Joo-Hyun, after hearing the story, made a strange expression and spoke.
"...Maybe if you softened your tone a little, it wouldn't be so bad?"
"My tone has always been like this. What can I do?"
"Exactly. That... is something you should do something about."
That was something Joo-Hyun always said.
"These damned holy beings really need to attend a speech academy."
"I consider myself fairly well-spoken, actually."
"That's not the issue and you know it. When you speak, Mister Gio, there's always something vague and ominous about it. Whether your intentions are good or bad, it feels... unsettling."
"Hmm, and as Giovanni?"
"You're a bit better as Giovanni, but still not what I'd call normal or clear. All three of your selves—Gio, Sergio, and Giovanni—your tone always has this massive distance to it."
As Sergio, he felt like an ominous evil spirit clumsily mimicking a human. As Giovanni, he came across as an inherently different, sacred being. And as for Argio—it didn't even need to be said.
"No need to say it, huh."
"I refrained because I thought you'd pretend to be hurt."
Argio really did seem like a wicked god.
'Even I was startled the first time I met him.'
It wasn't the same as Sergio's ominousness, which emerged from an uncanny silence. Argio's sweet voice burrowed into the ears and brain like a devil's. His golden eyes, which held Gio within, were those of a predator targeting prey. It made her instinctively take a step back.
'A classic image of an evil god who chases only self-centered pleasures...'
She could understand how the family of animals inside the frame must have felt.
"Even just speaking like this would get you halfway there. The reason they can't easily shake their fear is because you speak too much like an evil god. Just... try to adjust your tone a little."
"It's not 'like an evil god.' I am an evil god."
And that wasn't something he could help.
"This is beyond my control."
"I don't get it. Why not?"
"I'm filtered. I guess you could call it... filtering."
"...?"
Filtering?
"What do you mean, filtering? Are you saying your tone and behavior are forcibly corrected? Is that why you can't help but talk like that, even in front of those poor animal friends?"
"You understood correctly."
"But why?"
"It's the same reason the Black Cloak seen through the portrait is always so stiff and ominous. It took me a while to recognize that difference myself."
It was something he realized while dealing with the Collector's Guild staff.
"Because I'm a portrait, it seems that unless I undergo a certain kind of 'management,' there are issues with my tone, atmosphere—many things. That was true no matter which Gio I appeared as."
When filtered through the 'Portrait of Gio,' the central frame, even things like tone and atmosphere became more refined—let alone the matter of 'class' or whatever nonsense.
Though it still left plenty to be called 'urban legend-worthy,' it was better than nothing.
"But if I move directly from this hut or speak while trapped inside the frame, it's a different story. I become a more typical, rigid 'Gio.' I can't even properly feel the dissonance myself."
"So that's why you call it filtering..."
It was absurd.
"Why does something like that happen?"
"Because I'm a portrait?"
"Can't you do something about that?"
"I don't think it's going to be easy."
"Unbelievable."
Joo-Hyun started to feel sorry for Gio.
'...It really does seem to be related to his identity as a portrait, which makes it even sadder.'
That's what a portrait is, after all. Fundamentally, a picture meant to capture someone's most ideal moment.
In other words, it was her theory that Gio was 'filtered' like this because he'd been taxidermied into a fixed state of appearance or perception at some moment in time.
"..."
And at the same time, it made things difficult.
"Then it really will be hard."
"It would seem so."
"Hmm, couldn't you just... be a merciful ruler?"
"An evil god?"
"At the very least, I don't think you can be a merciful friend to them. You want an equal relationship, but no matter how much their fear fades, they'll still revere you."
"I'll leave that as one of the joys of the future."
Gio, once chastised by friends for his impatience, had decided after some reflection to take things slowly.
Joo-Hyun and Yoo Seong-Woon were particularly thoughtful people, burdened with the need to define relationships and existence. But Gio had no intention of forcing such thoughts on his animal friends.
If it was fun, that was enough—for him and for them.
"A servant who's also a friend, a friend who's also family—why not?"
"See? You're secretly greedy, Mister Gio."
"It's natural to want to have everything if you can."
Especially with Argio.
"..."
"You look like you have something to say."
"That's dopamine addiction."
"Ahem. Quiet."
How dare she reduce sacred social interaction to mere chemical secretion?
***
There were once those who were called heroes.
All the beasts of the world had become monsters, attacking everything human. People were forced to live amidst starvation and chaos, groaning beneath a plague that devoured both flesh and soul. In desperation, they pleaded to the strongest among them.
"Please, slay those savage beasts."
"Oh, heroes blessed by the gods..."
"Please—we beg you. End this war."
There were countless sacrifices.
Though praised with the noble title of heroes, they were only human. They screamed in pain. They had nightmares in fear. It was not uncommon for conflict among heroes to escalate into bloodshed.
More than anything, they learned the truth.
"...This is real?"
"It's just another trick by the Demon King to fool us. Don't be deceived!"
"But... you know it too. This isn't a fabrication."
The evil god they believed they had fought turned out to be a monster born from humanity's ignorance and selfishness. It was all humanity's doing. Because they didn't recognize a saint as a saint, because they burned the forest not knowing it was their last chance—this disaster had begun.
"What are we supposed to do...?"
"I... I can't accept this."
The heroes fell into confusion.
"Then what does it mean to be a hero?"
They were just people who had made it this far out of sheer goodness.
They had come to save the world, their families, their friends. Though driven to the edge, they still had the reason to distinguish right from wrong.
"This doesn't make sense. We were the ones at fault from the beginning. Even the beasts speaking human language stemmed from our greed... and it's still the same now."
"Why did we come this far? To protect the same humans who pushed us into death? We bled and suffered for this? Why?"
"It's awful. Truly awful. I don't think I can fight anymore. If we must keep repeating these filthy sins just to live, then the world would be better off crumbling."
And yet, there were those who grit their teeth.
"You call that an excuse? We came this far—what does the wrongdoing of people long dead have to do with us?"
"Have you forgotten our purpose? We endured all that to make the world better than it was. Yes, the past humans sinned. But how can you ignore the far greater sins of the fallen saint?"
"Even if sin is required to survive, it can be limited to the few. Let the guilty and we who fight carry the burden. Innocents shouldn't have to die."
It was a long conflict, but the conclusion was the same.
"..."
"...We seal the evil god. Everything else comes afterward."
The immediate disaster had to be stopped.
"We all came here because we had something we wanted to protect—family, friends, lovers. Even after learning the dirty truth, we're still here... in the end, for ourselves."
And so, the heroes succeeded in sealing the evil god Argio.
"...Something's wrong."
"The beasts' curse hasn't ended."
"The plague is still spreading...!"
Someone cried out.
"That's obvious! Humanity caused all this in the first place!!"
The true cause lay in the world's primal origin. The second was burning the saint who held that horror at bay. The final cause was humanity's refusal to distinguish beginning from process, and dumping [N O V E L I G H T] all blame onto the evil god.
"But, but...! Even if we created the fallen saint, Argio still caused many disasters! He incited beasts and led massacres! You all know that!"
"That doesn't matter! Look properly at the relics' stories! Argio wasn't the origin—he was added to the process! Sealing him won't stop a disaster we started!"
"Then why did we suffer, bleed, and endure nightmares?!"
