Chapter 32: Confess the Sin of the World!
The Accuser collapsed, trembling uncontrollably.
“Gods… gods can’t meddle in mortal affairs at will! You can’t do this!”
He scrambled back, fear erupting within him, dominating his actions.
“No… no! Stay back!”
Beyond fear, regret consumed him. He knew he shouldn’t have spared Aphrosia so long. Every second brought new variables. He should’ve killed her instantly, but his foolishness dragged him to his doom…
Or perhaps, even acting swiftly wouldn’t have killed her. Maybe that emerald divine figure had been watching, waiting for him to strike…
Why? Why! Why did some people gain what others could never achieve, effortlessly basking in the world’s favor, while he, a rat in the gutters, was stripped of even the right to survive? Watching his kin slaughtered, powerless, forced to offer his soul to an evil entity, living under another’s control! Striving with all his might, yet unable to touch their hem! Why did Aphrosia receive a god’s blessing, while he, even at his loved one’s death, never earned a god’s pity?
Was this world fair? Was it just? Should it even exist?!
“Hah… haha, even gods are biased! Equality for all? Bullshit!”
In this world, a dark hierarchy persisted. The powerful controlled the weak’s life and death, their status decided by fate, an unclimbable mountain called order.
Moments ago, he was the superior, Aphrosia the inferior, her life in his hands. Now, he was the inferior, the God of Nature and Poetry the superior, his life at her whim.
Daphne read something in his frenzied eyes.
She smirked, [“Bias? You’re mistaken. She earned her place, and you earned your fate. Among the masses, even the smallest group births a giant. But you? You gave yourself to an evil god, spreading your pain. That’s why you lost to Edith back then, and why you’re here now.”]
As the God of Poetry, her greatest power was omniscience. Knowing the Accuser’s past was easy, though she didn’t bother with everyone’s history—just her enemies’. Breaking them down was fun, wasn’t it?
“Don’t act righteous, elven god!”
Daphne’s fingers brushed her lyre, crisp notes turning into emerald butterflies circling the Accuser. He watched in horror as they peeled away his curse marks, revealing scarred wounds from twenty years ago—Edith’s doing.
[“See clearly?”] Her voice turned cold. [“Those wounds never healed because your hatred festered into poison. Edith spared you not out of mercy, but because she knew you’d forever live in her shadow.”]
The Accuser touched his chest, the curse marks melting into black tears. As the last butterfly landed in his palm, a memory flashed: twenty years ago, a rainy night, young Edith standing before a burning village, reflecting his lethal strike with Radiance magic, then walking away as he wailed in despair.
[“She… spared me?”] he murmured, memories flooding back.
Daphne sighed, a breeze brushing his calloused fingers. [“You thought the Abyss’s contract was salvation, but what truly binds you is your refusal to face defeat.”]
“No, I don’t believe it!” The Accuser descended into madness, deaf to all words.
“You want to break the array? Dream on!” His body began to burn, his groans pained, his face twisting.
“Die! Even gods won’t get the better of me!”
He ripped out his heart, yet miraculously didn’t die—bizarrely so.
Aphrosia sighed, seeing his depths of despair.
“Supreme god, I offer countless souls to summon you. In the twisted shadows, I bow—claws that rend order, abyss that devours light. Hear this mortal’s trembling prayer, let your chaotic breath graze my soul, your disordered gaze pierce false facades! With the Crimson Abyss’s Accuser, I confess my sins, judging the world! Welcome, Lord Ungrust!”
The Dark Tide Coagulation Array activated prematurely. Aphrosia’s goal was utterly thwarted.
Instantly, endless darkness swallowed the earth. The moon turned blood-red, the sky a sea of crimson, a massive black hole hovering above, black lightning coiling around it, expanding as a colossal entity slowly emerged.
In the orphanage, dark purple light flashed, revealing a giant magic array. Accusers on the battlefield collapsed, their bodies withering as if drained of life. The humanoid monsters fell, bandages unraveling, exposing grotesque truths—they were once human.
Count Phoenix lowered his sword, staring grimly at the sky. Allied soldiers gazed at the monstrous remains, hearts sinking—however horrific, they were once human.
The array activated, an unknown power descending. Outside the orphanage, Ifrora, leading the dean and others to safety, looked grim.
In the Accuser’s camp, a figure cloaked in black mist gritted its teeth. “Zans, that fool! Activating the array early, sacrificing us to summon Lord Ungrust! I never agreed!”
What happened with Zans? The array shouldn’t have been broken. Few in Phoenix County understood the Dark Tide Coagulation Array, and none should’ve found Zans’s guarded weak point.