──── I had no interest.
The story of the boy Zeus and Hera had plucked from a shrine somewhere, only for my sister, ■■■■■, to adopt him into her "family" as her own son—that news reached us right after our defeat at the hands of the One-Eyed Black Dragon.
But what did it matter anyway?
Truly, I love my sister. I love only her. However, I am not like Zald. I am not a normal enough human to feel affection for a child who shares none of my blood.
────── At least, that was how it was supposed to be.
On the day I swore an oath to become "Evil," I acted on a remnant of regret clinging to my heart and decided to see his face.
It was a trivial whim. A worthless sentiment I should never have carried.
Yet, the face of that white-haired child—who should have had no biological connection to my sister—as she held him alongside her own infant who inherited her blood; he appeared to my eyes as a perfect reflection of my sister from the past.
●○●○●
Al Cranel was a natural-born "back-line killer." His effectiveness against mages far surpassed his prowess against warriors.
He possessed absolute resistance to magic thanks to his enhancement magic, and he enjoyed the advantage of fast-cast magic that required no incantation, allowing him to strike before any spell could be launched.
As a "Sword Saint," his agility—rivaling the top two adventurers in all of Orario—gave him an uncanny ability to disrupt chants.
Even if his opponent were a first-class mage, Al, who prided himself on his methods of suppression and neutralization, would never lag behind in a fight against a spellcaster.
───── Or so I thought.
"Gospel."
A majestic peal shook his eardrums. The melody of destruction that resonated was nothing short of a natural disaster. A sonic bombardment unleashed with a single word.
It was an acoustic assault capable of erasing deep-floor monsters without a trace in a single strike. This magic bore no resemblance to flashy offensive spells like fire or ice; it possessed an overwhelming destructive force that could turn an opponent into a silent mass of flesh.
"Ga, ────,"
A single-word chant could not be interrupted by fast-cast magic. The mere side effects of that power were enough to rupture blood vessels throughout the body.
Despite its ultra-short incantation, that strike equaled or even surpassed the bombardment of the city's strongest mage, and it was now ravaging Al's young body.
A single magical strike slowed Al's movements. Paralysis seized his entire frame, his brain rattled, and his consciousness flickered on the verge of fading.
A "Silence" magic that could only be described as horrific.
Blood erupted from Al's body. His flesh tore, and his bones shattered. Even with the status of a first-class adventurer, he could not even scream from the unbearable shock; his body simply convulsed.
However, he was "used to it."
That acoustic assault, which he had been unable to react to moments ago, he now parried with a reflexive—though imperfect—response.
It only turned a fatal blow into a deep wound, but in this situation, that was an immense achievement. The moment Alfia stepped forward to continue her assault, Al healed his body using his enhancement magic.
The magic Re Estir was useful but not omnipotent. Lost blood did not return, and severed limbs did not mend. Furthermore, if he exhausted his physical and mental energy, he would be unable to cast it.
It was nothing more than a life-extending measure, yet it saved him from instant death.
The time he could hold out against Alfia's attacks was limited, but for the current Al, it was enough. Al kicked the ground with force and leaped. He flipped through the air and hurled his silver spear.
The spearhead spun at high speed, targeting Alfia's neck, but she evaded it by slightly tilting her head. In that opening, he landed and threw a punch.
He aimed for the face—a strike targeted at Alfia's left eye—but she parried it with ease.
"Ma- ── Ga."
Worse, she seized his arm and slammed him violently into the ground.
Impact. His back hit the earth, and the air left his lungs. But it didn't end there. Alfia's foot descended like a guillotine toward Al's head.
He jerked his head aside at the last second to avoid a direct hit, yet a powerful shockwave still rattled his skull. His brain shook, his vision blurred, and his balance failed him.
So that's how it is, Al cursed internally.
Combining long and mid-range combat using ultra-short chants with close-quarters engagement that rivaled front-line warriors—and "switching" between them.
That "switching" was the essence of Alfia's strength.
Whether the opponent was immune to magic or a master of close combat, it didn't matter; she always dragged them onto her turf.
She was no half-baked "Magic Warrior" in sword or sorcery, but a complete and perfect entity capable of handling any circumstance.
She was a "superior version" that bordered on the disgusting.
Alfia, the Silence, outclassed Al—the one dubbed the "Prodigy of Calamity"—in every conceivable way.
Status, skill, maneuverability, experience; she stood upon a towering peak that surpassed everyone.
