“......”

Ather let out a low groan after hearing the whole story.

“...So the Evil God might not have been born at all...”

A world turned to hell by an herbivore blinded by rage. A misguided decision from an immature mind.

The deer, having finished its story, pressed its mouth shut like an ordinary beast. Aram glanced between the silent deer and the pained Ather. After a moment of thought, she asked him:

“Is it too much for you?”

“...No, I’d already anticipated some of it from the records.”

“That’s true.”

“I’m not going to lose my mind now.”

Having spent centuries trapped in a prison of thorns, Ather had once gone mad more than a few times. But not this time. For ghosts of the past to fight over sin and guilt now—that would be idiotic.

“I refuse to be any more foolish than I already was.”

And that would be worse than any calamity.

“But this story made it clear.”

“I feel the same.”

They were certain.

“Argio is without a doubt the Evil God of Wrath.”

It was time to open the coffin.

“...I’m ready.”

“I think we’ve done all we can.”

“Let’s hope our flimsy little plan works.”

“It might. The Evil God is underestimating us.”

“Even if we’re just flailing within the bounds he allows... it doesn’t feel so bad.”

“I’m ready too.”

The deer no longer tried to hide itself.

“......”

“Will you open the coffin with us?”

“...Piiik.”

“I see.”

Even though it could speak, the deer chose not to. Neither Aram nor Ather knew why. They simply followed the deer—who wished to face the sins of the past—down into the underground tomb.

The steps remained dark, but there was no dust. Ather led the way, holding a torch. Though built in a rainforest, the underground ruin was dry, not humid. The smell of old blood hung heavy in the air.

“...Have you ever come here alone?”

The deer shook its head.

“Why not?”

Because it said it wasn’t worthy.

“...Ah, was that you speaking just now?”

“Piiik.”

“You’re quite skilled.”

Aram quietly marveled while mourning the tragedy. To the deer, speech itself was a sin, each word laced with guilt. So it had learned to communicate through air and presence instead.

“...You left records here, too. I’m deeply grateful for that. Without your writings, we wouldn’t have had any direction at all...”

Then she asked,

“I’ve read that in the past, every beast formed a tribe of its own. There was once a Deer Tribe, too—but records say they went extinct early on. Were you involved in that?”

The deer answered no.

“So it was a natural extinction?”

Among beast races, deer most resembled humans—in intelligence, but also in greed. Once they lost the wisdom of the beasts, they chose extinction on their own.

It was not the deer’s doing.

“...That wasn’t a pleasant topic. I’m sorry.”

After a short story and long silence, the tomb’s entrance came into view. Ather stared at the massive crypt, then looked back at Aram and the deer. He warned them firmly:

“Once we go inside, you’ll see several coffins. If any of them speak—do not reply. We’re heading for the last coffin.”

“I understand.”

“Then...”

As Ather stepped inside, a voice echoed through the tomb.

“Back again, are you.”

A voice they didn’t know.

“The final family’s little toys have returned to the grave.”

“What do you seek in coming here?”

“Ah, the end draws near. Speak your end.”

“Have you finally decided to open the coffin?”

“It’s stifling. Enough already...”

Ather grabbed Aram’s hesitant hand and pulled her forward. The deer walked at its usual unhurried pace, gazing at the coffins. There was nothing to be gained from reacting to the vengeful, wrathful spirits.

And once they reached the final coffin—all voices fell silent.

“......”

Ather let go of Aram’s hand and addressed the coffin.

“...It was like this last time, too.”

“......”

“When I stood before you, all the others went quiet. Like scolded children.”

“They were children.”

Creeeaak—

The lid of the coffin opened with a dull groan.

“How old did they sound to you?”

“...Judging by voice alone, quite young.”

“Exactly. I am the eldest among them—the one who first carved the name Argio into the world. Those little ones can no longer defeat me.”

“Just because you’re older?”

“At the moment, yes. They’ve calmed down. They’ve realized I’m the more experienced and stronger one, so they probably figured there’s no harm in following me.”

“In life, Argio was a warlord who wielded wrath at will.”

She had read his past through the records.

“To you, wrath was both sword and shield. You were angry because you chose to be—unlike others, who were consumed by it.”

