Go ahead, take it. I dare you.
The Saint was going to show up any second, and when that happened, this idiot had no chance of escaping.
He’ll probably drop the stolen relic and make a run for it, though.
But really, it didn’t matter whether he ran or tried to keep it.
Actually, that might be even better.
Because that thing’s basically a GPS tracker anyway.
No scenario ended with him not being totally screwed.
Who in their right mind would believe that garbage?
“…You’re not convinced, I see.” Andrea sighed, his fingers opening slowly to reveal an object dangling from a fragile thread. It swayed softly, catching the dim light.
“Do you know what this is?”
“What if I had some strange ulterior motive? Would you still be so eager to agree?”
I asked, genuinely concerned. Nasir, though, just chuckled softly, like I’d said something completely ridiculous.
“That would be even better.”
...Better?
Better if I had some shady ulterior motive?
“What happened to you?” I asked Nasir, keeping my voice down.
“...Let’s talk somewhere else.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for my response, he turned and walked away.
That’s when I saw it… a tail.
A fluffy, furry tail was poking out from under his robe, swaying back and forth with each step he took.
Athanas once told me he’d dreamed of the opening scene in Heretic Slayer.
If that’s true, then maybe the dream he had now was tied to Heretic Slayer too.
I tried to think of the holy relics that boosted mental strength. What were they again? Nothing came to mind.
I didn’t want to meet anyone who worshipped the ‘Distorted One’ or any Othergod for that matter.
But I need information.
“What’s the Prophet like?” I asked, trying to sound curious.
Andrea’s voice was thick with reverence. “He is the Lord’s Apostle, entrusted with the mission to restore order to this world.”
“Athanas?”
“Please just... give me a moment. Let me stay like this.”
“What?”
Before I could react, Athanas pulled me into a tight embrace.
I... I can’t breathe.
His heart pounded wildly against my chest, like he’d sprinted all the way here. But then, slowly, it began to steady, each beat calming as if settling after a storm. His voice, barely a whisper, reached my ear.
“…What exactly are you planning to do with that?” I asked, trying to keep the apprehension out of my voice.
“Curious, are we?” He smirked, clearly enjoying this.
“Not really...” I muttered.
Actually, not at all. I really, really didn’t want to know.
...Is he an idiot?
The thought flashed through my mind the second he blurted out his threat to kill himself.
How is that supposed to be a threat, exactly?
Is there even a law against aiding and abetting suicide in the Dark Realm?
These questions spun around in my head. Not that I’d find any joy in watching someone die—obviously, it’s not a pleasant sight. But deep down, I knew Athanas wasn’t serious.
I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “...No?”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with a sharp, probing intensity, like he was trying to peel away my skin and read whatever secret lay underneath.
“Do you ever feel... detached from your body? Like it doesn’t quite belong to you?”
Athanas should be furious with me right now.
For a moment, I can still vividly see it—the sheer rage twisting his face into something unrecognizable.
I remember him, drenched in blood, turning toward me with a rage so intense it made me want to step back. His teeth were bared, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was driven by some terrifying purpose...
In elementary school, we had a lesson on planarian regeneration.
It wasn’t exactly fun or inspiring. We sliced up worms that looked like little eraser shavings and stared at the wriggling pieces. What were we supposed to learn?
Why did we have to do it? Planarian regeneration was already a well-known fact. Why repeat what had been done countless times before?