[No title provided]
After the first trial, Hertia had to endure a nightmarish time in prison. Impersonating the saintess, the goddess's proxy, was the gravest crime imaginable to the church. She should have been executed on the spot, but with the public's eyes upon them, they held off—for now. Still, her execution date drew nearer with every passing day.
“Aaaahhhh!! Kyaaahhh!!”
Screams that could tear the eardrums like a banshee's wail filled the bloodstained interrogation room without respite.
“Answer quickly. Where did you get that vile, disgusting power?”
“I…… I'm innocent…… I don't know— Kyaaahhh!!!”
Tied to the chair, she looked no different from a ghost. Her pristine white habit was shredded and stained with blood and flesh. Her skin, ravaged by endless torture, kept ripping and crusting over in cycles, turning a sickly black-red from scabs and dried blood. Normally, her wounds would heal on their own with her holy power, but that power refused to activate, leaving her scars to multiply under the relentless abuse.
“Step aside for a moment, please.”
Click-clack. A woman entered with the sharp report of high heels. The thick perfume wafting from her clashed utterly with the saintess's image, but the inquisitors interrogating Hertia bowed their heads instinctively at the scent.
“You've arrived, Saintess!”
“You've worked hard. But I have some words I'd like to exchange with an old friend. Could you give us the room?”
“Pardon? But this prisoner—”
“Pretty please~?”
For an instant, a purple gleam flickered in Eris's eyes, but the inquisitors lacked the perceptiveness to notice.
“……Understood. As you wish, Saintess……”
The inquisitors filed out. Eris glanced at the door they'd exited through, then slowly approached Hertia, who groaned in agony.
“Tia. Just close your eyes and admit it. Is that so hard?”
“E……ris……”
Hertia forced her blood-crusted eyes upward to meet Eris's gaze, whispering hoarsely through labored breaths.
“I'm…… not…… guilty……”
“Pfft! Puhahaha!! Right, you're innocent!”
The merciful face she'd shown earlier was gone. The Eris before Hertia now was a twisted, grotesque villain, her features warped in malice.
“But you did commit a sin. Know why?”
Squeeze!
“Guhhh!!”
“Because you stole everything that should have been mine!!!”
Ignoring Hertia's writhing in pain, Eris pressed down hard on her wounded shoulder and continued.
“It's been that way since we were kids…… From the day you first showed up at the orphanage…… all the way until you were chosen as the church's saintess!”
Madness. Eris's eyes shimmered with purple light, devoid of reason or principle—purely the gaze of a monster consumed by insanity.
“You……”
“Well, meeting Him let me reclaim the power that was rightfully mine. Ahh! I'm so grateful!”
One moment raging, the next sniffling…… now lost in rapture. At this utterly unhinged display, chills raced across Hertia's skin.
“You filthy wretch. Parading around with that innocent smile after stealing what was mine…… Do you know how nauseating it was? How many times a day I wanted to stab you dead?”
“I…… didn't…… steal…… anything……”
“……Hah.”
Slap!
Eris struck Hertia's cheek with force enough to snap her head back. Flesh tore inside her mouth from the impact, blood trickling from her lips, but Eris fretted only over her own reddened palm.
“No wrongdoing, huh…… Tia. That power isn't yours. It was all meant for me. Then you came along out of nowhere and took it. Right?”
An assertion devoid of logic or reason. But Eris, gripped by madness, truly believed Hertia was a thief who'd stolen her due—and she reveled in the girl's broken state.
“Letting a relic like Relic touch you was disgusting, but now I've reclaimed what's mine, so who cares. As the true saintess reborn, I've shed my old flesh and been made anew~!”
As she rattled off the names of the high priests she'd bedded, Hertia grew ever more disillusioned with the church's sordid underbelly.
“Isn't it hilarious, Tia? You, who wailed for God, God, God…… reduced to this pathetic wreck. And me, who believed in nothing, becoming the real saintess?”
“W-what are you……”
“Abandoned. By God. Just like your parents ditched you at birth.”
