Night swallowed the world without resistance.
The only sound was wood breaking beneath the weight of fire. The great wooden walls burned and collapsed one after another, sparks rising into a sky that offered no witness.
Smoke thickened the air, slow and patient. It entered lungs quietly, turning breath into labor.
The villagers stood encircled by flame.
Some wept.
Some prayed to a god who did not answer.
Some stared into the fire, wondering if they would live to see the next sunrise.
Children clung to their parents, trembling. Parents wrapped their arms around them, whispering promises of morning they no longer believed.
The fire was merciful compared to the man sitting among them upon a headless corpse at the center of it all.
His posture was relaxed.
His expression tired.
A faint smile rested on his lips — as if this were nothing more than an ordinary evening.
The night remained silent.
Only the flames continued to speak.
Some coughed violently as smoke filled their lungs.
But Shin Yato's eyes, deep as an abyss, did not flinch. He watched them the way one watches animals crying before slaughter.
There was no anger in his gaze.
No pity.
It was not their fault.
It was simply their fate.
Because of Kalosirtes's warm nature, the entire village burned.
Shin Yato's gaze settled on the little girl cowering behind her father, her tiny frame trembling, head bowed low.
With a faint smile curving his lips and a voice as calm as still water, he beckoned her.
"Come forward, little girl."
The father dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, voice cracking with raw horror.
"S-Sir! Please... she's just a child! Spare her, I beg you!"
Shin Yato tilted his head, expression unchanging.
"What? I'm not going to do anything. I'm not a demon."
He paused, letting the words hang like a blade mid-swing.
"Come forward... or should I kill her?"
The father's pleas only grew more desperate, a frantic torrent of sobs and bargains.
Shin Yato's smile deepened, voice still eerily serene.
"Aww, little girl... should I kill your father instead?"
The child choked back a sob, tears spilling freely, her trembling voice barely a whisper.
"N-No..."
"Then come here."
Slowly, hesitantly, the little girl stepped forward—straight into the shadow of the man who held death in his calm.
His calm face and faint smile remained unshaken as he asked, "What is your name, little girl?"
Her voice shook as she replied, "Kore."
"What a beautiful name," Shin Yato said, still calm. "So, Kore… what makes you happy?"
Her lips quivered. "When I gather flowers with my friends," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.
"And what makes you sad, Kore?" he asked softly, his expression unchanged.
Kore couldn't respond. Horror held her in place, and it was as if she might burst into tears at any moment.
"I don't like children who are annoying and don't answer my questions," Shin Yato said with a faint smile.
"Iii…" she started, then stopped.
"Why are you so scared? Is it because of this?" His hand gestured to the head he had held. He tossed it aside casually. "Or is it the blood on my face?"
He let the blood on his cloak drip silently, then wiped it away. "Now… everything is fine. So tell me, Kore, what makes you sad? Don't be afraid." He looked around, voice friendly. "No one will do anything to you."
Kore's tears fell as she whispered, "When… when Dad did that," her gaze fixed on the ground.
Shin Yato's calm voice prompted her, "Did what?"
She hesitated, then sobbed, "When Mom sleeps… he comes into my room at night and touches…"
Shin Yato slowly turned to her father, his calm gaze unflinching. Kore clutched her hands, weeping quietly.
Her mother collapsed to her knees, crying and shouting, "You… you demon, aidhiastikós! How could you do that?"
Everyone froze, disgust and horror etched on their faces, the weight of the word resonating through the room.
Shin Yato rose and approached Kore, kneeling to her level. "What a brave girl," he said gently.
Then, looking at her father, his faint smile returning, he added, "Oh… so your name is aidhiastikós, huh?"
Kore's father, Aidhiastikós, trembled, his eyes darting nervously around.
"She's lying… I never did that," he stammered, forcing a nervous smile.
Shin Yato's calm face bore a faint, almost teasing smile.
"Are you not her father… or her stepfather?" he asked softly, still calm.
Then, turning his gaze to Kore, he added, "Should I kill him for you?"
"No," Kore whispered, trembling, tears streaming down her face.
Shin Yato's tone remained gentle, almost curious. "Why?"
Her voice cracked as she sobbed, "B…because he is Dad… and I love him."
A faint smile appeared on Shin Yato's face. "Oh… what a beautiful soul," he said calmly, patting her head lightly.
Then his voice changed, casual and cold: "Burn."
Black flames erupted around Aidhiastikós's head. He screamed in agony, the fire consuming him. "AAHAHA! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!" he roared, writhing in pain.
Shin Yato leaned back slightly, his face bored, almost detached. "So… what should I do next?" he asked calmly, as if pondering the weather.
The priest of the village finally broke through his fear, trembling violently. "That is enough… you demon!" he shouted, his voice quivering with terror.
Shin Yato's eyes met the priest's, calm and unflinching. A faint smile curved his lips. "Oh… aren't you a brave one? But in the wild, the loudest always dies first."
