The shrine was structured with two circular spaces connected by a long corridor.
From above, it resembled an hourglass, with seven prayer rooms branching off like wings along the corridor.
Four on the left, three on the right.
That ant one side wasn’t symtrical.
So, what existed in that empty space on the right?
"Pebula’s Eight Commandnts.
One. All things are predetermined; accept the natural course of life as it flows.
......."
An arch-shaped stone monunt engraved with the Eight Commandnts of Pebula stood in that space.
If you knocked on the wall around it, the hollow echo it gave off was unmistakable.
I had always wondered what lay beyond.
But I had never dared to defile the monunt.
Not when I was a child studying doctrine, nor when I searched the shrine for an escape—I had never, not even for a second, imagined doing such a thing.
Even though I called myself a heretical disciple, even though I resented Pebula, even though I doubted Her will, from the mont I was born until now—
I had always been Her follower.
My faith had grown alongside .
I took a deep breath.
“Phew.”
Then, just like I had done as a child, I knocked on the upper part of the monunt.
The hollow sound echoed back.
If there was an exit in this shrine, this was the only possible place.
I spread my hands and began chanting.
Even though my faith was still unsteady, even though my progress was slow, the difference between being in my own body versus another was staggering.
My body effortlessly conducted divine energy like a rushing waterfall, refining it with precision.
As the power flowed, any empty spaces within were filled with even purer energy.
A brilliant white light.
Like a miniature sun, the divine power expanded and lengthened, molding itself as if guided by a blacksmith’s touch.
It took shape—into a massive hamr, crackling with blue lightning.
—Seventh Spell. Judgnt.
I gripped the hamr and glared at the monunt.
"...You’re laughing at right now, aren’t You? I know this is ridiculous too."
There was no need to use a divine spell.
Weapons from the shrine were lying around everywhere—why waste energy just to smash so stone?
And yet, I still chose this thod.
Because I needed reassurance.
Even now, as I prepared to destroy this monunt, I was still the sa child who sought Pebula’s permission.
I found myself unconsciously relieved by the divine power at my fingertips.
But what could I do?
This is how I was born. This is how I lived.
"I’ll just check what’s outside and co back. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
I’ve suffered enough—just this much should be fine, right?"
As long as I ca back—it wouldn’t matter.
I didn’t know if Pebula would believe .
But even I didn’t have the guts to kill my own god.
If soone brought up Elin’s case, well... I’d just say, "People say all kinds of things when they’re angry."
Because at the ti—I really ant it.
The longer my thoughts dragged on, the more my resolve wavered.
I shut my eyes tight and raised the hamr.
The divine weapon had no weight, but my arms suddenly felt unbearably heavy.
"Forgive , even if You find disgraceful, O Pebula."
And then—BOOM!
Judgnt shattered the monunt far more dramatically than I had anticipated.
The pristine white stone crumbled instantly, scattering in a storm of dust.
Even without a mirror, I knew my face had gone pale.
I released the spell and sighed.
“...I’m definitely going to hell.”
Well, at least I wouldn’t be alone there.
I knew plenty of people waiting for .
Letting out a deep breath, I lifted my head to inspect the now-exposed space.
Hoping—praying—that beyond the broken stone, there would be an exit.
As the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} dust settled, my vision cleared.
And what I saw was—
"...What the hell is this?"
A spacious chamber, about the size of a prayer room.
And inside that room—
Were dozens of coffins and gravestones.
It didn’t look like an exit at all.
I was completely overwheld by the bizarre sight, yet I found myself stepping forward—as if drawn in.
Nas carved into tombstones passed through my vision.
So were common even today, while others had only been used centuries ago.
At first, I thought they might belong to the previous disciples of the shrine.
But I didn’t recognize a single one.
And besides—
"Are these... really coffins?"
Maybe if I opened one, I’d get so answers.
Acting on impulse, I lifted the lid of the nearest coffin.
And froze.
Inside, lying in perfect condition—was a preserved corpse.
It looked so intact, so undisturbed, that it seed as though the person inside could wake at any mont.
I took an unsteady step back.
Then, realization struck .
"No way..."
A terrifying suspicion clawed at my mind.
I moved like a madwoman, ripping open every coffin lid I could reach.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
One after another, lids slamd onto the floor.
And then—I knew my unease hadn’t been unfounded.
The bodies inside were all different.
Their ages, heights, body shapes, and facial features—they were all varied.
But they all had one thing in common.
"Blonde won."
A shiver ran down my spine.
I turned back to the gravestones.
The coffins were arranged in alphabetical order.
The mont I realized this, my feet moved on their own.
I passed V—past M—past H—until I reached the beginning.
Three coffins stood side by side.
The nas inscribed on them were—
"Amy, Viga, Siora."
A dry, mirthless laugh escaped my lips.
