“To dare lay hands on my mother, your audacity is truly beyond compare.”
Beacai was smiling, but to the scarred man and the fat man, her laughter sounded like a soul-reaping demon, about to drag them to a hell filled with endless torment.
Thump—
Overcome by terror, the scarred man and the fat man’s legs gave out, sending them tumbling to their knees. A shiver of dread coursed through their very souls; they knew the evil god before them was not an enemy they could ever hope to provoke.
That elf, she was her forbidden plaything.
They desperately wanted to beg for mercy, yet their rigid bodies refused to obey. Beacai, her face devoid of emotion, slowly raised her hand and subtly clenched her fist towards them.
“Ahhhhh—!”
With a horrific shriek, their bodies twisted and contorted as if crushed by an immense weight. Blood erupted from every one of their orifices, and their internal organs spilled onto the ground.
Yet, even then, they were not entirely dead. Their throats, deprived of the ability to scream, could only let out silent, agonizing gasps. Conscious in their torment, they writhed their mangled forms, dragging long, crimson trails across the floor.
Only when they exhaled their final breath did this gruesome torture finally cease.
Witnessing the entire spectacle, Beacai remained utterly unmoved.
Behind her, Isis, healed by Beacai’s divine power, slowly rose to her feet. As she gazed at the two twisted corpses on the ground, a flicker of complex emotion crossed her eyes.
They were indeed guilty. Had it been Isis, she would have simply killed them, sparing them any prolonged suffering. But Beacai was different; she relished in their torment, delighting in watching them die in agony before her.
Such was the nature of evil gods. What Beacai called ‘punishment’ seemed more like a means of self-amusement.
In the past, Isis would likely have outright opposed such ‘punishment’ and met it with sharp sarcasm. Now, however, the mere thought that Beacai had acted to save her stifled much of her usual aversion.
Those who are saved often develop a certain attachment to their rescuers, creating a filter through which they view them. Isis touched her chest, realizing she now regarded Beacai’s cruelty with a surprising degree of tolerance.
Furthermore, even after witnessing such a raw display of Beacai’s true nature, Isis felt no fear towards her. On the contrary, a profound sense of peace remained within her.
****
Having dispatched the scarred man and the fat man, Beacai did not linger. She turned her gaze to the stunned elf girl nearby, stepped over the corpses, and approached her.
Bending down, she leaned close to the girl’s face, her eyes narrowed into a smile as she asked, “You hurt my mother just now, didn’t you?”
“No, don’t…”
The little girl stumbled back two steps before collapsing onto the ground. Never had she witnessed such a terrifying scene. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched her own shoulders, trembling uncontrollably.
It was then that Isis called out to Beacai.
“Stop! Beacai! Do not harm her.”
Gathering her slightly soiled skirt, Isis stepped in front of the little girl, blocking Beacai’s path. Beacai paused, then asked with a puzzled expression,
“Why, Mother? If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have been captured by them.”
“She was forced.”
“Regardless of the reason, the fact remains that she harmed Mother, and therefore, she must be punished. Otherwise, such incidents could continue to occur in Prelly.”
Beacai articulated these points calmly, as if stating immutable truths. Simultaneously, not a single ripple of emotion could be discerned on her.
Wrongdoing demanded punishment. No matter how pathetic the little girl appeared, Beacai would offer no sympathy, for evil gods were utterly devoid of such sentiments.
They were wicked and chaotic, finding pleasure in the suffering of others. How could they possibly pity the unfortunate, like righteous gods did?
Yet, Beacai’s words were not entirely incorrect, leaving Isis with no means to refute her. She could only let out a helpless sigh and say, “Beacai, if you want people to like you, you cannot be so cold.”
“Cold? These are merely rules. Your Holy City, Mother, surely has similar regulations, does it not? Harming others invariably incurs punishment,” Beacai retorted.
“Just this once, listen to me, alright?”
Unconsciously, Isis’s tone softened, as if she were coaxing a disobedient child. She swiftly realized her uncharacteristic behavior and feigned a cough to mask her embarrassment.
‘How strange. Why did I act that way just now?’
‘Was this also a consequence of her soul being tainted? Or was Beacai truly like an ignorant little girl, prompting Isis to unconsciously adopt a maternal demeanor?’
After much deliberation, Isis concluded that the latter was more probable this time.
An evil god devoid of sympathy seemed no different from an ignorant child.
Beacai stood with one hand on her hip, a hint of jealousy stirring on her usually placid face. She huffed indignantly, “Hmph, I just don’t like Mother caring so much about other people.”
She voiced her true feelings. The more Isis showed concern for others, the angrier Beacai became. What an irrational evil god might do, even she herself couldn’t predict.
This time, however, she didn’t act recklessly. Instead, she merely scoffed, then turned her gaze away.
She had chosen to concede.
This truly astonished Isis. When she first heard Beacai’s words, her heart had lurched, an ominous premonition threatening to engulf her entirely. Yet, the outcome was utterly unexpected.
‘When did an evil god ever learn to compromise?’
Marveling at Beacai’s change, Isis approached the little girl. Just as she was about to speak, the girl scooted further back, her whimpers now laced with an undeniable tremor.
Bending down, she offered the gentlest reassurance she could muster. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
“R-really? I just… they…”
Whether from fear or tears, the little girl’s words were barely coherent. Understanding her meaning, Isis continued to comfort her.
“It’s alright. I won’t hold any of that against you. So, could you take me to your home? I’d like to meet your ailing mother.”
She was genuinely concerned about the welfare of the elves in this city. After all, they were beings she had created, imbued with much of her effort and essence, making them akin to half-children.
If their lives were fraught with hardship, she would feel sorrow. Moreover, from what the two deceased men had said, the little girl’s family was not faring well. Her mother was gravely ill with no money for treatment, and if left untreated, she would likely pass away.
This dire situation ignited a fierce protective instinct within her.
However…
She possessed neither money nor divine power. To heal the little girl’s mother, she would likely have no choice but to appeal to Beacai.
Stealing a glance at Beacai behind her, Isis’s head began to throb as she noticed the jealousy on Beacai’s face growing ever more intense.
‘Her only option for help was an evil god? And for the purpose of saving someone?’
‘No matter how she looked at it, this was an absurd and utterly improbable notion, wasn’t it? Especially considering Beacai’s deep prejudice against the little girl right now…’