria tilted her head. “Aren’t you going to ask… why I’m telling you all this?”

“No,” Van said, firm and measured. “I want to hear it all. I need to understand everything about that bastard—and why he took off. And I figure… you wouldn’t be telling me this little teen romance story if it wasn’t important.”

A soft breeze whispered through the open window, stirring the stillness between them.

Amoria gave a faint, somber smile at his words. “Alright… then I’ll continue.”

=========================================

Later, he pulled Lala aside, finding a quiet corner for the two of them.

“So, what’s up, Magus…? Bringing me somewhere private like this…” Her tone danced on the edge of suggestion, but Magus powered through, as if he hadn’t noticed.

“Ah, just… uh…” He scratched his chin, his confidence faltering slightly.

“It’s about…” he trailed off, avoiding her gaze as a sudden wave of anxiety gripped him.

‘Damn it…! Just do it! Why the hell are you nervous around her? She’s just another girl…! Just… Just tell her to be with Fohrd…!’ Magus’s heart slammed against his ribcage, each beat growing louder. Sweat trickled down his temple, and his breath felt shallow, his body betraying him at the worst moment.

Unbeknownst to him, another passive skill quietly took effect:

Passive: Godly Innocence

Description: Whenever you’re sad or shy, any girl of your species’ maternal instinct takes over, and she will immediately want to pamper you with a domineering, bold presence. This extends to sexual activities as well, so prepare…

“It… It’s about—!” Magus finally stammered, forcing the words from his throat. But before he could finish, Lala leaned in with sudden, deliberate grace, cupping his face and guiding his head downward.

Her lips pressed softly against his.

“..!!” Magus’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief, his breath hitching as her warmth spread through him. The unexpected tenderness in her kiss left him dazed, struggling to process what had just happened.

She pulled back, her face flushed a deep crimson, though her eyes remained steady and calm. “Magus… I had no idea you were so shy… It’s kinda cute~,” she whispered, her voice teasing but sincere.

‘What… What the hell just happened? I-I thought she didn’t see me like that…!’ Magus’s mind reeled, scrambling for an explanation as his gaze darted to the side—and then he saw him.

Fohrd stood in the distance, his face twisted in quiet resignation. Slowly, the boy turned, his shoulders sagging as he walked away without a word.

‘No… NO! No!!’ Magus’s stomach twisted in panic. The sight of Fohrd leaving shattered whatever composure he had left. Desperately, he shoved Lala away, almost too forcefully.

“A-Ah!” Lala gasped, stumbling backward, confusion flickering across her face.

“Why did you do that!?” Magus demanded, his voice frantic. “You’re like a sister to me! And Fohrd—Fohrd likes you! You should be with him!”

Lala blinked, caught off guard by his outburst. “Ah…” She glanced away, a troubled expression crossing her features. “I… I can pretend to be your sister if that’s what you want… I won’t judge you. But… I can’t… be with Fohrd.”

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Magus exclaimed, almost pleading now. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! We’re not supposed to be like this! We’re just friends… And Fohrd—he likes you! He just saw us! You have to go to him! Fix this… Please!”

“…I…” Lala began, clutching her chest as if steadying herself. “I care about Fohrd. I do…” Her voice wavered as she looked up at Magus, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “But… to just be friends? Magus, don’t say that. Please… I… I want… I want you.” Her voice broke, raw with longing. “Fohrd… Fohrd can wait. I’ll console him later or… something… But I’ve held out for too long for you… Just let me… Have this,” she pleaded, drawing closer, her arms wrapping around his neck, trembling with emotion.

“H-Held out…?” Magus echoed, his body freezing as her words hit him.

“Y-yeah…” She swallowed hard, her lips quivering. “I noticed the way you looked at the other girls. I noticed because I was watching you all the time. And… I realized…” Her breath hitched. “You didn’t want a girlfriend, not really. You just wanted a friend. And I… I wanted to be that person for you… I wanted you to need me the way I… needed you…” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them with trembling hands. “But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t ignore how I feel.”

She exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Magus… Please… Please let me be with you. Just this once.”

“N-no… You… You’re supposed to be with him… Not me…” Magus stammered, his voice brittle.

“If… If that’s really what you want…” Lala murmured, her voice soft but desperate. “I’ll be with him. I swear I will. Just… please… Just once a day. No, once a week. Let me feel you, Magus… No one has to know…”

Magus’s temper snapped, erupting like a storm.

“JUST WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” he roared, shoving her backward with more force than he intended.

“Ahhk!” Lala cried out as she stumbled, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Pain flickered across her face, and she curled inward, clutching her side.

“ARE YOU SOME KIND OF FUCKING DOLL!?” Magus shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. “FOHRD JUST HAD HIS HEART CRUSHED, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU CARE ABOUT!? ISN’T HE YOUR DAMN CHILDHOOD FRIEND!?”

Lala’s shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body. “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” she whimpered, tears streaking down her face. “But… he’s not you. He’s just… not you…!”

Magus stared down at her, his breath coming in shallow bursts. And yet, as he looked at her—vulnerable, pleading—something in him twisted painfully…

… Because all he could see was a doll staring back at him. A lifeless, vacant thing with no face… only strings attached to his fingers, pulling and controlling her every move.

