Perhaps realising that he couldn’t intimidate McClart, the High Priest decided to try persuasion instead. He softened his voice, trying to regain the characteristic calm and warmth it usually held.

“If humanity loses this power, it will lose the ability to see evil,” the High Priest said. “Demons will hide among the people, and the people, unable to tell right from wrong, will fall into chaos. Is this the future you want to see?”

McClart was an Inquisitor – a man who had once been the High Priest’s proudest first sword, a servant of God who showed no mercy in burning away evil and cleansing the world.

Since childhood, he had learned God’s teachings and lived by divine principles, and no matter how far he had strayed, it was unlikely that he had completely lost his true nature.

The High Priest spoke of how hard they had worked to cleanse evil and how much of it still remained in this land.

None of his words reached McClart. He listened quietly to the High Priest’s empty speech before calmly responding.

“Rather than sacrifice one for the sake of many, I’d prefer to face an uncertain future if it means that one person can find peace.”

At those words, the High Priest paused and drew in a breath. His trembling gaze held deep disappointment and reproach.

“…I have unleashed a beast with my own hands.”

Resignation settled on the High Priest’s face.

“When I take my last breath, all of God’s blessings will truly disappear.”

“I am aware of that.”

“The real question is whether humanity can continue without God’s presence…”

The High Priest’s voice was sombre and cutting.

McClart replied flatly, lowering his gaze slightly.

“This is simply the end of divinity – not the end of humanity.”

“Because of you, humanity will forever be beyond redemption.”

His words sounded like a curse. No, it was no illusion – he was actually uttering a curse. A curse directed at the bold man who dared to sever his ties with the Gods.

McClart gritted his teeth, his voice steady as he replied.

“It simply means that humans will live as humans.”

“In the end, you remain nothing more than a foolish beast.”

“I expect no blessings. God is disappointed in the son who stained his hands with his father’s blood, and he will no longer interfere in this land.

The High Priest, sighing as if lamenting, closed his eyes in despair. He now wished for eternal silence, and McClart was willing to grant that wish.

The sword he wielded felt heavier than ever. With a single stroke, red blood splattered across the god’s altar and the black armor, and the aged body collapsed helplessly.

The blood soaked the white cloth on the altar until it overflowed, trickling down drop by drop to the platform below. It was a complete death.

The blood, dyeing his vision red, seemed to tell him that he would never be saved. It reeked of a bitter, nauseating smell. At the same time, McClart felt the holy power within him quickly fading away.

He clenched his fist, trying to suppress the rising nausea. In the place of the once abundant holy power, a dark emptiness he had never felt before coiled and settled within him.

With the god’s blessing reduced to ashes, an overwhelming sense of loss washed over him.

Panting heavily, McClart finally collapsed to his knees before the altar. Sticky blood covered his knees and hands.

The abyss he had to endure had only just begun, yet he felt so tired already. Cursing his own weakness, he lifted his head. When had it come? A black bird of prey had landed on the blood-stained altar.

The crow’s red eyes stared intently at McClart.

Beyond the crow, which just stared at him, he could see the eyes of someone he hadn’t seen in months.

Those eyes were red too—but not the harsh, acrid red before him. They were a sweet red, the kind that made his mouth water just at the thought of them, something he desired even if it meant turning the entire world against him.

“Vienny.”

He wasn’t sure when it had come to this, but in the end, it had.

“You are the god of the rest of my life.”

There was no point in speaking, knowing that his words wouldn’t reach her through the crow, but McClart sought futile forgiveness.

“Please, don’t blame me for not letting you go.”

The crow, with its wings folded, remained completely still, staring at him.

“Even if it’s like this, I…”

The words were never completed. McClart lowered his gaze, unable to look at the crow any longer. The corners of his eyes ached, slowly burning.

Ah, he should never have dared to call her a god. Right now, all he wanted to do was run to her, see her eyes open, hold her, breathe her scent, and fulfil the long unfulfilled desire.

Even now, after losing the blessing of the god and becoming nothing more than a beast, he longed for her with such a worldly desire.

