Chapter 56
Is my intelligence lacking?
The title of Saint seemed to carry quite a bit of weight.
“I may not always be able to stay by the two princesses’ sides. There
might come a time when I have to leave suddenly, and making our
relationship public in a legally recognized way may also be difficult.
Your Majesty, Your Highness… I apologize.”
The Goddess and I had yet to settle our negotiations, and if my
interpretation of the prophecy turned out to be correct, I might have to
leave—far away.
So when His Majesty the Emperor and Her Highness the Empress summoned me
for a conversation, I had been honest with them.
Yet, despite my words, both simply smiled.
“We understand. Since it was my daughters who insisted on this, it is
only natural that things turned out this way.”
“We will respect the Saint’s wishes. Do as you please.”
With that, they officially recognized my rather unofficial relationship
with the princesses.
Frankly, this was so absurdly favorable to me that it almost felt
unreal.
And so, just like that, my relationship with the princesses was
acknowledged.
And then… well.
“Amael, tonight again?”
“Saint, tomorrow is our turn!”
It became an everyday occurrence.
Truly, every single day.
To the point where I wondered if it was even okay to be doing it this
much.
But in the end, it wasn’t even the physical part that I cherished the
most.
What I truly loved—more than anything—was the time after.
When everything was over.
When we lay quietly in bed together, bare and warm, pressing our
foreheads against one another, sharing laughter and pointless
conversations.
Simple, mundane things.
“I tried some cookies today. Iomene really loves desserts.”
“I walked barefoot on the grass. Saint, it felt wonderful. Just like how
it felt in Almeine’s memories.”
“I’ve been refining my research on primary colors to expand its
applications in different fields. I think it’ll lead to major
advancements. I’m excited about it.”
Rolling around together in the sheets, sharing warmth, whispering about
nothing—that was what I loved the most.
And I, too, would share my own mundane stories with them.
About the patients I had treated.
About the food I had eaten.
Just pointless, everyday conversations.
And when all was said and done, we would step into the bath, wash up
together, and part ways for the night.
Satisfied.
Happy.
If only life could always be this way.
With those thoughts in mind, I made sure that after dinner, no one
entered my room.
That time was for me alone.
And what did I do with that time?
I knelt before the Goddess’s statue, opened the Scripture of Grace, and
prayed.
“I’m here again today, Goddess. Please, talk to me.”
My prayers were desperate.
Once I started, I could easily spend several hours in fervent
devotion.
“I love my life right now. Healing people from time to time, eating
delicious food, spending time with my lovers—I love every single part of
it. His Majesty has approved my relationship with Almeine and Iomene. I
want to marry all three of them. But I still can’t give them a clear
answer… because of the prophecy Lupiel gave me.”
Please.
I had heard of divine revelations. Of gods descending to the mortal realm
to meet with their chosen.
I’ve done so much, haven’t I?
I reformed the entire Church.
I restored its teachings.
I did everything right.
So, please.
Meet me.
Tell me.
Tell me that the prophecy was a lie.
Tell me that I was wrong to interpret it that way.
Tell me that I can live happily, that I can marry them all and
stay.
“I just need confirmation. I need to know whether my interpretation of
the prophecy is true or not. That’s all. Once I know, I’ll propose. I want
to stay with the three of them forever. Please, just this once—meet
me.”
I prayed like this every single day.
And yet—
Three days had passed since I became involved with all three of
them.
The Goddess’s statue still wore that gentle, merciful smile.
Still, she offered no response.
After spending three full hours in prayer, I looked up at that same
smiling expression.
For some reason, an irritation boiled inside me.
You had the power to throw me into Hell… but not the power to meet
me?
Wouldn’t it be easier to just come down and talk to me for a
second?
For the first time, I felt resentment toward the silent Goddess.
I did everything right.
Reading the Scripture of Grace, I had even found passages that seemed
uncannily similar to the things I had done.
It almost made me believe—
Am I truly a Saint?
So then why—why not just tell me?
All I needed was a single sentence.
“You misunderstood the prophecy.”
“Your interpretation is wrong.”
“Here, let me tell you the real meaning.”
Then I could finally live happily…
I could become the Harem King, live my life surrounded by love, and die
in bliss.