Magus gritted his teeth, fury bubbling beneath the surface. The strings wrapped tighter around his fingers, digging into his flesh, and he clenched his fists in frustration.

“…Hate me,” Magus whispered, his voice low, brittle.

Lala blinked, her breath shuddering. “Never… Never…! That’s the one thing I can’t—”

The sharp crack of a slap cut her words short, sending her sprawling to the side.

“Ah…!” Lala let out a small squeal, catching herself on her arms as she hit the ground, the sting radiating through her cheek.

“I said hate me!” Magus snarled, his fist trembling at his side, clenched tight.

Lala sniffled, slowly raising herself, her hands shaking as she looked up at him. And yet, even as her nose bled and her cheek burned crimson, she held his gaze, unwavering. The invisible strings still bound tightly around his fingers, refusing to break.

“Never…” she whispered, her voice resolute, defiant in its softness.

The sight of her—bruised, bleeding, yet still clinging to him—only stoked the fury churning in Magus’s chest. His palm raised instinctively, fingers splayed, ready to strike again.

“I SAID—!!!” His voice cracked with rage as his hand hung in the air.

But just before the blow could land, Magus’s body faltered. His fingers curled into a tight fist, his knuckles white as he slowly lowered it, the tension in his arm draining away like a deflating balloon.

“…Fucking waste of space,” he hissed, his words dripping with venom as he looked away. “Scumbag, that’s what you are.”

Lala gasped, her hands clasping over her heart, her expression twisting in pain—not from the slap, but from the words that followed.

“All this time…” Magus muttered, more to himself than her. “You were just another doll. Just like the rest.” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, hollow and sharp. “I really thought… I really thought you were more than a puppet.”

He turned away, the weight of disappointment dragging his steps.

“M-MAGUS! PLEASE!” Lala cried after him, scrambling to her feet. “Don’t walk away! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Tears streamed down her face as her voice cracked with desperation. “Just tell me… Tell me what you want me to do!”

Magus stopped in his tracks, taking in a long, steady breath.

Then, without turning, he muttered, “Kill yourself.”

Lala froze, the air leaving her lungs in a silent gasp.

“W-what…?” Her voice trembled, disbelief washing over her features.

“You wanna do right by me? You wanna make me forgive you!? KILL YOURSELF. That’ll make me happy.” His voice turned colder, sharper. “Not that it really matters… Alive or dead, you’d still be the same puppet.” The words slipped from his tongue without thought, venomous and dismissive, as he turned on his heel and rushed after Fohrd.

‘At least you, Fohrd… I’ll make it up to you,’ Magus’s mind scrambled, ‘I’ll take you to a brothel—heard they’ve got some in this city. You’ll forget about her. That’s how it works, right? Right!?’ The frantic thought looped in his mind, as if clinging to it could undo the damage.

‘It’ll all work out… Somehow. We’ll fix it. We can, at the very least… Go back to how things were before! I’ll get these two to talk it out… Fuck, I’ll make it right!’

Behind him, in the stillness of the corridor, Lala slowly lowered her head. Her movements were heavy.

Quietly, she rose, her steps mechanical, and made her way back to her room. With a soft click, the door shut behind her. The lock then turned… Echoing the empty hallway.

“…I see. He carried that with him,” Van sighed, “I guess I always had a hunch the Goddess hated me for some reason, so… it’s not really a shock that she does. But the fact that he knew…” Van murmured, his gaze falling to the tea in front of him. The steam, now barely visible, escaped quietly—he’d missed his chance to blow on it.

“I…” Amoria began again, her expression difficult to read, her gaze lowered. “I’m still a devoted follower of Goddess Varolia,” she confessed, her voice faltering with an undertone of guilt.

“She grants me visions, gave me Liz, and… a relatively peaceful life, except for the past two years.” She forced a weak smile, trying to mask the weariness etched across her features. “And… Despite her… Motivations regarding you, I still do feel like she brought you here, Van.” She lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze. He flinched, just slightly.

“You came here right after Magus died… right when I needed to make amends with you the most, and right on time to save us. I’ve… I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long.” A flicker of light lit her gaze before it dimmed again. “But… I’d be lying if I said you were always on my mind, or more important to me than—”

“Stop,” Van interrupted softly, though his voice carried an edge of restrained anger as he raised a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t. I already know where your priorities have been, and so do you. You don’t have to explain it… It is what it is.” His eyes fell, the intensity in his tone dropping.

Amoria fell silent, noticing the tension coiled in his expression.

“Van, I…” Her voice trembled. “I really… REALLY am glad you’re here. You have to understand that.” She leaned forward slightly, searching his face, her voice softening. “I just… hope you can forgive me for—”

Van’s hand twitched, as if ready to slam against the table in frustration.

“..!” Amoria gasped softly as she noticed his sudden motion.

But his gaze drifted briefly to the hallway where Liz slept peacefully in her room. The thought of waking her stayed his hand, and instead, he clenched his fist tight, knuckles whitening, before lowering it gently onto the table.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Van emphasized. His eyes sharply flickering over to her. “Why are you making that face? In the end, you were the one who was manipulated, hypnotized… Why apologize to me?” His tone shifted, flickering between resentment and a reluctant tenderness that Amoria hadn’t expected.