Their grief exploded into rage.
Argio, the god of pain and fury, had been sealed—yet even at his tomb, the heroes turned on each other.
What could be more disastrous?
"..."
"..."
And still, the evil god was sealed.
"...Let's return to the village."
"We need to report to the court."
"At least the massacres caused by the evil god will stop."
"We've accomplished that much."
Many disasters remained, countless tasks left unfinished—but they had sealed Argio, the one behind the slaughters. That alone should've made the world a little easier to live in.
But even that turned out differently.
"Argio appeared in the village of Zibia!"
"What?! But we sealed the evil god!"
"They say a massive massacre took place!"
"No way...!"
All those massacres—
"..."
"We have to go now—maybe the seal broke!"
"I was the one who led the sealing spell."
"But still—!"
"If it had broken, I'd know."
The massacres and wars they had blamed on Argio—most had actually been started by humans themselves, using the 'evil god' as an excuse for their rage and greed. Perhaps not all, but many.
"It's all meaningless now."
The heroes were hollowed out.
"If we'd known this, we wouldn't have sealed him. We suffered so much to do it. Should've just let him burn the world."
"Don't say that. Argio was behind many of the horrors. We prevented something far worse."
"I... I don't know anymore."
And the people's fury turned on the heroes.
"You said you sealed the evil god!"
"They lied! They were deceived by him!"
"No, they must be his followers. Kill them all!!"
Fear, too, turned against them.
"It's over—they'll come kill us!"
"I always thought they were strange. That power—how can it be human?"
"They must be monsters too! Kill them first before we all die!!"
Some heroes resisted, but were killed. They were human, after all. When betrayed by those they sought to protect, they broke.
Most chose to flee. They hid, pretending they'd never been heroes. They wandered, always pursued.
"..."
But they were all caught.
"...Ha..."
Except one.
Thanks to hiding in the tomb of the evil god. But he had once been a famous hero—so he too was discovered. Suspected of being a servant of the evil god, a subjugation force came for him.
"So you were here after all, vile follower of the evil god...!"
"Kill him! He'll become a seed of evil!"
"He's a sower of heresy and lies!!"
It should've been his last chance to die.
"...No, this is perfect."
"Chief Elder...! Are you going to spare him?"
"He has use. Bring all the materials we secured earlier."
"Surely not..."
"Here, we will write a new history."
He and the 'materials' were made into pillars of the 'new world.'
"With these monstrous ones, it may not be impossible to steal divine power..."
The man was sealed into a coffin shaped like a goddess. He wasn't the only one. Surrounded by blades and tendrils that tore at flesh and blood, he could no longer think clearly.
"GAAAAAAHHH! AAAAAAAAAGH!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"
"You still have the strength to scream? Wonderful. This time we might really succeed."
"GRAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
"Seal it tight. So it never escapes, even after countless years."
"Please... please stop...!!"
"From now on... we will kill God. And build a new paradise."
"Ghh...! Nnggh..."
Through pain and hatred, the man thought:
'In the end... everything will fail.'
The world was a mess from the beginning to the end. Even the lives that composed it were chaos. Whatever they meant to build using the materials—the 'heroes'—it would never succeed.
And then darkness came.
"..."
Time passed.
"..."
And kept passing.
"...Nggh..."
...Why can't I die?
Trapped in a crown of thorns, the man wept tears of blood.
***
He finally called for the evil god.
-x-X-x-
"We've found the place with the highest probability."
The crow brought good news.
"There's nothing in the forest that could summon you, and up above, the false world is no longer habitable. We searched what little space remains... and concluded that only your tomb is a viable location."
"My tomb?"
"The place known as the Tomb of the Evil God. It's said you once resided there."
"Ah..."
Gio looked baffled.
"Why would it be there, of all places?"
At best, he expected it to be somewhere in the black forest he hadn't fully explored, or hidden in that fake world above. Any of those would have been far more comfortable and safe than Argio's so-called "home."
"You're certain it's there?"
"If not there, then we judged it would be impossible to summon you at all."
"I see."
Then chances were, whoever was there hadn't chosen to be.
"Thank you for the answer, Valf."
"...It is an honor."
"You didn't go there yourself?"
Valf answered cautiously.
"It was not a space that lowly beings like us could dare enter. If you desire it, we could attempt it... but it would mean turning the impossible into possible. It may displease you, but I had no choice but to prioritize the safety of the crowfolk."
"So you ran?"
Wise.
When it's no good, you run.
As always, Argio let out a light chuckle.
"Well done."
"...I'm sorry the result may not be satisfactory."
"I'm not going to eat you over it, no need to be so afraid. Since you brought a good result, I'll give you a gift in return. What would you like?"
"With your mercy, may I dare ask a question?"
"As many as you like, my friend."
"..."
After a pause to organize his thoughts, the crow spoke.
"Do you like this world?"
"A unique question."
Gio stroked his chin.
"It is my homeland. How could I not love it? I have loved it for a long time, and I will still love it even after an eternity. Is that answer sufficient?"
"Then... would you become this world's god once more?"
"Our beast friends are truly fearless."
Even while seeing him as the 'evil god,' they would so easily entrust their fate to him. The wolves did so because once they trusted, they trusted forever. The foxes because they had been driven to the brink and were forced to grovel.
But the crow's choice was unexpected.
"Why did you make that choice?"
"It's the same answer Gargar, chieftain of the wolves, gave."
"You ask for the future? Even knowing what I might do with it?"
"...You..."
Trailing off, the crow confessed his perspective.
"You showed us something very different from the wrath recorded in history."
"Could be an act."
"All life acts—to survive."
Whether Gio's kindness and affection were real or fake wasn't important to the crow. What mattered was whether his embrace was falsehood or truth.
And the crows concluded it was truth. Because he was simply too different from the fury recorded in history. The very fact that he could even pretend such a thing gave them hope.
"I remember more of the black forest's history than any other beast. I know more about the 'erased wrath' than anyone. In the records, you were a cursed evil spirit, mad with hate. A monster with hundreds of arms, a calamity devouring the world with tens of thousands of mouths."
But the evil god they saw in person was nothing like that.
"You are not an evil spirit, but a living being. Those hundreds of arms formed from rage—I see none. And that small mouth, no bigger than a human's... perhaps it expresses cruel amusement, but it has not torn anyone apart alive."
"My apologies, but you would taste awful. All thick fur and scrawny underneath—what nonsense are you spouting?"
"Even such jokes are unlike the records. Perhaps it's a shred of mercy toward lowly beings, but I imagine you want me to think of you with affection."
"..."
Gio mused internally.
...Our beast friends have grown quite sharp with their jabs...
It reminded him of the way Joo-Hyun and Yoo Seong-Woon laughed off his nonsense. It was endearing. And strangely touching.
Maybe they didn't start resembling those two. Maybe I've been shaping them into that image.
While Gio was caught in that casual thought, the crow continued.
"You showed that you are capable of kindness and affection, and that those things are real. We have seen and heard that with our own eyes and ears. That alone was enough for us."
If he was anything other than a god of endless death, pain, and wrath, then that alone offered far more hope than the bleak future before them.
"So please, govern us. Return to this barren and twisted land of rebellion. Even if you came home because someone invoked a name I no longer remember... now, it is we who beg for your mercy."