Simply avoiding instant death against this mage was a monumental feat.
"You did well, far exceeding my expectations. .... However, it is time to end this."
"—!"
Al had seen many opponents stronger than himself. The "Powerhouses" and "Heroes" stood at the front, and there were monsters within the Evils.
But Al, with his extraordinary talent, had been able to surpass any of them; some, he had already overtaken.
But this mage was different. She alone, this woman alone, was an existence that lay beyond the "Wall" that the current Al could never cross.
It was a vast gulf in power that talent alone could not bridge. He had faced such things until he was weary of them, but he had never felt a disparity in power as despairing as the one he felt now.
Al was fully aware that he was a gifted human. He had utilized that talent to its limit, achieved victory after victory, and earned glory.
His record was not without defeat—he had tasted the mud of failure—but those were losses he could use for the next time.
I will win next time. I will surpass him next time. That was how Al gained his current strength, using his many defeats as nourishment.
But this time was different. There was no next time. Here and now, Al would be killed by this mage of Silence.
"──── Why are you smiling?"
●○●○●
"Astraea-sama!!"
"────!! Alise?"
While Astraea was startled to see her follower cutting through the flames and running toward her, Alise also spotted Astraea, raised her voice, and rushed to her side.
The rest of the Astraea Familia members ran hard, drenched in sweat, as they gathered around Lady Astraea.
"Are you alright!?"
"Yes... I am fine."
"Thank God. I felt a strange chill... I felt I had to get to wherever Astraea-sama was."
Astraea reached out toward Alise, who was crying out with an expression that looked as if she were about to weep—
"─────── O Goddess of Justice, who continued to sacrifice herself without a thought for her own safety. This is why it took time to find you."
A voice echoed through the city. It seemed someone had used a magic item to amplify their voice, directing the words to every resident.
It was a chilling resonance that seemed to crawl from the depths of darkness, carrying an aura of overwhelming, crushing authority.
That presence made people feel as though their hearts were being squeezed. The crowds trembled in fear, the gods sharpened their vigilance, and the followers shuddered from the primal dread that seized them.
The tone of the god's voice was filled with malice and overflowed with manic joy, as if he wanted to corrupt everything.
"You in particular, you who handle justice—I wanted to bury you first and stain this land with chaos. But you were magnificent and grand, Astraea."
Those words, which mixed praise with mockery and a greeting with an insult, were directed at none other than Astraea.
Yet everyone realized at the same time that they were meant for everyone present.
"You should thank your brave decision and your followers. Now, witness with your own eyes the 'Evil' that begins now."
"You────"
The voice of a male god sounded somewhat familiar through the amplification item. While everyone wondered about the identity of the voice's owner, the sky "roared."
Light. A massive roar. Vibration.
What appeared with that resonance—which made people believe the city itself was shaking—was a giant "Pillar of Light."
It pierced the clouds and shone like the moon in the night sky. People fell silent, stunned as they gazed upon it.
A surge of power that transcended human perception. Everyone held their breath before the manifestation of "Divine Power," which should not exist in the Lower World.
"This... it's impossible. No way..."
"A lie... Why...?"
Upon descending to the Lower World, the gods seal their "Divine Power" and become "Omniscient but Powerless," just like humans. However, there is one exception where that power is forcibly released.
That is when the physical bodies of those gods are killed.
"That pillar of light..... is it a Divine Ascension!!"
Finn cried out, being the first to regain his senses while everyone else stood frozen.
Yes, that giant pillar of light standing in the city now was proof that "Divine Power" had activated forcibly to prevent the death of the divine soul when the physical body was slain.
It is a phenomenon that occurs for the forced deportation from the Lower World to the Realm of the Gods, and this scene illustrated that meaning perfectly.
In other words, beneath that giant pillar, a god had been───
"──── Sequential Ascensions, you say!?"
Kaguya screamed, her eyes bulging. At almost the same time, several more pillars of light rose into the city sky.
It wasn't just one. Two, then three; the pillars followed one another like a rainbow reaching for the heavens.
Cries rose as the pillars ascended, accompanied by roars and tremors. Though swept up in waves of panic, everyone remained rooted to the spot by the sight.
"What the hell is this!? This shouldn't be happening!! It can't be possible!"
Four, five, six; the pillars of light continued to rise. In the Guild headquarters, a fat elf screamed with anxiety and agitation at the pillars that nearly touched the sky.