What the hell am I looking at?
It felt like I had been thrown into a nightmare.
I already felt sick, but I couldn’t stop myself.
I reached out—placed my trembling hands on the lid of Siora’s coffin—
And pushed it open.
My fingers shook so much that it almost sounded like I was knocking.
Like the rattling of my own heartbeat.
And inside—
It was empty.
I already knew where ‘Siora’s’ body had gone.
I collapsed, unable to endure it any longer.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
mories I had once dismissed as isolated incidents—things I had refused to believe—now surged forward, exposing themselves for what they truly were.
[The Evil God ensnared people into worshiping it, and once faith took root, it used its believers as sacrifices.]
"Ah."
"Our cult offered disciples as sacrifices?"
"Please... No, please."
"The Saint of that ti accepted human sacrifices. It wasn’t forced. Those who volunteered were rigorously evaluated before being chosen."
"Say sothing—anything, please."
"The chosen sacrifices were given one of the God’s many nas. That na beca their new identity as they offered themselves. They beca vessels for the god’s incarnation. It was a great honor."
"...Just say anything. Please."
"It only proves that in the eyes of the ancient gods, the concept of good and evil was aningless."
"Pebula..."
I curled into myself, clutching my head with both hands.
Pebula, Pebula.
I called Her na over and over again, but—as always, there was no answer.
I had thought it was strange.
Every body I had inhabited was a blonde woman.
Their nas had followed a sequential order.
But I had never connected that fact to what I had learned.
Or maybe—I had refused to.
The truth was undeniable.
I had been using the bodies of sacrifices, interfering in the fates of others.
Elin had been right about everything.
So then, was it really the Saint of Pebula who had created the Black Serpent?
If this wasn’t just the act of a single fanatic, but Pebula’s will—?
If everything had always been predestined—?
Then wasn’t my desperate struggle to escape nothing more than deception?
A deception against the world.
And...
"I do want to destroy Morion. But it's just revenge—nothing more than a personal grudge."
"Shredding it apart won’t be enough to satisfy ."
"Cruello, he..."
[You sure know how to dig deep.]
A voice cut off.
I wasn’t alone?
But no one else was here.
[Yeah, I get it. I really do. You’ve spent your whole life suppressing everything because there’s no point in being miserable, right?]
The voice—was coming from the coffin.
I scrambled backward in pure horror.
"A-a ghost!"
See, Betty?! I told you ghosts were real!
As if to prove my point, one of the coffin lids slid off and crashed to the ground.
A pale white hand gripped the edge.
A mont later, the corpse sat up.
Instinctively, my eyes darted to the na on the tombstone.
Viga.
Viga’s face erged from the coffin.
Oh, hell.
She must have co back to take revenge for using her body!
"L-listen! I didn’t do it on purpose! I never ant to take over your body—it was basically a scam contract, if you think about it—!"
[If you want to play the victim, maybe you should get rid of that thing in your hand first.]
My hand?
I glanced down.
I was still holding the Judgnt Hamr.
...Wait. This was a Seventh Spell. When had my casting speed recovered so much?
Guess it’s true that when people are in danger, they turn to religion.
I didn’t dismiss the spell. Instead, I subtly hid the hamr behind my back.
Viga narrowed her eyes at , suspicious.
But so what?
Even if I had been betrayed by my god, I still had to protect myself!
[I don’t have much ti, so I’ll just say it straight.
Pebula never ordered sacrifices. The Saint was just completely insane.]
"Y-yeah, well, of course you’d say that. Elin said they were all volunteers, too."
[What are you talking about? I’m not Viga.]
Then—what was she?
I blinked in confusion.
Viga—or whatever she was—took a step toward .
I instinctively backed away, but my retreat was cut off by the gravestone behind .
She stopped just half a step away and t my eyes.
A strange smile played across Viga’s brown irises.
[I am you.]
"...Hah."
[And don’t think this is so dream, either. If it were, I’d tell you to wake up. I’m your soul fragnt.]
If this wasn’t a dream, then what the hell was it?
I scowled, and Viga burst into laughter.
[Wow. This is actually hilarious. I’ve never gotten the chance to tease myself before. It’s more fun than I thought.]
"Okay, I get it. You’re as annoying as I am."
[You really don’t rember? You left with Cruello.]
A soul fragnt, huh.
Since when did I start shedding pieces of my soul like breadcrumbs?
[I wanted to return a long ti ago, but it doesn’t work that way. Luckily, because Cruello started the resurrection ritual, I was able to restore your mories.]
"Hold up. Resurrection ritual? Can you just—explain things clearly, for once?"
[Alright. Answer this—why do you think Viga died?]
"Overwork."
I didn’t even hesitate.
And Viga—or whatever she was—corrected just as quickly.
[I was murdered. By the Saint. The very one you’re thinking of.]
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