Shin Yato's faint smile never wavered as he said, "You call me demon… yet you live with one."
He turned his gaze to the priest. "Hey… priest, you know, I don't want to kill you all."
A flicker of relief passed through the villagers.
"But I have to," Shin Yato continued calmly, his expression unchanged, "because the Holy Kingdom ordered me."
Shock rippled through the crowd. The priest, trembling but angry, shouted, "You're lying! They would never order such a heinous sin!"
Shin Yato's faint smile remained. "Oh… am I lying? Think about it. Why would I do all this… even Kalosirtes and his wife welcomed me so warmly?"
The priest froze. Murmurs spread among the villagers:
"Holy Kingdom…?"
"Did they really order it?"
"Why would they…?"
The priest, shaking, tried to rally them. "Everyone… don't listen to him! You know the Holy Kingdom would never do this! Why would they?"
Shin Yato's voice stayed calm, almost soothing. "So… there's no witness. You know I'm human too. Why would I randomly kill innocent people?"
The priest's voice trembled further. "Witness!? Holy Kingdom is all about peace and prosperity… and… even if they punished someone, to kill an entire village?"
Shin Yato's faint smile deepened. "Because… they killed all the people of Sphragidón Nekropolis."
The priest's knees buckled. Fear and doubt wrestled within him. "No… I don't believe you… how… how could the Holy Kingdom destroy Sphragidón Nekropolis?"
Shin Yato's calm voice held deadly weight. "Because… I was the one who destroyed them. By order of the Holy Kingdom."
The priest's mind shattered. "No… no… it's a lie! It's a lie!" He sank to his knees, trembling, and began chanting frantically:
"Oh, Holy… Goddess of Light… oh, Holy Goddess of Light…"
Shin Yato's eyes met the priest's, calm and unflinching. A faint smile curved his lips. "Oh… Holy Goddess of Light, I am coming to you. Please… guide their souls," he said softly, his voice calm and almost reverent.
The priest's voice trembled, barely audible. "You're a hypocrite! You punish Kore's father for his sin, claiming to serve justice… yet you slaughtered Kalosirtes's entire family, even the children."
Shin Yato's calm face betrayed nothing. "I never claimed to be a good person," he said softly. "I know I am evil. Justice… hypocrite… huh?"
His eyes swept over the villagers, their terror and coughing from the smoke evident in every gasp.
"Hmmm…" he murmured, faintly smiling. "So… if anyone dares to tell me their darkest secret, I will spare them. If you don't believe me… look at Kore. She is still alive, isn't she? Because she spoke her truth and about her secret."
The villagers froze, caught between fear, confusion, and awe. Shin Yato's calm gaze and faint smile made the silence almost unbearable.
The villagers stood frozen. Minutes passed in suffocating silence.
Shin Yato tilted his head slightly.
"Anyone?" he asked calmly. "Come now… speak."
A man stepped forward, trembling.
"I… I broke into an old woman's house years ago," he whispered. "She woke up… and I panicked."
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Shin Yato's expression did not change.
"Next."
Another stepped forward, unable to meet anyone's eyes.
"I forced myself on someone… and told the village she drowned."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Next."
"I betrayed my closest friend," another confessed. "The child his wife carries… is mine."
"Next."
"I grew tired of caring for my father," one man said hollowly. "So I helped death come faster."
Smoke curled through the air. Some villagers wept.
Others remained silent — too afraid to speak, too ashamed to confess.
Shin Yato slowly turned his gaze toward the priest… then toward Kore.
"Little girl," he said gently, a faint smile on his lips.
"Turn around."
Kore slowly turned around.
Her tear-stained eyes met the villagers.
No one looked like the people she had known her whole life.
Their faces were no longer proud or righteous.
Only shame.
Only guilt.
Only fear.
Some avoided her gaze.
Some lowered their heads.
Some trembled under the weight of their own confessions.
For the first time, the little girl was not the smallest presence among them.
They were.
Shin Yato looked down at Kore.
"Are you done crying?" he asked calmly.
Kore wiped her remaining tears and slowly nodded.
"Good," he said with a faint smile.
His gaze shifted, and he pointed toward her mother.
"And you… what is your truth?"
Fóna's body trembled. She could not lift her eyes to meet her daughter's.
"I… killed my husband," she confessed, her voice breaking. "And I tried to kill Kore… when she was just a baby."
A ripple of horror passed through the villagers.
Shin Yato tilted his head slightly. "Why?"
Fóna swallowed, her shame suffocating her. "Because… I was having an affair with Aidhiastikós. I wanted to marry him."
She finally dared to glance at Kore—
and immediately looked away.
Shin Yato's faint smile remained, his expression unchanged.
But Kore…
Kore stood frozen.
The image of her loving mother — warm hands, gentle voice, soft smiles — shattered silently inside her.
