"Evil God... scion?"

Muen’s breath caught.

Involuntarily, a charming figure flashed before his eyes.

Anna.

Serpentification disease.

Evil God scion.

The Anna of the past had been tormented by that terminal illness, and had even nearly been driven onto a dead end several times.

So when he heard those words, Muen naturally felt pity for this so-called Evil God scion.

"She was not afflicted with a disgusting disease like the Moon’s scion serpentification, which was cast out like a wide net."

The priest seemed to see through Muen’s thoughts.

"That one’s scions are different. His main body is numerous, but His scion is unique. So as His scion, there is no disease mechanism like ‘serpentification’ used for selection."

"She herself was the most perfect one. It was precisely because of that perfect Evil God-compatible constitution that she became an Evil God’s scion."

"The only Evil God scion..."

Muen’s expression turned grave. He realized what that meant, and what it meant for an executioner of the Church to let an Evil God’s scion escape.

"Your sin... is indeed rather large. The Church didn’t arrest you? The Tribunal Hall didn’t give you a traitor’s loving package?"

"No."

The priest said, "Ision sealed off the information and did not report it to the Church."

"I see. It seems Archbishop Ision really was in true love, to actually dare take such a risk."

Muen thought for a moment. "But... although what you did was indeed very dangerous, if I think about it carefully, it wasn’t completely irreversible, was it? After all, didn’t you say the girl who was an Evil God’s scion was very kind? If you could help her control the Evil God’s power, then for you, that should have been a good thing."

"..."

The priest shook his head without speaking, but what he meant was self-evident.

"True."

That was easy to say, but reality was not that simple.

Anna had been able to control the Moon’s power so easily because the Moon had already been thoroughly done in, and His authority had become ownerless.

The old bastard dropped his loot, and even personally delivered himself over to drop it. Then as the "scion," Anna naturally had the right of inheritance.

But in that girl’s situation... the old bastard was not dead, and that made things troublesome.

As long as the Evil God still existed, controlling His power was not something that could simply be said aloud. The spiritual infiltration alone was enough to contaminate many people without anyone realizing it.

Let alone an influence as direct as a scion.

"So... in the end, the girl still failed to control it, and it caused disaster. That is the source of your self-blame?" Muen once again made a reasonable guess.

"No."

But the priest shook his head again. "She controlled it."

"Hm?"

Muen froze. "Controlled it?"

"Yes, controlled it. In a way none of us had expected. Not only did she control the power of the Evil God scion, she completely removed it from her own body."

"How did she do that?"

Muen was deeply shocked.

One had to know that Anna had searched for who knew how many years just to find a method for one serpentification disease.

But that girl could actually completely remove even the trait of being the [unique] Evil God scion. No matter how one looked at it, such a thing seemed exceedingly unbelievable.

"Her method came from a certain great figure. As for the specific execution..."

The priest did not continue. He only glanced at Muen’s stomach.

"You mean..."

Muen instantly understood. "Giving birth?"

"Yes. That scion’s [uniqueness] was almost a curse she could never escape by herself. But conversely, as long as she gave birth to another perfect Evil God scion inheritor, she could naturally transfer that curse onto the inheritor."

"Then her child..."

A reckless figure flashed through Muen’s mind.

"That Fubeka..."

"Correct. Fubeka is the new Evil God scion. That is why I said earlier that only when I looked into Fubeka’s eyes did I discover all of this."

The priest answered calmly.

But his heart was certainly not calm.

Because the cigar was quietly smoldering.

Yet the priest had not taken another puff for a very long time.

"Who exactly is this person?"

Muen also fell silent for a while before finally being unable to stop himself from asking, "From what she did, I can’t see the slightest trace of so-called kindness. For the sake of her own freedom, she pushed her own daughter into the abyss... That is not something a mother would do."

"That girl once had a name. She was called Olive." The priest took a deep breath. "A beautiful name. In the Kingdom’s slang, it means a jewel in the east."

"Olive?"

Muen raised a brow. "Why does that sound a little familiar?"

"That was her former name. After Fubeka was born, she stopped calling herself Olive."

The priest paused, then said:

"Now, she calls herself the Witch of Repentance."

"...Huh?"

After staring blankly for a long while, Muen met the priest’s eyes, then finally could not help voicing his confusion.

"Who?"

"You’re very familiar with her, aren’t you?"

The limping priest finally remembered to take a puff of his cigar, exhaling neat rings of smoke one after another. "The Salvation Society’s Third Seat, the Witch of Repentance."

"No, wait..."