“Do you know how strong a furious person becomes? Do you understand the limits of that emotion? Yes—wrath is a fine weapon, a strong fortress. I was only angry when I wanted to be.”

Aram interjected.

“But that wasn’t true after you died. When all the ghosts gathered and became the Demon King, you were forced to carry wrath you didn’t choose. The ‘Argio’ Evil God wasn’t made by you alone.”

“...Ahh...”

From the crack in the coffin, a large finger wearing a thick ring appeared.

“That small, youthful voice... is rather sweet.”

Clink.

The ring tapped against the coffin.

“Hey there, little friend. Servant of a strange god. Where did you come from?”

“...From the embrace of my teacher—the Moon.”

“The Moon, huh... Not a name I recognize.”

“Are you angry now?”

“I am when I choose to be.”

“Then now—please answer my question.”

“How brazen and bold... Cute.”

Tap.

The finger stopped moving.

“I’m furious.”

And then, a hand reached out from the coffin.

“...Ah, my friend...”

“......”

“My noble, innocent one and only family.”

The hand stopped in front of the deer.

“Why did you do it?”

The large hand opened like a blooming flower.

“Why did you do that?”

Drip, drip.

Golden eyes wept blood, stained into the palm.

“If you only wanted to kill me, would I have raged this much? If you merely wanted to steal divine power and spread language among beasts, I wouldn’t have been angry. But you tried to trim my wrath, twisted its direction, and trapped me in eternal agony.”

The hand reached farther, stroking the deer’s cheek.

“My friend, my family, my beloved little brother...”

He smeared golden blood all over the deer’s face, then withdrew into the coffin.

“That hurt.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Your teeth were terribly blunt—unlike now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is your wrath finished?”

“It ended when all the humans who sinned that day died—along with all those who sinned again.”

“That’s unfair. I’m still angry—why didn’t you wait for my sentence? You should have raged with me. Don’t you think?”

“All that remains of me is this feeble body, this lowly existence. I have no strength left to face you, no will, no wrath.”

“...Is that so?”

The whisper turned toward Ather.

“Why did you bring that child to me?”

“There was something I wanted to see in you.”

“And now?”

“...I saw what I was looking for.”

“Why you thought that—I don’t know. But fine.”

Then the voice addressed Aram.

“Did you expect me to forgive all this?”

“Yes. I thought you might—and I saw a glimpse of it now.”

“You say I showed a mercy I’ve never even seen in myself.”

“Saints are arrogant creatures. They’re born from pride.”

“I understand your intent. But I won’t answer.”

Creeeeak—

The coffin shut again. The spirit spoke.

“You’ve received your gift. It’s time to open the gate.”

It was permission.

“......”

“......”

“Go.”

The voice whispered.

“Open it.”

Ather reached out.

***

Blood spilled.

“......”

It was the deer’s.

Ather pulled Aram behind him and drew his sword. Aram bit her lip—not surprised, only grim.

The deer’s blood gushed like a painting, flooding the floor of the tomb.

“......”

Ather scowled at the absurd amount.

‘This much blood... there’s no way it came from just a deer.’

Splish...

The crimson liquid pooled around their feet like rainwater after a storm.

From the ordinary comes the unnatural. The air became thick with poisonous stench, like a curse giving birth to more curses.

‘I never wanted to feel this again.’

A sight where all the rules of the world collapsed. Horror born from incomprehensible abnormality. Ather was all too familiar with it.

“......”

“...Yes, of course...”

Another hand, long and pale like a dead tree branch, emerged from the dark beside the one holding the deer’s heart. It caressed the dying body gently.

“I had a family like this...”

Another hand reached out.

“My family.”

“Family?”

“Did I... have a family?”

Then another, and another, and another, again and again.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding.”

“If I had family, why did all that happen?”

“No—it happened because I had family.”

“Ah, it hurts. I can’t breathe. It’s suffocating. This place is too small.”

“There is no sky, no sky, no sky. The hand that once cradled small things abandoned me. I was left alone. So lonely, so terribly sad. You abandoned me. I was left behind. Please... take me with you.”

“Why did I have to go through all that? You created me—yet never gave me a voice, never touched me. Your pathetic little children tore out my heart, cut off my arms, displayed my neck—and you ran, howling.”

