Paramir entered “her” home and spent a blissful time as a happy couple.
They confirmed their true feelings for each other, basked in the afterglow, ate a late dinner, and the loving pair fell asleep together.
The next day, from early morning, soldiers sent by the Margrave came looking for Paramir. They informed him and his lover that His Lordship the Margrave had summoned them—an honorable matter—and politely escorted them in a prepared carriage.
In the inner citadel, damaged and collapsed in places from the Demon King’s Army invasion, Tolland Hamilton greeted the two with an unusually bright expression.
The Margrave spread his arms wide to welcome the guardian deity of Mosul, the hero of all.
A secretary waiting in advance informed them that, from now on, they could live in a large, fine house built within the citadel instead of the cramped home they had shared, and kindly guided them around the area.
Anything they needed would be provided. Jasmine rejoiced at the improved living conditions and embraced Paramir. People watched the scene with warm smiles.
After sending Jasmine back to the house first, the Margrave and Paramir walked side by side, pondering the future.
The Heavenly King, “Hammer Surabar,” was dead, and his legion had suffered near-total annihilation. Yet the Demon King’s Army showed no signs of ending the war they had started.
The emperor of the empire had dispatched the combat mages of the Violet Magic Tower—the High Masters—to support the Margrave and Paramir.
The Margrave shared this with Paramir, and now there was nothing left for them to fear. Paramir gripped his sword once more and charged toward the Demon King’s Army…
An unwavering, transparent lake. The Paramir reflected in it was utterly brave, heroic, and great.
Paramir lived as the valiant warrior who felled the Demon King’s Army. For Jasmine. For Mosul. For the empire, the Margrave, and His Imperial Majesty…
Every day, Paramir met new enemies, fought, triumphed, and built a happy home with Jasmine. It was a perfectly flawless “happy ending.”
“…Was this truly the right thing to do?”
“Are you having doubts only now?”
Moriah fell silent. Elon was correct.
Moriah had agreed to Elon’s plan long before Paramir arrived in this “Elon Garden”—to create a peaceful “paradise” solely for him, where he would live eternally and meet a happy “end.”
He had consented to confining Paramir in an unbreakable, eternal “happiness”…
Yet was this truly right?
Paramir had not yet “failed.” He was not yet dead.
That meant it was proper for him to exercise a mortal’s right to reverse fate at any time.
But what had they done? What had the one he had believed in without doubt while alive and served even in death—what had Lord Elon done?
Was it truly right to forcibly confine a living person in the heavenly “Elon Garden” and grant him happiness filled with illusions that “never existed”?
“Moriah. You have always been my faithful follower. In life and in death. It is precisely for that reason that I did not keep this grave matter secret from you.”
He knew. He understood. That Paramir had to be confined. Elon had shared every detail with Moriah without a single lie about why it was necessary.
Even this could not be false. Moriah had seen the future awaiting Paramir—the cruel fate, the horrific death, the ruin of the world.
The gods too had “seen” the future. Only after death did Moriah understand how Barhan had prepared arrangements for all beastmen.
The gods—at least the Elon he had believed in and served—had seen “tomorrow.”
A future unwritten on the Armenial Continent that mortals could never know.
Moriah turned his gaze from Elon, who wore Maximilian’s form, to the lake that reflected everything inside like a mirror.
Within it, the Demon King’s Army legions were utterly annihilated with no survivors, and the Heavenly Kings were not merely one “horn” fallen.
All of them had fallen.
The utterly horrific “Demon King Hader” had his head severed. His daughter too. Even Hokhma’s priestess fell, and the accursed “Heldrasil” burned in flames.
“Moriah. There is no need to grieve so. In ‘my’ garden, that man is enjoying peace he could never have known otherwise. He is experiencing in life the supreme happiness that my followers only attain after death. Is this not good for everyone? Do not overthink it. Paramir has been saved by this.”
“…Yes, that is so. Lord Elon…”
Moriah bowed his head. He bit his lip until it bled.
No.
After watching all this beside Elon, Moriah could no longer endure it.
This—this could not be!
For the first time in life—and the first time since death—Moriah rebelled against Elon.
“Lord Elon… I have served you all my life, and even in death I serve you. But this—this ‘lie’ must not exist! This… this… must not be…!”
“What? Moriah, wait— Ah, no!”
“This once, I will not follow you! Let all falsehoods vanish!”
Moriah threw himself into the lake. Elon hurriedly tried to stop his follower, but it was too late.
Maximilian’s hand merely brushed Moriah’s collar, failing to hold him back.
Splash! By the time he felt the cold water and the shattering fragments of the “Elon Garden,” the splashing lake water on his hands and face—it was far too late.
He tried to shake off the wetness soaking his clothes, but soon Elon stopped.
After all, he was not a being who needed to act “human.”
Maintaining Maximilian’s form to the end, Elon leaned back in a beach lounger commonly seen by the shore and gulped down a coconut drink.
Damn it. This was the most “peaceful” method… Were mortals truly capable of nothing more? A sigh escaped. Grieving over betrayal by his most faithful follower, Elon fell ill.
“Did I not tell you this would happen? No need to pretend such sorrow.”
Grrr… A low tiger’s growl rumbled.
Elon, still hiding his true divine form beneath human skin, glared at Barhan, who had brazenly entered his domain.
Behind Elon as he drank his coconut and stared at Barhan, a shadow loomed.