“I was the one who knew about it more than anyone else in this world, even when you felt that guilt for cheating on me. So quit it. Save that look for someone else. I don’t deserve it.” The anger that flared in his voice faded. “It is what it is…” He repeated once more, faintly.

Amoria swallowed hard.

“…I’m not apologizing for that, Van,” she said finally, her voice steadying.

Van blinked, tilting his head slightly. “Sorry…?”

“When I said you weren’t always on my mind… I meant nowadays.” Her voice gained strength, her tone more deliberate. “There are things you don’t know yet, but you will. And when you do… you’ll understand what I mean.” She exhaled deeply, preparing herself for what came next. “I need to tell you more about Magus’s past. That was just the beginning…”

Van’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of Magus. Unease settled over him, but he stayed silent; looking at Amoria intently as she begins detailing the past.

========= 22 YEARS AGO ================

When Magus entered the Academy, and you went off to the barracks… things were good for the following year. Among the students and teachers, he thrived and had a great time…

… But eventually… something felt off.

‘Ah… I really am living with her… The Elven Beastmaster Teacher… Holy shit… I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done it at this point… We even did it before behind the scenes, and now I have an actual excuse to live in her house to do it like rabbits… But…’ Magus thought as he stirred awake in her bed, the aroma of breakfast drifting in from the kitchen.

‘… How do I even put this?’ he wondered, sitting up and sliding out of the sheets. He walked over to her quietly, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she stood cooking by the stove.

“Ah… You’re awake?” she cooed softly, not missing a beat as she stirred the pan. “I’m making some breakfast, sweetie.”

She leaned into his embrace, and Magus rested his head against her back. She was several heads taller than him, but in moments like this, the difference barely registered.

She felt perfect beneath his hands—warm, soft, familiar. But that excitement started to feel… Too familiar.

‘…It’s like hugging a doll,’ he thought, his hands instinctively roaming over her body.

“Mmm~…” She closed her eyes, savoring his touch. “I love it when you explore me like that~…”

Magus let out a quiet sigh, pressing his ear against her back. His hands drifted over her torso, absentmindedly; his palm landing right between her breasts.

‘… She has a heartbeat… not a doll…’ he thought, finding himself leaning more and more against her back, listening to her heart’s rhythm. ‘It’s… so nice. Heartbeats… I never knew they sounded this nice. I could listen to it all day…’ His thoughts began to drift, lulled by the gentle rhythm beneath his ear.

“Sweetie?” she asked, a note of confusion in her voice. She turned her head slightly, her tone gentle but curious. “Are you okay?”

Magus blinked rapidly, as if snapping out of a trance. “A-ah, yeah,” he stammered, quickly letting her go and stepping back. “Y-you just… have a great body, so… I guess I got caught up in the moment.”

“Ooh, my… A compliment, early in the morning? My day is so much better now~…” she hummed, her tone light and teasing.

‘I wonder how she’d react to that sentence if I didn’t have these passives,’ Magus thought, eyeing her long hair. ‘She’d hate it, right? Probably.’

He exhaled through his nose. ‘… I bet I could swear at her, and she’d still smile.’ His gaze flicked to his status window. The list of passives stared back at him, like a cheat sheet he couldn’t unsee. ‘Heck, with all of these… I could probably beat the shit out of her and she’d still smile at me…’ He thought momentarily conjuring the image of her smile, dripping with blood and a black eye as she laid helplessly on the ground.

‘Jesus, what am I even thinking?!!’ He gave his head a quick shake, his breath hitching momentarily at the thought. ‘She’s being nice…!! Stop thinking shit like thaT… And just take it as it is. Nothing about this is bad.’

“Yeah… Glad you liked it,” he said, turning his head away as his voice lazily trailed off.

She hummed again, content.

Magus sighed quietly. ‘Yeah…’ He relaxed his breath, ‘Just take it.’ He resolved, ‘She’s hot, and the other guys hate me ’cause I actually fucked their wet dream… Which is hilarious.’ He then moved in again, resting his chin on her soft, voluptuous curves. ‘But… I won’t lie and say I’m not even a little bored…’

A slow, tired breath slipped from his lips. “I wonder how Van’s doing…”

The thought drifted as he pictured Van’s eager face, especially that wild-eyed, hyped expression from back when Magus explained his passives. ‘Maybe I should ask the headmistress to let me visit him soon…’

Before he could linger longer on the thought, the beastmaster’s sultry voice drew him back.

“Ohh…” she purred, her movements deliberate as she turned toward him. Her breasts hovering over his head as he kept leaning into her, “You’re awfully clingy this morning” she murmured, her voice laced with amusement, as she let her cooking utensils fall from her hands with a soft clatter.

Magus cleared his throat, trying to shift the conversation as he let go of her, stepping back. “Uh, sorry… Say, It’s been two days… Shouldn’t you be training me for the tournament in a week? I mean… that’s why I’m here, right?” he muttered, though his words felt half-hearted.

‘Honestly, that sounds a bit more interesting than this…!’ he thought.

She tilted her head with a sly grin, leaning closer. “Oh, I know~” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “But everything I teach you… things that should take months or even years… you master in hours and days.” Her hand brushed down his chest, sending a shiver through him. “I think we can afford to steal a little me time, don’t you?”

