A test?
Of course, there had been no test.
However, Yuna did not dare to respond to the Hero directly.
If a test were actually conducted and her recent slander was proven true, she would be utterly humiliated.
Her mind raced, and she quickly thought of a way to gloss over the matter.
She would play dumb.
“Jon! She said such blasphemous things about the Goddess. If she isn’t a demon, what else could she be?”
Yuna asked in a delicate voice, her watery eyes blinking rapidly.
She then widened them intentionally, allowing a hint of grievance and indignation to surface, making herself appear flustered and impulsive.
Jon was beyond disappointed; he was beyond furious.
“Is this how you judge a demon?”
“I… I…”
Yuna’s shoulders trembled slightly.
Her eyes, clear as a serene lake, suddenly rippled as a moist mist covered them.
The Light Blade in her hand dissipated, and large teardrops began to roll down.
She appeared to have finally calmed down, her face filled with heartbreak and profound regret as she apologized to Iose.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Miss Iose. I got a little too excited because of your comments attacking the Goddess… Can you forgive me?”
She reached out with her slender hand, continuously wiping away her tears.
“No,” Iose interrupted coldly.
The hand wiping the tears suddenly froze.
“Unless you let me stab you too,” Iose said chillingly.
“Fine…”
Yuna sobbed twice and lowered her hands.
Her expression of remorse seemed completely genuine as she spoke softly and sincerely, “If this will help you vent your anger, then please, go ahead.”
She wasn’t afraid of Iose striking back.
For one, she had confidence in her own healing abilities; secondly, she believed the Hero would consider their past bond and surely block the blow for her —
Puch.
Without a shred of hesitation or a hint of mercy, the deep blue Water Blade pierced directly into her right chest.
The Hero simply watched it all happen in silence.
“Cough!”
Yuna coughed up a large mouthful of blood.
Her legs went weak, and she collapsed to her knees.
What was even more terrifying was that the Water Blade transformed into a strange energy that gradually merged into her body.
It drew upon the blood throughout her entire frame, causing it to gush continuously from the wound.
No matter how she cast her divine arts, the wound would not heal.
“Considering the massive trouble your death would cause me, I’ll spare your life. Now get lost.”
Iose bypassed Yuna and walked straight toward the believers.
These people, who only yesterday had prayed and bowed to her, now retreated one after another because she had denied and attacked their faith, fearing her as if she were a venomous snake.
But soon, two figures squeezed out from the crowd.
It was Sara and Park, running toward Iose with excitement and pleasant surprise.
Iose hugged each of them in turn.
“Sister Iose! You… you…”
Sara’s nose turned red, and tears of joy flowed from her eyes.
“I thought I would never see you again in this lifetime.”
Iose playfully pinched the tip of Sara’s nose.
“You’re so cute. How could I bear to leave you behind?”
After the hug, Park did not make any further intimate gestures.
He just gazed at Iose silently, his eyes filled with an intensity that even the wind could not scatter.
“Where is my book?”
Iose turned to him, her eyes curving with a clear smile.
From under his arm, where he was accustomed to carrying it, Park pulled out the magic book that had become a bit more worn from being flipped through.
He handed it back solemnly.
“Did you learn it?” Iose asked again.
Park’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment and chagrin.
“I feel like… I can’t understand it. I can’t make sense of it at all.”
“You really are a dummy,” Iose couldn’t help but complain.
A moment later, she smiled again.
“What would you do without me? Fine, I’ll continue to be your teacher.”
As old friends caught up, before long, the refugees who had once followed Iose began to squeeze out from the crowd of believers one by one, returning to their leader.
“You’re not going to keep believing in a god?” Iose intentionally teased them.
The people at the very front were so ashamed they felt awkward.
“Please, stop making fun of us. With Lady Iose here, why would we believe in some god?”
Later, some refugees who had personally witnessed Iose forcing the flood to stop also left the believers and joined Iose’s group.
