Trapped in a prison of thorns, he called to the evil god and begged for mercy.

"That was my sin."

If only he had conducted himself better, or been strong enough to ignore it all. Then he wouldn’t have ended up imprisoned. He shouldn’t have dared to invoke the evil god, drunk on pain. Who knew what disaster would follow?

And to beg for mercy in that state—he shouldn’t have done that either.

"I know. Evil gods are always like that. Even if you pray for happiness, they never grant it straightforwardly. They always find a way to twist it—granting the most grotesque mercy possible, within the rules, to see how much more miserable you can become."

"But wasn’t that the mercy you wanted?"

"Yes, it was. I wanted a pain greater than what I’d felt when I was locked in the thorn prison. Even that would’ve been a reward to me. I was already mad. I was exhausted. Any change at all would’ve been salvation."

Pain, when eternal, becomes unbearably dull. That was Ather’s torment. He had wished for a hell even worse than the one he was trying to escape, and in that madness, he dared ask the evil god for mercy.

"But what did you give me?"

He had truly given him salvation.

"You were merciful. You were kind. That made it all the more horrifying."

"You were too precious to simply kill, weren’t you?"

"That day, I realized you were truly an evil god. You should’ve just killed me. Do you know how much I resent you?"

"I know well, foolish one. Even while resenting me, you believe in me—just because I reshaped your little world. How weak and blind humans are..."

"That day, you became my new god."

Ather was a ghost of the old age—one raised in an era where religion was inescapable. His first god had been cast out by human hands, and that god had abandoned all of his children. He believed there was no more faith to follow.

And yet, this wretched Demon King had reached out a hand. Had restored a broken world and become a new object of faith. That brought Ather a peace so damnable he could hardly stand it.

"...Where did the Argio I knew go?"

Inevitable, shallow hatred slipped out.

"Where is my friend?"

He had already known it would come to this.

"He was a god, yes—but he was human."

"Why don’t you think I am?"

"Because you’re not human."

“......”

Golden eyes gleamed with malice as he stared at Ather like a beast.

"...Ah, you wretched puppet of my foul father..."

Crk—

His claw dug into Ather’s face.

"Human, human, human. Yes. Human."

Blood streamed down Ather’s face from the embedded claws. Red blood.

"Those damnable seeds that covered the world—twisted and ruined me, burned the forest with my family in it. You’ve seen it clearly, haven’t you? How could I possibly be human?"

His voice brimmed with hatred.

"You cast me out. Burned me. Tore me apart with my own family’s teeth. I curse you. I resent you. I love you. I hate you. I loathe you. You who will once again tear out my throat—how dearly I adore you."

“......”

"Are you listening? My friend. My little friend. My filthy, pathetic doll."

A smiling face muttered curses.

"Did you come to kill me?"

"...I assumed you would already know."

"Arrogant one. I remember you—but I am not your friend. I want to forget you. That alone is so difficult."

"I see."

"Why did you call me? You shouldn’t have. Why did you summon me... Do you regret opening the coffin door now?"

From the evil god’s eyes, golden tears of blood flowed.

"I hate the world. I resent my father. You treated me so cruelly. You, who molded the very disaster, never even bothered to care for me."

“......”

"My sibling tore out my throat to give birth to me, but wasn’t it you who gave that seed? It was your seed. Your tree. The fruit you forced into being."

“......”

"Yes, my father. My mother. My creators. Ah, why were you so harsh with me... Was it because I was a beast? Because I wasn’t human? Then what am I?"

His claw slid downward, leaving a long scar across Ather’s face.

"A toy? No. You are my parents. You molded me. Gave me life."

"I'm sorry."

“......”

His hand dropped.

"...Why won’t you even let me be angry?"

Those brilliant golden eyes were hollow.

"An individual may be good, but a crowd is evil. Ah, yes, that’s it. That’s what you are."

“......”

"I love you. This is inevitable. This is fate. This is humanity. Horrible things. Lovely things. Utterly atrocious, yet they leave me with lingering attachment."

“......”

"It hurts..."

A pale hand touched his own face. Then, with force—

Crack—

“......”

He snapped his own neck and died.

"Ah."

Ather reached out, but dared to pull his hand back before touching the corpse.

Argio’s form fell in the prison of hands, and the writhing golden-eyed hands slowly devoured it like mire. Starting from the grotesquely twisted neck, they grabbed his shoulders, held his hands, wrapped around his waist... all so slowly...

Soon, only Ather remained in the prison of hands.

"...So this is your will."

He loved humans instinctively, yet couldn’t bear their horror, so he chose to die by his own hand. That way, only rage and hatred would remain inside him.

“......”

Ather collapsed within the prison made of hands. The withered, tree-like hands occasionally poked at him, gripped his shoulder—but they no longer harmed him. They merely confined him.

That, he could not bear.

‘...In the end, even this is different...’

It was still a narrow, thorny prison, but unlike the magicians’, this one felt like a joke.

They should’ve wounded him more. Burrowed into his flesh, crawled into his guts. That would’ve been better.

‘If only it had been a complete hell.’

Ather, who had been sitting blankly, opened his mouth again.

"...You wanted to be remembered in history as evil, didn’t you?"

He wanted to respect that.

"I wanted to give you what I couldn’t back when the Black Forest burned."

But he still wondered.

"You could’ve escaped the forest that day, but you burned with it instead. If you were so furious, why didn’t you leave and massacre every last °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° human? Isn’t that right?"

