For Sale. Fallen Lady. Never Used.

Fiona was defeated.

And then, the reinforcements arrived—late as usual.

Thud!

“Sir Havel! We’ve secured His Majesty and the nobles in a safe location! Your orders!”

“Righteous Radiance, protect me with your eternal light!”

“You fools! Stop running off on your own and coordinate with my magic!”

A knight with a sword wreathed in thick aura, a priest with bloodshot eyes like they were charging into a holy war, and a mage furiously calculating the trajectory of their spells while grumbling.

It looked like all the forces stationed at the Imperial Palace that could be summoned had finally gathered.

The massive audience chamber filled up halfway in an instant, but…

“You’re late, idiots,” Havel said with a dry laugh.

The situation had long been resolved, and what remained now was more like an epilogue.

There was still the annoying cleanup to handle… but that couldn’t be helped.

Taking advantage of everyone’s focus on Havel, I dabbed at the corners of Carla’s eyes with my sleeve.

Then, just as I was about to release my dragonized form, which was no longer necessary—

Bubble.

“Huh?”

A bubbling noise came from somewhere.

Startled by the ominous sensation, I turned around to see the black sludge, mixed with Fiona’s ashes, starting to boil violently.

Bubble, bubble, bubble.

Havel instinctively swung his sword, and Carla and I quickly launched our magic.

Slash.

Boom!

The sludge was split and caught in the heat of an explosion, but it continued to churn, unaffected.

Of course—it was part of the Apostle’s power bestowed on Fiona by the Boiling Silence.

Though it was dispersing quickly, it was still a highly concentrated divine energy.

To deal with it properly, we would need a more substantial blow.

As I gathered mana for a large-scale spell, a soft hand rested on my shoulder.

“It’s fine, brother. The Lord has said that it’s difficult to stop and not very dangerous. Just let it be, but whatever you do, don’t listen to it.”

“…Helena? What about the Righteous Radiance?”

“The final strike exhausted her power, so she’s resting for now.”

“Ah.”

Come to think of it, she did say she would pour everything into the last blow. No wonder she’s drained.

As I nodded, Havel, overhearing Helena, asked while watching the violently boiling sludge.

“If you’re so certain, then you must know what’s happening. Care to explain?”

“Of course. It’s like a final scream.”

“A scream?”

Havel frowned, not understanding. Most of the others wore similar confused expressions.

“It means it can’t do anything but scream. If the divine energy is going to disappear anyway, it might as well use it to say a few words.”

“…You mean it’s embedding consciousness into that?”

The process of appointing an apostle involves embedding a god’s consciousness into the body of a specially qualified person.

If the divine energy within that sludge had properly fused with Fiona, the Boiling Silence’s consciousness could have descended using her as a vessel.

But Fiona died before that could happen, and now the divine energy was spilled on the ground, evaporating.

At best, it could temporarily manifest a consciousness to speak a few words—and that was all, according to Helena.

After hearing the explanation, I nodded.

“They must have really taken it hard.”

“Yes, that’s how it seems to me as well.”

Of course, just because it was possible didn’t mean it was free. Such interference still required expending power.

If they wanted to waste their strength on this, all the better for us… but Solari’s warning not to listen still nagged at me. What kind of words could they be so desperate to say, even at the cost of additional power? ṞÀ₦Ó฿Еꞩ

“Probably curses, right?”

“Oh, come now, Master. Even an Evil God is still a god. They wouldn’t stoop to something so crude.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

Taking a step back, I whispered to Carla among our group.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

As we talked, the sludge reached its boiling point and surged upward, taking on the vague shape of a human figure.

It looked bizarre, like Fiona’s form painted over with thick black crayon.

The unsettling aura common to Evil Gods mixed with the Boiling Silence’s signature lethargy, spreading through the air.

It was faint, but its non-human nature was enough to make most of the people freeze.

Of course, exceptions included me, still in my dragonized form; Havel, a swordmaster; and Helena, a saint.

The reinforcements, who had rushed in with determination, now stood paralyzed in the heavy atmosphere.