Before he could react, she pushed him back onto the bed. He bounced slightly on the mattress as she climbed atop him, her movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes gleamed with playful malice, her lips curling into a seductive smile.

“And since you, a mere human, dared to explore my sacred body without permission…” she whispered, her dark gaze locking onto his. “You should be punished, don’t you think~?”

Her voice was low, almost predatory, her heavy-lidded eyes narrowing as she leaned closer, her fingers trailing over his skin.

Magus sank deeper into the pillows beneath him, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he stared up at her.

‘Well… I guess meeting Van can wait a little longer. And while it isn’t all that special, what we’re doing… It’s not like I hate it…’

And with that, he let the moment take him, indulging fully in the hedonistic pleasure she offered.

A while later, Magus dominated the upcoming tournament. He made his way off the stage, brushing off the applause and cheers echoing around him.

‘It was a little rough… but, in the end, easy. All in all… boring.’ Magus sighed as he walked into the waiting area, the standing ovation fading into white noise behind him.

There, waiting for him, were the two friends he’d made since joining the Academy—Fohrd Afton and Lala Brimmen.

“Congrats, Magus! Knew you had it in the bag!” Lala beamed as she ran toward him, pulling him into a tight hug. Magus returned the gesture with a light pat on her head.

‘It’s so nice…’ Magus thought, a peaceful feeling blooming within him, ‘Looking at a girl and not wanting to sleep with her, for a change. And not feeling that energy from her either. If anything, I feel more like her big brother.’

He let out a mock groan. “Agh… Maybe they should’ve entered you in the tournament, Lala. You’d squish everyone to death,” he teased with a chuckle.

Lala giggled, punching his arm playfully, while Magus’s gaze drifted toward Fohrd.

“N-nice! Magus! I-I knew you’d win!” Fohrd stammered, his fists shaking in the air.

‘I never thought I’d appreciate having a male friend this much… until I met him.’ Magus mused, observing the eager boy. ‘Fohrd’s shy, got bullied a bit… and I couldn’t help but step in and protect him. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t hate me for the things I have.’

Magus’s attention shifted briefly toward Lala, who still tightly wound herself around him, ‘He’s got a crush on her. It’s obvious… Maybe I can do something nice for him. After all, he’s one of the only guys here who doesn’t despise me.’

An idea began to form in Magus’s mind, and a sly grin crept onto his lips. ‘I’ll set them up. My passives make me persuasive, right? It’ll be easy… And they’ll be good for each other.’

Magus’s gaze softened as he recalled the little moments—how Fohrd would bring Lala snacks when she forgot to eat, help her catch up on missed lessons, and make sure she wasn’t late for class. ‘He even made her that ridiculous ‘Keep-Lala-Happy-For-Life’ roadmap. All of that… without any passives making him do it.’

After a faint twitch of his lip, Magus shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘P-poor bastard. Doing it the hard way…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Magus thought with a grin. ‘She’ll be all yours soon enough.’ His confidence settled easily, sure of the plan unfolding in his mind.

…Completely unaware of Lala’s trembling hands as she held onto him, her quiet breaths growing heavier. Her grip on him tightened, breaths shallow with excitement… she didn’t dare to name aloud.

Fohrd’s smile faltered as he looked at Lala’s embrace—just a flicker—but he quickly forced it back into place, masking it with a chuckle. “Y-you’ve always been lucky, Magus!” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Magus raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Luck? Nah.” His voice dripped with playful arrogance. “It’s ALL skill.”

Fohrd swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Magus and Lala. “A-ah… I see…”

Van sat silently at the living room table, fingers tapping restlessly on his thigh in rhythm, though no sound escaped him. His gaze drifted blankly to the window, where moonlight slipped through, casting a soft glow that offered brief solace from the storm of questions swirling in his mind.

The gentle sound of water flowing from the kitchen pulled him back into the moment, grounding him.

“Sorry for the wait,” Amoria’s voice flowed casually from the kitchen. “You came by so suddenly, the tea almost went cold.” She poured gracefully, the steady stream filling the sturdy wooden cups.

Van turned his head slowly, watching the way her small frame bent over the kettle, her hair cascading freely down her back, catching the faint glimmer of light from the flame dancing beneath the pot.

As the sound of pouring water filled the quiet, Van felt his confusion ebb, replaced by the serene glow of moonlight and the flicker of firelight that bathed the room—and her presence.

“I was lucky you were still awake,” Van murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “And your daughter?”

Amoria placed the kettle down, carrying two cups toward the table. “Don’t worry about Liz,” she said warmly, her smile soft. “She’s a deep sleeper. And, as I keep telling you, she wouldn’t mind you being here as much as you think.” She set a cup before Van and settled opposite him, her own steps echoing lightly in the quiet room.

“As for me…” Amoria leaned back in her seat, exhaling over her tea, causing the steam to swirl and drift. “I had a feeling you’d come, so I stayed awake a little longer.”

Van raised a brow. “A message from your goddess?” he asked, half-joking.