But he hadn’t.

"I know the answer."

He understood the law of nature and the instinct of humans.

"You didn’t want to become hideous."

Because he knew—gritting his teeth and enduring would only repeat the same tragedy endlessly. Because all of it was a cycle of nature and a history doomed to repeat. He didn’t want to be swept up in that meaningless flow of time.

Ather let out a bitter laugh.

"So a dragon is still a dragon, after all."

That noble insight was indescribable. It felt arrogant, and at the same time, reasonable. Like a true dragon, he raised his own slayer—unwilling to remain a mangy ghost.

Perhaps he could have remained in nature as an ideal apostle of the gods.

“......”

And so, he felt sorry.

‘...I wanted to honor your desire to remain evil...’

Yet even so, weren’t we the ones who dared be called heroes, because we sought to save everyone?

***

"There’s something strange."

Dan Haera continued explaining to her friend, Seo Seo-hee.

"The Sun Church’s priest-in-training Cha I-Sol, a known apostle of Black Cloak, doesn’t bear any hostility toward the god of dreams. Apparently, she feels no sense of danger either—and is being safely protected within the Sun Church..."

"Really? She’s not doing anything?"

"They say there’s no sign of any impulsive behavior."

"That’s definitely odd."

Seo Seo-hee, Guildmaster of Justitia, quickly reached a conclusion.

"Does that mean Black Cloak is a higher-tier being than the god of dreams?"

"What’s more surprising is that Black Cloak isn’t hostile toward the god of dreams either."

"Didn’t Black Cloak used to enjoy protecting Earth?"

"Beings of such immense mystery don’t change direction so easily."

"Then it could mean he’s judged that the god of dreams hasn’t negatively impacted Earth yet."

"It might be a sign that this subjugation effort will end peacefully."

"Almost like a prophecy. Or maybe..."

Seo Seo-hee recalled a certain shadowy temple.

"Maybe he’s aligned with the god of death."

The god of death had once been categorized as an evil divinity. Even now, he was officially labeled as such, but few citizens actually considered him a threat. Death was, after all, an inevitable concept.

"Wasn’t the god of dreams actually called the god of wrath?"

"Right. If it’s a case similar to the god of death, then Black Cloak’s attitude makes sense."

"Either way, it seems there’s no harm coming to humans. Though that raw malice might still need to be refined."

Just as the god of death was once treated that way, they couldn’t deny the existence of a negative divinity solely because it was negative. Those known as Symbols of Eternity understood this very well.

"Maybe we’ll end up coexisting with the god of wrath too?"

"It’s possible. After all, people need to live with anger."

"...In truth, very few people today even know how to be angry anymore."

"Now I get why Black Cloak is just watching this unfold."

"Maybe he thinks Earth actually needs a god of wrath right now. And as a higher-tier being who can step in at any time, he’s just watching."

"And honestly, this subjugation effort hasn’t been all that impossible for us, right?"

"God, you really... wow... Since it’s not your job..."

"So are you saying you’re not gonna do it?"

"...Seriously."

Seo Seo-hee let out a hollow laugh.

"Well, let’s do our best."

After all, hadn’t they made a "Promise" for this?

"By the way, why do you think the Collector’s Guild Master is participating in this subjugation?"

"He’s generously supporting us, so let’s just let him do what he wants."

"That guy is seriously something else."

***

Traditionally, animals that helped humans were seen as auspicious beings.

‘Honestly, it’s one of those universal elements across East and West—across dimensions, even.’

Maybe that’s why, in old fairy tales and legends, animals helping humans always made at least one appearance. Birds guiding the lost, horses carrying the wounded...

So Aram thought:

"Your role is important."

"...I understand, but really, we’re not supposed to talk?"

"No, there’ll be a time when you should. But not now. If you speak from the start, the sense of mystery for the visitors drops drastically."

"Ah, right... I see..."

Gargar, the chieftain of the Wolf Tribe, awkwardly accepted Aram’s words.

"Well, it’s not a hard job."

Staying quiet and helping humans—wasn’t such a tall order.

"You seem pretty battered after escaping from the Demon King’s castle. Are you sure we should proceed as planned?"

"You don’t need to worry about me. These wounds, this humiliation and disgrace—if the mission succeeds, they’ll all be healed naturally. What I need right now is smooth execution."

"Are all humans like you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, no. Just saying."

Gargar, looking sheepish, flicked his ears and glanced at his kin.

"Well, that’s what she says."

"Rrrr..."

"We’re not going to kill, we’re going to help. So put on a less-threatening face."

"Chieftain, our faces are just built this way."

"Tsk, no. Didn’t you hear what the Saintess said? Be auspicious animals."

"How are we supposed to look harmless with these huge bodies...?"

"You can do it. Just crumple your face a bit and try."

The foxes laughed at the wolves.

"See, all brawn and no brains."

"What do you expect from wolves? We’ll be the true heroes of this mission, so keep that in mind."

"Gosh, so barbaric. With that gruff attitude, how are you going to win any human hearts..."

The wolves couldn’t take it anymore.

"You think we wanted to be this big?!"

"My, do you really think it’s just about size?"

As the wolves and foxes started bickering again, Aram looked toward Valf the crow.

"...I’ll be counting on you."

"...I’ll do what I can."

Thus began what they called the “Auspicious Animal” operation.