Havel raised his sword, signaling no one else should approach. Helena lifted her mace, ready to strike.

And as for me…

With my ears covered, I boldly declared,

“I don’t listen to those weaker than me!”

“…Master?”

Carla stared at me, dumbfounded.

What? We won, and they lost. That makes them weaker than me, doesn’t it?

Besides, no matter what they say, if I don’t listen, they’re just wasting their strength.

It was flawless logic… except for one critical oversight: logic doesn’t work on gods.

The shadowy figure of the Boiling Silence, which had been staring at me, slowly extended a finger.

The finger pointed directly at me.

As the others flinched and all eyes turned toward me, the voice resonated directly in my mind, bypassing my covered ears.

[You. Arrogant half-breed lizard.]

The voice alone sent a creeping lethargy through my body.

It felt like cold, stagnant water pooling in the shade, seeping through me.

Even with my ears covered, the voice reverberated, and no amount of Havel’s gathered aura or Helena’s divine power could dispel the oppressive presence.

This must be why Solari had warned not to listen rather than just blocking it out.

The fact that this was merely a projection of the God’s consciousness and yet carried this much weight…

It was no wonder Iris still feared the true form of the God of Tainted Unity, which she had glimpsed from afar.

I knew Evil Gods could cause mental corruption, but this was my first time experiencing it directly.

Still, I could manage. Solari had assured me it wouldn’t do much beyond speaking, and with the mental resilience granted by the Blessings of All Gods and the heightened abilities from my dragonization, I was fine.

A slight chill, sure, but that was it. The Boiling Silence could try to intimidate me all he wanted—I wasn’t going to back down.

…Though it was a different story for everyone else.

Carla, who had been relatively composed just moments ago, turned pale the moment it started speaking.

Iona seemed to be holding up better, but Elisha, whose abilities were weaker, and Iris, reliving old memories, were trembling.

Stepping forward to shield them, I shouted again.

“I don’t listen to those weaker than me!”

Sure, it was a bit flippant to say that in front of a god, but the others seemed to relax slightly, so it served its purpose.

Of course, the Boiling Silence didn’t care about anyone else. Its gaze stayed fixed on me as it continued speaking.

[I thought I had killed all of your kind, but it seems one survived.]

“……”

Having calmed the others somewhat, I followed Solari’s advice and let the words wash over me, not engaging.

[I can feel your trembling silence. Are you afraid?]

“……”

[Good. You should fear me. I will never forget the grudge of losing my apostle.]

The shadowy figure slowly moved its pointing finger across the group, targeting Carla, Elisha, Iris, Iona, and Helena one by one.

[You will all be destroyed.]

What’s this? I thought it would be something more profound, but it’s just a generic threat.

As if we’d be intimidated by something so…

[First, I will sever your limbs and gouge out your eyes, feeding your flesh to the Maw of Tainted Unity. You’ll make fine offerings.]

[Then, you will become the breeding ground for grotesque proliferation. Incubi, succubi, and even offspring born of your own bodies will merge, creating vessels worthy of my power.]

[Even in death, do not hope for peace. The Cardinal of Intolerance will gladly raise your mangled corpses as vanguards of my will.]

[And you, arrogant half-breed lizard, will witness it all from my throne, bound and helpless.]

…Okay, this is a little too much.

The unexpected side effect of dragonization—heightened instincts and emotions surging alongside my enhanced body—began to take over.

I tried to brush it off, but the voice, impossible to block, triggered a sudden surge of anger.

Now I understood. The obsessive and temperamental traits often associated with dragons in historical accounts clearly stemmed from this nature.

Suppressing my rising fury, I caught a glimpse of the figure’s distorted face, which now bore a mocking grin.

[But I am merciful. Accept the helplessness that makes you tremble. Embrace the sloth that seeps into your bones. Do so, and I may take you as my apostle. That will be both your salvation and my atonement for my poor Fiona—]

“Alright, that’s it, you bastard.”

There’s only so much I can tolerate.