Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

44 – Encounter (2)

After realizing that the woman before me was the Goddess,

what followed wasn’t conversation, but a single, brutal strike.

Even the angel, stunned into inaction behind me by my outburst, couldn’t stop it—

The hand axe, swung diagonally from the upper right to the lower left.

Because she was a Goddess.

A being superior to any other.

Naturally, I didn’t expect my attack to work.

That is…if things were normal.

But, consumed by fury, that thought was the furthest thing from my mind.

My only desire was to dismember the Goddess’s body into five separate pieces.

The hand axe buried itself directly into the woman’s seemingly fragile shoulder.

Yet, she didn’t raise her head, nor did she utter a single scream.

As if the entire situation was inconsequential.

And that calm reaction of hers drove me even crazier.

I could sense in her an almost repentant aura, as if she were rightfully receiving what was due,

and apologies continued to flutter from her small lips.

“[I’m sorry… I’m sorry…]”

‘Shut up…SHUT UP!!!’

I gripped the hand axe, which was still embedded in her shoulder and suspended in mid-air, and yanked it out,

cleaving through space with even greater speed than before.

*Thwack—*

*Shwoo—*

Right shoulder to left, again, the hand axe left my hand,

suspended in the air, and as if I couldn’t tolerate it, I wrenched it out again.

The hand axe bit deep, again and again, sinking in and pulled free for the fourth time.

_Thwack_—

_Crack_—

“[Krrraa…augh]”

With each scream tearing from her throat, the corners of my mouth tugged upward.

If the blade of a hand axe could be dulled after only a few strikes against human flesh, then surely, after countless blows against a divine form, its edge was ruined beyond repair.

Even so, my rage wouldn’t be spent on something so trivial.

I tossed the axe aside and approached, striking the soft flesh of the fallen woman’s stomach.

My fist sank in deep, like punching into a rubber ball.

She, who had just been babbling apologies, now retched with dry heaves, and my mood improved, only a little.

_Thud_—

_Split_—

_Squish_—

My assault wasn’t confined to her abdomen. Face, arms, legs… Everything visible became a target, and even small features, like her eyes, were not spared.

“[Kk…krrrugh…]”

Her once pristine, alabaster belly was now marred with fist-shaped bruises.

Her nose was crushed flat, and both arms were broken, snapped in two.

The legs that had boasted such beautiful lines were twisted at impossible angles.

And in the throat that had once produced such a melodious voice, three daggers were buried to their hilts.

“…Care to say something?”

“[I’m…I’m sorry…]”

“Not much of a last will, is it?”

“[It’s…my fault…]”

Crazy b*tch.

I chuckled and, ignoring her pathetic, sprawled form, I raised my foot, ready to stomp her head into the ground.

Except what I crushed wasn’t her head.

To the side, I saw the god, still unable to move, only moaning. And another her, cradling the first in her arms, gently.

She, still radiant with golden hair and fluttering white feathers.

She, who had guided me just moments ago.

“…What are you doing?”

“…”

“Ah, is the sight too much for you? Then I’ll finish this somewhere else…”

“..Still, she’s…our Mother.”

“…What do you expect me to do about it?”

“Just…hear her out, please.”

I loathe it.

So what if there are circumstances?

Even if there were circumstances, I have no intention of forgiving them.

I swing the axe at the fallen god’s head in rejection,

and they barely manage to parry.

[Step aside…Michael.]

“M-Mother…?!”

[It is my sin, my karma, and I must face it…]

The goddess, who seems to be called Mother, her body already fully restored,

pushes the angel called Michael aside and approaches me.

A goddess revered by all for merely existing.

To me, she is the most repulsive and vile being.

And yet, she is slowly approaching me now.

Her eyes, as she looks at me, hold a gray regret.

Her beautiful, graceful hands carry regret.

Her drawn-out words linger with lingering feelings.

Her sweet voice, reaching my ears, carries sorrow.

Even so, her steps towards me do not cease,

and my instinctive revulsion and a grudge-filled blade are swung.

The flying blades pierce her flesh.

A blue blade is lodged in her once beautiful eyes,

and the axe’s edge takes away her elegant fingers.

The bitter smile on her lips has vanished,

and her sweet voice now carries pain, not sorrow.

