The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 14)

“But,” Ewan said with a sudden, carefree laugh that shattered the oppressive tension, “do I really have a choice?”

“Outside, there’s a big-chested, long-legged, and incredibly fine-looking maid who happens to be a fan of black stockings, and she’s waiting for me to save her.” His voice was light, almost flippant, as if he were discussing the weather. “The last woman who cried and begged me for something was my own mother in my past life, trying to guilt-trip me into finding a girlfriend. The circumstances are surprisingly, disturbingly similar.”

“So, bring it on, Withered King,” Ewan declared, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of absolute, almost insane, surrender and defiance. “At a time like this, I’m not about to be scared off by a mere Evil God.”

【Hah.】

A wave of pure, soundless contempt washed over him from the great eye. It was the laughter of a god, mocking the sheer, audacious foolishness of an ant declaring war on a star.

But, a thought seemed to ripple through the scorched air, even if it is just an ant, if it can provide an interesting show, is it not worth my time to watch?

And so.

As you wish.

The endless crimson earth began to tremble violently.

A colossal, withered hand slowly emerged from the ground in front of Ewan. Its skin was charred black, as if it had been forged in the heart of a dying sun. And from beneath that charcoal-black surface, Ewan could feel a searing, primordial heat powerful enough to incinerate the world itself.

The hand reached for Ewan, and its five skeletal fingers… slowly… began to close.

Sssss…

Ewan felt his skin sizzle and pop as the hand made contact, the burning fingerprints searing themselves onto his flesh like some kind of bizarre, unholy brand. An excruciating, soul-shattering pain, accompanied by a chorus of insane, maddening whispers, flooded his mind, threatening to ignite a terrifying, world-ending desire to simply destroy everything.

Pain.

It was too painful.

So painful it was unbearable.

But this time, not even the black book could help him. He had to rely on himself.

…

“What… is this thing?”

Anne stared at the approaching head of Elka, a sliver of pure, cold despair in her eyes. She had never felt so powerless. Her divine gift had, from the moment of its awakening, placed her among the ranks of the strong. But now, facing this unspeakable, incomprehensible existence, the power she had always relied on, the power that had never failed her, was utterly, pathetically useless.

She couldn’t move. All she could do was watch as death… approached.

The holy wings unfurled, and a faint, ethereal hymn began to play, a beautiful and terrifying prelude to her demise.

A look of pure, unadulterated greed appeared in the black eyes as Elka’s head opened its mouth once more. This time, a terrifying suction force erupted from within, beginning to peel something unseen from Anne’s body.

Something that was tied to her very soul.

Is this how it ends? A single, bitter regret pierced through her resignation. What a shame. There were still so many things I wanted to say to the Young Master.

As I thought… I am a failure as a maid.

She had tried everything. She had struggled with all her might. Anne knew she was out of options. And so, with a final, quiet surrender, she closed her eyes to await the inevitable.

“Hey, Anne.”

But just then, a familiar voice called out to her. It was faint, hazy, almost like a hallucination. But upon hearing that voice, no matter the time, no matter the place, even with a terrifying Evil God standing before her, Anne would have forced her eyes open to look.

Because it was her Young Master’s voice.

“Didn’t I tell you to stand up straight?”

Somehow, Ewan had broken free from the invisible, god-like bonds and had appeared behind the Evil God-controlled head of Elka.

He looked at Anne and said sternly, “My personal maid wouldn’t give up over something like this, would she?”

Anne stared at Ewan, dazed. A new wave of emotion pricked at her eyes, but this time, she held back the tears. She would not cry again. Because her Young Master did not like to see her looking so wretched. So, at all times, she had to be elegant and strong.

Even in the face of death.

“That’s more like it.”

Seeing Anne’s renewed strength, Ewan smiled.

Then, he suddenly turned his head, his posture shifting into one of a playful young man leaning in to whisper a secret to his girlfriend. He looked at Elka—or rather, at the terrifying will that resided within her pitch-black eyes.