"You are brave. And wise."
He wanted to ruffle the crow's soft, plush feathers out of sheer affection. This crow was larger and more luxuriant than any on Earth.
But I mustn't. He's the 114-year-old chieftain, after all.
Because of his instinct to treat every beast as his 'child,' Argio was always filled with the urge to dote, regardless of age or title. With miraculous self-restraint, he maintained their dignity.
"...A sealed evil god shunned by the dimensions is now asked to be a patron deity. What a curious tale. I love this homeland too dearly to refuse. You need not fear."
"Then... will you be our god?"
"I already am. You were born from my death."
"..."
Chieftain Valf blinked.
"...We were born from your death, not your footsteps?"
"Yes."
"You truly were human."
"I was."
"...That is a great sin."
Valf was indeed wise. From just that short statement, he seemed to understand what humans had done. He bowed his head.
"I see a father."
"Yes, my son."
So precious.
"You may see me however you wish. If you desire a friend, I shall appear as one. If a father, then that too. If a god who will reshape the world—then so be it."
Because Gio was exceptional. So gifted that Joo-Hyun praised him and Seong-Woon applauded. He could do everything himself from start to finish, so his image changed depending on the viewer.
And so it would for them as well.
"See me however you like."
"I shall."
The crow saw the greed behind the evil god's amusement. How boundless and vibrant this being was. Chieftain Valf did not doubt Argio's omnipotence.
"What should I call you?"
"I am Gio."
"...'Gio'?"
The crow tilted his head.
"You call yourself a beast."
"Did you know? I don't have a name."
The name he was born with—he discarded it. Since then, no one had given Argio a new one. He had lived his life as a brutal beast, and Gio was content with that.
"So whatever you call me becomes my name."
It was the pinnacle of convenience. This unparalleled uniqueness brought Gio much joy. He loved his own versatility.
"Isn't it easy?"
"How can a living being have no name?"
"No, anything in existence can be my name."
"I see. The same logic as before."
"You are a very clever crow."
"Thank you, Father."
"That's fine too."
Gio let his imagination fly.
"Yes... in that case..."
"..."
"...Wonderful."
Then he smiled.
"I like it."
He finally grasped what he had to do.
Or rather, he'd had a plan for some time. It just took longer than expected to adjust to his changed homeland and factor in the new variables.
"Would it be alright if I overturned this world however I like?"
"I believe it will be better than now."
"You don't believe. You know. And I affirm that rationality of yours."
"May I ask... what exactly do you plan to do?"
"I'll do what I do best."
It was simple.
"I'll paint. And receive their rage."
Gio would turn this place into a dungeon—and become its Demon King.
"By the way, do you like amusement parks?"
***
"Meow."
When Argio returned to his 'home,' Dana was sitting at the entrance.
"Meow."
"Yes, good work."
He cupped his daughter's face and gently stroked it.
"How many strays did you find?"
"Mmmmmmmm..."
"A lot, huh? Probably because the world ended."
What to do with all those strays was now Gio's responsibility. Many of the remaining creatures in this narrow and barren land had agreed to follow him, and he would have to answer that trust.
But first, I should meet the one who called me.
Though he was already here, the voice that had first summoned him no longer echoed. As Joo-Hyun suggested, maybe the caller had died in the meantime—but anyone who knew the name "Argio" wouldn't die so easily.
What it meant—he'd have to see for himself.
"Dana, go back to the house. There are probably more strays inside than you think. And some of them you won't like, so there's no need to exhaust yourself."
"Mngmng..."
"Alright, we'll have a delicious meal when you return."
Gio grasped the hem of the black cloak and opened a shadow. Dana slipped right in. She would probably return to her father, snuggle up with affection, and enjoy a lovely meal once Gio laid out the ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) table.
So cute.
Perhaps cuteness really did scale with size. Dana, now as big as an Earth wolf, offered unmatched hugging joy. The plushness of her fur, maintained by the Sun God's teddy bear, made it feel like sinking into bliss itself.
Feeling proud of his daughter's fur, Gio called out.
"Honey, I'll need you."
"Rrrrrr..."
Honey popped right out of the hood and perched on Gio's shoulder as if it were the most natural thing. Touched by the majestic presence, Gio stepped into his "home."
"...It's been so long. And no one's been maintaining it, yet it still remains after the world's end. How curious. I don't recall doing anything special..."
Now called the Tomb of the Evil God, this place was riddled with curses, toxins, and traps—making it the most dangerous location in this dimension. Yet Gio felt only fondness.
Because it held memories.
"This is nice."
He was happy.
Back when I was consumed by rage, I couldn't even think of it as a home.
Formed from the cries of saints, from the world's wrath and pain—he had become the evil divine being known as Argio. Sometimes taking human form, but more often monstrous and demonic, with no reason left—only fury and hatred.
So it was only natural that Argio, now recovered and whole again, would find joy in feeling nostalgia.
"..."
The "home" was silent.
"...?"
And far more ruined than he remembered.
"What the hell, what happened to my house?"
Rumble rumble...
"What wretched bastard did this? Did tectonic shifts reach here too?"
Why had my sweet home turned into a demon's lair?
-x-X-x-
"It's truly an honor to meet you in person!"
At those words from Laami, chieftain of the Fox Tribe, Gargar, chieftain of the Wolf Tribe, wrinkled his nose.
"Why are you still in human form?"
"To appeal to the Evil God, of course. We foxes are always ready to cling to the strong, you know? If it guarantees even a sliver of mercy, staying transformed like this is no issue at all!"
"Calculating bastard..."
"Wolves are just stupid."
As the two young chieftains bared their fangs and growled, Valf, chieftain of the Crow Tribe, let out a long sigh.
"That's enough. We didn't gather here to trade petty insults. You're all chieftains responsible for your own kind—don't disgrace yourselves."
"...We're sorry, Elder."
"Apologies..."
As the two lowered their heads, Valf nodded.
"Then let's share our thoughts."
They had gathered to discuss how they should treat the "Evil God."
Considering that they hadn't held such a council in nearly thirty years, too busy managing and protecting their own tribes, it showed just how significant the Evil God's presence was to them.
Valf spoke first.
"I have decided to revere him as our progenitor god. It was a collective decision after discussion with the other crows. Yes, he is a dangerous being who may bring calamity... but the eye of the storm is always calm. So long as we can stay within it, loyalty will not be difficult."
Following the crow's stance, the wolf—after exchanging a glance with the fox—spoke as well.
"We wolves have decided to trust him."
"You mean the wolves' 'trust'? As in treating him as a friend or even family?"
"We understand the danger he poses."
The first time they saw him, the terror had been overwhelming. A human—extinct for all they knew—stood like a taxidermied corpse in the center of the black forest. His scent was complex and strange.
It didn't take long to conclude he was the Evil God, but the Gio they saw before them was far different from the Evil God of history. He had shown them gentle kindness.
"At the very least, I judged that the mercy he showed us was not a lie. The other wolves were wary at first, but now they've come to trust him. Gio treated us wolves as friends and gave us gifts beyond that. So we'll respond appropriately."
"Foolish as ever."
Laami narrowed her foxlike eyes in disapproval.
"The Evil God is still an Evil God. To treat such a being as a friend—at this point, that's borderline blasphemy. Loyalty can be a virtue, but it's also a weakness."
