"Oh great darkness, the time for the end draws near… please bestow this innocent lamb Your grace!"

The old man's voice echoed through the hollow, damp cave, trembling with devotion that bordered on madness.

Before him stood a grotesque statue carved from dark stone, its surface warped into shapes that didn't quite resemble anything human.

Shadows clung to it unnaturally, like they were alive.

The old man knelt so hard his bones creaked, pressing his forehead to the cold ground.

"Hoooooooooaaah!!"

The followers behind him mimicked his actions, dropping to their knees in waves, hands raised, eyes trembling in fanatic worship.

Their ragged breaths filled the cave, mixing with the distant dripping of water. Relief… hope… obsession… all of it twisted together inside their smiles.

When the old man—Augustus—lifted his head, his grin stretched almost unnaturally wide.

"Haaah… it won't be long. Soon… soon we will meet our goddess's chosen one our savior our everything!"

At his words, the followers trembled in excitement. Some cried. Some laughed. Some just stared blankly ahead as if they were already witnessing a miracle.

Augustus looked at them with a fatherly pride, madness flickering in his eyes.

For so long he had served this statue—this "darkness"—with nothing but faith and despair. He had done rituals alone. He had prayed alone. He had waited alone.

But now?

Now the cave was overflowing with believers.

This was the first time in his entire miserable devotion that his cult had grown so large.

"Truly… the tides have changed," he whispered with trembling joy. "The great father's death wasn't for nothing…"

Asmodeus.

The mighty demon king whose sudden death had shaken every demonic worshipper. A tragedy that plunged them all into grief and hopelessness.

But to Augustus… that death was also a sign.

Because from that darkness — a new hope emerged.

A new prophecy.

A whisper that the "chosen one of the darkness" had appeared in the world.

And that chosen one… carried the surname Hell.

Augustus shuddered, pressing his hands together as if praying directly to the chosen one himself.

"Soon… we shall see the one who will guide us to salvation," he said, tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. "For the goddess has finally answered."

He recalled that very moment with crystal clarity.

It had been only a few whispered words during his daily miracle—fragile, fleeting sounds carried upon a breath of darkness—yet those few words alone had been enough to grant him the title of Oracle.

[A great anomaly will be bestowed upon the continent…]

[My chosen child… guide him in reverence and grace.]

[For it is he who shall end it all.]

Even now, remembering the voice made his bones ache. At the time, the divine utterance had almost shattered his mind; the weight of it pressed on his skull like jagged iron.

And yet… his heart, soul, and very being had brimmed with ecstasy.

Revisiting the memory of that deep, twisted voice—so cruel, so ancient, so absolute—made him feel young again, vibrant again, as though purpose itself had ignited anew in his veins.

So many failures.

So many corpses of their young, cut down by the merciless blades of the Paladins.

So many years of being spat on, hunted, judged by the world.

The Holy Kingdom detested them, the people feared them, and fate itself seemed to abandon them.

But now… now the tide was turning.

All their losses, all their grief—a blood debt that would soon be repaid in full.

The continent would drown in chaos, and their suffering would finally bear fruit.

Once they swore themselves to the Goddess's chosen child, once they placed their devotion and blades at his feet, their fate would twist toward pleasure, victory, and long-awaited redemption.

Things were still troublesome, of course.

They could not reveal themselves so openly—not yet.

The Holy Kingdom's Paladins had been unusually active lately, sniffing around with renewed fervor.

But Augustus had learned the greatest virtue the hard way:

Patience.

And he could wait.

He had waited for years, decades even, and patience had rewarded him every time.

Time to grow.

Time to prepare.

Time to let their belief ripen into something unstoppable.

And soon—very soon—an army crafted specifically for the Great Chosen One would rise from their shadows.

Augustus lifted his arms, voice trembling with fervent devotion.

"Oh, let us all praise His name…Oh great Hell, we offer our faith!"