…But what could I do?
If the Goddess refused to answer, all I could do was continue praying
until she did.
Feeling defeated, I collapsed onto my bed.
At least… the lingering scent of Iomene, Almeine, and Erfa on my sheets
comforted me.
A man whose bed carried the scent of three women.
How amazing is that?
Please.
Let this life continue.
A peaceful, ordinary life.
A life without hardship, without suffering.
A life filled with happiness.
With that prayer, I slowly drifted into sleep.
…But before long, something strange pulled me awake.
A bizarre sensation.
My body felt unbelievably clean, as though it had been purified to an
extreme degree.
A state of absolute clarity—free from emotion, free from sensation.
Pure.
Weightless.
I stood, alone, in an endless expanse of white.
A void without sound.
Without warmth.
Without anything.
Where… am I?
This didn’t feel like a dream.
A dream would never feel this vivid.
I could feel everything—each sensation crisp and unmistakably real.
As I flexed my fingers and toes in curiosity—
Amael.
A soft voice called my name.
Startled, I spun toward the sound.
And there, floating in the air, was a massive woman.
She had the exact same face as the statue in my room.
The same gentle smile.
And a body so enormous, she rivaled the Statue of Liberty in sheer
scale.
I instinctively understood.
A goddess.
Lilia had come to see me.
“G-Goddess? Is it… really you?”
I have come in response to your prayers.
At Lilia’s words, I felt something well up inside me.
Tears blurred my vision.
Slowly, I stepped toward her.
“I… I really tried my best. You must know that, don’t you? You’ve seen
me—I’ve never done anything wrong. Not once. I’ve never even used my
skills for anything bad! Then why? Why would you give me that
prophecy?”
The goddess looked down at me with a pitying gaze.
So I told her everything.
Everything that had been weighing on my heart.
“My wishes… they’re really not that unreasonable. I have three lovers
now. Sure, it happened a little forcefully, but still—I love them. I just
want to be happy with them, for a long, long time. So please… just answer
one question.”
Ask.
“Lupiel gave me a prophecy. What does it mean? Are you really going
to throw me into Hell?
You aren’t, right? I must have misinterpreted it. I’m just a coward—I
must have been overthinking it, right?”
The goddess, who had been gazing at me with pity, suddenly—
Laughed.
It wasn’t a kind or amused laugh.
It was a laugh filled with…
Mockery.
Hatred.
Rage.
And most of all—
Disgust.
I will cast you into Hell, Amael. No matter what you do. No matter how much good you try to achieve. It does not matter.
The goddess lowered her face toward me.
Her expression was still gentle—but the words that followed were utterly
merciless.
Poor Amael. Your interpretation… was not wrong.
And then—
She spoke the most devastating words I could have ever heard.
As expected, the gods of the Pantheon had been watching Saint
Amael.
The moment they noticed the Dark God creeping toward him, several gods
tried to intervene—but they failed.
Even after three hundred years, Heaven was still in complete ruin.
Even the strongest of the Pantheon—Lupiel, the God of Prophecy, and
Dulanier, the God of Destruction—had been left gasping for breath after
expending their power to grant a single prophecy and one Chosen.
The connection between Heaven and the mortal realm had been severely
damaged.
Aside from sending divine power, it was nearly impossible for the gods to
even speak with their followers.
If the gods themselves could barely interfere—
Then how could they stop the Dark God?
And so, the Dark God successfully approached Amael.
Successfully planted doubt in his heart.
Successfully struck at his deepest fear.
“Why… why? Why me…?”
Amael’s voice trembled as tears fell from his eyes.
His face contorted with pain, frustration, and resentment.
“I really… really tried my best. Why? Why are you doing this to me? Why
can’t I just be happy?”
His voice broke with despair, but the Dark God only shook his head.
Do you know the true source of your power?
At those words, Amael flinched.
“…It’s a galge skill, isn’t it?”
The Dark God paused.
That… word.
He didn’t understand it.
But one thing was clear—
Amael was deeply mistaken.
Laughably so.
This naive, foolish human…
He was so easy to manipulate.
So perfectly moldable.
The Dark God could hardly believe how easy this was.
