I Became the Servant of the Blind Wicked Woman

To read over 260 fully translated episodes, patreon.com/Denji02

Orthes delivered his prophecy of destruction with a calm smile.

The return of the Mage King wasn't just shocking; it was shock itself.

The arch-nemesis of all the cults, even beyond the Twelve Gods.

The end of the Mythical Era.

The only Ascendant.

To those who served the gods, the name of the Mage King was equivalent to fear itself.

Even after Hyacinth's outburst, the round table fell into a tense silence.

The idea that a being who disappeared thousands of years ago would return to this world?

It was a declaration so intense that it bleached the mind of all other thoughts. Even Hyacinth, who had demanded the prophecy of the "greatest calamity," was no exception.

The destruction Hyacinth foresaw was not the return of the Mage King. It was a catastrophe that would engulf the entire world, placing it in a similar context, yet…

How could he utter such a reckless prophecy?

The words that man had spoken were more like a curse. Hyacinth's prophecy was the result of meticulous reasoning and prediction, woven together with divine signs.

But now Utis had pulled out the terrifying name of the Mage King, seemingly without any evidence, just to make an alarming statement.

Why would such an unparalleled wizard, who had toppled the many cults and risen to a status equal to that of the gods, return to the world, where it was considered a blessing that he had even ascended in the first place?

This man wasn't a prophet; he was a madman.

…At least, that's what Hyacinth should have believed.

But the vision he had just seen lingered in his mind—a vision of something descending amidst a foreboding mist that covered the celestial sphere.

As the leader of the Phoibos Cult, Hyacinth could interpret the elements of the vision. The mist surrounding the descending figure represented fragments of fate that the figure could twist and control.

All fates were gathering before him, bowing in reverence. It was as if the world itself had been created for him.

What other presence could have such overwhelming dominance? The departed gods? Entities from the extradimensional realms extending their hands to this world?

"Three years at most. The Mage King will regain his physical form and be resurrected."

"You're truly insane!"

Hyacinth shouted almost involuntarily. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to escape the reality of the vision Utis had shown, a reality he didn't want to believe.

"So, even you all know nothing?"

Utis's smile deepened. It was the kind of bitter smile that prophets gave to those who struggled against their fate.

Seeing that familiar expression on someone else's face gave Hyacinth an inexplicable sense of helplessness.

But it wasn't just Hyacinth who was taken aback by Utis's words—Demus, who had brought Utis here, was just as bewildered. Demus had summoned Utis to vote on how to deal with Argyrion.

The debate was whether to let Argyrion expand their influence, or to subtly leak information to the Ten Towers so they could eliminate Argyrion.

At the moment, the majority favored allowing Argyrion to grow or even collaborating with them.

The strategy was to hinder the Ten Towers' pursuit of Argyrion, letting Argyrion grow stronger, and then watch as the Ten Towers and Argyrion wore each other down, a strategy that the Divine Cult believed would benefit them.

But Demus thought differently. Most of the Ensa hosts that Argyrion used for their terror attacks were believers of the gods, particularly ordinary devotees who could not wield divine power and thus couldn't resist.

Supporting or even aiding Argyrion meant contributing to innocent deaths. To prevent such evil, Demus had invited the prophet of Phoibos.

He believed that, if anyone could foresee the horrors that the future held due to innocent deaths, it would be the prophet. He thought the prophet could advise them on how to move forward without sacrificing lives.

But then he suddenly brings up the Mage King?!

In his confusion, Demus stared at the prophet of Phoibos. The smile on his face didn't waver in the slightest.

It was as if he had foreseen this very situation.

***

It's okay, it's okay… I wasn't caught…

I inwardly sighed in relief. Honestly, I was a bit nervous at first, wondering if I should have brought the Phoibos Crystal with me.

But the moment Hyacinth's task became "just tell us something dangerous," I knew I had this in the bag.

After all, prophecies can't be cross-verified. Whatever I say, they could claim, "That's a fake prophecy!" And I could counter with, "Are you sure it's not just your lack of ability to see it?"

Prophecies are subjective, from the moment they're witnessed to the moment they're interpreted. If a relic or sanctum were involved, the authenticity of a prophecy might be determined.

But even with such variables, my prophecy was solid.

Because it's part of the original story.

Sure, I'd been blindsided a few times by blindly trusting the original text, but so far, the core elements hadn't deviated.

The Mage King's return in 2077 was a fundamental aspect of the original setting. It was both the most shocking future for the Divine Cult and an undeniable fact.

Hyacinth's expression had become rather serious, though. Was it too shocking a statement? I glanced around.

Oh, right. The others were hiding their faces. I caught a glimpse of Demus's face, and even he looked shocked.