Thud—!
The truth she'd denied even under torture and accusation—the truth she'd lacked the courage to face—burst from Eris's lips, hitting Hertia like a heart-shattering blow.
“No one's coming to save you. Aww~ Poor Tia~ Abandoned by family, by friends, and now by God~”
Click-clack! Click-clack!
“One last mercy from an old friend. Admit your guilt now and face execution. It'll end this endless torment.”
“God…… chose you……”
“So naive~ Still clinging to God?”
Thud! As if her piece was said, Eris spun on her heel and strode out with purposeful steps.
“God doesn't exist. And even if He does…… what can you, abandoned by Him, possibly do?”
The next day dawned—execution day.
* * *
Drip…… Step— Drip…….
“Can't you walk faster!?”
Thwack—!
Unable to bear Hertia's limping—her unhealed, pus-oozing feet throbbing in pain—a soldier kicked her.
“Kuh!”
Thud!
She collapsed limply. Her broken bones and ribs hurt too much even to cry out; she just grimaced and gasped for air.
Grab!
“Ugh…… Ahh……”
“Tch! Get up and walk, you filthy witch bitch!”
Witch. A heretic who bewitched with sweet words and devoured children's hearts for personal gain. Realizing she'd become no different from such abominations in their eyes, Hertia could only hang her head lower.
Emerging from the long corridor, blinding light assaulted her, revealing the path to the gallows. Set up on the church outskirts as part of the religious tribunal, the platform swarmed with spectators like a thundercloud. Hundreds—no, nearly a thousand—in rags hurled curses and vitriol at the ragged figure before them. The overwhelming pressure made it hard for Hertia even to breathe.
Then, amid the crowd, familiar faces caught her eye. The boy who'd taken fresh-baked bread from her during volunteer work. The kind mother and daughter who'd come for baptism. The fruit vendor grandma who'd always slipped her a ripe apple. People she'd once known, now glaring with terrifying expressions, jeering and condemning her—it was violence Hertia, who'd known only love her whole life, could scarcely endure.
“Die!”
Splat!
“Witch!”
“Heretic!”
Objects rained down as she trudged toward the gallows: eggs, tomatoes, stones, even razor shards. The mob—demons united by inexplicable madness and malice—tightened around Hertia's dwindling breaths.
—But what about you? What'll you do if the God you believe in betrays you? No matter how much you cry out, that lazy ass won't give a damn.
Aah……
Mars's final words to her suddenly resurfaced.
You…… were right.
She'd scorned him for not believing in God, yet here she was, betrayed—while he, the nonbeliever, proved correct. At her own pathetic reflection, a bitter snort escaped her even amid the pain.
She reached the gallows.
“We now commence the execution of this heretic who impersonated the saintess and wrought vile curses!”
With a booming voice, the executioner hefted a massive axe and thudded toward her kneeling form.
That blade, steeped in countless innocents' blood, surely held stories like hers.
I…… want to apologize.
For being wrong. For lashing out at someone I didn't even know. I'm sorry.
For some reason, in her final moments before the axe fell, her thoughts weren't of a desire to live or resentment toward God.
Just…… sorry.
BOOM-----------!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“…………?”
Long after the executioner should have swung, no pain came. Puzzled, Hertia opened her eyes.
The scene before her was much the same as moments ago—except for the faces. The crowd, demonic until seconds prior, now gawked blankly in one direction.
……Behind me?
Turning toward their stares—
“……Ah.”
“Long time no see? No word during break, and here you are.”
A man lightly parried the descending axe with a slender sword. He blocked the axe—huge as a torso—with a blade less than half its width.
“You……”
“……Tch. They at least gave the condemned a last meal over there. You're skin and bones.”
His eyes held worry and relief as he uttered the baffling words.
Screeech—!
“Hey. Muscle pig. Unless you wanna die……”
The black-haired man who stood out—her love consultant.
“Get that shitty axe outta here.”
It was Mars Noctus.