"Grrr...!! And what wise choice have you foxes made? You wag your tails like trained dogs, pretending to be human—"
"Temper, temper. Such lack of refinement."
The Fox Tribe chieftain clicked her tongue mockingly.
"He is a god. A new god who will rule us and this world now that the Creator is gone. Don't you agree, Mister Valf?"
"I don't think it's necessary to grovel excessively... but I agree. A certain reverence and distance is essential for lesser beings like us."
"See, even Mister Valf says so, Gargar. Of course, to wolves who cherish loyalty and friendship, our attitude might seem too submissive."
But they prided themselves on being pragmatic.
"Do you even understand the situation? The god who came to us—this world isn't something he can easily love. That's how history shaped it."
No one truly knew how the 'Evil God' came to be. Some records said he was a demon from the beginning of time, others claimed he was born from human greed.
But what mattered was this: he had been rejected by every living thing in this dimension and sealed away. No one knew why or how that seal was broken, nor what emotion drove him to seek them now—but it would be strange if he wasn't angry.
Even if he now served as their progenitor god, the tribes were born merely from the expression of his rage—not from purpose or intent.
"When I first learned of his return, I was sure he would bring fury. At best, I thought he'd offer wicked proposals or make this broken world even worse."
"But he didn't, did he?"
"That's exactly why it's frightening. Because I don't understand it."
Why did he show mercy and affection?
"It doesn't make sense."
Benevolence without logic only made them more anxious.
"I suspect that his kindness is just whimsy. Couldn't you feel it? His actions and attention revolve around interest. That means if we fail to keep him entertained, we may be discarded."
"Hah! So that's why you wag your tail and grovel? Have you no pride?"
"We're not stubborn wolves who live and die for their honor, you know? I'd rather beg for my family's safety than get butchered like a naive hunting dog."
"You foxes know nothing of honor... The weight of our trust is heavy enough to wager our lives. Even if Gio turns on us one day because he loses interest, we'll take responsibility for our choice."
"Does honor guarantee your tribe's survival?"
And so, the foxes grovelled—tails wagging low to the ground.
"If it ensures the safety of my family and my kits, I'll bare my belly. Fortunately, the god refused to eat sentient beings for now. So if wagging our paws a little earns his favor—then it's worth it."
"Favor? What favor? Becoming his pet?"
"If I can become his pet, that would be ideal. In fact, that's my current goal, Gargar!"
The foxes had been driven to the brink.
"If we can secure life and a shred of mercy, what's so bad about becoming pets? No, seriously. A pet is at least loved. I'll gladly accept even that much affection."
"You disgusting little things..."
Gargar grimaced. Seeing the tension rise, Valf intervened.
"You two should calm yourselves."
"..."
"..."
"Yes. That's better."
He understood why they were so agitated—after all, hope or disaster had suddenly dropped into their laps while they were awaiting death. But being swayed by emotion would not lead to the right conclusion.
"I believe all our perspectives have value."
Everyone was doing what they could.
"But there is one thing we all agree on."
"And what would that be, Elder?"
"That we must serve him."
Valf looked at Gargar.
"And I believe you wolves acknowledge that as well?"
"...Yes."
At Gargar's confirmation, Laami scoffed.
"Hmph. See? In the end, the wolves will tuck their tails too—after all their grand talk about friendship."
"'Friendship' was Gio's word first. What we want is a reliable ruler and loyal followers—just as wolves have always done."
"Such stiff-minded beasts, you wolves."
"You knew that already."
Unlike the foxes, who united only out of survival, wolves were born into packs. Following a strong leader and protecting the weak were customs etched into their very souls.
So the wolves were already prepared to serve a new leader. It wasn't submission like a vassal, but more akin to family and army. That's why they spoke of trust.
"To serve him is not incompatible with being family. And if family, then also friends."
Gargar didn't know it, but those were nearly Gio's own words. He continued with a firm face.
"Though of course, foxes might sell out even their families."
"It's not betrayal—it's strategy. We've never scammed our own kind. Most of our tricks were used on humans."
"Ugh. That's gross."
"What was that?"
As a second argument loomed, Valf turned to Laami.
"Even so, I don't think there's any need to grovel so much, Laami. If he truly becomes this world's patron deity, there will surely be blessings and mercy to follow."
"But how can we guarantee that? He is a cruel beast. Creatures like us could be swept away at a whim. We foxes—can't even protect our kits anymore."
They had to be desperate.
"Even successfully giving birth is rare now. And when we do... they die so easily. Do you know what it feels like—to bury the tiny bodies of your kits deeper and deeper into a den laced with poison?"
Among the three tribes, the Fox Tribe was closest to extinction. While wolves and crows were preparing for death, the foxes were already living it.
"We're not as strong as the wolves. We can't stomach poison. And unlike the crows, we lack the knowledge to create antidotes. All we can do is shapeshift—and even that's basic magic."
"...Laami..."
"Do you know what it takes—to feed poison to your own kits and watch them suffer just to build tolerance? I have to do my best. Whatever it takes."
"..."
Valf and Gargar fell silent. Valf, as someone who once cared for the young chieftains, and Gargar, as an old sparring partner, couldn't say a word.
The end of the world had become pitiful and miserable for those who survived.
"...What we're best at is appeasing the strong. Wolves may become the Evil God's fangs. Crows, his eyes. But foxes..."
"...I understand now."
In the end, her choice wasn't wrong either.
"I only said that out of concern. If you pander to him too much, you may be the first discarded. But if your choice was made with all that in mind—then I'll respect it."
"...Thank you."
"I only hope that in the coming age, we may become good subjects."
The wolf scoffed.
"Better than now, surely."
"Yes, indeed."
Thus, the beasts reached a consensus.
***
"Looks like..."
Gio blinked a few times as he looked around his home.
"Someone's been messing around in here."
"Rrrrrrr..."
"Don't get mad."
In a world this grim, an empty house getting looted was only natural.
"But I've no idea who did this."
It had never been a peaceful house—but now it was grotesque.
The ruin he remembered, back when he was alive, was inconvenient but at least filled with animals and nature. As the Evil God, it had been a haunted house soaked in poison and dread.
But this... isn't what I remember.
Blood and flesh were strewn everywhere. Discarded research papers. Scenes of something smashed to pulp. To Gio, it looked like the tragic end of a fanatical cult.
Looks like they turned on each other.
He could finally give it a name.
"...The last desperate frenzy of humans, I suppose."
"Rrrrr..."
"It leaves a bitter taste."
You always walk down the path that hurts you most.
***
The man suddenly thought he heard a human voice.
"..."
...A human?
Is there... someone else left?
-x-X-x-
The magicians of this world had a particularly twisted nature.
To become perfect, to reach the end—they would do anything. Things that would horrify most people, they performed without hesitation. Turning innocent people into experimental subjects and leaving them worse than dead was common practice.
Such people, in pursuit of abandoning a broken world and seeking a new one, set their eyes on "heroes."
"These ones are certainly sturdy."
"Elder, what shall we do with this one?"
"He is the strongest among the monsters, perfectly suited as the core. Hey, place that one up there. I will personally work on it."
"Yes, Elder."