Amoria shook her head with a quiet chuckle. “No… It was how you spoke to me at the guild today. I hated it,” she admitted, voice low. “A part of me hoped you hated it too. So, I stayed awake… hoping you’d come.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his.

Van’s eyes lingered on her, on the way she cupped the tea delicately, gently blowing over it to cool it once more. The quiet that followed was not uncomfortable.

After a moment of quiet, Van let his mind wander before speaking.

“I doubt that would burn you, even if you drank it boiling.” His voice was casual, but it made her pause and lift her gaze.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, tilting her head, her cup still cradled gently in her hands.

Van gave a small shake of his head. “It’s just… something I noticed. As my resistance grew, I stopped needing to blow on hot drinks. Boiling tea wouldn’t hurt my throat or stomach anymore. I bet your resistance is the same.”

Amoria pondered for a moment, tapping a finger against her chin. “Hmm, you’re right. If it’s just boiling water, I can drink it fine. It feels perfectly normal, no matter how hot it is.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “I actually tried it once, just out of curiosity.”

Van nodded. “So why do you still blow on it?”

Her eyes softened as she stared at the rising steam. “It feels like… if I stop, I’d lose something.” She traced her finger along the rim of the cup. “Blowing on tea, it’s part of who I am. I’ve always loved tea—not just drinking it, but the whole experience. If I just gulp it down, I feel like I’d lose that part of me.”

“… Like pretending to get drunk?” Van mused, recalling Marcy’s behavior.

“Exactly!” Amoria’s eyes brightened. “I don’t drink, but Marcy and others do—they act like they can get drunk. Not because they need to, but because they want to keep a part of themselves alive, the part that remembers how fun it used to be.” She chuckled softly. “Everyone plays along. It’s like… they cherish the memory, even if they can’t feel it anymore.”

Van leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. “So… it’s a known thing?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Amoria said with a nod. “Especially among B-rankers and higher. Some even host seminars with lower-rankers to remind each other how to stay… human. As resistances build, people start feeling disconnected—it’s easy to get depressed.” She blew gently on her tea again, more out of habit than need.

‘Odd… Varlog or Alicia never mentioned anything about that…’ Van lowered his head, the thought pressing deeper. ‘No… I just never noticed. I didn’t think to look for something like that. I only wanted her to marry me… but how well do I really know Alicia?’ A faint frown formed on his face.

His gaze drifted down to the cup in his hands, the steam curling upward like a fleeting invitation to blow before it vanished. His expression softened.

“So, even if you can’t feel something anymore… you pretend it’s still there. Otherwise… you lose yourself,” Van whispered, his voice hoarse.

Amoria’s hands trembled slightly at his words, but she covered it with a soft laugh, sipping her tea without fully blowing on it.

“A-anyway,” she chuckled lightly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The fact you came to me first to tell me about how you knew —Vanny, that means a lot. I’m flattered… And relieved. I was the only one out of the girls who knew about it.”

Van stayed quiet, waiting. Amoria’s gaze shifted cautiously to his, carefully weighing his reaction.

“I’ll tell you about Magus’s story,” she said, studying him closely. His expression didn’t waver, his attention sharp. She let herself continue. “You know what happened. He told you. It was after Millina’s death… That’s when I found him, and we got together.”

Her smile faltered, dimming into something hollow. She stared down at her reflection in the tea.

“But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a change in my heart before it all happened… I bet you felt it too, didn’t you?”

Van inhaled deeply, words resting on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, Amoria continued.

“It wasn’t an accident,” she whispered grimly, her expression darkening as she gazed deeper into the tea’s surface.

Van’s breath hitched. “What…?” he murmured, leaning forward slightly, eyes wide.

“Me, finding him; us getting together… Without you knowing… it wasn’t by chance,” she confessed, her voice low and haunted. “He told me everything, years later. Every thought, every reason.” She closed her eyes briefly. “He came to me because… he didn’t want to be judged. But there was more—he came to me because guilt was drowning him.”

She paused, her voice tightening. “But what he felt… it wasn’t just guilt.”

Van clenched his jaw but said nothing, feeling the weight of her words settle between them.

“And in the end…” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “that guilt… that burden… It’s what led to his suicide.”

=====================23 YEARS AGO=====================

“I’M GONNA BE AN OVERPOWERED MAGE, BRO! LET’S GOOOO!!!!”

Magus’s excitement boiled over as he scanned his skillset, his legs almost giving out beneath him from pure hype.

“Holy shit, holy shit… HOLY SHIEEEET! CAN YOU SEE THESE SKILLS!? I’M GONNA HAVE A HAREM! A REAL, FRIGGITY-FUCKITY HAREM!!! OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!!!”

He was nearly breathless from the possibilities spiraling in his head.

‘Wait… Isn’t that kinda… mind-controlling?’ he wondered briefly—only to shrug it off immediately. ‘Ah, who the fuck cares!? I’M GONNA BE THE MAIN CHARACTER OF MY OWN ANIME!!!’

Lost in his fantasies, he grinned to himself. ‘And once I’m at the top, I’ll even throw a few girls Van’s way! We’ll both sit on our thrones! Man, this is gonna rock SO HARD!’

Magus’s gaze drifted to the side, landing on a young priestess watching him from across the room. As soon as their eyes met, her face turned bright red, and she quickly looked away, flustered.

