When the Evil God’s seal fully unraveled, and Aram and Ather were rushing about, persuading the beasts with all their might—that was when the Evil God, who had seemed to have lost all reason, suddenly kidnapped the two of them.

It was, quite literally, an act of kidnapping.

“It looked like I’d been kidnapped in reality, but it wasn’t quite that, originally...”

At Aram’s murmur, Ather nodded.

“But now you’ve truly been kidnapped.

It won’t be easy to reassure those back home that it wasn’t as serious as they feared.”

“Enough with the brutal honesty.”

“Someone has to stay grounded in reality.”

“How did someone with your personality become a royal archivist?”

“There must not have been any other archivist more qualified than me.”

“Right, of course.”

It was easy to say, but reality had been different.

Fundamentally, a royal court was a den of demons in any dimension—a world of monsters in human skin.

If he had become an archivist there solely through ability, that ability was undeniably overwhelming.

And that was why Aram could smile.

“It’s truly comforting that someone so capable is by my side.”

“You suddenly sound like one of those noble types now...”

“And if you’re so confident in your abilities, I’m sure you know how to escape this Demon King’s top-floor chamber, yes?”

“I can’t exactly guarantee anything, but...”

In a room bound in countless hands studded with golden eyes, Ather stroked his chin.

“...It doesn’t seem impossible.”

Even if in name only, he had once been called a Hero.

“With my experience, I know well how to deal with demon kings. It was I who cataloged all those damn curses and abnormal phenomena that shattered the world’s common sense and laws.”

“Then what do you think we should do to escape from here?”

“We have to make it close its eyes.”

“I’ve been considering that too.”

“I had no doubt you would.”

Though they were both captured by the Demon King, the situation hadn’t spiraled into complete disaster—because the two captured were Aram and Ather.

A Saintess who had mastered countless mysteries and theories, and a royal archivist so jaded by fighting demon kings that he’d grown sick of them—it was quite the formidable pairing.

“First and foremost, the most important point is that the Evil God is still a divinity. And divinity is fate, nature, and at the same time, mystery. And these mystery-bound beings with reason—they all place great importance on rules.”

“I don’t know if Argio, in his current state, really retains proper reason, but I do agree with the core idea. Even if he seems to have lost his mind and gone mad, a god is still a god. No matter how far he falls, he’s still smarter than us.”

“Besides, maybe due to my teacher’s influence, this Evil God showed clear traces of mercy toward us. Whether that was arrogance or affection, I can’t say—but I believe there’s value in taking advantage of it. We need to understand the Evil God’s behavior patterns. Do you have any organized intel?”

“Now that’s my specialty. Of course, the time he spent sealed must’ve brought changes—he was clearly different from the version I remembered. But I don’t believe his core essence has changed.”

Ather rummaged through his clothes and soon pulled out a thick stack of documents.

“This is my analysis of the magicians’ research journals—the ones who tried to bring down the Creator.”

“Where did you get this?”

“In my era, another word for ‘Hero’ was vagrant or drifter. This kind of thing is part of a hero’s basic literacy. I apologize for not sharing it earlier—circumstances were urgent.”

“So where did you—no, never mind. This is... fascinating. If the situation weren’t what it is, I’d love to spend a month poring over it. I’ll ask for it later.”

Staring intently at the document, Aram narrowed her eyes.

“Hmm... Isn’t this the key part of the diagram? It seems the magicians tried to channel the Evil God’s rage toward the Creator—and I think this is the component that induced that reaction.”

“As expected of a Saintess.

Yes, that’s correct.

The magicians aimed to use us as power sources to weaponize the Evil God of Wrath.

So they had no choice but to use such aggressive structures.

If we start from here and dig deeper...”

Like scholars engaging in a debate, the two began to methodically analyze the situation.

Their discussion ranged from “What mechanisms drive the Evil God of Wrath?” to “What must be done to avoid the Evil God’s surveillance and the prison of hands?”

“...Then perhaps we should insert this structure over here. If we adapt pattern 31-4982, it might work better. That way, we can use space 952.”

“But that would affect the structure in space 952-21-424.”

“Ah, you’re right. Then let’s adjust and use 933-4982-11 instead. That one should be safe, right? Hmm, in that case, we’ll need to...”

Aram and Ather used different conceptual languages.

They had to rely solely on shared concepts—numbers and patterns—to communicate their ideas.

That made the work more complex, but their speed never faltered.

“Perfect.”

“Let’s run.”

Thus, under the Evil God’s watchful eyes, they forced all its gazes closed, immobilized its hands by fixing them in space, and used its own divine mysteries against it to escape from the attic at the top of the tower.

Of course, that didn’t mean the Evil God let them go so easily.

“―Aagh, it’s chasing us! The hands are chasing us!!”

“This was expected. No matter what happens, I will at least get you to the first floor.”

“Left at the corner! Then right! Then straight for 341 steps! Then turn right!!”