The court magicians carried out their experiments in Argio's tomb, where the evil god had been sealed.
All the work previously hindered by ethical concerns was now completed easily—perhaps because of the chaotic state of the world, or perhaps because there was no one left to stop them from desecrating even the tomb of an evil god.
"The power here is thick, no doubt due to the seal on the evil god. Yes, this is good. A perfect place for us to inscribe a new history. If we use these monsters and the power of the evil god, perhaps even dragging the Creator God down into this land won't be a mere dream..."
It was absurd.
"To bring God down to the earth?"
To kill the Creator and steal His power to create a new world? Instead of trying to fix or cultivate the land their souls were already rooted in, they wanted to abandon it and build another?
"Idiots."
That could never be possible.
"What... what is this?!"
"Why is this happening?! What went wrong?!"
"N-No mistake! We succeeded in drawing down the Creator's power!"
"Then why, why is this...?!"
Naturally, their attempt ended in failure.
The man trapped in the narrow, dark thorn prison did not know the exact circumstances.
But he could guess: the magicians failed to kill God, and because of that, the Creator abandoned the world. Using fragments of the Creator's copied power, they attempted to construct a "new world"... only to give birth to a monstrous hell.
"That was always going to happen."
Humans could never harm a god.
"They called us monsters so many times, they must have forgotten what materials they were using in the first place."
Fools—such pitifully stupid creatures.
"Even though they were humans, not monsters..."
They were powerful enough not to be called human, but they were still human nonetheless. Any three-year-old would understand that a being born of the Creator cannot harm the Creator.
And above all—would the energy of the evil god, used as one of the ingredients, ever cooperate with the magicians?
"Of course not."
Laughter—cold, mocking laughter—swelled toward the magicians through the pain, the screams, the wails. It wasn't just the man's own. All the other "ingredients" trapped with him in the thorny prison gave their best to ridicule the magicians.
"You've failed, you bastards!!"
"Ghh... heehee, kihihihihihik!!"
"Failures unworthy of even your names...!!"
"Die! Die! Just die already!!!"
Among blood, flesh, and the remnants of the evil god, the magicians gradually lost their sanity.
"You're the one who came up with this plan in the first place, weren't you, Elder?!"
"What?! Are you saying I was wrong?!"
"Yes! You were wrong! The world's already been ruined beyond repair!!"
"How dare you insolent—!!"
"We should've prayed to the Creator instead of driving Him away!!"
"Get over here right now! I'll tear your mouth open!!"
Within the jeers of the "ingredients," the magicians began to kill each other. It was inevitable—they were the only ones left in the world. It seemed all humans beyond the Black Forest had long since perished.
Failures of a ruined world. Defeated wretches. They carried out horrific experiments only to leave the world even more broken than before. This miserable, disgraceful end suited them ★ ★ perfectly.
"..."
"Urgh... ugh..."
"Blergh..."
Even the few who survived couldn't endure the Black Forest's poison and collapsed. It was absurd enough that one could hear those lofty magicians groaning and vomiting.
And so, all the magicians died.
"Gyaaah! Aaagh, urk, ugh..."
"Hrrguh..."
"Hack—kek—kuhuhk...!"
Only then did the "ingredients" locked in the thorny prison slowly begin to die.
"...Next time, when we meet again..."
"...In the arms of God..."
Those who should have died long ago were only able to pass on after a long while, once the magicians who had forcibly kept them alive were gone, and even the life-support systems had broken down. The stench of blood hung thick in the air.
"..."
And only the man remained.
"Why... why?"
Please, no.
"Aaaaagh... AAAAAAAAGH!!! AAAAAAARGH!!!"
Clunk, clunk-clunk―!!!
"Kill me, please...!!! Just kill me!!! It hurts, it hurts so much!!! Please!!!!"
What was the reason?
The elder magician's words—saying he would use the man, the strongest hero, as the "core"—briefly passed through his mind, but even that thought was drowned in overwhelming rage, despair, and terror.
"Kkyaaaah!! AAAAAGH!! Cough, cough, kkghhhh...! Uu...!"
He convulsed in pain, screamed in terror at being alone, then sank into haze from exhaustion—over and over again. He had long since embraced death, yet the man could not die.
And for a time nearing eternity, he sank into darkness. Unable to think, flailing now and then like a bug with all its limbs torn off, occasionally regaining a sliver of mind—only to fall again into the void.
"..."
He no longer knew what he was saying, thinking, or feeling.
On some days, the boredom surpassed the pain and fear, and he tried counting the passing time. After reaching 742 years, 9 months, 3 days, 2 hours, and 19 seconds, he stopped counting.
"..."
Sometimes, hallucinations overtook him. He recalled days when he had lived like a human.
He felt resentment toward the "ingredients" who had all received the mercy of death except for him. He felt a loneliness worse than pain. Was he truly the only one left in the world?
Was no one else left?
And then.
"...?"
He heard something—like footsteps.
"...Ah, uh, uhh..."
He heard a voice, soft and coaxing.
'Who is that?'
No, it didn't matter.
It could be anyone. A human who survived that catastrophe. An expedition from a new era, born long after. Even descendants of beasts who could speak.
'Please... please, just—'
If they would just see him.
"..."
"...Oh my."
"..."
"You're alive, are you?"
"...Uhh..."
"How pitiful."
As if aware of his ragged breath, the voice outside the prison continued gently.
"Hey, calm down. I'll get you out soon."
At last, it was the end.
***
"...Ah..."
It was a long time after that when the man regained something resembling awareness for the first time.
"You're awake?"
"...Y-You are...?"
"You look a bit more human now."
"..."
His eyes—ah, his eyes.
He could see something in his vision.
"...A hug..."
"Do you need one? To make sure I'm not an illusion?"
"Please... just once... please, please..."
"You still seem frightened. It's alright—I'm not a phantom."
It had been so long since he saw anything that it stung. What ran down his cheeks wasn't blood, but ordinary tears—it felt so strange, it was almost revolting. He couldn't breathe. His hands and feet trembled.
The one he couldn't even dare to look at approached with a voice rough and edged, yet his embrace was gentle. His touch was cool, but the hand patting his back was warm. The voice that comforted him was kind.
"Yes, it must have been frightening."
"..."
A dazed feeling.
And just like that, he lost consciousness again.
***
Afterward, the man woke and passed out countless times.
By the time he realized this was the 182nd time, he finally understood something.
During all that time, the figure before him had continued to soothe him.
"..."
"..."
"Oh, heavens."
A young man with bright red hair looked at him with a wide smile.
"So you can see me now, huh?"
"...Ah..."
The man gave a feeble nod.
"...H-How long was I...?"
"It's been quite a while."
"..."
"Well then, let's see."
The young man approached and extended his hand.
"May I take your hand?"
"...Yes."
"Good. Give it to me."
The cold temperature should have felt unusual, yet to the man, it felt familiar. Or perhaps, it had become familiar. He didn't know how long this person had stayed by his side, so he simply sat blankly as the youth gently took his hand.
Then stroked it, pressed it firmly. He flinched a little, but soon calmed.
"See here—this is your palm."
"...Yes."
"These are your fingers, and this is your nail. One, two, three, four, five. Five total."
Like teaching a newborn beast how to live, the young man continued softly and slowly.
"When I press here, do you see how it turns yellow and then red again?"
