The Goddess of Betrayal (1)
The four great continents—east, west, south, and north—were separated by colossal mountain ranges impassable by any ordinary means. As a result, interaction between them was virtually nonexistent; each felt like a world unto itself, with entirely different climates, cultures, and histories.
But the goddesses met regularly on the central continent for gatherings. Unlike the other continents teeming with people, this one had just a single resident: a wizened great sage whose white hair trailed down to his heels. He'd lost one eye in some incident long ago and wore a magical prosthetic that revealed hidden truths invisible to mortal sight and glimpses of the distant future.
Every century, the goddesses attended the conference he hosted, engaging in heated debates on humanity's peace. Ishtar, goddess of the western continent, was a regular attendee.
That day, amid fervent complaints about the swelling ranks of the demon king's army, the goddess of the eastern continent suddenly blurted that she was exhausted beyond endurance and wanted to retire.
"There's no such thing as retirement for a goddess."
The great sage, who had outlived every goddess present, cut her off flatly. No one knew his exact age. The southern continent's goddess—the eldest there—had once let slip that even 700,000 years ago, when she first became a goddess, he was already an old man dwelling here. That was the closest anyone could guess: at least 700,000 years old.
Ishtar suspected he'd been around since the dawn of recorded history a million years ago.
"Then what happens if a goddess wants to quit?"
"She steels her resolve."
"Pardon?"
"Take a walk, listen to some classical music, relieve the stress somehow, then get back to work."
The great sage munched on a rice cake, sounding like a ruthless employer answering Ishtar's question.
"What if... a goddess suffers an injury so severe she can't continue her duties?"
"Come here. I'll heal you. I can cure terminal pancreatic cancer with a rub of my palm."
"What if she's brainwashed by the enemy?"
"Mental attacks don't work on goddesses—you know that. Your souls are bound to this central continent, always safe."
He dispatched the sequential questions from the northern and southern goddesses with effortless answers. Ishtar wondered if he'd fielded such queries before—from predecessors.
Predecessors. The first goddesses were said to have been born a million years ago, but even the southern continent's eldest was only 700,000. Every continent's seat must have rotated at least once.
Yet goddesses didn't die from wounds or illness... Ishtar glanced at her chest, once pierced by a spear from one of the four demon kings. It had healed flawlessly.
If they couldn't die or quit, why did vacancies occur?
"Heh. Quite the pensive look, Ishtar."
"Are you hiding something from us, Great Sage? You've always been a man of secrets... Truth be told, aside from the southern goddess, we know next to nothing about you. Not your name, your origins—nothing."
"Sounds like you're saying, 'If you don't want more suspicion, come clean.' Fine... You're a goddess I hold particular expectations for. I wouldn't want your ill will."
He drained his green tea, adding a needless aside that prying further would be pointless.
"You're all virgins, aren't you?"
"Wh-what?!"
"What kind of talk is that, Great Sage?!"
"An old geezer like you harassing us about sex?!"
"...I might counter with magic, depending."
"Now, now, calm down."
From the veteran southern goddess to the rookie eastern one, they were all women who had lived as pure virgins until some event led them to undergo the goddess ritual. Puberty-level immunity to sexual topics made their sharp reactions natural.
"I only meant to resolve Ishtar's doubts."
"I seem to recall asking why goddesses vacate their seats."
"Precisely. A goddess loses her qualification upon losing her virginity."
"........."
The four goddesses clamped their mouths shut. They were likely all thinking the same thing:
So the previous goddess got booted for having sex...?
The illusion of noble predecessors who'd nobly sacrificed their souls battling the demon king—only to perish gloriously—shattered in an instant.
And another question sprouted in Ishtar's mind like a seedling.
"What becomes of a former goddess? Does she revert to her human form?"
"...That's none of your concern. It has nothing to do with you."
The great sage propped his chin, his words laden with meaning. As an elder who'd seen goddesses come and go, he'd witnessed the tragedy of noble beings succumbing to carnal lust, abandoning duty—perhaps multiple times.
The goddesses fell silent. Even Ishtar swallowed the urge to press, "But I'm still curious—tell us."
——Ishtar had never lost her virginity. Never even come close.
Captured by the demon king's forces and nearly raped by some third-rate orc, holy light had decomposed its cock, turning it into a eunuch.
