Chapter 2: Everything about the Saint is fake?

The setting sun bathed the dilapidated streets in a beautiful twilight glow.

Even the usually gloomy and dark surroundings seemed, in Skoll’s eyes, to be cloaked in a lovely filter today.

He had recently completed his training at the adventurer’s camp, and though he hadn’t officially graduated, he was already a capable novice adventurer.

Today, he received the exciting news that he could graduate early, and he couldn’t wait to share it with Suna.

Walking beside him, Ace shot him a slightly mocking glance and muttered a sarcastic remark.

“Ugh, look at Skoll, so happy he’s practically forgotten we exist.”

“You little brat, if I forgot to pick you up from school, Suna would chew me out!”

Skoll said this while ruffling Ace’s hair as playful retaliation.

Meanwhile, the usually composed Frosti expressed her excitement and issued a warning to her twin brother.

“Suna must have the birthday cake ready by now. I’m so excited! Ace, you better not make her mad tonight, or you’ll end up copying theology books as punishment.”

Ace’s face soured as he recalled past punishments, making him a bit more cautious.

The trio passed through the nearly deserted, ruin-like streets, chatting happily as they approached the small, rundown temple of the Golden Bough Goddess.

But upon entering the temple, they were met with an eerie silence.

Unlike usual, Suna, the saintess, didn’t sense their arrival and rush to greet them at the entrance.

“Hm? Is Suna still busy?”

“Maybe she’s hiding somewhere, planning to surprise Skoll.”

Hearing Frosti and Ace’s comments, Skoll noticed a faint, metallic scent of rust as he neared the main hall.

The smell quickened his heartbeat, stirring an inexplicable unease within him.

“Suna, where are you?”

Calling out to her, Skoll jogged toward the place where Suna was most likely to be—the dining area they used daily.

When he pushed open the side hall’s door, the room was dimly lit, but a candelabra on the edge of the round table cast a warm glow from its candles.

Suna, dressed in her usual priestess robes, sat in a chair with her back to him, maintaining an elegant posture without turning around.

The scene around her was a cozy birthday setup.

A red velvet cake sat at the center of the table, adorned with a candle shaped like the number 18.

A banner with colorful ribbons hung from the ceiling, reading, “Happy Birthday, Skoll!”

As Skoll entered, a birthday song began to play in the room.

Though the song came from a cheap recording stone on the table, its slightly flawed melody warmed Skoll’s heart, making him relax.

“You prepared so much. I’m really grateful…”

His words trailed off mid-sentence.

Despite speaking to Suna, she neither turned nor responded.

The metallic scent grew stronger, and the uneasy feeling in Skoll’s heart exploded like a bomb.

“…Suna, say something, please?”

Skoll stepped toward her, his hand trembling as he touched her shoulder.

Her head tilted back, revealing empty sockets where her gentle, rose-red eyes once were.

Her mouth was sliced open to her ears, fixed into a grotesque smile.

A glaring horizontal cut across her neck no longer bled, with only a faint stain on her collar.

As for where the blood had gone, Skoll’s disbelieving gaze fell on the “red velvet” cake, its color an unnatural scarlet.

As if to underscore the horrific scene, the birthday song from the recording stone began to distort, turning eerie and chilling.

When Ace and Frosti’s screams of fear and grief pierced the air, Skoll’s blank mind snapped back, forcing him to confront the cruel reality.

Amid their despairing cries and roars, as if echoing from an abyss, Suna’s true form watched from a nearby abandoned tower, observing the end of her role as Saintess Suna through perception magic.

“Wow, that’s brutal. They must be terrified. Skoll will probably carry this trauma for life. A battlefield survivor who finally found a bit of happiness and a bright future…”

Muttering these words, Suna felt a pang of guilt as she listened to the trio’s anguished collapse.

After all, they had spent nearly two years together.

But she quickly slapped her cheeks with both hands, forcing herself to suppress her pity and harden her resolve.

“No, I have to stay focused. If I don’t complete this mission, Lord Demon King won’t let me return, and I won’t get my salary or mission reward! As planned, I’ll add a bit more fuel to the fire, let Skoll see the corrupt and dark side of this human empire, and make him completely break and twist.”

As she muttered, the flesh on her face writhed, altering her appearance significantly, even sprouting freckles.

Her vibrant blonde hair turned a common, unremarkable brown, and her striking scarlet eyes dulled to a muted gray-green.

After changing her appearance, Suna pulled out a small notebook with “Hero Distortion Plan” handwritten on the cover.

Opening it, the first task was circled for emphasis:

[According to the prophecy, retrieve Skoll, the future’s greatest hero, and prevent his destiny of becoming the strongest hero through indirect means.]

Clearly, Suna’s identity as a saintess was a facade, purchased through her schemes.

Her true identity was Suni, a high-ranking officer of the Demon King’s army from a demon nation neighboring the human empire, a shapeshifting beast.

Indeed, everything about Saintess Suna was false—her identity, her appearance, even her personality was a performance.

As a shapeshifting beast, her expertise lay in mimicry, acting, and disguise.

Flipping to the final section of her notebook, Suna wrote in the concluding part of her plan: [Spread news of Saintess Suna’s death to lure out enemies.]