"...Yes."
"It means your blood is flowing. Do you feel your bones, nerves, and veins reaching your fingertips?"
"...Yes."
"You're doing well. Very good."
The youth repeated similar lessons.
"These are your feet. This is the sole. These little ones are your toes. Shorter than fingers, right? That's normal, don't worry—I've got the same."
"..."
"Now, I'm touching the sole of your foot. How many do you think I'm pressing?"
"...Three?"
"Hmm, nice. Very good. Does it hurt when I press here?"
"No... it just... feels cool."
"And here?"
"Same."
"Good. Now, take my hand. Grab me with this hand and the other. Then press your feet to the ground. Don't worry if you can't stand yet—just lean on me."
The youth lifted him up in one motion. As he staggered, he naturally leaned on the young man. Though slightly smaller, the youth stood firm like a tree rooted in the ground.
"Do you feel the cool, soft touch of the earth through the soles of your feet? Good. Now try pressing your toes into it. Start with the biggest, then the next, and the next, until the smallest."
"..."
"Excellent."
When that process was done, and the man stood on his own, the young man stepped back one pace.
"Good."
"..."
"Now... can you see me?"
"...I can see you."
He was a tall youth.
Someone whose gaze met his nearly eye to eye—he hadn't seen someone like that in ages. No, in this situation, what hadn't felt like ages?
His skin was pale, almost translucent, as if he'd never seen sunlight.
His thick, curly hair was tied in a long braid to one side. Around his neck, glittering ornaments of gold and jewel were densely layered.
He wore soft, flowing fabric and thick, fur-lined beast hide. And like the man, he was barefoot. A neck adorned with ornaments. Lips curled in a sharp smile. A nose. And—
"..."
Eyes infused with molten gold.
"...Yes. I can see you."
"Splendid!"
The young man laughed.
"Welcome back to being human!"
-x-X-x-
Even just reaching this point had taken a truly long time.
"...H-How long has it been...?"
"Hmm, let's see. About 281 years?"
The sheer absurdity of that number made him want to blurt out, What on earth are you talking about?—but it wasn't a lie.
To Sergio, once a normal art teacher, or to Giovanni, once a short-lived priest, this would have been incomprehensible. But Gio, whose present self bore the dominant persona of the evil god Argio, had spent that time with this man with little difficulty. It hadn't felt particularly long or short to him.
Still, even for a being who had lived for centuries, dedicating time to help a single person was unfamiliar. But it made for a refreshingly pleasant experience.
"And then another 2 months and 21 days passed."
"...Excuse me?"
"It sounds unbelievable, I know. But it's the truth."
More time than expected had been devoted to the man's rehabilitation. But there was no real issue—whatever the court magicians had done while using Gio's house as a lab had caused time to flow much faster in this place.
That's why my house managed to endure through all those turbulent years.
Noting how dire the man's condition was, Gio had made some adjustments.
While 281 years, 2 months, and 21 days had passed in this ruin, the Black Forest outside had seen just about 94 years—and on Earth, only three days had gone by.
Gio felt proud.
"It's only because it was me that you woke up so quickly. If someone else had helped you, it would've taken another thousand years just to get this far."
"Th-Thank you."
"No need for thanks."
If anything, Gio was the one who felt gratitude—toward this man who had returned to being "human."
There were moments when I seriously considered giving up on him.
Fortunately, whether it was due to the man's sheer will to live, a conviction tied to something greater, or simply his innately strong spirit, he had followed Gio's guidance all the way here.
He did beg to be killed more than once...
Though, he likely remembered none of that.
"..."
Maybe he'd even forgotten calling out to me.
A shame.
If his condition had been better, Gio might've immediately whisked him away as a companion. But even as the evil god Argio, he didn't have the heart to pull such a vicious scheme on someone so mentally shattered.
For now, he had succeeded in turning the man back into a person. The next step was to fatten him up, like a pig.
And to turn a person into a pig, a minimum level of trust was required.
"Say, would it be alright if I asked you a few things?"
"...Ah, of course."
"I'd like to know your name."
"...My name..."
"You don't remember?"
"...No, I do. I remember."
His speech was a little rough, perhaps from disuse, but he answered properly. It was nothing short of a miracle.
"Ather. My name is Ather."
"A fine name."
"Ah" stood for steadfastness, and "ther" represented righteous belief. He didn't know who had given it to him, but it was clearly a name crafted with care—perhaps even love and faith.
But I'm not close enough to ask about his family.
Just as he thought that, the man asked a question.
"May I know your name?"
"Hmm, yes. You may call me Gio."
"...Pardon?"
"Gio."
"That's... a bit..."
"Haha!"
It seemed the name "Gio" sounded odd to Ather as well.
"Then call me whatever you like."
"No, I don't think I can just call you anything."
"Apologies, but I have no real name."
Ather pressed his lips shut.
"..."
"What's with that look?"
"I'm sorry."
"You've done nothing to apologize for. You look like someone who'd say anything, yet you're unexpectedly delicate. Another reminder not to judge by appearances?"
"Would I really curse at my savior?"
"Oh, marvelous. How admirable."
Gio's first impression of Ather after shaping him back into something vaguely human was that he would be a sharp-tongued man.
Those sharp eyes, the firm lips. He had the aura of someone who would shout No even if a blade was at his throat, someone whose beliefs could not be shaken.
Likely the sort to twist his own fate by his own hand.
Seems I was right.
Maybe I should've majored in physiognomy.
Even in this state, he can still speak like that. That's not normal.
All Gio had done was reshape the man into human form.
For Ather, the memories of those hundreds—or perhaps thousands—of years in that narrow prison must still linger. Yet the fact that he could already hold conversation this smoothly was entirely thanks to his own strength.
He was certainly not an ordinary person.
"..."
And the evil divine being vaguely remembered this face.
...Was he among the leading heroes...?
A sincere human, one who would shout with burning intensity yet still care for his comrades. A hero that Argio had taken notice of—and once fought.
Gio had recalled it around year 31 of Ather's rehabilitation.
Anyway, that aside...
He looked directly at Ather.
"..."
"...E-Even if you look at me like that, no is still no. How could anyone call another person a beast?"
"I really should've studied physiognomy."
"Excuse me?"
"Let's see..."
Gio examined the man's state.
"You must be hungry."
"...Ah."
Ather blinked as if the thought had never crossed his mind.
"...Yes, of course. A meal..."
"You need one. You're human, after all."
"..."
"Does the thought make you uneasy?"
"...No, not at all."
"Wonderful!"
Now that was a miracle.
Considering how long it had been since food entered his stomach—long enough for mold to grow—it was incredible that he felt no repulsion. His mental fortitude was truly impressive.
"If you really couldn't handle it, I had other methods in mind."
He briefly considered nutrient injections, but after all Ather had been through, Gio doubted he'd be okay with needles. He could also have channeled his energy directly into him—like he had done for 281 years.
Still, no matter how effective an IV might be, nothing truly replaces the feeling of a full stomach.
"I've been managing your body quite well all this time. Even if your stomach is technically empty, nothing should go wrong regardless of what you eat. If anything comes to mind, tell me."
"...Can you actually make what I ask for? Or—has the world changed since I was imprisoned? Those bastards did say... the world had fallen."
