Lowering her head, Beacai stared blankly at the dagger piercing her heart.
After a long silence, she asked the captured elf, “…Why?”
Her blood-red eyes were tinged with a hint of desolation, and blood no longer flowed from the wound.
A few strands of silver hair fell dishevelled across her chest as she leaned against a pillar in the church, her figure strangely dishevelled.
A few drops of blood stained the hem of her divine gown.
This added a touch of allure to its sanctity, yet it also evoked pity in those who beheld her.
“Cough, cough. There’s no ‘why.’ It’s merely revenge,” the elf coughed up blood as they spoke.
“…Revenge?” Beacai asked, perplexed.
As if recalling a painful past, the elf snorted coldly.
“Hmph. You destroyed this city, ruined our homes, scattered our families, and even stole our church, transforming it into this ghastly, unrecognizable place…”
“Our lives and our faith have been shattered and defiled by you. Isn’t revenge what we are meant to seek? Your church and your evil god should be driven from this city!”
They still vividly remembered the former Pader City.
It was a place where elves resided, where buildings and homes were integrated with nature, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
Every morning, they awoke to breathe fresh air.
Walking the streets, elves didn’t need to conceal their faces with dark robes; their interactions were exceptionally harmonious, and everything was beautiful and peaceful.
Until the day they could no longer hear their Mother Goddess’s oracle.
Enemies began to invade their city. Without the Mother Goddess’s blessing, they were no match for these foes.
In those days, raging fires consumed the entire city, claiming countless elven lives.
They witnessed it all firsthand. The flames illuminated their face, filling them with resentment for their powerlessness.
Subsequently, several deities occupied the city in succession, and war never ceased.
It was only when the evil god Beacai intervened that they experienced a fleeting peace.
Yet, the Pader City of old could never be restored.
The Bishop listened to their words.
Their eyes narrowed slightly, and fury was practically etched onto their face.
“Her Grace granted you the right to continue living here, did she not? Is that not good enough? Furthermore, it was the previous deities who destroyed this city; Her Grace bestowed new life upon it.”
As if they had heard a truly amusing joke, the elf burst into uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming from their eyes.
Then, they reached up to wipe the corners of their eyes and spoke:
“Granted us the right to live here? What? Should we, who had our land stolen, be grateful to you? You and those other gods are all cut from the same cloth!”
“We were originally the masters of this city, and it should belong to the great Yggdrasil. The gods you worship are nothing but cuckoos in the nest, and any kindness they show us is likely just to slowly erode our faith.”
“As the Blood Bishop of this city, surely you know how many elves still worship Yggdrasil within its walls, do you not?”
Elves who once worshipped the Mother Goddess Yggdrasil had turned to worship the evil god.
They had witnessed this phenomenon far too many times over the years.
Although they would not stop them, and even claimed that choosing their faith was their freedom, the anguish in their heart was undeniable.
Watching their former friends one by one betray their faith, they felt on the verge of collapse.
If this continued, all traces of the Mother Goddess’s presence in these cities would soon vanish entirely.
For their faith to be destroyed was tantamount to death.
“So, you’re in such a hurry to die?”
The Bishop’s voice turned utterly cold.
The elf, however, brightened, replying with a relaxed tone:
“Oh? You seem quite agitated. Could it be that the woman I stabbed isn’t just anyone? Well, I suppose that makes sense. Someone you personally protect wouldn’t be an ordinary person.”
“You seek death!”
Truly enraged, the Bishop extended a hand, and a massive axe materialized within their grasp.
They then lifted the elf high, preparing to cleave them in two with the axe.
Knowing their end was near, the elf showed no panic.
They closed their eyes, tracing the shape of a tree over their heart, and accepted their fate with composure.
“Stop!”
Just as the axe was about to strike, Isis cried out, halting the Bishop.
The elf opened their eyes, looking at her with confusion.
Isis, meanwhile, gazed at Beacai, who stood behind her with her head bowed, a strange unease stirring in her heart.
“Beacai…”
She did not want the elf to die here. However, their words had dealt Beacai a heavy blow, leaving Isis uncertain of what to say to save their life.
Furthermore, as she watched the silent Beacai, a growing disquiet settled within her.
She had no experience dealing with an evil god such as this.
“So, so this is what you all truly think…”
Reaching back, Beacai grasped the dagger’s hilt.
She pulled it from her own heart, then, under the elf’s stunned gaze, she tossed it into a nearby pool of blood.
Gurgle—
The dagger plunged into the blood pool, splashing crimson droplets.
The entire church fell into a profound silence.
Beacai straightened, touching her wound.
The flesh pierced by the dagger healed instantly, returning to its pristine state; only her blood-stained divine gown spoke of the recent ordeal.
Brushing a strand of hair from her ear, she didn’t spare the elf a glance.
Instead, she walked directly to Isis, took her arm, and leaned against her chest.
“It’s alright. It’s alright if you don’t love me, as long as… as long as Mama loves me.”
Her voice trembled with the pain of being wounded.
Her cheeks had lost all color, and her gem-like pupils resembled fragile glass, poised to shatter completely with any further external force.
“Mama, do you love me?” She leaned close to Isis’s face, her eyes wide as she asked.
If it were before, Isis would likely have already replied that she didn’t.
But now…
Glancing at the elf held by the Bishop, her emotions grew complicated.
If she uttered the words “I don’t love you,” Beacai would completely break down again.
She might then directly seize control of Isis’s body to commit truly horrific acts.
For instance, forcing her to personally kill the elf.
To die at the hands of the Mother Goddess they worshipped would perhaps be the most unbearable fate for the elf.
Thus, to save them, Isis turned her head away and softly murmured, “Mm…”
Catching this response, Beacai’s pupils dilated instantly, and her gloomy expression brightened considerably.
She tightly embraced Isis, burying her head in Isis’s chest, and simultaneously commanded the Bishop:
“Release them. Don’t let them disturb the time Mama and I have together.”
“Yes.”
Without a word of question, the Bishop dragged the elf out of the church.
The elf, realizing they would live, spat in contempt and shouted several things at Isis.
“A bunch of hypocrites! If you want to kill me, just do it! Why pretend!”
“The evil god will fall sooner or later! Just you wait! This church, in the end, belongs to the Church of Life!”
Alas, no one paid them any mind, no matter how loudly they yelled.
Holding Isis, Beacai rubbed her cheek against Isis’s chest, a look of pure bliss on her face: “Mama, you finally admitted you love me! I’m so happy. No matter how much they hate me, I don’t seem to care anymore.”
‘She’s like a clingy child,’ this thought flashed through Isis’s mind, but she remained silent.
Just because she admitted she loved her, Beacai would directly release the elf who had just tried to assassinate her?
Isis realized she couldn’t quite comprehend the evil god Beacai.
Evil gods were typically chaotic and malevolent. They required no logic, nor did they adhere to any worldly conventions.
They would resort to any means to achieve their objectives.
Her love for Beacai was a pretense, its sole purpose being to keep the elf alive.
Would the evil god Beacai not understand this?
No, she surely understood.
Yet she remained immersed in this falsehood, willingly deceived by the lie.
Why was the evil god Beacai like this? Whether it was genuine emotion or a mere facade, Isis could not tell.
But one thing she knew for certain: those who deceived an evil god rarely met a good end.