The evil god gave a warning.
“Rember, it’s the very last coffin.”
Do not open any other.
***
Ather wandered the ruins alone.
“......”
His footsteps echoed louder than usual against the stone.
Over ti, Ather had learned the structure of these ruins.
There was far more depth and sealed knowledge than what he’d seen back when he was called a hero.
Faded paintings and scattered jewels were everywhere.
Old mories surfaced.
‘...It should be here...’
There had to be a path.
“...Ah.”
The stairs leading underground opened.
Ather clenched and released his fist, then stepped down.
The staircase was pitch black.
Had he not brought a torch, he wouldn’t have seen a thing.
Oddly, there was no dust.
‘Maybe it feels strange because I haven’t been here in so long.’
Even after regaining his mind, he had only verified this place existed — he’d never actually entered.
This was where he and his companions had once sealed the Demon King, giving up everything.
If he entered carelessly, sothing might go wrong.
That’s why he had never approached.
But now, the ti had co.
‘It goes pretty deep...’
There was no end in sight.
At certain points along the stairs, traps had been placed — safeguards he and his companions had installed, just in case.
He knew the answers, so he disard them easily.
After descending far enough that his breathing grew tight—
“...Is this it.”
A massive door greeted him.
‘Even castle gates don’t look like this. You can tell how desperate ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) we were back then.’
It didn’t even look like a door, really.
It couldn’t be helped.
Magic alone couldn’t create a permanent seal.
It had to be a door so heavy it couldn’t be opened by force.
So they built sothing that mimicked a wall.
“It’s open.”
The door, which should’ve been tightly sealed, had a slight gap.
“Could this be the work of the magicians...?”
The heretics who’d dared to say they’d kill the Creator using the evil god’s power.
No one else would’ve forced this open.
The narrow opening was just enough for one person to squeeze through.
‘Could this be the reason he was able to erge into the world in human form?
Because the seal had loosened, even just a little?
If so, maybe I owe those magicians a small thanks.
Thanks to them, I was able to escape the thorn prison...’
Ather stepped inside.
“......”
Candles burned across the saints’ tomb.
“...Still burning...”
It was startling.
They were probably magical artifacts left behind by the magicians.
‘If not that, then maybe the seal’s effect.’
Still, for candles to be crackling like this after countless ages had passed — it made his stomach twist.
Because of them, even this pitch-black underground tomb was visible to his eyes.
“Ah.”
The coffins were laid out in neat order.
‘We didn’t do this...’
The battle with the Demon King had been brutal.
Just sealing him had left the heroes exhausted.
Many died.
There had been no strength left to craft tidy tombs for the Demon King who had caused so much loss.
‘The magicians wouldn’t have done this either.’
They were trying to beco god-slayers.
There’s no way they’d treat a re evil god like this.
‘Then...’
Did he do it himself?
‘Argio, that man?’
Or was it so kind of mysterious miracle?
‘I can’t tell.’
But he had specified “the very last coffin.”
That ant he knew what this place looked like.
‘He must have so connection to this scene.’
Even with a torch, the tomb’s air was chilling.
“......”
Ather walked on.
Each coffin was identical in size.
Made of polished black marble, they were enormous — larger than Ather.
The scent of bitter poison and thick blood, like that of the Black Forest, clung to them.
‘Every presence here feels ominous.’
Nothing like when Argio had appeared in human form.
It brought back the mont he first faced the Demon King.
The enormous wings, the masses of human-like shapes rged together, the snake-like beast’s elongated torso...
As the mories resurfaced—
“......”
“Over here.”
Suddenly—
A familiar voice rang out.
“Here, Ather.”
“Look this way.”
“Open this coffin.”
Voices from every direction.
“Co now, you should be looking here.”
“Where are you going?”
“This way.”
“Set free.”
“You ca to see , didn’t you?”
“My true face.”
“It’s inside here.”
“Co on, don’t waste ti.”
“Ather.”
The evil god was speaking to him — through the marble coffins.
“...Ha, what the...”
He flinched and stepped back from the nearest coffin.
The coffins lined both sides of the long corridor.
Just monts ago, they’d all been silent — now they were speaking.
The quiet, coaxing voices sounded exactly like the “Argio” he knew.
“Why are you hesitating?”
“Didn’t you want to speak with the true ?”
“Ather, open this coffin.”
“Let’s talk.”
“That’s why you ca, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, he rembered Argio’s words.
‘Rember, it’s the very last coffin.’
Do not open any other.
“......”
So that’s why he said it.
‘The ones speaking to now — they’re the saints who died before Argio.’
Argio once said this:
He suppressed the rage that would devour him with an even greater rage.
He survived because he won.
Which ant that the previous fury had not been resolved.
‘So now, unable to overco the final personality, they’re trying to tempt — the visitor — from inside the tomb?’
They called out his na from every direction.
A chill ran down his spine.
If the last saint Argio hadn’t crushed and imprisoned them, Ather wouldn’t be alive.
‘I have to reach the final coffin.’
The gentle voices turned into shrill screams the deeper he went.
“Where are you going?”
“Here! I’m right here!”
“Look this way...!”
“You’re going to pass by?!”
“Ather! Ather!!”
“Please let out...!!”
“It’s too tight in here! I can’t breathe! It hurts!!”