‘Holy shit…’ Magus gulped, heart racing. ‘That girl… She’s TOTALLY my type. With these charm skills… All I gotta do is walk over, say hi, and bam—she’ll be mine. And with all these passives, she won’t even care if I talk to other girls!’

Just as Magus reveled in his inevitable future, Van’s frustrated voice cut through the air like a thunderclap.

“THEN WHY EVEN GIVE ME AN ACTIVE SKILL!?” Van shouted, glaring at his skill window inside the church.

Magus flinched. ‘Holy shit, that scared me!’ he thought, glancing nervously at Van. ‘What’s his problem… Did he get shafted with crap-tier skills?’

But the excitement quickly returned as Magus reassured himself. ‘No worries. If his skills suck, I’ll just carry him. I’ve got a party buff that levels everyone with me. Uncle Magus has got you, Vanny!’

He placed a comforting hand on Van’s shoulder after hearing the sad details of his skillset. But deep down, Magus couldn’t shake the truth.

‘Damn… Even with Dark Soul, what a garbage skillset.’ He winced, unwilling to say it aloud. ‘It’s like she designed him to be the perfect meatshield instead of a real fighter.’

Then, realization struck him like a hammer.

‘Wait… He can’t even benefit from my leveling buff…’ Magus frowned, the pieces falling into place. ‘Oh wow… She actually hates him.’

Magus tilted his head back, squinting toward the heavens. “WHAT THE HELL, GODDESS!? Couldn’t you at least give him ONE cool skill TOO!?!?”

His voice trailed off, shrinking under the weight of what he just did. He cleared his throat awkwardly, suddenly realizing the danger of yelling at a divine being who’d been exceedingly generous to him.

‘Just… If you ARE going to do it, M-maybe not a harem one? I mean, imagine if we accidentally NTR each other…’ Magus thought, grimacing.

Meanwhile, Van tried to force a smile, burying his face into his arms. “It’s okay, dude… Maybe I’m just a late bloomer? Haha…” he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction.

Magus glanced at his friend, feeling the weight of his words, when suddenly, a message prompt materialized in front of him:

[Goddess Varolia has heard your plea and urges you to leave this… friend of yours behind. There is great evil within him. Leave him, save the world on your own.]

‘What the… a message prompt?’ Magus blinked, looking around. The royal guards glanced his way briefly but gave no reaction. ‘Do they not see this…?’ His heart raced as he reread the message, each word twisting like a knife.

His frown deepened. ‘Fuck you and fuck that. No way I’m ditching him. If he’s evil, then fine—he’s my goddamn Sasuke. We’ll fight to the death at the end, I’ll barely pull through, and then I’ll drag him back to the light. We’ll both lose an arm, lie side by side staring at the sun like legends as we get healed by a cute ninja and—’

“Bro?” Van’s voice cut into his thoughts, lifting his head just slightly.

“A-ah, yeah?” Magus said, snapping back to reality with an awkward smile.

“… You were ogling me. It was kinda creepy,” Van muttered, raising an eyebrow.

Magus sneered instantly. “Yuck. Who’d ogle your ugly-ass face? Plant that head back into your arms so I don’t have to see it, gayboy.”

Van rolled his eyes, scoffing. “Gangster fuckboy.”

“Bitch.” Magus shot back without missing a beat.

As Van slumped back down, Magus shifted his attention to his status window, skimming his overpowered skill list. ‘Fuck yeah… With these skills, I can have anything I want. And since I’m obviously the main character, I can even rewrite fate. Screw the goddess… Hell, maybe I’ll even screw her, too.’

He grinned to himself, shutting the window. ‘…Best not tell Van about what she said, though. He’s already going through enough.’

A Royal Guard discreetly arrived and handed Van the contract, as per Nickelson’s orders. He then informed Marcy that it had been decided Varlog and Yilla would remain here. Given Marcy’s formidable reputation in the Capital, no one would dare challenge the decision, or her. Reluctantly, she agreed.

By nightfall, the Royal Guard had left. Van returned to the room prepared for him and handed back Marcy’s armor, despite her earlier permission for him to keep it. She accepted his gesture without much fuss. After refreshing himself, Van descended to the now-empty guild hall.

“Funny how the same guy who gave you your house contract is the one relaying my ‘orders’… Got anything to say about that?” Marcy asked, sitting across from Van at a table.

“No,” Van replied curtly, staring at the mug of ale she’d poured for him earlier.

“Wow, not even gonna pretend you’re hiding something?” she teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“I reckon you’ve got secrets of your own. This one’s mine,” Van shot back, his tone sharp. Marcy sighed, exasperated.

“Ahhh…!! You’re so tense! I can barely handle it when that ice bitch does it, don’t give me that attitude!” she groaned, taking a long sip from her mug and leaning back in her chair.

“…Or what?” Van asked, his gaze lifting with a frown.

“…Or what?” she echoed, startled by the sudden intensity. “I’m just trying to make conversation…” she mumbled, turning her eyes away.

A minute of silence followed. Van sat unmoving, still not drinking from his mug.