"Ah, no worries. It's truly and thoroughly ruined."
"..."
Ather groaned, looking incredulous.
"...Before the magicians died, they said the world was shrinking, collapsing. Could I ask... what the current world is like?"
"Of course."
Gio hadn't just spent time tending to Ather while staying in the "Kingdom of Beasts."
"Are you aware of the fake world the court magicians created?"
"...You mean that imitation world? The second surface above the surface?"
"So you do know."
"I overheard the magicians talking while I was imprisoned. I couldn't remember much when my mind was hazy, but when I was lucid... I memorized as much as I could, hoping to find a way out."
"Amazing."
To be imprisoned in such a hellish place and still hold onto the will to say Just wait, you bastards...—that resolve explained his unusually fast recovery.
"Anyway, in that false world..."
"Yes?"
"A new civilization has risen."
"...Ah..."
"You look like you expected that?"
"...Not exactly expected. It was more like... I imagined it."
What could Ather have done in that narrow prison all those years?
"With so much time, all I could do was dream, hallucinate... or think deeply. And yes, I sometimes imagined: What might the world outside this ruin be like now?"
He laughed bitterly.
"I even wondered if everyone might've died..."
"Do you resent them?"
"Resent who?"
"The civilization above. For not saving you sooner."
"...A little."
Ather hesitated before continuing.
"But it's not their fault. If a new civilization now exists above, then the world we once lived in became the 'underground'—the fake. That would mean our history was likely erased. The ruin's existence forgotten, too."
"Good deduction. Let me add something."
"Please do."
"This new civilization hasn't been around as long as you think. About 19 years."
While residing in the ruins, Gio had occasionally ventured out to assist the survival of beast-people.
With Gio's help, the beasts managed to build a world, and their civilization hadn't existed for long—only 19 years since stabilization.
"Before that, they still lived in the Black Forest."
"...How could people live there? Even those mighty court magicians couldn't survive it..."
"Sorry, but the people you're thinking of are more beast than human."
"Ah. Ahh. Aaaaah..."
Ather grabbed his head in disbelief.
"...Ugh..."
"Hey now, are you okay? Is this a 'soothe-him-again' kind of moment?"
"...No need to worry... I'm not having a seizure..."
"Poor soul."
For an old-world human, learning that beast-people had replaced humanity as the new dominant species was understandably painful. Sergio could empathize—he had once gone mad too.
I remember losing my mind when I first saw that fire-breathing office worker.
Maybe this is how elderly people feel when the world moves on without them.
But this man... he must feel it even more deeply.
At least Sergio still looked the same. Ather had to witness his former enemies become the new humans. It must've been crushing.
After some time, still shaking from the revelation, Ather asked:
"Th-Then... what level of civilization is it? Is it like the one I remember?"
"Hmm... I'd say it's a bit more advanced than what you knew."
Turning a false world into a real one had only been possible with Argio's help.
His preferences had shaped much of it. Likely it was more developed than the world Ather had lived in, especially since that had been wartime.
That was the era of total war, wasn't it?
Back when everything was stripped away for the sake of survival. Now the world had been pulled back to the golden era before that. It would surely feel unfamiliar.
"So—feel free to name anything you'd like to eat."
"...How could such a civilization rise in just 19 years?"
"No, reconstruction began 94 years ago. What they did wasn't building from scratch—it was truly rebuilding. So naturally, it didn't take as long. The 19 years I mentioned is how long it's been since things stabilized."
"So they mimicked pre-war civilization. I don't know if it fits their standards, but I suppose they adapted. Then..."
"Meal?"
"...Why are you so obsessed with meals?"
"People need to eat."
"Well, that's not wrong, but..."
"..."
"..."
At the sudden silence, Gio gave his usual light laugh.
"You have the look of someone with something to say. I'll hear you out personally, so go ahead."
"...No, I just..."
"What is it that frightens you so?"
"...I..."
Ather hesitated, then said:
"...Gio."
"Yes."
"..."
His lips moved, but no words came out. His tongue froze with uncertainty.
Is this something I can even say aloud? In a daze, he pondered, but lifted his gaze to study the young man's face.
He looked noble. Covered in jewels. Dressed in clothes of unknown origin, both wild and graceful. And—he radiated strength.
But.
"..."
How could such a person exist in this place, in this time, in this world?
And even more—how could anyone care for just me, for nearly 300 years?
No. That wasn't something any human could do. Not even if this person was a newly evolved species—human limits should still exist.
But he had far surpassed them.
When he lowered his gaze, he saw the flowing robes, the ornaments heavy with metal. Those bare feet, standing so smoothly in a labyrinth riddled with curses and traps.
"..."
Were there even any humans left? Any like him, in the same form?
Thinking back to what he had said—it didn't seem likely.
He spoke of history from a perspective beyond that of any human, as though it were natural, without a trace of doubt...
Ather knew what kind of concept, what kind of being, this was.
Finally, he called out the name of the being who stood before him, wearing the polite form of a young man.
"...Ar... gio."
"Splendid."
"...Ah..."
It was real.
Ather stared blankly at the evil god for a long time, then bit down on his cracked lips—and wept.
"..."
It was the face of someone who no longer even knew why he was crying.
-x-X-x-
His mind was so crammed with thoughts and stray emotions that it felt suffocating.
"...I... I thought you..."
At first, he had believed Gio was human.
But as time went on, he came to understand that wasn't the case. Humans, on average, lived to about 50. Even the very fortunate ones rarely reached beyond a hundred. He had once wondered whether the new humanity might have longer lifespans—but that too proved unlikely.
What human could mold another person into a pulsing mass of meat and keep them alive for 281 years?
"...I remember... calling out to you."
The memory had returned belatedly.
"I... I definitely... in that cramped prison..."
"You called for me."
"I was terrified. The loneliness was unbearable, and the pain lasted so long that my mind blurred. I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't want to be there anymore..."
"I'd say you endured more than enough."
"..."
"Do you regret it?"
"..."
"You look like you might."
The thought that he had summoned the evil god, once sealed away in a prison of blood and flesh, back into the world—it was horrifying. But at the same time, he was grateful. In the end, the only one who reached for him in response to his cries was this evil god.
He felt contradicting emotions, all at once.
"..."
Ather bit his lip, inhaled deeply, and asked:
"...Why do you take the form of a human?"
"Because I used to be one."
"...You... Yes. That's right..."
"There's another reason as well."
Argio was not whole.
"I... hmm. How should I put it?"
"...?"
"I'm not a complete piece."
"...A complete piece?"
"I've gathered 99 out of 100."
He hadn't fully reintegrated.
"Over time, I've recovered quite a few pieces—but many are still missing. To be truthful, this isn't my true form. Since I was ten, I've always lived as a beast. But I knew how to mimic a human..."
So the Argio they were seeing now was a form of mimicry. A manifestation shaped after the version of Argio most people of "that era" remembered. In the end, Gio was a portrait—he couldn't help but take this form.
"So don't worry. I'm not dangerous enough for you to be afraid. The most fundamental and crucial piece—I haven't gotten it back."
"...Where is that piece?"
"Beneath this tomb."
"There's a... below?"
"The magicians seemed to have done some rearranging when they used my power to build their fake world. Strictly speaking, it wasn't 'my' power—more accurately, it belonged to the 'Evil God Argio'..."
