Isanta’s Reckoning

What is there to think about? I just need to reset. It’s simple, isn’t it?

I don’t know how far the save point is, but it must be at least before this current state.

From my inventory, I pulled out a Shadow Coin and a dagger. Clasping Debora’s holy relic in my hand, I murmured inwardly, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Those were the only words I could utter. What I was grateful for wasn’t particularly important; it was merely a ritual of my own.

[The Goddess of Fortune has heard your gratitude.]

I wanted to see this. I needed to see the system window. Gripping the dagger, I placed it against my neck. It was simple. One good pull, and it would be over. Since I was in human form, decapitation would mean instant death.

At that very moment, a sharp pang shot through my wrist. Startled, I instinctively dropped the knife I was holding.

“What was that?”

Three red lines were wrapped around my wrist. No, one of them was steadily deepening in color, beginning to turn pitch black.

What was the order again? Who was who? The topmost line belonged to Nocturne. I just knew it. It couldn’t be explained in words, for that was just how the system worked.

Yes, that was the system. I picked up the knife and returned it to my inventory. Only then did I notice a faint red glow connected to my wrist, a weak streak of light, barely visible, stretching out somewhere I hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey, where are my kids?”

“W-what do you mean by that? No… what are you… trying to say?”

“Why would my kids be in there?”

The priest of Isanta offered no satisfactory reply.

If I had set them as companions, I would know their location. Since the map function wasn’t working, I couldn’t pinpoint their exact whereabouts, but following the faint mark should lead me to them.

This was strange. Why would they be here? Wouldn’t it have been better to return to the hotel? On second thought, perhaps being with the guards was safer. Why was I alone here, then?

As I moved, priests began to gather, one by one, attempting to block my path. I simply pushed through them. While incurring Isanta’s displeasure could lead to many annoyances, I couldn’t help it. My immediate curiosity about what was happening outweighed any inconvenience.

“Stop him! Stop him!”

“Just how far do you intend to go!?”

Isanta was a god of beauty, love, and art. However, despite belonging to the Nine Great Sages, it was ambiguous to consider him a benevolent deity. His closest divine companions were typically madmen like Divan of Madness, making him an incredibly unpredictable and capricious being.

Nevertheless, he disliked violent acts or destruction, which was why he was categorized among the benevolent gods. Though his standards of beauty and ugliness often defied human comprehension.

“He wouldn’t do this every time I visit a temple, would he?”

I seemed to recall doing something similar at Hamman’s temple last time. If this continued, it would become quite bothersome and unpleasant.

Oh, while I was here at the temple, perhaps I could ask for a map of the demon’s nests? What kind of maps did they keep here, anyway?

The red line grew increasingly vivid. The topmost line on my wrist had turned utterly black, and I could feel a faint pulse within it. What on earth was he doing inside that his blood was being drained so severely? What danger could possibly exist within a temple?

My pace quickened. More priests clung to my back, but nothing could stop me now.

I pressed onward, moving higher and deeper. How far would this lead? A lavish door, adorned with gold and jewels, awaited me. Judging by its form, it was the Pope’s chambers.

But had it always been this opulent? I remembered it as beautiful, not possessing such gaudy, nouveau riche sensibilities. Thump-thump, the door wouldn’t open. Shouts could be heard from within.

BANG—!! I kicked the door, sending it flying.

The metallic tang of blood instantly assailed my nose. Four people were present. Jack and Faust lay bound and discarded in a corner of the room, while Nocturne was sprawled in the center, vomiting blood. Standing was an exquisitely handsome man.

He wore a crown of roses on his head. Isanta’s apostles wore rose crowns. This was the Pope’s chamber, so that must be the Pope.

“Why white roses?”

“W-what is this outrage! What are you all doing!?”

“He’s like this too. What is Isanta doing that he hasn’t said a word until now?”

I had come all this way, so why had Isanta not responded? Odd. That was also strange. I had already completed Isanta’s temple quest. When I entered his temple, grass should have grown at my feet and flowers bloomed.