Iose felt curious.
“The others are old acquaintances of mine and know I can help them carve out a way to live. But you… why?”
A refugee smiled bitterly.
“I believed in the Goddess for over thirty years, yet I never saw her grant me a single miracle. Instead, I lost a leg while performing forced labor. But you — you truly blocked the flood for us.”
“If there is no god in this world, I will follow you. If there is a god… then you are the only one I will believe in from now on.”
Iose looked at the refugees kneeling on the ground.
Her brow furrowed slightly; she said nothing, but she wasn’t happy either.
“My father also used to believe in the Light,” she said softly.
“But I watched him pray, watched him scrimp and save to pay his tithes, and I watched him die in the mouth of a demon. Throughout that entire process, I never saw a merciful, man-loving deity. I only caught a glimpse of a Monster devouring the human world and the minions she has nurtured for a thousand years.”
“You kneel to me; that is the etiquette shown to parents. Since that is the case, I will surely be like a parent and never give up on you.”
“Really?”
Someone asked, looking up excitedly.
“Yes.”
Iose nodded very seriously.
Many of the refugees felt a lump in their chests.
For the first time, they felt that even without believing in a god, their hearts could be this steady.
After calming the refugees, Iose turned back and looked at the tall, burly young man on the sanctification platform.
That was the Hero of the Empire, half a hero who had suppressed the Demon King, but also half an accomplice to the corrupt nobility.
Yet the image that surfaced most in Iose’s mind was of two commoners who had cast aside all status to share the taste of a cream cake before the roaring flood.
‘If he wasn’t the Hero, we could probably have been friends.’
Iose thought silently to herself.
Unfortunately, there were no “ifs” in this world.
Her lips felt a bit dry, and she unconsciously licked the corner of her mouth before withdrawing her gaze.
Meanwhile.
On the sanctification platform, Yuna tasted such intense, unceasing pain for the first time.
This pain drained away all the elegance, beauty, and sanctity of the first half of her life.
With the most cruel blood and scars, it tore away the noble dignity she prided herself on.
Yuna curled up on the ground, clutching her right chest which was still seeping blood.
She was nearly suffocating; with every breath, it felt as if ten thousand sharp blades were churning in her chest.
In her daze, she felt as though she was probably going to die, yet she also felt as if she were merely having a dream — a dream where she was rescued by Uncle Robert, returned to the world of nobles, and even became a Saint revered by tens of thousands.
But now the dream had ended.
She was still stuck in that cramped, dark basement, her body covered in whip wounds that brought a piercing, bone-deep pain.
“Jon… Jon…”
Like a helpless little girl, she instinctively reached out to the only person in her heart who might save her.
Jon walked over to Yuna, the shadow cast by his broad body enveloping her.
But Jon did not offer any help.
“Miss Yuna.”
Jon sighed softly.
His tone was like mist and like ice, carrying a complex sense of relief and nostalgia.
It was like a boy placing a rose before a dying fox, saying goodbye to an immature, youthful infatuation.
“I don’t want to kick you while you’re down, but I must say this on behalf of Iose and all the refugees… Everything that has happened to you today is your own doing.”
“The butcher’s knife you forged with accusations of being a demon to stab others has now become a wound on your own body. You showed total indifference toward the lives of commoners, so I truly find it impossible to feel any sympathy for you. Should I save you?”
“Save someone who indiscriminately judges others as demons? Save someone who disregarded the refugees and let them die?”
“The best way I can think of to handle this… is to leave everything to the judgment of the Goddess you believe in. Pray to your god. If she forgives you, I imagine her divine arts will not be without effect.”
Yuna suddenly burst into tears, letting out suppressed whimpers.
But she had long since forgotten how to vent this kind of long-lost, non-performative emotion.
The piercing pain in her chest and the bone-chilling cold turned into that terrifying yet clinging old blanket of her past.
Scenes of her former life flashed rapidly before Yuna’s eyes.