‘How long has it been since Marcy and I last sat together like this?’ Van thought. ‘Back when my resistance was low and I could still get drunk… before Amoria joined us. In those early days, whenever we stayed at an inn, I’d go to the bars—a lot. Maybe it was guilt over agreeing to manipulate the girls in order to stop the demon lord, or maybe it was just jealousy and loneliness. Either way, drinking gave me relief. As my resistance stat grew, it became harder to get drunk… but not impossible.’

‘Not long after I started hitting the taverns, Marcy joined me—usually when that harem bastard was too tired or off training alone; a new hobby he made for himself the more we were on the road,’ Van reflected.

‘At first, meeting her at the tavern was just a coincidence… and awkward. Sometimes we’d sit next to each other, other times on opposite sides of the place. There were nights when I’d drink outside, avoiding the whole situation—to distance myself, like I always did, to escape that frustration and awkwardness that seemed to come with every evening. But eventually, it became routine. Before long, she’d be commenting on how I was late if I didn’t arrive at the tavern before her. During our travels, she always kept a tough exterior, but at night, she was different—freer, almost like a completely different person. She treated me like a little brother, constantly. She was… a happy drinker, and surprisingly, it was fun. Drinking with someone like her made it easier to forget my problems, especially with the alcohol numbing everything.’

Marcy glanced at Van’s blank expression.

“I invited you to drink, so drink up,” she said.

‘But now… I feel that awkwardness again. That urge to step outside, to be anywhere but here with her. And this time, I don’t think it’s something that’ll get better. Why does it feel like this?’

“Neither of us can get drunk,” Van replied flatly, his eyes still fixed on the untouched mug, shoulders tense.

“I can… if I drink about four barrels non-stop,” she said, sighing. “But the buzz disappears after a few minutes. It’s a real pain,” she added, taking a sip from her mug.

“Are we planning to drink four barrels, then?” Van asked, raising an eyebrow with a hint of curiosity, though his tone was clearly rhetorical.

“A shipment of alcohol’s coming in tomorrow. We just might,” Marcy replied, looking away as she scratched her head. Another minute of silence passed.

“‘Or what,’ he says,” Marcy muttered with a chuckle, still avoiding his gaze as she took another sip.

Van inhaled deeply, his shoulders tensing further.

“… You got a problem with that?” Van replied flatly, turning his gaze back to her, causing her eyebrows to shoot up as she snapped her head toward him, recalling their previous argument.

“Ah, so that’s why you have a stick up your ass?” she said. “You’re pissed because I told you to stay the hell out of my business with raising my daughter?” Van’s fingers twitched at the memory.

“No,” he replied immediately. “You were right then. I was overstepping. She’s your daughter, and I have no business with either of you. Rest assured.” His eyes dropped to the mug. “It’s common sense. I’m not angry,”

“Tsk,” Marcy clicked her tongue, her breath quickening at his words, especially his claim of having ‘no business’ with them. “Fuck me, you’re always so… sensitive. I get it. Especially with what you’ve been through. But do you even realize what was happening?” She leaned in, trying to catch his eyes, her expression softening. “There was a Mythical-level threat, and I was kinda stressed, considering I also had to deal with it.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you were right. You don’t need to explain yourself for stating common sense,” Van said, his detached tone causing Marcy’s agitation to spike as she bit her lip.

“Look, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but, again… I really was stressed, and—”

“You didn’t hurt anything. You just stated a fact. We’re not related, so there’s nothing more to say.”

“Just why the fuck are you like this?” Marcy clenched her fist around the mug, her face twisting in frustration.

“We’ve been together for four years…” She looked at him, frowning. “I get that maybe it doesn’t seem like a lot, but… come on, I thought we were closer than that.” She leaned back, her voice softening. “We fought side by side, you’ve died for m—… for us more times than I can count. And I can’t even remember how many times we got shitfaced together in taverns when we had some downtime.”

Van stayed silent, anger rising from his gut. ‘She puts so much effort into her words, into me… Why does that make me so mad?’ he thought, tightening his fingers beneath the table.

“Just… throw me a bone here,” she said, her voice faltering as she looked away again. “We’re not some stuck-up nobles arguing over land… Can’t we just drink, pretend to get drunk like we used to? Aren’t we friends? Former party members? Don’t talk to me like we’re strangers all of a sudden…” Her gaze dropped.

“Seeing you again… It’s like… he’s alive, you know?” She raised her eyes to Van, who felt another surge of rage clawing at him.

“I get it. You probably left feeling like shit. I’d understand if you hated him. No hard feelings or anything… But… I just miss him. So… just drink with me.” She looked at Van, who sat rigid, barely holding on to his stoicism as his anger roiled inside.

“Y-you know…” She hesitated, her voice dropping, “We’ve got the whole tavern to ourselves, and a protective seal’s been placed on the demons’ room, so no one can hear us… So… if you want… we could do something… more.” Her words slowed as she leaned forward, her eyes softening.

Van’s breath hitched. Her gaze locked with his, and his face paled, eyes widening. His fists clenched tighter… and tighter… and tighter.

Without realizing it, he applied more force than when he’d slashed Lilac. The air around his palm began to warp as he hid it beneath the table. His expression faltered, a deep frown appearing in his eyes as he turned his head away.

“If it’s with you… I… I wouldn’t mind…” she whispered.

