Episode 182
“Tristan… he’s finally become a god…”
Artius couldn’t understand the situation. Philemon’s sudden appearance was shocking enough, but—
“Tristan, a god?”
He looked at Philemon, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Philemon was in his arms, a miracle in itself, and now Tristan was a god? How could that have happened so quickly, just after Elonia and Lucius ascended the spire?
But the fear in Philemon’s eyes was real. She pulled away from his embrace and tried to fly towards the spire, but she stumbled.
“Ah…!”
“Philia!”
“Y-Your Majesty?!”
Fortunately, Artius caught her before she fell.
But Philemon was confused.
‘I can’t fly.’
She blinked repeatedly, flexing her hands. She had been able to fly just moments ago.
‘I still have power, so why…?’
She had never been so confused. She was visible to them, a ghost who shouldn’t exist, and she had power, but she couldn’t use it.
Artius knelt down, his face filled with concern.
“Philia, are you alright?”
Ah, right.
Artius could see her. That was the key.
She was an incomplete being, neither alive nor dead. The Calamity God had made her this way.
‘And according to his will, I shouldn’t be able to affect the living.’
The only ones she could directly influence were the Calamity God’s apostles. But that had changed.
‘Because Tristan has become an independent god!’
Ironically, she could wield her power in Ravanta, a land outside the Calamity God’s domain, thanks to Tristan. Tristan was still under the Calamity God’s influence, so Philemon, also a slave of the Calamity God, could also wield her power.
But she had been ordered to capture the “fugitive.”
And the fugitive had become the God of Resurrection before she could capture him.
Having lost her purpose, her reason for existing in this world, she had lost access to the Calamity God’s power.
‘Am I useless again?’
Her hands trembled with frustration, her anger so intense that she couldn’t even cry. Just then,
“Philia, why are you crying? Please tell me.”
Artius’s worried voice made her look up at him. He was trying to comfort her, his face filled with concern.
It was strange. She was usually the one comforting him.
“Artius.”
“Yes, Philia?”
He responded instantly, his voice filled with a desperate plea, and Philemon, unable to help herself, clung to him, her voice trembling.
“Artius, we have to save Elonia! Our daughter is in danger! There’s no time!”
Tears welled up in her large green eyes.
Elonia was in danger. Ricardo, hearing those words, quickly said to Artius,
“Your Majesty, I’ll take care of Her Majesty. You go save the princess.”
“W-what?”
Artius was stunned, but Ricardo, pulling him up, insisted.
He didn’t understand the situation either, but having lived a life of survival, he knew instinctively what had to be done.
“If Tristan wasn’t a god, the late Empress wouldn’t have appeared. You have to go, Your Majesty.”
Artius, despite Ricardo’s urging, looked at Philemon anxiously.
He had so much to say to her, so many questions to ask. But he knew what was more important.
He gently helped her sit down and stood up.
“Philia, I’ll be back. Wait for me.”
“W-wait! I’m coming with you…!”
Philemon reached out to him, but he was already running towards the spire.
“I’m coming too…”
She murmured, her voice filled with regret. But she would only be a burden in her current state, unable to use her powers.
“Your Majesty, are you alright?”
Ricardo asked cautiously. Even he, who had witnessed countless strange things in both Heilan and Ravanta, was stunned by the Empress’s sudden reappearance.
Philemon stared blankly at the young man, his face hovering between boyish innocence and mature concern, and murmured,
“You’re Ricardo…”
“Huh? You know me?”
Ricardo was surprised. Philemon, realizing her slip, quickly said,
“N-no.”
She couldn’t tell him she knew him because she had been watching Elonia.
She stood up, about to follow Artius, when,
Clink.
Something metallic hit her foot.
‘…What?’
It felt cold, metallic. But she wasn’t carrying anything like that.
She lifted her skirt and picked up the object.
It was—
“My dagger…?”
She murmured, her eyes widening in surprise.
Ricardo’s eyes also widened.
It was the dagger Chelon had carried, the dagger Artius had brought to Ravanta and given to Elonia.
‘But Her Majesty left it behind?’
That didn’t make sense.
‘No, wait a minute…’
He remembered Elonia crying after reading Philemon’s diary.
If Chelon could be reborn as Elonia, then why not Philemon, Alexia? And Alexia had been an apostle of the Calamity God.
“Your Majesty, could it be…?”
Ricardo looked at her anxiously. Philemon, realizing her mistake, flinched.
“N-no, you misheard.”
“Your Majesty, I’m on Her Highness’s side. And I’m also a Heilan citizen.”
“…”
Philemon knew. She had been watching him in Ravanta, always by Elonia’s side.
She clenched her fists, her gaze dropping to the floor.
“Don’t tell Artius.”
“Of course not.”