Slowly—
Deliberately—
He began to work on Amael’s mind.
Let me show you… where your true power comes from.
The world around him shifted.
Three hundred years ago.
The era of the Celestial War.
A battlefield from the mortal realm came into view.
The Dark Gods of the Abyss.
The Demons of Hell.
And the Gods of the Pantheon.
Their followers clashed in a brutal struggle, fighting desperately for
the victory of their respective factions.
Demon worshippers and dark sorcerers sacrificed humans in twisted, bloody
rituals, offering them as tributes.
The worshippers of the Dark Gods slaughtered their fellow men, their gods
feeding upon human blood and entrails.
On the other side, Saints, Holy Warriors, and Chosen Heroes fought with
all their might—desperately resisting the monstrous tide.
And in the center of it all—
The followers of Asmodeus, the Demon King of Lust, revealed
themselves.
Twisted zealots, drenched in debauchery and madness.
Fanatics who had long lost their humanity.
They engaged in acts too vile to put into words, all in service to their
Demon King.
Amael shuddered violently.
Slaughter.
Rape.
Arson.
A grotesque, nightmarish display of depravity, all for the sake of
empowering their master.
Amael collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking.
“That… that’s the power inside me?”
The Dark God suppressed the overwhelming delight welling up inside
him.
Ah.
That face.
Nothing was more exquisite than watching a human break down.
The power of Lust. The power of Asmodeus—the Demon King you see before you—is inside you, Amael. That is why I must cast you into Hell. The power within your soul will only grow stronger, feeding upon the faith of those around you. And little by little, without even realizing it…
The Dark God paused before once again forcing Amael to witness the
horrors of the past.
A slow, agonizing display of what Asmodeus’ followers had done.
Eventually, you will become just like them. That is why, before that happens… I will stop you. No matter how much good you do. No matter how hard you struggle. You cannot escape fate.
You will fall into Hell. And there, I will completely annihilate your soul—along with the power inside you.
It was complete.
The Dark God felt something akin to ecstasy as he watched Amael’s
reaction.
He would break soon.
It was inevitable.
He would weep, he would scream, he would curse his fate.
And after that?
Obvious.
He would curse the Goddess.
He would come to despise the Pantheon—the very gods who condemned him to
this fate.
The Dark God had done this countless times before.
Saints.
Priestesses.
Chosen Warriors.
He had corrupted them all in this exact way.
And Amael would be no different.
After all, what would he do now?
Would he continue serving the gods who had damned him?
Of course not.
He might sabotage the Church out of spite.
He might fall into despair and lose control.
Either way, it would lead to chaos.
Faith would crumble, weakening the Pantheon.
And at the right moment…
The Dark God would feed this information to Hell.
The demons would come for the power of Lust.
With the Pantheon weakened, another war would be inevitable.
The Dark God would simply sit back and watch, waiting to reap the rewards
once both sides destroyed each other.
And so, the Dark God turned his gaze toward Amael.
Say it.
Curse Lilia.
Curse the gods.
Scream that they should all burn in hell.
Ask why they denied you happiness.
Ask why you were condemned for a power you never wanted.
Scream. Wail. Despair.
Amael slowly lifted his head.
Tears streamed down his face.
He opened his mouth.
The Dark God leaned forward, breathless with anticipation.
What curse would he scream?
What despair would he voice?
What delicious agony would he unleash?
“I’ll sacrifice myself.”
…What?
For the first time, the Dark God doubted his own ears.
What did he just say?
“I’ll just… sacrifice myself. If my existence means that kind of
nightmare will happen, then I’d rather die.”
Amael clenched his fists, frustration evident on his face.
Yet, despite his grief, the words spilling from his lips were
different.
“Take my soul. Destroy it. Now. Along with the power inside me. The Goddess
can do that, can’t she? Right?”
The Dark God’s jaw fell open.
“I have three women I love on the surface. I don’t want them to get hurt
because of me. So hurry up! Before I change my mind, just destroy my
soul!”
Amael sobbed as he begged for his own destruction.
And for the first time, the Dark God… fell silent.
…Seriously.
“Does this guy have a few screws loose?”
For the first time ever, the Dark God felt genuine bewilderment.
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