Muen covered his nearly burned-out brain, unable to understand.

"How could it be the Witch of Repentance?"

"How could it not be the Witch of Repentance?"

"She, she, she..."

The Witch of Repentance...

Muen had never imagined he would hear her name in this story.

That old woman... that old woman who was like a perverted stalker. No matter how he looked at her, she did not seem like someone who would have a sweet romance with an Archbishop.

And she...

Muen thought for a long while before being unable to stop himself from saying:

"Isn’t she very close to the Kingdom’s King? Judging from the information I’ve gathered during this period, that old bastard was able to gradually control the Kingdom, and the relationship between her and that old bastard must be..."

"Does that conflict?"

The priest calmly asked back.

"Her having a good relationship with the King, and her once having loved Ision and having a child with him—do those things conflict?"

"No... they don’t conflict."

Of course they did not conflict.

That old woman had already lived into a stinking, drawn-out old hag. Was it reasonable for her to have a few lovers?

That was of course reasonable.

Reasonable as the Ganges!

It was just that the reasonable part seemed a little strange.

Speaking of which... did that old King know?

"But... I still find it a little hard to believe."

Muen took a deep breath, calmed himself, and temporarily pushed aside certain emotions that affected his thinking. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

"You said it before, right? That girl was very kind. So kind that even a rigid believer of the Goddess like you felt pity for her. But I don’t think the Witch of Repentance has any kind qualities.

"She is just an evil, stubborn, perverted, foul old woman!

"And one whose hands are stained with countless blood!

"She has absolutely nothing to do with the word kindness!"

Muen was incomparably certain of all this.

Because some things absolutely could not be disguised.

And Muen also did not think that the Witch of Repentance, when she was young, could have deceived the priest who was a Church executioner through some simple pretense.

If it were truly that easy, the priest should not execute anyone else. He should cut his own neck first, so as not to create an even bigger hole.

"...Looks like she tortured you quite badly."

The priest smiled and was not angry at Muen’s furious curses. "You’re right. The Witch of Repentance is an evil, stubborn, perverted old woman. She cannot be called kind at all."

"But... this is the truth."

"I saw that girl three times. The first time was in the cathedral’s prison. At that time, she was gentle and kind, and the shining points on her were like twinkling stars, enough to attract anyone."

"The second time was after she and Ision had fallen in love. She had not changed much. She had only matured a great deal. And occasionally, I would see some shadow in her eyes, but she was still optimistic and strong."

"The third time... was when Fubeka was born. When I saw endless stars in that poor infant’s eyes, I also saw... that the girl named Olive had suddenly become incomparably unfamiliar."

"It was as if she had directly become another person. There was no longer any gentleness in her eyes, only a certain bone-deep coldness."

"That was the last time I met her."

"Afterward, when I received news of her again, she had already appeared on the Church’s wanted list as the Salvation Society’s Third Seat."

"At that time, she had just personally slaughtered an entire town in some small southern country. Men, women, old, and young. She did not leave a single living person behind."

"Not a single one..."

The priest lowered his head and looked at his own hands.

Those hands, covered in scars and calluses, used to hold the sacred text and pray to the Goddess, were now trembling nonstop.

From his perspective, those hands seemed to suddenly turn red, soaked in blood, gnawed by countless wronged souls.

Those wronged souls did not come from him, but from the Witch of Repentance.

He knew that those people had all died by the Witch of Repentance’s hand, and the only one their souls hated was that mercilessly slaughtering demon.

But...

He knew even better.

All the many stories afterward, all the many twists and turns, all the many blood debts... even the dead silent royal capital before his eyes.

The very first beginning of all of this was that, in the corner of the cathedral prison, he had discovered a pitiful and beautiful girl.

That was a pitch-black, foul-smelling cage, the most despairing place in this world.

Every person who came there would only curse, rage, or weep.

Only that girl would raise her head, smile, and say to him:

"Good morning, Father."

At that moment, the cathedral’s coldest and most ruthless executioner went softhearted for the first time... and also the only time.

...

"So, after that, every time the Witch of Repentance killed someone, I would carve a scar onto my own body. That is the origin of the wounds you discovered just now."

The limping priest tore open his clothes, exposing his chest.

There, one scar after another, densely packed until it made one’s scalp go numb, crisscrossed and even overlapped with each other.

Those wounds had gradually accumulated, gradually worsened, already impossible to count. Until the priest exposed white bone, exposed beating organs.

"This is her sin, and it is also my sin."

"But now, even I no longer know where I should carve these scars."

"She has already killed far, far too many people."