Had I simply not seen it in the dark? I glanced around, then looked down at my feet. Nothing. It was just as before.

‘No, no. It was possible. Isanta was capricious, after all. Perhaps he no longer favored me. I hadn’t descended for a long time, only hunting demons. Enough time had passed in the system for my favorability to have dropped. Given his fickle nature, it was entirely plausible.’

I approached Nocturne. His face was a mess, indicating how badly he had been beaten.

“I told you your face was your only redeeming quality. Why are you so injured?”

“Drag this person out immediately!”

“Strange. A regular NPC shouldn’t be able to do this much damage to him.”

“You wicked creature! Begone at once!”

“Why did this happen?”

Nocturne’s eyes were already half-rolled back, his breathing shallow and ragged. Someone was jabbing something into my back, but it was so trivial that it didn’t even deplete my health. I paid no mind to whatever was being jabbed from behind.

From my inventory, I pulled out a potion and pressed it to Nocturne’s lips. A faint red mist rose. Flesh regenerated, bones knitted together. The horribly bloated skin subsided, and the deep blue scars faded away.

Ah. They had stripped them of their equipment. For some reason, they were only in simple cotton clothes. Why had they undressed my kids? Both Jack and Faust were barely breathing, clad only in the undergarments worn beneath their armor.

I looked up at the man with the rose crown, Isanta’s Pope, and spoke.

“Why did you do this? What did my kids do?”

“T-this is utterly…!?”

“Why are my kids so unresponsive? If you speak, you should answer. That’s how you’re supposed to be, isn’t it?”

That’s how it should be. NPCs are supposed to answer players. They’re supposed to know everything. They’re supposed to react to anything, regardless of their settings. You’re not supposed to do whatever you want amongst yourselves.

I pulled a platinum staff from my inventory and spoke to the heavens.

“Isanta, I don’t bear you any ill will for this. You know that, right? Your kids started it.”

I wasn’t sure if he was listening. However, since the temple itself hadn’t crumbled, his divinity likely hadn’t vanished. If his divine power had collapsed, the temple, his symbol, wouldn’t have been maintained.

Had his power weakened? Considering they had torches instead of divine light. Indeed, if that light had persisted, they wouldn’t have mistaken my statue for their god.

Isanta’s priests charged forward, spears raised. One by one, I systematically seized them, impaling their shoulders with their own spears and pinning them to the floor. Blood pooled and sloshed, soaking the ground.

“H-how could this…!!”

Isanta’s Pope scrambled towards the window, clasping his hands together and beginning to pray to the heavens. Numerous other priests were gathered at the door, but every single one of them was pale with fear, unable to step inside.

“Why are Isanta’s servants using spears? It should be whips, obviously.”

“T-that’s only for rituals…!!”

“The whip is Isanta’s symbol, so what does it mean to abandon it?”

Ugh, I didn’t want to think about it, but everything I saw was just strange. The affairs of someone else’s temple were none of my business. Moreover, they were so utterly terrified that they couldn’t even enter, simply because five or six people had been impaled like skewers.

“Isanta’s symbol is an unquenchable flame, isn’t it? Have you already dwindled to ashes?”

“Sir Haut. Haa… first, first, I don’t know what’s happening, but…”

Faust seemed to have awakened. He appeared to be trying to crawl towards me, but he was so tightly bound that he could only wriggle. It was futile. He, too, must have been thoroughly beaten.

“Oh, you’re awake? A bit noisy, isn’t it? Just wait a moment. I’m quite angry about various things today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself well. Just stay put for a little while.”

I swept everything off what must have been the Pope’s desk. Objects crashed to the floor. Then, after scrolling through my inventory for a long time, I found Isanta’s divine statue.

“I made it myself, but I truly detest the sight of it.”

It was a statue crafted from silver, with intricate rose vines sculpted from rubies and emeralds. I hadn’t been able to create a face for it, as I had never seen Isanta’s face within the game. I had deliberately avoided looking at screenshots uploaded by other players. No matter how handsome, what was the point of admiring a male character’s face? I had no interest.

