Wasn’t This a Night Game

Is He a Little Slow in the Head?

The title of Saint must truly hold immense power.

“I may not always be able to remain at the two Imperial Princesses’ sides. I might have to leave suddenly, and it may be difficult to legally declare the relationship between myself and the Imperial Princesses. Your Majesty. Your Imperial Majesty. I am sorry.”

The negotiation with the Goddess was not yet concluded, and in the event my interpretation of the prophecy was correct, and I had to leave far, far away, I spoke honestly when His Imperial Majesty the Emperor and Her Imperial Majesty the Empress summoned me to meet them.

However, they merely smiled at my words.

“We understand. This began because our two daughters were being stubborn, so it is only natural things would turn out this way.”

“We shall follow the Saint’s will. Please, do as you wish.”

They were openly acknowledging my clandestine meetings with the Imperial Princesses as official.

This is an incredibly advantageous situation for me, to an almost absurd degree.

In any case, in that manner, my relationship with the Imperial Princesses came to be acknowledged.

And then, well…

“Amaelle. Again today?”

“Saint. Tomorrow, it’s the two of us!”

It happened every day.

Truly, it happened a great deal.

It happened so much every day that I wondered if it was even permissible.

But personally, aside from the act itself, I much preferred the time after everything was done, when we lay quietly in bed, our naked bodies touching, heads together, giggling and talking.

Just trivial stories.

“I tried a cookie today. Iomene truly loves desserts.”

“I walked barefoot in the grass. Saint. It felt good. Just as good as I saw in Almene’s memories.”

“I’m refining my research on primary colors, deepening it so it can be applied to various fields. I think a tremendous breakthrough is possible. I’m filled with anticipation.”

This time, sharing warmth while happily chatting and tumbling naked in bed felt so good.

I also told them trivial stories.

Which patient I had treated.

What food I had eaten.

After these random tales, and after our intimacy had ended, we would head to the bathroom, wash together, and then part ways.

I am satisfied.

I am happy.

I wish I could live just like this.

With that feeling filling me, after dinner, I wouldn’t allow anyone into my room, spending the time entirely alone.

What did I do during that time?

I would open the Bible of Grace and kneel before the goddess statue, offering a prayer.

“I have come again, Goddess. Please, speak with me.”

My prayer was desperate.

Once I started, I would pray with fervent devotion, easily surpassing several hours.

“I love my life right now. Treating people occasionally, eating delicious food, meeting my girlfriends. It’s truly wonderful. His Imperial Majesty has granted permission for my relationship with Almene and Iomene. I want to marry all three. But I still haven’t given a definite answer. Because of the prophecy that Rupiel-nim gave me.”

Please.

I’ve heard of divine pronouncements, and even cases where a god directly descends to meet a person.

I’ve really done so much, haven’t I?

I normalized the Cult. So please.

“Meet me, please.

Meet me and tell me that the prophecy cast upon me is a lie.

Please, just say it.

“I haven’t been able to give a firm answer because I need to confirm if the prophecy I heard is true or not before I can propose. I want to continue getting along with the three of them for a long, long time. So please, just meet me. Meet me and just tell me if my interpretation of the prophecy is true or not. Please.”

Had he knelt every day, offering such fervent prayers, over and over?

It had been three days since he became entangled in *that* kind of relationship with the three women.

Still, the goddess statue only smiled benevolently.

Offering him no answer, no guidance whatsoever.

After praying mindlessly for three hours, the goddess’s smile stirred an inexplicable fury within him.

You have the power to cast me into hell, but not the strength to meet with me?

Wouldn’t meeting me for a brief moment be far easier?

He felt a pang of disappointment at the goddess’s continued silence.

I truly did my best, didn’t I?

Reading the Scripture of Grace, I was even surprised to find passages that seemed to perfectly describe my actions.

Almost to the point where I deluded myself into thinking, “Am I not a saint?”

So shouldn’t it be a simple thing to just appear before me and say a single sentence?

You misinterpreted the prophecy.

That interpretation is incorrect.

I will tell you the true and correct interpretation.

And then, just live happily…

To die living as a harem king among women, ah, that would be such a lovely ending.

