Chapter 142

Ch.142 Apostle of the Goddess of War

“An offer?”

An offer from the Evil God…

To Sion’s ears, it sounded no different from a demon’s temptation—accept it, and he’d surely be ensnared in a curse with no escape. And with extremely high probability, at that.

“Yes. An offer. Come sit beside me for now? Let’s talk comfortably.”

Tap tap.

The girl—no, the Goddess of Corruption—lightly patted the space next to her with hands as white as a rabbit’s. Her gesture, made in the flawless guise of an utterly untainted maiden, radiated an almost bewitching grace.

Sion shook his head.

Tartania gave a faint smile—

“Then I’ll come to you.”

She appeared right beside him. In the blink of an eye, she materialized next to him on the grass.

‘Teleportation?’

Was the Evil God using Sion’s stellar power so casually? The sheer gulf between them struck him anew.

Though they’d crossed paths several times before, he now truly understood: she existed on an entirely different plane of being.

‘To think I must defeat beings like her to bring peace to this world…’

Even despair welled inside him.

But for now, dialogue was paramount. Talking with the Goddess of Corruption might yet reveal some crucial clue.

“Will you sit?”

The girl of corruption extended the invitation once more. Sion, feigning helplessness, plopped down heavily beside her.

“Good.”

Tartania beamed with fresh, almost disarming cheer. Gazing at her smile alone made Sion feel his mind drift hazily.

‘I must be under psychic interference right now.’

He snapped his focus back instantly, channeling his divine power fiercely to shield his mind—a process of expelling her malevolent aura.

In truth, Tartania hadn’t meant to interfere at all. Her very presence was simply so overwhelming that the effect occurred naturally.

“Oh dear, sorry. I’ll tone it down more for now.”

Whoosh.

Only then did the oppressive weight in the air dissipate, and her malice grew lighter. Aside from the faint traces of magic escaping her breath, everything now seemed benign.

Yet merely expelling her magic had exhausted him so. Sion, beads of sweat trickling down his back, gave a stiff nod.

Now that he confirmed she held no immediate intent to fight, the stage for conversation was set.

“Speak.”

Sion’s voice was taut, every muscle still coiled with tension.

But inwardly, he resolved:

‘Focus on every single word. Absorb every shred of information.’

He’d accept anything—any detail that might help him understand and ultimately destroy his enemy.

“First, this ‘offer’—it’s a peace treaty.”

“What?”

His grim resolve instantly shattered.

The words spilling from the Goddess of Corruption were shockingly unconventional—so much so they nearly knocked the sense from his head.

“A peace treaty? What in the world are you talking about?”

“Just as it sounds. We don’t wish to fight for now.”

Sion pondered briefly before countering:

“That just means your faction has grown weaker. To me, it sounds like the perfect opportunity to strike.”

“…You’re sharp.”

Tartania chuckled lightly, then shook her head.

“But leave that thought be. If we truly fought, it’s obvious whose side would suffer more.”

“…?”

“We have nothing to protect—just our own lives, at most. But you? You must protect your people in the name of your Goddess.”

She plucked a wildflower as she added, almost dismissively:

“Powerless, frail, and nothing but burdens.”

“That’s not an offer—it’s blackmail.”

“To the powerless, even an offer sounds like blackmail. It’s natural order, isn’t it? As the Apostle of War, you should understand well: conquest, subjugation, and enforcing one’s will—that was Achille’s desire, wasn’t it?”

Sion fell silent.

Tartania’s logic was airtight—precisely the truth he himself understood all too well.

The strong devour the weak.

A world where power claims everything.

‘Achille’s ideal paradise.’

He, too, pursued this vision and even now labored to eliminate any who stood in its way.

“Even so,” he said, “I have no intention of negotiating with an Evil God. Agreeing to a truce now won’t erase your atrocities, and if you grow stronger later and attack again, I’d regret today.”

Tartania tilted her head slightly. Her soft, brown hair cascaded in harmony with the wildflowers around her.

It was hard to believe he was conversing with the Sovereign of Terror—the Evil God herself.

She continued:

“Let me explain more concretely. I, the Goddess of Corruption, wish to defect to the Church of War.”

“…What did you say?”

Sion furrowed his brow.

What kind of headache-inducing nonsense was this now?

“I’ll reveal our current objective. In exchange for this secret, I ask that you accept my defection.”

“Hold on. My brain’s freezing up.”

“I understand. But I’ve given this careful thought before deciding.”

“What trap is this, really?”

“No trap.”

If only Lady Achille were here—she would’ve provided clarity. The gravity of this situation far exceeded what Sion could judge alone.

He dared not jump to conclusions.

Honestly, though—it was an extremely tempting proposition.

It proved fractures existed within the Evil God faction, and if he could extract their intelligence and strength…

‘It would greatly aid the coming war.’

The potential gains were immense—but so were the risks. He had to decide whether he could shoulder them.

“Why defect? Why suddenly? Why now?”

Sion pressed further, proceeding with caution.

“The reason’s complicated—too much to explain right now. Put simply: I’m betting on your victory.”

“My victory?”

“Yes.”

He hoped her words held truth. He’d use anything usable to his advantage.

“Then explain properly. I need to believe your words before I consider accepting your defection.”

“You sound awfully decisive now that I’m yielding, don’t you? It’s thrilling.”

“…?”

Tartania chuckled, gently tapping Sion’s shoulder.

“I’ll give you proof you can trust. First—you were lured here. You think you pursued this path yourself, but the situation was partly orchestrated.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Loenhaugter. You’re searching for him, aren’t you?”

“…!”

Sion’s eyes snapped wide open.

“Right. Not exactly him—but something related is in that village over there. See?”