Given that he was someone who'd been chased all his life by the descendants of those who betrayed the Mage King, it was only natural for him to react sensitively. But…

"So, even you all know nothing?"

It was expected that the Ten Towers, who believed they had defeated him, wouldn't consider his return. But it was surprising that even the Divine Cult, who regarded the Mage King as their sworn enemy, hadn't anticipated his resurrection.

I thought they would have some clue about the Mage King's return.

I had assumed that the reason the Divine Cult disappeared in the original timeline was due to the Mage King's return. Perhaps they had actively tried to prevent it, which made them easily exposed to Blasphemia's surveillance, leading to their eventual downfall.

Was that not it? Then why did the Divine Cult disappear?

***

A priest who had remained silent from the moment the Nameless One arrived until now finally spoke.

"…Truly bold, and also arrogant. You are not a prophet of the gods; you behave as if you are a god yourself."

He was a large man clad in a white toga with his head covered by a white hood. His voice resonated powerfully throughout the round table meeting room.

His voice had a force that overpowered the atmosphere of fear brought by the prophecy. Even the shroud of dread seemed to retreat at the sound.

"And you are?"

"I am Philoxenon, servant of Aigio, the greatest among the Twelve Gods."

The word "greatest" attached to Aigio's name. The other priests seemed uncomfortable, but none dared to object. Aigio was, after all, the undisputed chief god of the Divine Cult's pantheon.

To give a simple comparison, if Phoibos was "the god who sits at the highest point in the heavens and sees the farthest," then Aigio was the heavens themselves.

"The Master of the Sky. The Overseer of Oaths. The one who wields the Thunder. It's a pleasure to meet you. Again, I am Utis."

Utis's grand mention of these titles made him seem like a jester mocking a king. Philoxenon replied in a solemn voice.

"That's correct. As you said, Aigio oversees oaths. And so, I have been granted a sanctum to discern the truth of oaths."

Oh, no. Orthes thought to himself. That kind of sanctum actually exists?

As Philoxenon raised his hand, a scale made of lightning appeared, glowing with its own light. On one side of the scale lay an eagle's feather.

"This is a sanctum that weighs your conscience. If you truly believe what you've spoken, place a single strand of your hair on the opposite side of the scale."

***

Without hesitation, I plucked a strand of hair.

Honestly, I did hesitate a bit. What if I lost a hair follicle? But when you're trying to pull off a con—or rather, convince someone—you can't afford to show any hesitation. I placed the strand of hair on the scale made of lightning.

Philoxenon asked sternly.

"Where did you hear the prophecy of the return of the vanished wizard?"

"I didn't hear it. I saw it with my own eyes."

If that scale worked as Philoxenon explained, it would determine that my statement was the truth. Because I had read the original story on Earth.

Sure enough, the scale wobbled slightly before tilting toward the strand of hair. Philoxenon asked again.

"Do you believe in the future you've testified to?"

"I believe in more than just that. I also believe in the events that follow. The Mage King's actions will bring about the apocalypse in our world."

The scale remained tilted toward my strand of hair. A deep sigh escaped Philoxenon's lips.

"…I have finished my questioning. If any other members have questions, speak now."

A brief silence followed. The priests exchanged glances, and then one of the questions that had been asked earlier in the commotion resurfaced.

"What's the secret to passing a Blasphemia interview?"

"The way I gained my Blasphemia identity wasn't through an interview. If I had to describe it, it was through a practical exam. I stood on the same battlefield as the Blasphemia agents multiple times and earned my current status through missions that even warranted the deployment of secret inspectors."

I answered truthfully, without straying too far from the facts. I had been on the same battlefield, after all. We were just fighting on opposite sides.

When the scale didn't move, I heard someone click their tongue. Were they hoping to infiltrate Blasphemia?

"What do you think of the Ten Towers?"

It was Proditor, still trying to test my ideology. I responded quickly.

"A bunch of bastards who recklessly endanger the world?"

Seeing the scale remain still, Proditor stood up and clapped.

"Pass…! You pass!"

Urania, who had smacked the back of Proditor's head, now gave me a sly look.

"Are you interested in romance right now? If you are, how about me?"

With that, she slowly lifted her veil. Her fair skin gleamed as her golden hair cascaded down like a scene from a movie or an advertisement.

I barely suppressed a snort. It would be a lie to say her features were anything but striking, but I had spent nearly every day by Carisia's side.

After seeing Carisia's face every day, it was hard to be swayed by a beauty trap.

"I'm not interested in romance or in you."

The scale didn't budge. Urania clicked her tongue once and then asked again.

"What, do you have someone you like?"

It was a simple question.

"Heh. No."

The scale wobbled and then tilted toward the eagle feather.

Wait, what? How?

To read over 260 fully translated episodes, patreon.com/Denji02