But what can one do?

If the Goddess won’t answer, then there’s nothing left but to pray until she does.

I slumped onto the bed again today, heavy with gloom.

Still, I’m slightly cheered by the scent of Iomene, Almene, and Erpa clinging to the sheets.

A man whose bedding carries the scent of three women.

Magnificent.

Please, let this life continue as it is, on and on.

May I live a happy, ordinary life, without any difficult or arduous trials.

I wished it so, and carefully drifted off to sleep.

And before long, a strange sensation woke me.

The feeling of my body being excessively pristine, immaculate.

The purest, most untainted sensation, devoid of all emotion, all feeling.

Standing silently on a pristine, empty, white platform.

Where am I?

This can’t be a dream.

A dream could never feel so vividly, so real.

As I wriggled my hands and feet, marveling at the strangeness of it all…

[Amal.]

I heard someone softly call my name.

I whirled around at the sudden sound, startled, and found myself staring up at a colossal woman suspended in the air.

A face identical to the goddess statue in my room.

A benevolent smile.

And a body as immense as the Statue of Liberty.

Instinct took over.

A goddess!

Lilia herself had come looking for me!

“G-Goddess? Is it truly you?”

[I heard your prayer and have come.]

Lilia’s words struck me like a blow. I felt tears welling up.

I slowly approached the goddess.

“I…I’ve lived so diligently. You can see that, can’t you? I’ve never done anything wrong. Never once even tried to use my skills for anything evil. So why did you give me such a prophecy?”

The goddess gazed down at me with an expression that seemed like pity.

And so, I poured out my heart to her, honestly, completely.

“I truly don’t ask for much. I have…three women now. It happened somewhat forcefully, but I’m happy, regardless. I want to live with them happily for a long, long time. So please, just answer one question.”

[Speak.]

“The prophecy Ruphil gave me. What does it even mean? Are you really planning to throw me into hell? You’re not, right? My interpretation of the prophecy is wrong, isn’t it? I’m just a scaredy-cat, so I interpreted it strangely, right?”

The goddess, who had been looking down at me with pity, suddenly burst out laughing.

The laughter… it was something…

Laughter mocking me.

Loathing.

Rage.

Even a tangible hatred settled in the air.

[I will cast you into the abyss, little worm. No matter your deeds. No matter the righteousness you accrue. It is already decided.]

The Goddess pushed her face close, too close, to mine.

[Poor, wretched Amael. Your interpretation of the prophecy was not incorrect.]

And then, she spoke the words that sealed my despair.

*

As foretold, the benevolent deities of the Pantheon kept watch over Saint Amael.

The moment they witnessed the evil god surreptitiously approaching Amael, many gods attempted to intervene, yet all attempts failed.

The Celestial Realm, even after three hundred years, remained a shattered mess, and even Lupiel, the God of the Future, considered the strongest of the Pantheon, and Dullanear, the God of Annihilation, were reduced to panting wrecks, having expended a vast amount of their power on a single prophecy and the granting of a single Chosen One.

With the link between the mortal and celestial realms fractured so severely that even uttering a divine word, let alone bestowing holy power, was a Herculean effort, there was simply no way these gods could stop an evil god.

And so, the evil god, having successfully approached Amael, had expertly managed to prod at Amael’s deepest trauma.

“Why… why? Why me…?”

Amael wept as he questioned.

His expression was a mask of injustice and resentment.

“I truly… lived my life with purpose. Why are you doing this to me? Couldn’t you just let me be… happy?”

The evil god shook his head at the choked plea.

[Do you know the origins of the power that resides within you?]

Amael visibly trembled at those words.

“A dating sim skill…right?”

Though the exact meaning of ‘dating sim’ eluded him, the Evil God knew this mortal was sorely, deeply mistaken.

The Evil God could scarcely believe this innocent, this simpleton.

Surely there could be no easier mind to mold.

The Evil God began, slowly.

Yet with unwavering certainty, he launched his assault on Amael’s psyche.

[Let us reveal the source of your power.]

The surroundings shifted.

300 years prior.

To the era of the Heavenly War.

The battles fought in the mortal realm unveiled themselves.

