Wasn’t This a Night Game

Installment and Lump Sum

The Saint of Healing was striving to improve the host’s mental state.

Fully aware of the potential for injury from curses, yet without a shred of fear, he spent time laughing and chatting with the Princess, not even bothering with protective gear.

Through all sorts of magic circles installed in the detached palace, the Chosen of the Evil God could vividly watch the whole scene.

What’s the point of doing it like *that*, so deliberately?

It didn’t take long for the intention to become clear.

The Evil God’s fragment, having been struck by divine magic once a week for 16 years, had a very weak soul connection with its host.

In its current state, there was a greater possibility that it would find a new, more suitable host to connect with more strongly and devour completely.

The Saint was trying to transfer the Evil God’s fragment into *his own* soul.

Even for a Saint, it was obvious that he would not be safe if the Evil God’s fragment took root in his soul, yet he acted as if he were luring the fragment.

What kind of guy *is* he, anyway?

He’s acting as if he has a way to deal with the Evil God’s fragment even if it moves into his soul.

Upon reporting that fact, the Evil God’s cult urgently ordered the incomplete Evil God’s fragment to be awakened.

The Chosen agreed with their opinion.

It was like incompletely awakening a fragment that had been obtained after sacrificing far too much, but it would be better than it being caught by the Saint and vanishing pointlessly without any effect.

The Chosen One waited until the Saint had departed the detached palace.

And as soon as he was gone, she moved.

It was the hour before dawn; few souls to deal with.

One mage and one cleric on duty, plus two knights of the guard – all quickly dispatched. Then, the Chosen One approached the detached palace.

The place was riddled with safeguards, precautions against the fragment of the evil god latched onto Iomene’s body from going berserk.

She deactivated the holy relics rigged to automatically trigger hundreds of banishment miracles should the curse exceed a certain threshold. She undid dozens of defensive magic circles and miracles designed to keep the curse from ever escaping the palace and reaching the imperial grounds.

Of course, none of this came without a cost.

The Chosen One of the evil god had to expend a terrifying amount of resentment-energy.

The very resentment that maintained the miracle of concealment wrapped around her, her lifeline.

Normally, the Collector would have brought more resentment gathered on the outside, but she was dead and gone, leaving no other option.

With all measures undone, the Chosen One stepped inside.

Princess Iomene lay on the bed, sleeping soundly, a look of almost foreign happiness upon her face. The Chosen One’s eyes landed on her.

Reaching out, she placed a hand above Iomene’s head, and the fragment of the evil god slumbering within her soul began to stir.

The constant exposure to holy magic had weakened the bond between the fragment and the soul to a disastrous degree; a connection that should have been rock solid after sixteen years.

In this state, even awakened, the fragment would never unleash its power in its full, intended form.

Vile, these humans were vile.

How could they choose to torture their own daughter for sixteen years?

Even the Cult of the Evil God, even the Chosen One, hadn’t anticipated this extreme.

The Cult knew the Emperor presented a strong front, but was infinitely vulnerable when it came to his family.

Placing a fragment of an evil god within an ordinary being would have only led to its swift removal by the White Order, even at the cost of the host’s soul. They needed someone the White Order would be hesitant to destroy.

Iomene, the Princess, was chosen as the host.

The cult of the Evil God had hoped for this. A sentimental Emperor, unable to order his own daughter tortured, would surely exile Princess Iomene to some far-flung backwater.

A rural place where they could reach her much easier. There, they’d nurture the fragment of the Evil God piece by piece, awakening it at the decisive moment.

Given the nature of twins, this would devour not only Iomene but also Princess Almene, whose soul was linked to hers. In the blink of an eye, they could unleash a curse right in the heart of Mars, the capital.

Almene, perfectly fine one day, would become the source of a terrible curse the next. The Empire, caught completely off guard, would never be able to react.

But the Emperor hardened his heart, choosing to have his daughter tortured for sixteen years. And it all came to this.

To make matters worse, the Saint of Healing appeared, forcing them to awaken the power two years ahead of schedule.

A complete mess.

Even if the fragment of the Evil God awakened, its structure was obviously, dangerously unstable.

But what could they do?

There was no other choice.

“Awaken.”

At the Chosen One’s words, the fragment of the Evil God, parasitic within her soul, began to surge with power.

Intense curses poured forth from her wings.

It was so unstable, ready to shatter at the slightest impact, but its sheer power was as transcendently terrifying as the legends said.

A chilling scream.

A bizarre, ghastly sensation, like one’s soul being flayed.

And with it, a curse of overwhelming power erupted into the world.

The beginning of the end.

*

As I drew closer to the Imperial Palace, the situation worsened, truly.

“Ughhh!! aaargh!!”

“Save me!! Save me!!”

So many folk, touched by the curse, lay thrashing on the ground.

“Hurry!! Hurry now! Drag the cursed away and heal them!!”

While the clerics of the Silver Grace Order, who trailed behind me, tended the sick, I ran headlong towards the Imperial Palace.

The very instant the Palace loomed into view, far off, I cast Time Stop.

My heart yearned to freeze time the moment I sensed the curse erupting from the Magic Tower’s temple, but had I done that, my mind would have been completely drained, sending me into oblivion before even reaching Iomene’s vicinity.

So, freezing time from this distance was, for me, the only way.

Please, let her soul not be yet shattered.