Ricardo’s immediate and unwavering response made her look up at him.
‘Can I trust him?’
She knew he wouldn’t betray Elonia. And it was too late to be suspicious now.
Philemon nodded reluctantly and examined the dagger closely.
‘Elonia should have this.’
It was a holy relic. And holy relics were supposed to return to their owners.
‘But that only works if the relic is alive.’
Could a dead holy relic be revived?
And then she realized.
She herself had defied the rules set by the gods. Simply because Tristan had become a god!
‘…Then…’
She cautiously touched the dagger.
A faint humming sound filled the air.
The holy relic, as if overjoyed to be reunited with its owner, began to resonate with Philemon.
“A deal?”
Dolores scoffed at Elonia’s offer. But she was amused by her attempt to negotiate. She shrugged.
“I’ll hear you out. Speak.”
Elonia knew Dolores was being lenient. But,
‘…I can’t let Lucius get hurt anymore.’
What good was being the War Demon if she couldn’t protect the ones she cared about?
She had to say something.
“What are you planning to do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Even if you’ve become a god, you have no place in this world.”
“…”
Dolores’s eyebrow twitched at her provocation. But Elonia, undeterred by her glare, continued,
“Heilan is the Calamity God’s domain, and the only other option is Ravanta, but this is Madicte’s land. However.”
Elonia held out her hand.
“If the Imperial family converts, we can create a place for you.”
“In exchange for Lucius’s life?”
“Yes.”
Elonia nodded firmly, her heart pounding.
‘Please fall for it, please…’
Her hands were sweating. She wasn’t good at sweet-talking, and Dolores wasn’t easily fooled.
And as expected,
“That’s a cute and audacious offer, Princess Elonia.”
Dolores smirked, her voice laced with mockery. Elonia’s face fell, but Dolores, unfazed, slowly approached her.
“But you’re not wrong. My path is blocked because of that damn relic.”
Step, step.
She stopped right in front of Elonia.
“So make your offer more enticing. Then the apostle…”
She stomped on Lucius’s head.
“Ugh…!”
“Lucius!”
Lucius groaned in pain. Elonia, seeing his contorted face, her heart aching, shouted at Dolores,
“Dolores, what are you doing?!”
“Negotiations require leverage.”
Dolores, her face a mask of serene indifference, smiled sweetly.
“As you can see, the apostle’s life is beneath my feet. So make your offer more appealing.”
She looked down at Elonia condescendingly.
Make a disingenuous offer sound sincere? But she had to, to save Lucius, to buy time.
Elonia clenched her fists, lowered her head, and then, swallowing her pride, her voice trembling, pleaded with Dolores.
“…Please become the patron god of Ravanta.”
“Not good enough.”
Her offer was rejected instantly. Elonia looked up, her eyes filled with tears.
“Why? Isn’t it sincere enough? Do you not care about the apostle’s life?”
“…!”
Lucius tried to suppress his groans, but Dolores, despite her small stature, could easily inflict pain on him.
His body twisted in agony, his fingers scraping against the floor. Elonia’s heart sank.
‘How much longer can he endure this?’
Could Lucius hold out until Madicte intervened? Would Madicte even intervene?
“Ugh!”
Dolores stomped on Lucius’s head again. Lucius gasped for air, then went limp.
“L-Lucius!”
“Don’t worry. He just fainted.”
Dolores’s attempt at reassurance fell on deaf ears. Elonia quickly knelt beside Lucius, checking his pulse.
It was faint, but steady.
The Calamity God was more powerful than Dolores. But Lucius’s vessel was reaching its limit.
‘It’s just a matter of time.’
A human body couldn’t contain divine power. An ordinary human would have died long ago. Lucius was only alive because he was an apostle. Despair washed over Elonia.
“Princess Elonia, one last chance.”
A cold voice echoed from above.
Elonia’s eyes lost their focus. The gods never helped humans when they needed it most.
She had only one option left.
She slowly knelt down, her forehead touching the floor.
“…Please.”
“Haha! Now that’s more like it. Continue.”
“Please, Dolores.”
“Ahahaha!”
Dolores, unable to contain her laughter, looked down at the two figures kneeling before her, a smug grin on her face.
She was enjoying this.
Elonia was right. There was no future for her.
‘But perhaps I can start anew in Ravanta.’
Alexia’s new family, this foolish princess, and the Emperor were all willing to sacrifice themselves for each other. Lucius would endure death for Elonia, and Elonia would endure humiliation.
What an ideal relationship.
‘I want to be part of it.’
If she could join their circle, she wouldn’t have to disappear, wouldn’t have to be forgotten.
Just as Dolores, her face filled with satisfaction, reached out to place her hand on Elonia’s head,
“Elonia!”
BANG! The spire door burst open.
Artius stood there, his face a mask of anguish.