“You’re like a seasoned forest guide.”

Even as he trembled, Ather was awed by how well Aram knew the entire castle.

She had roamed the amusement park before meeting him in the Black Forest, and had already mapped the structure of the Demon King’s castle, transformed by his resurrection.

Even as they ran, the hands continued to pursue them.

“Hold on.”

KAAAAANG—!!!

“Excuse me.”

“Ugh, I’ll go on ahead!”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Ather used a weapon he had acquired earlier to strike them down.

Though it wasn’t his usual greatsword and felt unfamiliar, he had once been called Hero.

He was well-versed in fending off a Demon King’s onslaught under bad conditions.

“Trap ahead in 813 steps!!”

“Noted!!”

Aram led the way through the maze-like halls.

Ather slashed down any hand that came near.

Meanwhile, Aram weakened the Evil God’s power so Ather could keep striking.

“If you’re weakening it anyway, couldn’t you {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} make it stop coming altogether?!”

“If I could, would we even be in this mess?!

I’m running out of divine power to fly, so carry me!

From here on, I’ll have to guide us step by step!”

“I never thought I’d be so grateful for the Saintess’s small frame...!!”

Ather scooped up Aram with one hand.

Thankfully, he primarily fought with just one arm.

To Ather, Aram weighed almost nothing.

“I’m not a burden, am I?”

“Not unless you count the fact that I’ve only got one arm free now.”

“If that arm gets torn off, I’ll reattach it for you! Just block them!”

“This is why people say Saints are terrifying...!!”

Grumbling at the orders from on high, Ather still obeyed.

And now with her body freed, Aram rapidly constructed more complex patterns.

So much divine power surged within her that her eyes turned bloodshot.

“...Right here, to the right!!”

“...?!”

She led him toward a wall.

Ather looked baffled—but his body moved regardless.

The wall of the Demon King’s castle began to recede, like a living thing.

“This is insane.”

“Follow my lead.”

“Of course.”

Now with both hands free, Aram infiltrated the castle’s internal authority.

A path opened wherever she directed.

Ather sprinted with all his might.

Aram continued to find the way.

Having overused her access rights, Aram began to weep tears of blood.

Ather asked her,

“Are you really okay to keep going like this?”

“Getting caught again would be worse.”

“That’s true.”

“Now down to the left.”

“Yes.”

The pursuing hands only grew fiercer.

Their claws sharpened—and eventually, they even sprouted red fur.

They looked more like a dragon’s hands than a human’s.

At that point, capture meant no guarantee of survival.

The mercy they remembered from the Evil God came with a human form.

One mistake now would not be forgiven.

When they were finally near the first floor’s exit—

“...!!”

Boom—KUGUGUGUNG—!!!

“This is...!”

“It seems the main body has caught on.”

“I thought he’d be slower than this...!”

“He is still a god, after all.”

The space distorted—corridors twisted and collapsed.

“If we delay any longer, we truly won’t make it out.”

“Put me down. It’s time.”

“Good luck.”

Ather lowered Aram.

She didn’t look back.

She dashed into the warped space.

From her footsteps, celestial patterns of moonlight bloomed like nebulas.

Aram used her teacher’s divine power to find a path.

Her small body and vast divinity made it possible—but she couldn’t include Ather in that method.

They had to walk different paths.

"......"

It hadn’t been something they agreed on aloud.

But they both understood.

Their vision soon became completely blocked.

“...Haa...”

Ather wiped his bloodstained face with an exhausted hand.

“...Just when I’d finally found a companion, I’m alone again.”

“Oh dear, how pitiable.”

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to show up.”

In a small prison sealed by the Evil God’s hands, a familiar figure approached with a smile.

The Evil God—now resembling the final saint Ather once knew.

A man adorned in gold and jewels, long red hair braided to the floor, barefoot, pacing the prison of hands—stood before Ather and looked up at him.

“Why didn’t you call me this time?”

“What reason would I have to call you, considering what happened last time?”

“You dislike places like this, don’t you?”

“...Yes, I do.”

His stomach churned.

The rippling prison of flesh reminded him of the thorn cage.

Voices echoed.

Curses rotted the soul.

Who did they come from?

Ather wanted to go mad.

“Wouldn’t it be easier that way?”

"......"

“You’d only need to cry like a beast and writhe in agony. Isn’t that a beast’s privilege? To not have to think too hard. To have no need for ideals, or malice. To simply groan, guided by instinct—that’s the convenient strength of a beast.”

“...Who are you?”

Even so, Ather chose to suffer, endure, and embrace malice.

“The person I know... treated me with more respect.”

“I am that very person.”

“You’re... a little different.”

“A little different, yes.”

A cold, massive hand reached out and gently cupped Ather’s face.

“You’re the one who called me.”

"......"

“Isn’t that right, my friend?”

It was devastating.

“...Yes.”

He had been a Hero.

But he could not withstand eternity—and so he had called forth the Evil God.