“AAAAAAGH!! AAAAAAAAGHHHH!!!”
Cries full of agony.
Howls soaked in pain.
Screams seething with rage.
The deeper he went, the worse it beca.
From within the coffins, sothing was pounding and thrashing.
It reminded him of himself, trapped not long ago.
He felt sick.
‘Why did he leave them like this?’
Argio had shown Ather imnse rcy.
He’d even acted casually, like a friend.
Did that sa man show no compassion to the saints before him?
Did he not pity them?
‘They’re suffering this much... why...’
As he reached the end, all the noise ceased.
“...Huff... huff...”
His legs gave out and he collapsed.
‘...It’s quiet again.’
The sa silence as when he first entered greeted him once more.
He forced his trembling body to stand.
His legs still felt weak.
Stumbling, he reached the corridor’s end — the final coffin, which looked no different from the rest.
‘If I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have noticed anything unique about it.’
Other than being placed at the very end, there was nothing that distinguished it.
“......”
From within the darkness, he felt sothing watching him.
‘...Who is it?’
Was this also a part of the evil god?
It felt like sothing vast and natural — like the world itself.
Neither positive nor negative.
Just... observing Ather’s choice.
No, not even “observing” — that word didn’t fit.
It was simply aware.
‘If I open this coffin...’
What will happen?
“...Excuse .”
“......”
“Are you... in there?”
“You ca to see .”
“...Yes.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
Creak...
The heavy coffin lid opened slightly.
“Will you let out?”
Unlike the others, this one opened by itself.
Through the gap, a pale hand gripped the edge of the lid.
A familiar hand.
The sa one that had cooked als and served them to him — Argio’s hand.
Broad, strong bones.
Adorned with ornants.
Black, long nails and jeweled rings clinked softly against the marble lid.
Only that pale, massive hand was visible — the body and face remained hidden.
He continued to speak.
“I’ve spent a long ti in here.”
“...Who are you?”
“People used to call a cruel beast.”
“Argio... is that you?”
“You may call that.”
“Are you the ‘Argio’ I knew?”
“Now, now...”
Ssshhh—
The hand reached further.
“......”
“......”
Its arm stretched out, unnaturally long.
“...Ugh.”
So long, it gave him chills.
Ather briefly held his breath.
It looked like a massive serpent or a tree branch.
That arm extended, stopping right in front of Ather’s face.
Then, the fingers unfurled.
Embedded in its palm was a golden eye.
“...I recognize that face.”
An eye not of man — forged in gold.
“You once ca to kill .”
“...Are you the Argio from before you beca the evil god?”
“The being you call the evil god — that’s as well.”
“...The one who rescued from the thorn prison, who shaped into a human, who cooked for — that wasn’t you.
You’re the Argio I sealed away with my companions — the evil god.”
“Did ‘Argio’ show you such kindness?”
The golden eye curved as if smiling.
“Looks like I managed to seize a favorable chance after all.”
“...What are you?”
“I have no na.”
The eye-bearing hand withdrew, grasping the coffin lid again.
Its ringed fingers tapped against it rhythmically.
Its beastly nails and glinting jewels made a faint clicking sound.
“It’d be best not to share your na or honor here.”
“...‘We’?”
“Souls like ours — evil and twisted — covet the strong spirits we see.
Of course, I already know your na, but don’t worry.
I won’t be tempted to claim it.”
“...Many saints already called my na.”
“Don’t speak of ‘saints’ — such a disgusting term.
We were cursed spirits, pushed to sacrifice.
Not saints.
Also, them calling your na doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because we borrow ‘Argio’s’ voice.”
The voice beca lodic.
“He’s rciful indeed.
To think he managed to suppress all that rage.
Even shows kindness to little creatures like you.
He must’ve had quite the opportunity. A very good one...”
“...Are you Argio’s heart?”
“I am.”
“What would happen if I let you out? If I did that?”
“Who knows.”
There was rhythm in his voice.
“I am very angry.
My companions here are even angrier.
Without a miracle greater than a miracle, how could sothing like ‘Argio’ even be ford?
We were disasters ant to devour the world — and now you dare treat like a man.”
“......”
“Tell — what is it that you seek?”
“...To fully trust you.”
“There’s no guarantee you won’t regret it.”
“...That may be true...”
“Go back.”
The pale hand withdrew into the coffin.
“Today is not the day.”
“......”
Click.
The coffin closed.
***
On the way back, one of the many coffins grabbed at Ather.
“He could’ve granted you rciful death, and yet he let you live.
How can this new life be salvation?
He made you human to claim you.
He is the evil god. Do not trust him.”
This voice didn’t sound like Argio’s.
It was rough — and youthful.
“If he were truly rciful, he would’ve granted peace to all of us.
Weren’t you disgusted, running eagerly to that final coffin?
He locked us down here — bound us in this tomb.”
“......”
“The wicked can’t be cleansed.
He is the evil god — and it is true.
His rcy is a shard of curiosity, of pleasure.
Don’t judge a god by that tiny shard.”
“...You’re just saying this because you want to be let out too.”
“Is that such a sin...?”
The childlike voice whispered.
“You, too, called the evil god — because you wanted to escape your narrow prison.”
So tell ...
How are we any different?
At that whisper, Ather simply left the tomb behind.
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