Even so, she stubbornly continues to approach.

Even when I sever the tendons in her legs to stop her advance,

Even when a hand axe is embedded squarely in her knees,

Even when I connect leg to leg with iron bars,

She shows no sign of stopping her approach towards me.

“…Do not come closer.”

[…]

Because she continues to approach me relentlessly,

my body retreats one step at a time.

“I said do not come closer!!”

[…]

For every step I take back, she takes two steps towards me.

I even tried to crush her legs entirely, but somehow, she rises again

and continues to approach me.

Of course, this is her room, so space is limited,

and when there is nowhere left for me to retreat, she fearlessly closes the distance between us.

Just as I resolved to pierce her throat,

her unexpected action left me momentarily dumbfounded.

“[I’m…I’m so sorry… Hngh…]”

“…?”

“[P-Please… just listen to my story…]”

She gathered her hands neatly and bowed to me,

burying her head so deeply it touched the ground.

A gesture that people of the 21st century would call a dogeza.

“M-Mother…?”

“[P-Please… just listen to my story…]”

“…”

And that, before a being calling herself my mother.

Even with the lofty title of Goddess,

she bowed her head to me, a mere creation.

A trembling figure, her voice choked with sobs,

unbecoming of the title of Goddess, even as she leaned on the ground.

The angel Michael, finally regaining his senses, tried to raise her,

but retreated with a grimace, defeated by the Goddess’s stubbornness.

In a situation that made me feel like the villain, I scowled,

and, agitated, began to stomp on the head before me, venting my frustration.

“Why… why now?”

“[Agh… Ugh…]”

If I grabbed any passerby and asked what they sensed in my voice,

they would all likely answer like this:

“Even when I cried out to the gods.”

A sharp crack echoed from beneath my feet.

“Even when I trusted without a shred of doubt that you would one day save my life.”

I couldn’t control my right foot, now fueled by mounting emotion.

The speed of my stomps increased, and the force behind them grew.

“Even when I painstakingly remembered and repented for all my wrongdoings.”

As the twitching of her head diminished, my right foot seemed to lose interest,

and began to stomp elsewhere, one by one.

Right hand, back, waist, both shoulders, without missing a single spot.

“Finally, when I lost all hope and wished for death,

when you said nothing at all, why now… why?!?”

“[Agh… Hngh…]”

“Why are you acting up now…?”

My right foot, filled with all my strength, struck the back of her head, which was still in position.

The sound of the ground cracking and the shock from it broke my ankle, or so it seemed

Mikael, having embraced her again beside me, clutches at my left foot.

“Plea…please.”

“…”

“My mother now… she’s not some mere echo, she’ll truly meet her end…”

“…”

“Please… couldn’t you take my life instead…?”

She says it, mirroring her mother’s posture as if blood bound them.

A sob in her voice, a bonus.

“Do you know my circumstances as well?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you must also know it cannot be.”

“Please… just hear her story, once.”

Watching a beauty plead and beg, desperate beyond measure,

isn’t exactly a pleasant sight.

Not that I have any intention of forgiving that b*tch, either.

Ignoring her clinging to my left foot, I maintain my stance,

continuing my approach toward the goddess prostrate on the floor.

“Plea… please… please…”

“…”

Dragging Mikael along, I reach the goddess and seize her hair roughly.

Strands of her beautiful hair are plucked out into my hand,

and she involuntarily lets out a groan filled with pain.

“What is it you want?”

[…]

“There must be a reason you’re acting like this now.”

[The… the story… ugh…]

“You can be honest.”

I tighten my grip on her hair to emphasize my demand to stop with the nonsense,

but the words spilling from her mouth remain unchanged.

She wants to tell a story.

If I would simply hear it, she would accept any consequence afterwards.

If I couldn’t trust her, she’d swear a contract on her divine name.

I reject her countless times, throwing her head down, but Mikael continues to tug at my pants leg,

and the goddess seems determined to remain as still as a stone statue until I listen.

Suddenly, two beauties are clinging to me,

and, fed up with the situation, I slam the goddess’s head against the floor, finally speaking.

“…Keep it brief.”

[Yes… Yes!!]

“Th… thank you…”

Even if I try to console myself that I’m only listening, I can’t help but feel incredibly displeased.