“It hurts, it hurts, O God—tend to my pain. Or else bring me Hell. The calamity you made is waiting here for you. Open the door, Creator. Show me your face. I have waited.”

“It was so dark here. I couldn’t see. Even with a torch, I couldn’t light the world. Whisper to me, Creator—why? You made me from your greed. I’m still here. Where did you flee?”

“Come back, Father. Call my name. Look at me. If you created this dreadful beast, then give me a name. Where are you? Where have you gone? Ah, yes—I know what kind of being you are. Arrogant, ignorant. I understand.”

“Where does this wrath end? How long must I keep raging? No one can take this from me. This heat that burns my insides, melts my mind—only that keeps me alive. So sing to me of sin. Curse me with a name. Let the world point and mock.”

Countless mouths whispered in the dark and void. The words were too long to decipher.

Countless hands crawled from the coffin. Behind them, innumerable figures oozed forth.

Like black, rotten lake water, or the sludge of the Black Forest, they seeped out and slowly stood upright.

“Show me mercy—don’t I look pitiable?”

“I will laugh while you scream.”

“Stab me, judge me, call me the worst.”

“All the wrath of the world is gathered here—curse me, beg me for mercy. I’ll never give you a scrap. Scream your worthless cries and waste your precious life.”

“O God—my Father—look upon me! Or give me your neck! Why did I have to die in this dark forest? I cried in agony until my eyes melted with venom!”

“You said to guard the world—I obeyed. But if no one shares that will, what’s the point? Take me. Take me. Take me. You should’ve let my breath rot. Know your sin!”

“Why? Why? Why, why, why did you forget me? You forgot. Don’t forget. I will stab you. I will adorn my dagger with poison and plant it in your heart. Show me your neck. I’ve waited ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) so long—give it to me. Father—ah! My father...!!”

Then emerged a crimson body.

Longer than a serpent’s. Covered in feathers, like torn wings from countless birds stitched together.

Massive feet and claws pressed down on the tomb floor between the coils of its body.

“I once had wings—but I can’t fly now.”

“Humans clipped them, burdened me with pain I can’t measure.”

“Wretches, traitors, worshippers of nature—you humiliated me, trapped me in this bloody stone tomb.”

“If I hadn’t been greedy, maybe I could’ve flown. But with these filthy wings, I can’t. Why, with wings, can’t I fly? The sky was there, and yet I had nowhere to go.”

“See what remains of me? Screaming flesh, blood-stinking feathers, the feet to crush your bodies. These patched hands can’t count you. These sewn eyes can’t see. These warped arms can’t embrace you.”

“You made me this way. You recreated me like this. Are you satisfied? You should be. You must be. I became this for you. Didn’t you break and stitch me this way?”

“Then what can you call me now?”

“Me. I... what do you...”

“...What do you call me...?”

“...I...”

The figure whispered like a madman, screamed, then wilted. Aram pressed further behind Ather’s back.

She began to gather holy power, ready to flee at any moment—yet muttered unconsciously:

“...A dragon.”

Twisted by humanity, ghosts, and rage—yet still a dragon at its core.

“...You were right.”

“...Far more grotesque than I remembered.”

“You said the magicians who locked Ather in a cage borrowed the power of this Evil God to kill the world’s Creator, right?”

“Yes. So...”

Ather struggled to hold back a sigh.

“It’s even more broken now.”

“...To think a divine herald became that.”

“Human greed was too much.”

They had ruined the dragon.

“Now it’s time to take responsibility.”

Ather led Aram out of the tomb.

The writhing ‘Argio,’ formed from countless personalities and endless rage, did not yet notice. Only after a long time did he finally glance down at the deer’s fallen body.

Only those golden eyes saw it.

“......”

A long, stiff hand reached down, gently cradling it like a baby.

“...Still such fine fur.”

‘Argio’ smiled like a child.

“Are you sleeping?”

“......”

“I’ll protect you...”

It raised the deer’s heart.

And swallowed it.

Its lips, soaked in blood, split into a wide, enormous grin.

Then—crack—!

“......”

The man’s head split in half, leaving only a mouth.

The shattered pieces turned to dust in the air.

He fumbled with his twisted hands to find his head’s shape. Like a broken porcelain jar, golden blood spilled from within.

And then, the lips curled into a vicious crescent.

“...Ahahaha!”

He was delighted.