Please, let Iomene still be alive.

While whispering this wish, which even I deemed hopeless, I moved as fast as possible toward the detached palace, intermittently releasing and reactivating Time Stop locally. The result?

Far off, I saw Iomene, piercing through the detached palace’s roof, soaring high into the sky.

From the wings sprouting from her back, dozens of eyeballs emerged, peering down at the earth.

Even *that* much, I could handle.

What plunged me into despair was something else.

Upon Iomene’s face bloomed a cruel smile I’d never seen before.

A rapturous yet ghastly grin, the kind only one who mocked and profaned the world, who held a grudge against all that lived, could possibly wear.

Iomene was utterly dead.

Her body remained there, but her soul had been entirely devoured by a shard of the Evil God.

But why?

Why go this far?

I don’t know who cursed her, but a woman who’s never known happiness is just trying to recover, and you have to do *this*? What’s the damn reason?

Rage.

A maddening rage boils up.

Like I did at the factory, I started to ascend, using the frozen air as a foothold, performing the Void Walk.

I was almost to Iomene, floating in the void.

My mental strength was nearly exhausted.

Damn efficiency, really.

What to do?

I still had about three meters to go to reach Iomene completely.

If I released the time stop in this state, I’d just fall.

I desperately racked my brain and…

…I came up with one solution.

I released the time stop on the world.

Only keeping the time stop active beneath my feet.

This way, I could stand in the air while minimizing mental strain.

The moment the time stop broke, an unimaginable dread seized my whole body.

The feeling, like my soul itself was being scraped raw, transformed into a horror and disgust that made me want to vomit.

I don’t really know how to describe it.

But it feels like my very soul is speaking to me.

Telling me it could be destroyed.

That if even a sliver of that black mist-like curse surrounding Iome’s body were to seep in, my soul would shatter and vanish.

I felt my soul tremble with a maddening fear, beyond my control.

But let my soul fear as it may, I felt not a shred of fear for that black mist.

The soul and mind at odds, yet another fresh experience.

Soul destruction?

A one-way ticket to Korea.

A return to a safe and happy place where the dread of hell holds no sway.

I straightened my back, standing tall.

And stared directly at the fragment of the evil god, bearing Iome’s form.

The fragment of the evil god also gazed back at me, spewing forth a tremendous amount of curse from its wings.

[Die!]

[Destruction!]

[Annihilation!]

The fragment of the evil god cackled like a child, vomiting out simple words in a grotesque voice.

I hoped for a miracle, but none arrived.

Iome was gone.

Tears flowed from my eyes before I knew it.

I unbuckled my belt and gripped it in my hand.

I stepped through the air, using the space frozen in time as my foothold, approaching the fragment of the evil god.

The fragment mocks me.

[You die too!!]

[You’ll die too!]

[I’ll eat you whole!]

[Eat! Eat!]

The curse concentrates on me.

But I didn’t care.

You can destroy my soul.

Destroy it as much as you like.

In exchange, I’ll just hit you once. Just once.

I can die, just let me hit you once.

The distance between me and the fragment of the evil god began to shrink.

From the mocking, sneering mouth of the fragment came, at last, a voice that sounded almost panicked.

[Why?]

[Aren’t you afraid?]

Black fog shrouded me more tightly than ever.

My soul was no longer afraid, it was trembling in a fit.

A trembling that screamed, ‘I’m going to be shattered, you idiot!!’

But I didn’t care.

Bloodying my nose something fierce, the aftershocks of forcing time to halt, I clenched the belt in my right hand even tighter.

For that fragment of the evil god, this was a checkmate.

Didn’t matter if I failed.

Fail, and I’m heading back to Korea.

Succeed, and I can dish out a proper dose of agony to that goddamn shard.

I couldn’t feel any fear.

Yeah.

Doesn’t matter.

Destroy it.

I’m not scared, you hear?

You can shatter my soul, just let me hit you once.

Just one goddamn hit.

[Strange! Strange!]

[Stronger! Stronger!]

The fragment of the evil god was now visibly starting to panic.

The dark energy intensified.

I could feel the curses, scattered over the bodies of countless people on the ground, leaving them and concentrating around me.

But still, nothing.

That son of a b*tch motherfucking b*stard.

I’m gonna let you experience the most horrific pain imaginable.

The distance between us shrinks to less than a meter, and finally, fear blooms across the shard’s face.

[Don’t come closer!!]

It flapped its wings, a desperate attempt to flee, but it was useless.

I froze its feet in time.

Helpless, suspended in mid-air as if nailed there, I pounce.

Then, I lay my hand on its body and unleash the skill.

[Skill Amplification, 3000x activated!]

Last time, I couldn’t cast a skill on the shard of the evil god, but this time, it takes hold.

It only works on living things, didn’t it?

You made a mistake.

Shard of the evil god.

If you’d just remained a parasite clinging to a soul, this skill would never have worked.

Now, Iomene’s body is your body.

The pain it feels is, of course, your pain too.

“The pain Iomene suffered in installments for sixteen years. You’ll be feeling it all at once.”

[No, it can’t be!! It can’t!!!]

“It can!!”

The belt is swung.

*Crack!* The sound is sharp, almost lewd, and Iomene’s cheek swells, popping out kernels of corn.

And then.

[Ggrkk!!…….Uwaaah!! aaagh!]

The fragment of the Evil God began to scream.