“Stop…” Van’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he slowly began to pull away, dragging the chair backward.

“I… I don’t want to,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “Honestly… if Magus weren’t around, if he didn’t exist… I don’t think you’d lose to him one bit, you know?” she murmured, leaning in even closer. Her body moved seductively toward him, climbing onto the table, her shirt barely containing her large bosom.

Van clenched his teeth, his once blank, nervous gaze igniting into a burning glare. “I SAID STOP!” he growled, his voice sharp and commanding.

Marcy recoiled slightly, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his eyes. She had never seen him like this before—stoic, helmet-headed Van, always so controlled. The thought hit her suddenly…

… Has he always had this expression beneath the helmet?

“Van…” Her tone softened, and she reached out for him. But Van pushed her hand away, wordlessly.

“I need air,” he muttered, his face unreadable as he stood abruptly, storming out of the guild.

“W-wait! I-I’m sorry!” Marcy called after him, but Van was already gone, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty streets as he hurried away, leaving her confused and alone.

‘Alicia was right,’ Van thought bitterly as he walked under the moonlit sky, his mind churning. ‘I’m not a good person at all. The reason I got angry… was because I hated that Marcy’s doing this now… instead of back then.’

Van’s fists clenched tighter as his pace quickened. ‘… Instead of before I met Alicia.’

He paused, staring up at the moon. ‘What does Alicia even see in me? Is Varlog right? Is this all just some fleeting infatuation? Do I have to constantly manipulate my way into her heart because there’s nothing real or redeeming about me?’

His jaw tightened as another bitter thought surfaced. ‘Yeah… That makes sense, doesn’t it? When Marcy offered herself… for just a second, I thought… Damn… what a shame I’m already married.‘

His fists trembled as the gnawing truth clawed at him. ‘I’m worse than Magus. The only difference is… I don’t have his harem skills.’

‘Yeah…’ Van lowered his gaze, his expression darkening. ‘It’s time to end this charade. This make-believe relationship with them. Whatever this dragon threat is, I don’t need their cooperation. I can face the Dragon King alone.’ Determined, Van strolled through the dead of night toward Amoria’s house, his expression grim as he knocked audibly on her door.

‘I’ll be true to what I am… And crush her world all over again.’ He resolved.

Moments later, Amoria opened the door, her nightgown draped over her as she blinked at him in surprise. “Ah… Van! Is there something you need…? Maybe…” Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “You poor little boy, did you miss your mommy and decide to—”

“Amoria,” Van interrupted sharply, standing at the threshold. His voice was abrupt, cutting her off.

‘It’s time to end this. End everything,’ Van thought, his heart pounding, a mixture of excitement and fear swirling inside him. Doubt crept into his mind—visions of Amoria turning hostile, the whole world against him.

But none of that mattered anymore. He had made a decision. He would never be the man who hesitated and left things unfinished.

He wasn’t that person anymore.

Whatever he had come here to do… he would see it through.

“I need to tell you something,” Van said, stepping closer, expecting her to back away. But she stood her ground, lifting her chin as curiosity filled her gaze. His heart faltered for a moment, uncertainty flashing through him, but he quickly tightened his fist again.

“Yes…?” she whispered softly, gazing into his eyes, which brimmed with ill intent.

As Van stood at Amoria’s doorstep, the weight of his decision bore down on him, his heart pounding. Doubt flickered, old shadows clouding his thoughts. He clenched his fist, knuckles white, trying to steady his breath, but each inhale felt heavier than the last.

“You’ve been brainwashed by Magus,” Van began, his voice low, controlled. “To love him. To cheat on me. You—and every other woman he’s ever crossed paths with—were enchanted by his mind-controlling passives. It didn’t matter who you were; no woman could resist him. Those passives… were bestowed upon him by the very goddess you worship.” He paused, his words like stones falling into place. “So, none of this was your fault to begin with.”

Every word was deliberate. There was no fantasy, no illusion—this was real. “And I knew. I knew the whole time… and I never said a word.” He finished, his eyes locked on hers, searching for that horrified reaction he had envisioned so many times. He waited for her to recoil, to scream, to push him away. Maybe she would even attack him.

She had every reason to.

‘Do it. End this!’ Van screamed inwardly, his gaze intensifying as the silence between them stretched. His lungs refused to take in air, every muscle in his body tensing as he stared into Amoria’s eyes, expecting the reaction that had replayed in his mind endlessly. His throat tightened, the words he had rehearsed over and over now hanging in the stillness.

His eyes flicked across her face, waiting for the anger, the rejection—anything to make it easier for him to walk away…

“I…” Amoria’s voice broke the silence, soft and steady. She gave him a somber smile. “I know, Vanny.” She gently patted his hand.

All the air left his body, his muscles loosening in an instant.

Instead of the anger and confusion she had every right to release—the rage Van fully expected to erupt and crash down on him—Amoria simply smiled softly. The tension in him snapped, confusion quickly flooding the space where his expectations once stood.

“W-what…?” Van murmured, his voice barely audible as his intense gaze wavered. He had braced for her to back away, to lash out. But instead, she stepped closer.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked gently, her voice calm as she opened the door wider. “I’ve got some tea already brewed.” The light from the moon bathed her living room in a soft glow.