The shadow cast by enormous mountain-goat horns.
“Barhan.”
“Oh, surely you didn’t think I wouldn’t notice? Old friend? Everyone knows your insides are as black as those demons’. What god knows your lies, deceptions, and confusing illusions better than I? Ah, stop gulping alone like that—how about offering a drink to a rare guest? No wonder the others avoid getting close to you.”
“…Why have you come, Barhan.”
“Well, I didn’t expect courtesy anyway.”
On four legs, in tiger form, Barhan approached Elon, then shifted into a “human” shape like him.
Into the form of her descendant—a woman with black, yellow, and white striped tiger ears and tail. She wrapped her arms around Elon’s head (who grumbled that it was uncomfortable and he was already irritated, so don’t touch) and lightly growled.
She licked his neck with her rough tongue. Goosebumps rose on Elon’s skin. Even after becoming a god, he never grew used to this horrific tiger god’s affection.
“Ah, you always smell delicious… Elon, may I take just one bite?”
“My answer remains unchanged. ‘I refuse.’ Let me remind you, Barhan—we are not like the mortals down there who must eat to survive. We are ‘gods.’”
“Ah, then what is this? Have you perhaps taken a taste for your follower’s soul, like the demons? Like Hokhma?”
“…Do not place me on the same level as that inferior being. It is unpleasant.”
“Hahaha!”
Barhan laughed as if she would fall backward. An uninvited, unpleasant guest. Elon frowned at Barhan’s intrusion.
More precisely, he frowned with the face of his former follower “Maximilian.”
In any case, Elon watched ripples slowly form on the once-unwavering lake, soon turning into massive waves crashing in all directions.
Paramir’s “illusion” was breaking. All because of the ripple caused by his loyal and honest follower Moriah.
Damn it, how much effort I put into this… And he ruins it…
“Barhan, you bastard.”
“Correction—I am very much a ‘tiger.’”
“This is no time to nitpick words!”
“Whoa, whoa— Calm down. If you get that angry, your horns will rise. Then lick my mouth waters. You know what I mean, right?”
“…Damn cat meow… Stop licking! It’s disgusting!”
Watching Barhan continue to upset him to the very end, rage boiled inside.
But what could he do? Endure—there was no other way. In life, Barhan had been a tiger, and he a deer.
A very special and magnificent deer, yes—but in the end, a deer was prey to be caught and devoured by hunters.
This fact remained unchanged even after becoming gods. In life and in death, Barhan was an absolute predator he could never handle.
“Beloved Elon. Is there any god in the heavens who likes you as much as I? Stop being so ill-tempered and occasionally enjoy pleasant times with an open heart. How about returning to the old days—chasing and being chased, focusing on those thrilling moments?”
“Enough nonsense. So why did you help Paramir? Didn’t we agree to ignore that human? I remember all the heavenly gods consented.”
“Whoa, whoa— Calm down, old friend. I know how important this matter is, too. Still, don’t you think we should at least give him a chance? Watching earthly affairs can get boring enough to yawn, but every now and then, surprising things happen, don’t they?”
“Paramir. That manufactured mortal—is he one of those ‘every now and then’?”
“He is.”
Barhan nodded. Despite Elon’s sullen, irritated reply, it satisfied her—her tiger tail swished gently.
…Damn it, I hate being swayed by that tail. Elon closed his eyes instead.
“Don’t sulk so much, Elon. I came all this way for you. Let’s enjoy it. You’re showing too much dignity and restraint befitting a god.”
Rustle… Lowering her body into a familiar stance, Barhan looked up at him and spoke.
Her expression became that of one facing the most delightful toy (what else would a cat love!). Good heavens, this pattern again?
“Damn wench. Don’t take off my pants. I told you. I warned you!”
“Hmm? But this part says otherwise?”
“…Just kill me instead.”
“I’ll kill you. It’s about time you got used to being devoured, isn’t it?”
Heh. Watching Barhan’s smiling face, Elon had no choice but to surrender in the end.
In life and in death. His pitiful fate—eternally dragged around by Barhan, moving only according to her will.
I slashed at the “human” things charging toward Priest Moriah and me, shouting.
“…Damn it. You were right, Priest. All of this was ‘fake’! Even now! Everything surrounding us is fake!”
“Did I not… tell you repeatedly… cough…”
I saw Surabar and Jasmine grotesquely fused. It looked like a meat puppet crafted by a voodoo sorcerer possessed by a demon from birth.
It wasn’t just Surasmin (or perhaps Jasbar?).
Inside the burning Elon sect temple, splattered with blood and flesh, things far more horrific than that surrounded us—to the point where that one almost seemed “cute.”
Damn it, I truly wished this were reality… In the end, things are going wrong.
“Let me say this upfront—I really wanted to live here! Priest Moriah, you forcibly dragged me out!”
“How eloquently you speak like an ungrateful bastard. But it’s already too late. I betrayed the Elon I served in life and followed even in death—to help you. Go save the ‘real’ Surabar! And the ‘real’ Jasmine too!”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do!”
I cloaked my sword in blue aura. And slashed. Starting with Surasmin, the temple and every illusion surrounding us melted away under my aura.
“Just wait a little, Captain. I’m coming.”
The wounded, bleeding figure of Priest Moriah grew faint. Along with all the falsehoods that had surrounded me.