At once, his followers fell into their chants, voices rising in unison—wild, reverent, maddened—like a choir worshiping the abyss.

...….

"Master, it seems you're becoming more and more famous in… well, more ways than one," Lavine muttered, her tiny fairy body sprawled lazily across Riley's head as if it were her personal cushion. "You were already too famous as it is—now your infamy might cause you some real trouble…"

Riley exhaled slowly. "Yeah…"

Lavine tapped her foot on his forehead. "Is it because they noticed you silently killing their members?"

"I don't think that's the case."

"Then how come they know your name? Even if it's only implied, they're clearly praying and praising this 'Hell' name. And it's practically you, right? You're the only Hell I know who's directly involved with all this."

Riley couldn't deny it; he felt the truth of her suspicion pressing between his ribs. Even he wasn't entirely convinced that his recent actions—especially the last few disastrous encounters—weren't somehow connected. But…

"I don't think that's the whole story," he murmured.

Lavine blinked. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated for a moment, then answered quietly, "Erebil might be silently making her move…"

Lavine's wings stiffened. She grabbed a handful of his golden hair, tugging hard enough for him to wince. "Wait—what? I thought you told me you struck a deal with her! That she wouldn't interfere with you and your lovers until the fated day arrives, right?"

"She won't," Riley replied. "At least… not directly."

He rested a hand on Lavine's tiny form, gently prying her fingers from his hair.

"Erebil is a goddess of evil and darkness itself," he continued. "Promises are sacred among gods, yes… but that doesn't mean they can't use loopholes. She can't touch me now—she agreed to that. But she can still set things in motion. Small things. Indirect things. Things that might harm me much later instead of today."

Lavine froze, then slowly nodded in grim understanding.

It made perfect sense.

If the goddess's interference wasn't immediate—if it didn't affect Riley right at this moment—then Erebil wasn't breaking her promise at all.

She was merely… preparing the board.

And Riley had no choice but to face whatever waited there.

Riley thought deeply for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose as an uneasy realization settled in.

How come he was being worshiped instead of being hunted down?

They should be well aware of my connection with Eris now as well…

The question lingered like a weight on his chest.

He ran through countless possibilities—schemes, hidden motives, divine tricks, political plays—but every route eventually circled back to the same irritating conclusion:

Erebil was probably acting purely on whim.

And that alone was enough to give him a headache.

He exhaled in defeat.

Just imagining the trouble that would come from every captured demonic worshipper shouting his name like some holy chant was enough to make him want to lie down and sleep for a week.

Sooner or later, the Holy Kingdom's paladins might pay him a "friendly visit."

Which… wasn't exactly a problem.

But if they decided to brand him with bad blood, then fixing his reputation afterward would be a monumental pain.

Lavine's voice broke his train of thought.

"So, what are you planning to do now, Master?"

Riley looked forward with a faint sigh and gently removed Lavine from his head.

"I'm going to use you."

Lavine blinked rapidly. "…Excuse me?"

He didn't bother explaining. Instead, he pressed a finger firmly against her tiny fairy body.

"W–Wait, Master! I might be in my small form right now, but you can't just touch a lady like tha—"

Her squeaky protest abruptly stopped as her eyes widened.

A warm yet overwhelming surge of divine energy poured into her like liquid sunlight.

"This is…?" she whispered, stunned.

"That should be enough energy to sustain you for a few months," Riley said casually. "You won't need my constant connection anymore. You'll be able to move around freely even without me near you."

Lavine floated there in silence, feeling the divine power pulsing inside her like a new heartbeat.

"…Yes," she murmured, a small spark of joy rising in her chest. "But why did you give me this much?"

"I told you I'm going to make use of you."

Lavine raised a brow.

"Lavine, from now on, I want you to explore the continent and gather as much information about these demonic worshippers as you can."

She stared at him.

Stared.

Then stared some more.

Finally, she let out a strangled sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope…"

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