Her lips trembled.
Her eyes burned.
She was about to cry again.
"Don't," Shin Yato said calmly.
His small smile did not fade.
"If you cry again… you'll become annoying."
The words were soft.
Almost casual.
And far colder than any flame.
Kore forced herself to swallow her sob.
She bit her lip, forcing the sobs back down, but the faint sound of her struggling to breathe still echoed in the smoky air.
Shin Yato watched her for a moment.
"Good," he said calmly.
"Some told their truths. Some didn't. It doesn't matter."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So… I will tell something as well."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"A story."
The villagers stiffened.
"Listen carefully," he continued, his voice steady and soft.
"Once upon a time, there was a man. He was evil. He was cruel. He cared for no one… and nothing."
He paused.
"Except his garden."
"It wasn't a beautiful garden. In fact, most would say it was dull. But in that garden, there was one flower he loved more than anything."
His smile deepened just slightly.
"One day, some sheep wandered in. They trampled the soil… and ate his favorite flower."
Silence fell heavier.
"When the man saw what happened… he was furious."
"So he destroyed his entire garden."
"And slaughtered all the sheep."
His voice never changed.
Not once.
Shin Yato paused.
"The End," he said softly, the same calm voice, the same small smile.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"Hm… yes. The sheep were quite foolish, weren't they?"
The villagers stood frozen, confused — unsure whether to fear, speak, or even breathe.
Behind them, wooden walls collapsed.
Some houses had already caught in black flame, crackling under the smoke-filled sky.
Shin Yato glanced at the spreading fire.
"Humans are… interesting," he murmured, faint amusement in his eyes.
He looked back at the villagers.
"Oh, and when I asked for your truths," he continued calmly, "I was not judging you. Nor proving anything."
A small smile.
"I was simply bored."
"And I needed entertainment."
Silence.
Then his gaze shifted to Kore.
"Do you want to live?"
Kore hesitated.
She looked at her mother — who still could not meet her eyes.
She looked at the villagers — trembling, broken, exposed.
Then she nodded.
Shin Yato's expression did not change.
"Then come with me."
Kore hesitated.
Her small hands trembled at her sides.
She did not understand the world anymore.
But she understood one thing.
She wanted to live.
Slowly… she nodded.
The moment she did, Fóna collapsed forward.
"Please! Don't take her away!" her mother screamed, crawling toward them. "Kore… Mom is sorry! Please don't leave me alone!"
Her voice cracked, desperate, broken.
Shin Yato didn't even look at her.
"Ignore her," he said calmly.
Kore's fingers tightened into small fists, but she did not turn back.
Shin Yato glanced around at the burning village.
"Shall we leave now?" he asked lightly, a faint smile touching his lips.
A strange relief spread among the villagers.
Relief.
Not because they were saved.
But because the storm was walking away.
The villagers didn't care about justice anymore.
They only wanted to live.
Then—
Something fell to the ground.
A body dropped before the mind could even process what had happened.
For a heartbeat, no one understood.
Then the screaming began.
Panic exploded through the village. People ran blindly through smoke and falling ash. Some pushed others aside. Some stumbled. Some trampled their own neighbors.
The priest remained kneeling, lips still trembling in prayer.
Shin Yato moved.
Not fast.
Not hurried.
Just inevitable.
A black arc flashed through the smoke.
Shadows split.
Cries were cut short.
Some parents shielded their children.
Some used them as shields.
It did not matter.
The black blade did not choose.
It passed through everything equally.
The flames continued to rise.
And above the chaos—
Shin Yato's faint smile never changed.
Kore watched in numb silence.
She did not scream.
She did not cry.
She did not understand what she was feeling.
The world she knew had ended.
When it was over, the village had fallen quiet.
Smoke drifted through broken streets.
Shin Yato walked toward the priest, his clothes stained, his expression unchanged.
The priest was still kneeling, whispering prayers, refusing to look at the ruin around him.
Shin Yato stopped before him.
"Priest," he said calmly. "Look up."
Slowly, the priest raised his trembling eyes.
"You prayed," Shin Yato continued softly. "Yet your Goddess did not come."
A faint smile.
"She will not."
He turned away.
"Let's go," he said to Kore.
Kore nodded silently and followed.
Behind them, the priest staggered to his feet.
"You are wrong!" he screamed hoarsely. "The Goddess of Light will save me!"
He ran toward the church and threw himself before the altar.
"Oh Holy Goddess of Light… you will save me, right? You will save me…"
His voice echoed inside the burning sanctuary.
Outside, the heat grew heavier.
The priest's voice cracked, shifting from pleading to fury.
"Answer me… ANSWER ME! You Bitch, you will save me… RIGHT?!"
But only the sound of fire answered him.
Shin Yato and Kore walked past the village sign.
Through smoke and ash, its name was barely visible:
chorío.
The Village of Hypocrites.
They did not look back.