"A goddess loses divine blessing only if she herself desires sex," the great sage had said.
As long as Ishtar never wanted it, she was invincible. Her body would heal, her soul perpetually purified on the central continent.
——Surely, from here on out, too...
"Poof! Poof! You're thinking wrong right now, poof! The demon king isn't some foe you can judge by hasty assumptions, poof! Listen up, poof! The demon king is poof!"
"Ah... poof poof, shut up. Just talk normally."
"Simply subjugating her temporarily isn't the end! Ah, I can speak normally now."
As Kim Hoyoung plugged his ears in agony, the goddess regained her elegant tone.
"You might think taming Bianca settles it, but that's a mistake. 'Demon king' doesn't refer to just one person. There were demon kings before her, and there will be after. It's a cycle, like how a fallen goddess is replaced by a new one."
Ishtar spotted Bianca's sharp glare from an angle hidden from Hoyoung—like an abandoned puppy shivering in a soggy cardboard box under the rain.
"How many years will you live? Fifty? Seventy? Even if you become a grandfather, Bianca will brim with power. What happens after you die of old age? Even if she abandons the role, a new demon king will rise. You must destroy that power eternally while it resides in her."
"Sigh... how?"
"Pierce her with the holy sword Greenbelt."
Ishtar handed over the cloth-wrapped holy sword to Kim Hoyoung, who yawned with utter disinterest. Her eyes urged him: Do it now.
"Mmm~~"
"No need to hesitate, Kim Hoyoung! Bianca's a demon who's committed sins enough to make her death pitiable. Kill her now. Now!"
"Hoyoung-nim... I don't want to die. I want to stay by your side as your female succubus..."
"Don't fall for it! That thing's heart is a lump of charred coal!"
I clutched Greenbelt, hesitating long. Bianca and Ishtar took turns pitching their cases, making my ears ring.
So damn noisy...
"Ishtar, why are you so obsessed with slaying the demon king?"
"Because I'm the goddess of the western continent! Goddesses are born from the collective wishes of those who seek the demon king's death."
Ishtar slapped her palm to her cleavage and cried out. In my eyes, the holy cloth swathing her looked like iron chains constricting her freedom.
She's shouldered others' wishes for 50,000 years? It's not hope anymore—it's piled-up resentment. No wonder she's so fired up.
"Ishtar... one thing I'm curious about."
"What?"
"Say I kill the demon king."
Bianca flinched.
"What happens to you, the goddess?"
"...I don't know."
"Maybe with no demon king, goddesses become obsolete too—and we both perish."
It was a hypothesis Ishtar had considered. The great sage had stubbornly refused to elaborate.
"...Even if that's true, I must fulfill my duty..."
"Aren't you pushing too hard, Ishtar? Take a break."
"Rest when the demon king's death—after 50,000 years of pursuit—is right here?! I can't!"
"Nah, you look beat. You need rest."
"Eh? Ah... y-you think so?"
For a moment, Ishtar felt an irresistible urge to rest. True, the busier you are, the slower you go. Fighting the demon king exhausted is riskier. Hoyoung's advice was spot-on.
"Then... shall I nap a bit?"
"Better—I’ll give you a massage. Lie down on the matrix."
"A massage...?"
Ishtar knew the concept but had never experienced one.
"My body is guarded by holy cloth—no one can touch it. Unfortunately, a massage is impossible."
"Holy cloth? This thing?"
"Yes... Mortals touching it are engulfed in light and die instantly. Even I can't remove it—it's eternal armor, so no mas—"
"Hey!"
"Eh?"
I yanked the end of the holy cloth. Ishtar spun like a top before crashing bare-assed to the ground. The cloth went limp like tissue paper in my palm, its power gone.
"Wha? Ehhh?! This can't be. That cloth is infused with divine power—how can a human touch it unharmed? Why did it leave my body? Why am I naked?!"
"Quit yapping and prone on the matrix. I'll melt away your fatigue."
"Ah, understo— I mean, yes..."
Though riddled with confusion, Ishtar obediently stretched out on the prepared bedding without further question. Her voluptuous ass rose like mountains, hips dipping in perfectly. For the first time in 50,000 years, this sacred body permitted a man's touch.
"Nngh♡"
She moaned as I gripped her cheeks firmly. Probably the first human ever to knead a goddess's body at will.