And his expression… turned utterly ferocious.

“Hey, you bastard Evil God. It looks like you’re about to do something very naughty to my maid,” Ewan whispered into Elka’s ear, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “If you want to play a game, why don’t you play with me instead? As it happens, I have a little something for you.”

Ewan’s hands shot out, grabbing the holy wings.

On the skin of his arms, the strange, searing brand of a handprint pulsed with a malevolent, otherworldly heat.

The next moment, Ewan tightened his grip and, with a savage roar, tore.

The wings, which not even forged steel could mar, were ripped from Elka’s head as easily as if they were made of paper, a shower of golden feathers exploding into the air.

“ROOOOAR—”

Elka let out a furious, inhuman shriek. The will within her black eyes fixed on Ewan with a cold, murderous intent, a palpable wave of malice rolling off her. A mere mortal dares to defile a god?!

“Oh? You seem to have a problem with that.”

After tearing off the wings, Ewan suddenly reached out and clamped his hands on either side of Elka’s face, forcing her to look at him.

The will within the black eyes was stunned for a moment, then it sneered. A mere mortal dares to look upon me? Gaze upon me and despair…

Wait.

Something’s wrong!

Within Ewan’s eyes, a fire was also burning. And through that crimson flame, another terrifying existence, from a realm of endless, scorched heavens, cast its own majestic, tyrannical gaze.

Gaze met gaze. It was a collision of concepts, a war waged in the space between heartbeats.

In a daze, Ewan heard a thought that was not his own crash into his mind with the force of a collapsing star.

【You gaudy, unclean god.】

Within Elka’s black eyes, a flame suddenly ignited. Like a single, lonely spark in the dead of night.

And that single spark was enough to set the entire darkness ablaze.

“ROOOOAR—”

Elka shrieked, incomprehensible syllables spilling from her mouth, like the last, desperate roar of a cornered beast. She began to struggle violently, trying to break free from Ewan’s gaze. But his hands were like iron clamps, holding her head firmly in place.

“What’s wrong? I thought you liked ‘love’?” Ewan roared, his voice dripping with a savage, mocking fury. “Then feel my love! This is my gift to you! This is my love, you bastard Evil God!”

“ACCEPT MY AFFECTION!”

Crimson flames erupted from Ewan’s skin. And like molten lava, they flowed down his arms, pouring into the deep, dark void of Elka’s eyes, nose, and mouth. The darkness sizzled and burned, recoiling as if from its natural enemy.

And the will hidden within that darkness finally showed a flicker of raw, primal fear.

And a desperate desire to retreat.

Evil Gods can feel fear?

Don’t you run, you bastard. Come and face me!

Ewan grinned like a maniac. First one to back down is a coward!

And just then, he felt the black eyes twitch. The will within the darkness forcibly broke its gaze with the Withered King and focused its full, terrified attention on Ewan.

Elka’s lips moved, and for the first time, it spoke in a clear, human voice.

“To think… it would be… the Withered One… who counters me…”

The words were halting, broken, like a baby learning to speak. But it learned quickly. “But… it cannot… keep its gaze… on a mere mortal… forever.”

“And so,” the will said, in the final moment before the darkness was completely consumed, its voice cold, emotionless, and filled with a chilling promise, “I will remember you.”

“Ewan. Campbell.”

“Huh?”

Ewan froze. And then, his expression instantly shifted from god-like fury to one of pure, unadulterated, pants-wettingly-terrified panic.

“Wait, Kami-sama, what did you say?”

“Remember me? I’m just a lowly mortal! How could I possibly be worthy of your divine memory?”

“I was just kidding before! Please, just think of me as a fart in the wind and let me go!”

“Actually, my name is Ariel! Not Ewan! You’ve got the wrong person!”

“I’m sorry! I’m a coward! Please let me go!”

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t look at me!”

Ewan’s desperate, pathetic pleas echoed through the air, but there was no one… and no god… to listen to.