After some deliberation, I finished the statue and then completely severed its head. In place of the missing head, I enchanted it to have a permanent orb of light hovering above. As a secondary effect, the light refracted through the gem-studded rose vines, making them shimmer.

It wasn’t my intention, but it was the most popular item I had ever created. When I uploaded screenshots, other users copied my design exactly, using it as a mood lamp. It was quite a hit. Although it was Isanta’s statue, it was so well-made that I recalled many other gods coveting it, asking me to make one for them. Yet, I, the creator, was never particularly fond of it.

Isanta, upon seeing it, was delighted and invited me to his paradise. When I refused out of annoyance, he kidnapped me and forced me into a ten-day ‘bed event.’ I barely escaped, waking up each morning to find him kissing me.

Thinking about it again made me furious. He claimed to despise violence and barbarism! What kind of grace was that? Utterly ridiculous!!

I placed the statue on the desk, then added a bouquet of red roses and a handful of gold coins. Then, I dragged Isanta’s Pope, who was crying and crawling by the window, praying, and flung him onto the desk atop the offerings.

“P-please spare me! I-I don’t know who you are, but…!!”

“I won’t kill you. I did some ‘trimming’ out of annoyance, but it’s not enough to kill you. For now, at least.”

‘What was I trying to do now? I wanted to ask directly. Why was the temple in such a wretched state?’ I grabbed the Pope’s face, which was flailing like an overturned beetle on the desk, and forcibly pried open his mouth. With my other hand, I pulled out his tongue.

I didn’t pull it out completely. I only wanted to examine it.

“Huh? Why don’t you have a divine mark?”

Ugh-uh-uh-uh—, he tried to say something, but I couldn’t understand it.

He was the Pope. Shouldn’t he naturally have a divine mark? Hearing a choked cough beside me, I turned my head. Jack was dry coughing, struggling to get up. Eventually, he collapsed back down, only his head looking up at me.

“Cough… Haa…. Divine marks… were a legend…. There’s nothing, like that.”

“An apostle-level figure should naturally have a divine mark. Otherwise, who gets promoted?”

“Haa…. I know your common sense is from a thousand years ago… but even for us, the last divine mark appeared about three hundred years ago. It’s probably similar for other gods, too…”

My face involuntarily crumpled.

“What kind of nonsense is this now?”

They could become Pope without a divine mark, without being chosen by a god? They could become a divine representative? Oh, this was troublesome. This couldn’t be right.

I released the Pope’s head and, shaking him forcefully to prevent him from losing consciousness, spoke.

“Hey, hey, tell me. Is that true?”

“If you shake him like that… he usually can’t speak…”

This time, it was Nocturne’s voice. I had healed him earlier, so why was he only just waking up? No, that wasn’t important right now.

‘Would Isanta even manifest if there was no divine mark? I was trying to check the level of his divine mark. The level of offerings required varied depending on the divine mark’s strength.’

I was flustered, as I hadn’t even considered the possibility that there would be none at all.

“Oh, whatever. I’ll just call him and see.”

It would work out somehow. If the Pope couldn’t endure it and died, that was his fate. If he was barely alive, I’d save him.

“Isanta! Come here for a moment! Why is your house such a mess?”

CRACKLE—!! Thorny vines erupted from the floor, walls, and ceiling, growing rapidly. Crimson roses bloomed profusely, and shimmering red orbs of light began to float around.

The rose crown worn by the Pope turned scarlet, and vines grew to entwine his body, only to melt away into a shimmering light. The struggling Pope became still.

And then, once, twice, thrice. His eyes blinked, transforming into heart shapes. His hair turned crimson and shimmered like silk threads. The clothes he wore burned away in a red glow, leaving him nude, with only a white cloth wrapped around his waist.

That being rose to a sitting position. He reached out a hand and slowly stroked my face.

“Darling, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

A reverberating sound, not in my ears, but directly in my head. It was Isanta’s manifestation.