"I choose…"
Standing atop the platform, Yuhran controlled the avatar that represented him, fully immersed in the illusion constructed by the holy tome.
He first glanced at the "companions" slumped against the corner of the cave wall, on the brink of death.
Then—
Between eating someone and being eaten, he did not hesitate in the slightest. He turned and bolted straight out of the cave.
"???"
Outside the cave, the raging blizzard stuttered for an instant. Snowflakes froze midair.
The holy tome clearly had not anticipated that someone would make such a "suicidal" choice.
After a brief pause, the wind and snow began to howl again—this time even more violently than before.
—The premise was clearly being trapped in a cave, doomed to starve to death…
Could charging out really lead to food?
"Charging out doesn't necessarily lead to food, but at least it spares me moral condemnation."
Yuhran struggled forward through the storm. The biting wind cut across his cheeks like blades.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes, enduring the piercing cold as he replied:
"You said it yourself—eating one person allows the others to survive. That implies a rescue team might be nearby."
"After all, the calories one person provides are nowhere near enough to keep four others alive for long."
"And if they aren't nearby?" the holy tome pressed, its voice drifting nearer and farther within the blizzard.
This unexpected answer had clearly piqued its interest, enough to warrant deeper probing.
Yuhran narrowed his eyes. Ice crystals gathered on his lashes, frosting over.
He wrenched his legs free from knee-deep snow. Knowing full well this was an illusion, his tone remained calm and unhurried.
"So what if they aren't? I know this is a gamble—but why not?"
"At its core, this question is about choosing between sacrifice and being sacrificed. But why must I sacrifice others? And why must I sacrifice myself?"
He paused, stopping in place, then lifted his head to gaze at the ashen sky.
"To sacrifice myself means all my past efforts turn into nothing but bubbles—faith, dreams, everything."
"As for sacrificing others… you wouldn't want to see that either."
"Therefore, only a third path remains."
He had never thought of himself as a good person, nor had he ever considered himself utterly vile.
Eating people… he couldn't bring himself to do it. Just imagining it made his stomach twist.
Being eaten… he'd rather rush out and take his chances.
If he was rescued, it meant his life wasn't meant to end there.
If he died… then that, too, was fate.
He accepted it calmly.
"..."
The holy tome fell into a long silence.
Its pages flipped without any wind, rustling softly, as though it were thinking.
—As a sentient sacred relic created by the Goddess, it had witnessed countless believers over the past two hundred years.
Though the questions each believer faced differed, their core was largely the same: testing whether one possessed the resolve to sacrifice.
The word "sacrifice" was short, yet it contained courage, kindness, compassion, and many other noble virtues.
And yet, no matter how outstanding a believer's talent, none had ever given an answer outside the prescribed framework.
Because humans of this era were ignorant, blindly obedient to the gods.
Now, it had encountered a variable.
…How was it supposed to judge this?
The holy tome was conflicted. Its pages flipped faster and faster, almost stirring up a faint breeze.
"Thou…"
After pondering for a long while, it finally spoke again, its voice carrying hesitation it had never known before.
The surroundings began to change. The raging blizzard gradually froze in place.
It seemed to be trying to alter the question to extract more information.
Seeing this, Yuhran stopped where he was.
He exhaled a plume of white mist and stared up at the pitch-black sky, interrupting firmly:
"Is this your response? I understand.
If there are more questions, bring them all at once. No matter what you ask, my answer will remain the same."
"I will not unconditionally sacrifice myself to help others—because only by living can I help more people."
"The Goddess wouldn't want a suicide squad as her believers, would she?"
The words were blunt and resolute, each one ringing clear.
The holy tome fell silent once more, and the changes in the environment came to a halt.
It sensed a hint of blasphemy—an accusation that it was too rigid… or perhaps that was merely an illusion.
In any case, the holy tome felt that its system might need an upgrade.
Clearly not the standard answer—yet undeniably correct…
Just what kind of human was this?
To shatter rules that had stood for centuries with a single action alone…
It truly could not comprehend it.
…
Just as the holy tome was agonizing over whether to let Yuhran pass the trial—
Outside the city, Milialde arrived in haste, following the priest.
The moment they reached the scene, they were met with the sight of humans locked in battle with shadows.
Some of those shadows had already transformed into actual human forms, their skin merely darker in color.
Milialde narrowed her eyes slightly, a flicker of vigilance passing through them.
This was…
"Don't come any closer!"
Hall shouted hoarsely, his body covered in wounds. A vicious gash ran from his forehead down to his chin, blood seeping endlessly.
He tried to stop Milialde from approaching.
He regretted it now. Dying in some desolate wilderness would have been better than this.
The enemies were multiplying—unkillable, endless…
The true mastermind was nowhere to be found…
Despair.
Hearing this, the priest's expression turned grave. He stepped back half a pace and said sternly:
"Something is very wrong here, Miss Elf."
He pointed at the things slaughtering soldiers.
"If possible, could you try using magic to restrain those black creatures from a distance?"
"If nothing unexpected happens, those are their shadows. I'm begging you."
They couldn't tell what would happen if the shadows were killed—caution was imperative.
Milialde nodded. She extended her hand, manifesting a staff, her tone low and serious.
"I'll try. This is my first time encountering magic like this as well."
Restraint wasn't the key issue. What mattered most was finding the one casting the spell—only then could the crisis be resolved.
Silent magic spread outward. Green ropes of light burst from the ground, binding several of the weaker shadows.
Her perception expanded.
Within a hundred meters—nothing unusual.
Three hundred meters—still nothing.
Five hundred meters…
Wait—what was that in the sky?
Its total magical power was actually on par with hers?
Milialde decisively lifted her gaze.
At that very moment, Shaton in the sky was also looking down at her.
"Interesting."
A smile curled at the corner of Shaton's mouth—the instinctive smile of a predator about to seize its prey, of hunger on the verge of satisfaction.
He fixed his gaze on Milialde and murmured softly, "An elf? At last… I can have a proper meal."
His tongue swept over his dry lips. Since he had been discovered, he no longer concealed himself and dove downward.
Only the demon race could use flight magic.
That was his advantage—and the key that would decide victory.
The shrill scream of air being torn apart assaulted the ears. A voice within urged him on.
—Slaughter the city. After devouring these powerful foes, pin the blame on other demons. That way, the upper echelons of the Goddess Church wouldn't hunt him down with everything they had.
Then, he could return to a peaceful life.
And incidentally—achieve evolution.
Shaton made his decision.
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