Where Tartania’s delicate finger pointed, a quiet village indeed nestled in the basin below.

For a place harboring an Evil God, it seemed oddly ordinary—smoke curled from chimneys, children’s laughter rang out—as if it were any mundane human settlement.

‘What is this?’

Sion still felt as though he were trapped in an illusion. If it were real, the implications would be staggering.

“You’re saying Sir Loenhaugter is there?”

“Yes—he was captured.”

“By whom?”

“Magoth.”

“Magoth… you mean…”

Tartania nodded.

“Yes—the Goddess of Darkness, Eru’s vanished twin sister.”

Sion pressed his lips tight.

The Evil God of Darkness was dwelling in such a place?

“That’s absurd.”

“But doesn’t it feel real? You know better than anyone that I’m not lying.”

He hated to admit it—but she was right.

The moment he perceived that village, a suffocating wave of malevolence coiled around his limbs, freezing him in place.

The pressure felt like being ensnared by deep-sea tentacles.

And that was just from looking. If he set foot inside, not even Sion would manage a full breath.

“Everyone’s waiting for you there.”

“The Evil Gods?”

“Yes.”

“But why…”

Tartania covered her mouth, giggling.

“I was waiting for you—to bring you there. I made a deliberate opening, just for this.”

“This is really making my head spin.”

Sion pressed for answers about Loenhaugter. He still couldn’t fathom why the man had been taken to the Evil Gods’ stronghold.

What Tartania revealed next was unexpected.

“Eru… was a Sovereign. She knew things even beyond our comprehension.”

Her tone grew wistful—her eyes distant.

“Could such a being truly vanish without any contingency? Would she just abandon the human world she’d nurtured over countless ages? No.”

Tartania declared with certainty:

“Even if the Heavens fell, Eru would have wanted humanity to endure—because that’s who she was.”

“So…”

“Her choice to dissolve herself means she left behind a surefire way to defeat Magoth and us all.”

Sion’s eye twitched beneath his brow.

Here stood an enemy commander who believed in Eru more than even mortals or the Round Table Goddesses did. Sometimes, after all, the enemy’s evaluation was the most objective.

“That’s why I chose defection. Honestly, I never expected it myself.”

“So you’re surrendering—because you fear what Lady Eru has chosen?”

“Well… that’s the main reason.”

Sion nodded slowly in understanding.

Far more convincing than some flimsy excuse.

‘An Evil God surrendering out of absolute faith in Eru’s omniscience…’

It was an ironic twist—corruption turning so corrupt that it looped back to goodness.

“I understand now—at least the general situation.”

“Good.”

“Then answer me: why was Sir Loenhaugter kidnapped? Why keep him alive? And why lure me here?”

Tartania paused briefly before answering gently:

“Was your meeting with Loenhaugter truly just coincidence?”

“…?”

“Loenhaugter—he’s Eru’s creation. Your guide, placed by her… or rather, a walking library of knowledge.”

“What?”

Sion had long sensed Loenhaugter was extraordinary—but this truth far exceeded his expectations.

“We call it Akasha.”

“Akasha…”

“He likely knows the locations of all the Holy Grail shards.”

Tartania went on:

“From the very beginning, Eru foresaw all of this. She arranged for him to meet you and naturally pass you the shard locations.”

Sion felt dread coil in his gut—a fear before the vast secrets of the world and an inescapable fate.

How far had the Sovereign’s foresight stretched?

Just how much of this had she already seen?

“In any case, here’s my proposal: help me extract him before Magoth fully corrupts Loenhaugter. I’ll assist you.”

“Really… you will?”

“Yes. Will you believe me then?”

Sion gave a reluctant nod.

“If you go that far, I’ll have no choice but to trust you—but why risk so much? Isn’t your life in danger?”

Tartania grinned savagely.

“I love that thrill.”

“What?”

“Heh. Forget I said that. It’s sweet you worry for a Goddess—but it’s not your concern. I’ll manage.”

The mental worlds of Goddesses—

Whether of the Round Table or Evil Gods—differed little in Sion’s eyes. They were all utterly mad. Was this simply the nature of Goddesses?

‘Compared to them, our Goddess is practically normal.’

With that thought, Sion asked about her plan:

“How exactly will you help me escape?”

Grab.

Tartania seized Sion’s arm in response. His unresisting limb was drawn toward her abdomen.

“Huh…?”

Squelch.

Slurp.

It felt like plunging a hand into freshly slaughtered pork.

When he came to his senses, his hand had indeed pierced through Tartania’s belly.

“Ah?”

“This feels weird… ngh.”

“What the hell!”

“Stay still. You need to adjust.”

“To what?”

Panicked, Sion’s eyes flew wide. He strained to pull his arm free—but couldn’t.

“My intestines. You’ve seen them before, haven’t you?”

Sion’s memory stirred.

Yes.

This sensation…

“The sky-darkening phenomenon in the Holy Kingdom…”

“Right. Even the Commander of the Order of the Holy Sword lost consciousness in my gut—it’s that potent.”

Tartania giggled, her voice dripping with seductive charm.

“My intestines are another gateway outward. At the right moment, I’ll swallow you. All you need to do is safely reach Loenhaugter’s side.”

Sion’s brow slicked with sweat.

From his fingertips, he could already feel her malevolence corroding his flesh.

“Understood.”

“Good. Pull it out now.”

Squelch.

Sion withdrew his arm, slick with unidentifiable slime. From fingertips to forearm, his skin was stained with colors too grotesque to name.

It healed slowly—but he never wanted to experience that again.

Tartania brushed off her backside and rose.

“Shall we go? Magoth’s waiting.”

Schedule: Every mon, wed, fri and sun

Review at

NovelUpdate