The Evil Gods of the Abyss.

The demons of Hell.

And the followers of the Pantheon, each clashing for the victory of the god they worshipped, a spectacle unfolded.

Demon worshippers and black mages seized humans, offering them as living sacrifices, while the Evil God’s devotees paid tribute with blood and entrails, fortifying their master’s power.

Against these atrocities, saints, saintesses, and heroes struggled valiantly, enduring a gruesome and desperate fight.

And amidst the chaos.

The servants of Asmodeus, the Demon Lord of Lust, were revealed.

Twisted, mad zealots drowning in decadent pleasure…

Committing unspeakable acts to offer sacrifices to their Demon Lord.

Amael’s body shuddered even more violently.

Slaughter.

Rape.

Arson.

Amael collapsed onto the floor, having witnessed all manner of sickening acts carried out to empower the Demon Lord.

“That… That’s the power residing within me?”

The evil god barely restrained the elation surging from the depths of his being.

Ah.

That face.

It was almost unbearable.

Nothing offered greater glee than this spectacle of a human being broken and ruined.

[The Demon Lord of Lust. The power of Asmodeus resides within you, Amael. That is the reason I have no choice but to cast you into Hell. The power within your soul will devour the devotion of those around you. Slowly. Imperceptibly, it will grow.]

The evil god slowly, tormentingly, replayed the deeds committed by Asmodeus’s followers for the Demon Lord during the celestial war.

[And ultimately. You will become just like them. So, before you become such a thing. I will stop you. No matter what good deeds you perform. No matter how desperately you struggle. You cannot escape your fate. You. Will fall into Hell. And there, your soul, and the power it contains. Will be utterly destroyed.]

Completed.

The evil god waited for Amael’s reaction, experiencing a rapture bordering on orgasm.

He would crumble, wouldn’t he?

He would wail and scream in utter despair, cursing his inescapable destiny.

And then?

It is predictable, isn’t it?

He will surely begin to curse the goddess.

He will surely come to loathe the pantheon gods who declared he was destined for an unavoidable, tragic end.

It was an evil deity who had already corrupted countless saints, saintesses, and heroes in the same manner.

Amal, too, undoubtedly.

It will be no different.

And after that, it is obvious.

He would never serve gods who had ordained such a bleak, inescapable future for him.

He might sabotage the order, brimming with resentment, or he might give up and go berserk.

Many believers will die, and the power of the pantheon, where human faith is directly linked to strength, will naturally weaken.

What if, then, a little information was leaked to the demons of hell?

The demons will try to reclaim the authority of lust, and just as well, the power of the pantheon will be diminished.

A war will surely erupt.

The evil god can leisurely watch the spectacle, waiting for both forces to destroy themselves, then swoop in for the spoils.

The evil god gazed down at Amal.

Now then.

Shout it.

Shout that you curse Lilia.

Shout that all the gods of the pantheon should burn and disappear.

Shout why they would not allow him a happy future.

Why must I be ruined because of this damned power I never even wanted?

Scream, wail, rage, despair.

Amael raises his head.

Tears stream down his face.

He opens his mouth.

The Evil God, brimming with excitement, stares at his lips.

What curse will erupt, indeed?

What despair will burst forth, truly?

Indeed, you…

What ecstatic torment will you gift to me?

“I will sacrifice myself.”

…Huh?

For a moment, the Evil God doubted his own ears.

What did he just say?

“Just take me as a sacrifice. If such a horrific reality is created because I am alive, then I think it is better to die.”

Amael speaks, and even strikes the ground as if feeling wronged.

But even as his actions portrayed such, the words coming from his mouth were different.

“Take my soul…right now. And destroy the power within me along with it. The Goddess can do that, can’t she? Isn’t that so?”

The Evil God’s mouth gapes open.

“I have three women I love on the earth. I don’t want them hurt because of me. So hurry!! Before my resolve changes, please, just destroy my soul already!!”

The Evil God, gazing down at the sobbing Amael, found himself momentarily robbed of words.

Seriously.

‘This one… Is he perhaps lacking a bit in intelligence?’

It was a shocking bewilderment, experienced for the very first time.