“But do I really have another choice?”

Muen suddenly chuckled, carefree and wild.

“There’s a hot maid with long legs, big tits, and black stockings crying outside, waiting for me to save her, y’know?”

“The last woman who cried and begged me like that... was my mom, forcing me to go out and get a girlfriend back in my old life.”

“So... bring it on, Withering King.”

Muen spread his arms wide.

“At a time like this, you think I’d be scared of some mere Evil God?”

[Tch.]

The Withering King sneered, dripping with disdain.

Mocking the arrogance of an insect daring to bark.

But even an insect, if it could put on an entertaining show... was worth pausing to watch, no?

So be it.

As you wish.

The endless crimson earth suddenly trembled.

A massive, withered hand slowly stretched out before Muen.

The hand was charred black, scorched as if burned by fire.

And beneath that carbonized, pitch-black surface, Muen could feel a heat so intense it seemed capable of reducing the entire world to ashes.

The hand reached for him. The fingers curled... closing in.

Ssshhhk.

Muen felt his skin searing as the hand gripped him, scorching fingerprints pressing deep into his flesh—twisted, grotesque totems burning into his body.

Pain—overwhelming, maddening pain—flooded his mind, alongside a terrifying, intrusive desire to incinerate the world entirely.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

The agony was unbearable.

But this time... not even the Black Book could help him.

He could only rely on himself.

...

“What... the hell... is that?”

Anne stared at Ailuka’s hovering head drifting closer, hopelessness flickering in her eyes.

She had never felt so powerless.

Since the moment the gods had granted her favor, since her abilities first awakened, she had naturally stood among the strong.

But now—faced with this indescribable, abominable thing—the powers she’d always relied upon... failed her for the first time.

She couldn’t move. She could only watch as she drifted helplessly toward death.

Holy white wings unfurled. Ethereal hymns whispered through the air.

And in those abyssal eyes, a glint of greed shone as Ailuka’s head opened her mouth once more.

This time, an overwhelming suction force burst forth, slowly stripping something from Anne’s body.

Her soul.

“So... this is it for me, huh?”

“What a shame... I still had things I wanted to say to Young Master...”

“In the end... I’m such a useless maid.”

She had struggled. Fought.

But Anne knew... there was nothing left to try.

So she simply closed her eyes.

Awaiting death.

“Oi, Anne.”

A familiar voice called out.

Faint. Hazy. Like a hallucination.

But that voice—no matter the time, the place, even if an Evil God itself blocked the way—Anne would always open her eyes and look.

Because that voice belonged to Young Master.

“Didn’t I tell you... stand up straight?”

At some point, Muen had broken free from the invisible restraints and appeared behind the Evil-God-possessed Ailuka’s head.

Facing Anne, he spoke seriously:

“My personal maid wouldn’t give up over something this small.”

Anne stared, wide-eyed.

Her nose stung.

But this time, she held it in.

She wouldn’t cry again.

Because Young Master hated seeing her pathetic like that.

So no matter when—she would be graceful and strong.

Even in the face of death.

“Now that’s more like it.”

Seeing Anne’s resolve return, Muen # Nоvеlight # smiled faintly.

Then, suddenly tilting his head like a teasing girlfriend clinging from behind, he leaned close, affectionate yet sinister.

His eyes locked onto Ailuka—or rather, the terrifying will hidden within those abyssal eyes.

His expression contorted, feral.

“Oi, bastard Evil God—looks like you’re planning to do some pretty nasty shit to my maid.”

Muen leaned into Ailuka’s ear, whispering softly:

“You wanna play games? Why don’t I play with you instead? And while we’re at it... I’ve got a little gift just for you.”

Muen’s hand clamped down on Ailuka’s holy wings.

Along his arm, strange, scalding markings rippled.

Fingerprints—blazing hot.

The next moment, Muen gripped the wing tight—and ripped.

Those wings, impervious even to steel, tore like paper in his hands.

“ROAAARGH—!”

Ailuka roared, abyssal eyes glaring coldly, waves of malice rolling like a flood.

A mere human dared to defile the divine.

“Hmm? You look pissed off, huh?”

With the wing torn off, Muen suddenly reached out, gripping Ailuka’s face tightly.

Their eyes met.

For a fleeting instant, the will behind those abyssal eyes faltered—then sneered.

A human dares to stare into Me?

See how long you—

Wait.

Something was wrong.

Within Muen’s eyes, flames burned—a crimson inferno.

And beyond those flames... that same terrifying presence gazed down from the boundless crimson sky.

Eye met eye.

In that moment, Muen heard a disdainful snicker.

[You pathetic, posturing impurity.]

Flames ignited within Ailuka’s abyssal eyes as well.

Like sparks flickering in the dark—tiny flames set to ignite the entire void.

“ROAAARGH—!”

Ailuka howled, indistinct syllables spilling from her mouth, like a beast cornered.

She thrashed wildly, struggling to break Muen’s gaze.

But Muen’s hands clamped down like iron, holding her head steady.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you love love?”

Muen roared:

“Then feel my love! Here’s my gift to you—this is my love, you bastard Evil God!”

“Accept my affection!”

Crimson flames blazed from Muen’s body, molten as lava, pouring into Ailuka’s mouth and nose, flooding the abyss.

The darkness sizzled, recoiling like it faced a natural predator.

And the hidden will within that darkness... finally cracked.

A glimmer of fear.

A flicker of retreat.

Evil Gods... can feel fear?

Don’t chicken out now, bastard.

Face me head-on!

Muen grinned savagely.

Whoever backs down first... is the loser’s grandkid!

At that moment, Muen felt the abyssal eyes shift, squirming.

The will within the darkness severed its gaze from the Withering King, focusing instead on Muen.

Ailuka’s lips quivered—speaking human words.

“...It just... happens to be... Withering... restrains Me...”

“But... He won’t... always... watch over a mere human...”

The words stumbled, halting like a newborn learning to speak.

But it didn’t take long—learning human language was mere child’s play for that being.

“So.”

In the instant before the darkness burned away, the will locked eyes with Muen, voice cold and devoid of emotion:

“I’ll remember you.”

“Muen Campbell.”

“...Hah?”

Muen froze.

His face twisted in panic.

“Wait, wait, Great God, what did you say?”

“Remember me? I’m just a lowly human—not even worth your memory!”

“I-I was just joking! Forget me, pretty please?”

“My name’s... uh, Lilith! Not Muen, you got the wrong guy!”

“I surrender! Just forget me, please!”

“Qiu Ni Gao, stop looking at me like that!”

Muen’s desperate pleas echoed.

But by then... no one—and no god—was left to hear them.