Including today, Isis had only three days of life left. In the past, this would have been unequivocally bad news, but now, Isis herself wasn’t sure if it was good or ill tidings.
In three days, she would be forever free from the torment of the Evil God Beacai. She would no longer have to fear falling into the Evil God’s clutches. A faint sense of joy stirred within her at the thought.
However, the moment she realized she would also never see Nona again, that joy instantly faded, and her expression returned to its usual calm.
‘Where is Nona now? Is she doing well? How many brave companions has she met?’
Isis was going to die in three days. Nona absolutely must not challenge the Evil God Beacai for her sake; it wouldn’t be worth it.
Letting go of hatred and living a good life was the most important thing Nona could do.
Looking up at the sky, dense with crimson clouds, Isis couldn’t help but worry for Nona’s safety.
This place was the palace of the Evil God Beacai. Dozens of blood-red pillars rose from the ground within the palace, etched with obscure patterns that seemed to narrate the secrets of blood.
At the far end of the palace stood a colossal throne, draped with red gauze, lending an air of languid nobility to its grandeur. The hall had no ceiling, allowing the kneeling devotees to simply look up and behold the endless firmament.
After Isis had agreed to impersonate Beacai’s mother for Nona’s sake, Beacai had taken her from Pad City and brought her to the divine domain where the God of Blood resided year-round.
Divine domains often revealed a portion of a deity’s true power. After witnessing this domain firsthand, Isis could only hope Nona wouldn’t do anything foolish, wouldn’t treat the Evil God Beacai as an enemy.
Otherwise, even as a Brave, Nona would stand no chance of victory.
This Evil God had almost reached the pinnacle of divinity. In Isis’s past knowledge, the only entity capable of defeating her in single combat was the World Tree of old.
As for the current World Tree, in three days, the last vestiges of her power remaining in the world would vanish.
At that time, Isis’s soul would dissipate, and even Beacai, powerful as she was, couldn’t save her.
‘Saving a deity whose soul is about to scatter? What a joke. As the World Tree, I’ve lived for so long, yet I’ve never heard of anyone accomplishing such a feat.’
Perhaps it was because her life was nearing its end, but Isis suddenly felt weary. Reflecting on everything she had experienced in this world, from her initial bewilderment upon reincarnation to becoming a mother goddess who created countless beings, her life had been lived without regret.
Moreover, given Nona’s personality, she would surely live well even without Isis, as long as she didn’t choose to seek revenge for her.
As for the soul of NÃðhöggr within Nona, it shouldn’t be able to make her abandon kindness and justice. Coupled with her terrifying magical talent, Nona might even be able to suppress the evil dragon in the future.
By then, wielding authority and becoming a deity herself might not be an impossible feat.
Lost in these thoughts, Isis felt that Nona was the true protagonist of this world, and she, Isis, was merely a supporting character. Now that her mission was complete, it was time for her to exit the stage.
Amused by her own musings, Isis unexpectedly smiled. It was then that she heard a voice from behind her.
“Mama, the ingredients for the cake are ready. Come with me to the kitchen.”
Beacai entered the palace, having changed her pristine white divine gown for a red one. Her aura now held a touch more allure and less sanctity than before.
Upon their return to the divine domain, Beacai had pulled Isis by the hand, expressing a desire for a cake made by Isis herself, claiming she missed the taste from her dreams. Isis, feigning motherhood, had no choice but to reluctantly agree.
Thus, this scene unfolded.
Beyond the palace lay Beacai’s living quarters. She had mimicked many urban architectural styles, constructing several castles for herself.
Their exteriors appeared grand and luxurious, each with its own distinctive style. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, they were always enveloped by a dark red aura, making them seem particularly eerie and terrifying.
Perhaps, to an Evil God, these were what constituted warmth.
Normal people could not fathom the thoughts of an Evil God, and Isis was no exception. After arriving in the castle kitchen, she donned an apron and looked at the cake-making ingredients nearby.
‘Why would Beacai want a cake made by me? Did her dream experience leave such a deep impression? Does she truly want to experience what it’s like to be a daughter?’
As she pondered, she began making the cake according to the recipe from her memory. Beacai, meanwhile, sat on a chair behind the kitchen table, resting her chin in her hands, watching Isis with a beaming smile.
Feeling a tingle down her spine from Beacai’s gaze, Isis murmured, “Making a cake takes a long time.”
“It’s fine, I can wait.” Beacai replied without a second thought.
Then, as if fearing Isis would grow tired, she waved her hand and summoned several small maidens with demonic tails and wings. “If Mama feels tired, you can instruct them. They are very clever.”
“Your wishes are our command, honored one.”
The maids curtsied to Isis, holding up the corners of their skirts. However, upon seeing them dressed in somewhat revealing black and white maid outfits, Isis couldn’t help but frown.
“Did you order them to wear these outfits?”
“Yes, I saw many nobles living in castles whose maids dressed this way, so I had them wear them too. Is something wrong?”
“…Nothing.”
Shaking her head, Isis focused on making the cake.
‘It’s a good thing Beacai isn’t a daughter I genuinely care about, or she’d be getting a lecture right now. Maid uniforms could be so much more formal, yet she insists on imitating those frivolous nobles.’
‘If Nona were like this, I wouldn’t hesitate to ground her, making her reflect deeply.’
“There’s no need for their help. I can make the cake by myself.”
As she spoke, she continued her work. Beacai sat silently behind her, gently swinging her legs beneath the table, not daring to make a sound, fearing she might disturb Isis.
Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders and onto the tabletop, her bright blood-red eyes reflecting only the woman diligently making a cake for her in front.
A smile bloomed on Beacai’s face. By all appearances, she exuded an indescribable happiness.
Isis, with her back to Beacai, naturally saw none of this. Following her memory, she poured some of the cake ingredients into a bowl and mixed them.
However, when it came to adding sugar, she hesitated for a moment. Instead, she scooped a spoonful of salt into the mixture, then stirred it thoroughly.
Watching the white crystals gradually dissolve in the liquid, a mischievous smile involuntarily curved her lips.
‘Serves the Evil God Beacai right for tormenting me. After all the suffering she put me through, I have to punish her just a little.’