"Are the two that different?"
"I wouldn't say they're the same."
The evil god had been a monster born from the piled-up hatred and resentment of countless saints. Whether or not Argio's consciousness still lingered inside it, he couldn't be called the same thing. Even as a portrait, the fury that burned within had only been subdued—not extinguished.
"To put it another way, my heart, limbs, and everything else were split into tens of thousands of fragments and stored separately."
"...Why haven't you taken them back?"
"Because I can't."
He looked at Ather with a gaze that said, Isn't it obvious?
"You're the ones who sealed me."
"...Ah."
Ather stood there, dumbstruck.
"..."
Then, belatedly, he asked:
"...Is the seal still... active?"
"Many lives were sacrificed to create it. Of course it's still there. The magicians only tampered with its location and maintenance—they never truly broke the seal."
"Then... what are you, standing before me now?"
"The last beast of the Black Forest."
"...No."
Ather's hands clenched tightly.
"You were a saint."
"Ah, come on. I really don't like that word."
Saint was a word suited to someone like Giovanni, who would guide lambs with meekness. Argio was better matched with labels like evil god, beast, monster. He symbolized unshackled fury and meaningful pain.
But Ather didn't seem to agree. His expression darkened.
"..."
"Oh dear, are you blaming yourself now?"
Admirable.
"You think what you all did wasn't justified?"
"...Why... why would you say such a thing... when you were the victim..."
"Only I can say it."
"You hated us. You killed so many."
"I did kill. But I didn't hate you. At least, 'I' didn't."
It was the truth.
"I just wanted to be angry."
"Then be angry. At me, at least."
"But my anger isn't directed at you. It's meant for those who spat on me as a filthy beast, who burned the families of the Black Forest. Don't try to push that shallow fury onto me."
"..."
Ather's face crumpled, his lips moving wordlessly several times.
"You look conflicted."
It seemed he needed time. Gio began to rise to give him space when—
"...Wait, Argio."
"What is it?"
"Please... I have a request..."
His brows were drawn tight. But his eyes showed resolve.
"Please... tell me your story."
He had learned bits of truth from the records in the ruins—but they were only fragments. Far too little to understand, remember, and reflect on the stories of countless saints.
He wanted to hear Argio's story.
"Tell me what kind of being you were."
"That's not difficult."
Gio tilted his head slightly.
"Can you believe it?"
"...I'll do my utmost to judge."
"...In that case..."
He was pleased.
"You're human, after all."
You carry weight.
***
"I was born into a prestigious family."
Despite the forceful presence of his voice, the evil god spoke gently.
"Our role was to act as a shield, to keep the monsters of the Black Forest—those bringers of calamity—from spilling into the outside world. It was an honored duty. We were respected by the people."
"...You were..."
"I was the youngest son. I had nimble hands and a favorable appearance, so I was quite doted on. Especially since I showed great artistic talent—dancing, painting, music..."
"...That doesn't sound like the evil god I know."
"You're even joking now. I'm truly glad."
He said he had once been loved.
"But in this family, a monster was always born each generation. That child would gradually take on a beast's form—until they became an unspeakable demon. When that trait appeared, the family would lock the child in the Black Forest to prevent disaster."
"Why? Just out of disgust?"
"Not entirely. Without doing so, the child could draw the Forest's disaster into the world. The family believed that the Black Forest and beast-shaped humans were one and the same. So they continued that tradition."
"But... weren't you saints?"
"No one remembers that part anymore."
The truth wasn't that monsters caused the Black Forest's disasters—but rather that saints were born to seal those disasters. Over time, people forgot this and only remembered: monsters must be cast into the Black Forest.
"I grew up in that Forest. And I learned a new meaning to my existence."
"You must've been resentful."
"More than anything, I found it laughable. What kind of faith did humans have, to behave like that? On some level, I even found them endearing—they were such weak things. Easy to break and ruin."
"..."
"Well, after that..."
The one who called himself a beast now wore a soft expression.
"I made many families. Many friends."
"...The beasts of the Forest?"
"Some of them."
"There were others?"
"Those I brought in."
"..."
Ather hesitated, then said it.
"You mean... the live offerings given to you."
"That's right. Hence the rumors I was a cannibal."
"Why..."
"The more they feared me, the easier it was to do as I pleased. And more importantly, what would've been the point in arguing?"
Argio understood better than anyone how stubborn and irrational humans could be. Their arrogance was what made him a monster of the Forest. Even if he found that direction amusing, the bitterness never faded.
But there was no reason to try persuading them.
"So, why bother?"
And so, Argio lived like a beast.
"Eventually, as I continued doing as I pleased and people grew more terrified... the family made a move. They released a part of the Black Forest."
"...I don't understand."
"You remember how my family had sealed the Forest's disaster? They released the deepest part of it—the source of the Forest itself... the water."
"Water...?"
"I called it the black water. People called it something else."
"The world called it a plague."
"...Wait."
Ather was stunned.
"You're saying that... wasn't your doing?"
That horrific toxin, which rotted flesh and drove people mad, plunging the world into collapse—wasn't the evil god's work? That, too, had been humanity's blunder?
"I thought it had at least come from the Forest... but how... why would it be in your family's hands? Isn't it supposed to be sealed away?"
"If you think back to the earliest saints, I think it was a matter of balance. One disaster sealed in the Forest, another entrusted to the family—sharing the burden."
"Then why did your family release it into the world?"
"They didn't think it was a disaster. They believed it was an ancient, sacred weapon passed down through generations—dangerous, yes, but venerable. They planned to use it to exterminate me."
"..."
"They must've despised the sight of me."
That a noble family could produce a beast-shaped demon was a closely guarded secret.
But the young monster had survived the Forest and wandered the world. They feared that one day he might speak and shame the family—or take revenge.
"Utter fools, weren't they?"
In the end, they released the "weapon" in an attempt to kill Argio—and the result was the plague that destroyed the world. The family, even as they collapsed, kept their mouths shut until the end.
"And so, I became a demon who devoured humans alive, triggered countless disasters, and spread a plague that rotted children and elders alike."
"...And that's why..."
"They burned the Black Forest. I imagine you know this much—eventually, the court deployed their armies and closed in on all sides. I was burned with the Forest, suffered grievous wounds, and finally died in my family's embrace."
"...And that was the birth of the 'Evil God Argio'? The brutal beast?"
"Seems you understand well."
He smiled as if pleased.
"Curious why I didn't flee from the fire?"
"...Were you incapable? But... according to the records..."
"I might have escaped."
But he didn't.
"Truth is—I don't remember."
"...What?"
"I think that reason is buried deep within my remaining pieces. Maybe I didn't want to leave behind some treasure in the Forest. Or maybe I didn't want to abandon my homeland. Or maybe... I just couldn't escape in time."
"...Or maybe... you were just tired."
"That could be it. Maybe I thought that was the most fitting end for me."
A monster, dying like a monster.
"...Well, that was my thinking..."
"Evil God Argio never hid his hatred of humanity."
"That divine malice wasn't created from me alone."
"Yes... I understand."
From then on, Ather understood.
"...You really didn't hate us, did you?"
"At least, I had no reason to."
"...Ha..."
He let out a hollow breath.