What kind of fool would dare to monopolise a god? He couldn’t even think of her as a god. He just wanted her – all to himself. McClart could find no justification for his own vile desire.

Tearing apart the world he once lived in with his own hands, staining himself with the blood of his kin and trampling on the divine love that once filled him, all he hoped for in the end was that there would be one person who would see and acknowledge all his flaws. That small hope, that she would understand his downfall, was for her and her alone.

If he could gain even a shred of her sympathy or sense of responsibility, he would willingly become a beast again and again.

* * *

The flames that had engulfed the Great Temple suddenly died out. The blue blaze that had seemed to burn forever vanished without a trace, leaving only the charred remains of the structure.

At first, the people did not understand what had happened. Even when they saw McClart walking through the ruins, they couldn’t react immediately.

McClart glanced at those who muttered at the sight of him before calmly leaving the Great Temple. It was unclear who threw the first stone, but a small one, thrown from somewhere, struck the side of his head.

As blood trickled through his silver hair, the people gasped and stepped back in fear.

McClart wiped the blood from his forehead and walked on as if nothing had happened. The person they feared might burst into flames at any moment did nothing.

Another stone came from another direction, this time hitting him in the back of the head before falling to the ground. Again it did not summon fire. Seeing this, the people slowly began to straighten their previously hunched shoulders.

One person, encouraged, threw another stone, followed by another with growing confidence. Soon they were all, without exception, picking up the stones at their feet. They hurled accusations and curses at the heretic who had burned the high priest and profaned the holy temple of God.

McClart neither threatened them nor halted his steps. But as the crowd grew, his pace slowed and the stones hurled at him grew heavier and stronger. Finally, as fury spread like madness through the crowd, someone picked up something other than a stone.

“Look over there!”

A huge flock of black crows filled the sky.

The sight, unlike anything they’d ever seen before, made the people pale and they even forgot to throw the stones they were holding. The street, once filled with curses and accusations, suddenly fell silent. Only the cacophony of crows cawing and flapping their wings echoed, while black feathers drifted through the air instead of flying stones.

McClart, who had been walking silently, also looked up at the crows in the sky. Like everyone else, he seemed startled at first, but then a faint smile formed on his lips. While the crowd cowered in fear, his face alone wore a calm and serene expression.

It was only after McClart – uniquely calm among the countless frightened people – had left that the sunlight began to break through the once-darkened sky. The mass of crows scattered in all directions, as if their presence had been nothing more than an illusion. All that remained in front of the stunned crowd were the charred remains of the Great Temple and countless scattered black feathers.

* * *

The sunset was always fascinating, no matter how many times she watched it. There was something truly mesmerising about the sun disappearing over the horizon. The water was so clearly blue, but it was amazing how it could turn into such a fiery hue.

That’s why Vienny often planned her visits to the beach to coincide with the sunset. Sitting on the sand, listening to the waves crashing next to her and gazing endlessly at the sea, she felt almost as if she were immersed in the water without even stepping into it.

It was a strange feeling.

Vienny sat with her knees drawn up, glancing briefly at the foam that came so close to her toes, before turning her gaze back to the horizon.

The sun was half-submerged and the sea glowed in a mixture of red and blue. Vienny could feel the last traces of the Great Witch within her fading with the sight.

Unlike Gentian, who had long since lost his magic, the Great Witch’s power was resilient. Though its influence faded over time, it lingered—feeble but still intact. So persistent, in fact, that Vienny had begun to doubt that her powers would ever truly disappear. She even felt a twinge of fear – what if it never let her go?

But now, it seemed, she could finally let go of that fear.

People described it as darkness descending upon the world. Some wept, lamenting that they had lost the blessings of the divine as the sacred power vanished, while others sighed in relief, seeing it as the end of divine judgement.

Corinne, who had the most interaction with the outside world, brought news, often clicking her tongue in disapproval. Privately, she would scoff at the over-dramatic nature of the humans, saying that such powers never really had much effect on ordinary people anyway.

At such times, Vienny would smile quietly and nod. She still hadn’t developed enough social skills to join in with the same enthusiasm, but at least she could smile more easily now, and it helped that Corinne approached her so comfortably and without hesitation.