Successive violent tremors. The ground shook fiercely, and buildings that had burned and charred began to collapse.
People were swept into a vortex of terror and chaos before a landscape of hell where light and fire met.
"Ah, aaah, I don't want to—I don't want to die!"
"What... what is this.....? What is this, what is thi-i-i-is!!"
The screams of adventurers who had "lost their Grace" began to mingle with the cries of the gods.
"Come on, hahahahaha────!! This is good, excellent, isn't it, you gods!!!"
Valletta slaughtered the adventurers who had lost their Grace while letting out shouts of joy. There was no way for adventurers without Grace to triumph over a professional killer with the strength of a first-class adventurer.
Amidst a tragedy where screams of agony filled the air, she swung her sword with a manic grin. With every strike, blood sprayed and lives were snuffed out.
"Those annoying adventurers who were making so much noise fall with just a single touch!! Heheh, aha, ahahahaha────!!!"
That image was "Evil" itself. Enjoying massacres and gaining pleasure from killing; that was pure evil.
"Don't kill me, please don't ki──── Gyaaaaa!!?"
Severed arms, legs, and torsos flew through the air. As blood exploded, entrails spilled, and chunks of flesh scattered, she laughed.
She felt exhilaration at the scent of blood; when she killed, she wanted to kill more. So she killed. That was the height of pleasure for her.
"No, no, stop, help me, someone save me───"
"It's the best time for the show, ahaha, hahahahaha!!"
When she stabbed the adventurer who was trying to resist with agonizingly slow movements due to her loss of Grace, a torrent of blood erupted from her chest.
Watching her scream in pain, Valletta snatched the dagger still in the woman's hand and plunged it into her stomach.
Then she pulled it out to slit the throat of another adventurer, hoisting him up to hurl him at the other men.
A banquet of blood was being held with the utmost vileness, befitting her title, the "Emperor of Slaughter."
Seven, eight, nine; the pillars of light continued to rise. Beneath them, the sight of people screaming represented hell itself.
While listening to the melodies of that tragedy, Finn's expression looked as though he had crushed a bitter insect between his teeth.
"So this is what they were aiming for..."
The actions of the Evils, whose purpose had remained incomprehensible until now; he finally realized their goal and gritted his teeth.
All previous events were nothing but chess pieces—mere diversionary tactics to pinpoint the residences of the primary gods affiliated with the Guild.
The death toll was rising with lightning speed. The Evil God laughed, enjoying it, while the good gods could do nothing but watch.
●○●○●
"Save me, I don't want to di────"
"What a vivid banquet of blood.... This is wonderful, truly wonderful!!"
Vito's eyes gleamed at the sight of blood as he trembled with joy. Though he swayed like a ghost, his eyes shone with the light of madness.
He swung his lethal blade, tearing through adventurers and citizens without distinction. He could no longer be called human; he had transformed into something non-human despite his physical form.
"No, no, noooo!! Mom───"
"Ah, amazing. That scream, that terror, that despair! Ah, how beautiful the blood spray is. Splendid, khahaha!!"
Laughing maniacally as he decapitated a girl who was screaming and crying for help, he no longer cared whether the victim was an adventurer or a citizen.
There was only a madman drunk on slaughter. Only a horrific scene of total destruction.
Before that sight, the staff at the Guild headquarters turned pale with despair and fell to their knees.
A landscape of hell where blood, wailing, and screams combined. Before this sight announcing the end of peace, everyone lost their will to fight.
A world where "Justice" had run dry and "Evil" had spread. Everyone was broken before the beginning of that end.
──────── Listen, Orario.
The Evil God's voice resonated through the city. Beneath the pillars glowing in the dark night, the voice sounded like divine revelation.
The declaration of Evil. Upon hearing it, terror seized the people, and they could not move.
"My name is Erebos. The eternal darkness, and the god of the Underworld!!"
Every citizen fell silent, stunned by Erebos's thunderous declaration. Everyone listened to those words that shook the city and held their breath.
A massive divine authority poured down, stripping away the consciousness of those on the ground from its very roots.
With no way to resist that crushing pressure, they could only listen as they trembled in fear.
"──── You weaklings, your name is Justice."
It was mockery and contempt. Praise for heroes and arrogant sarcasm. The declaration of the Evil God, the embodiment of Evil, was issued.
"Perish, Orario. ────── We are Absolute Evil!!"
"Gospel ──── Satanas Verion."
"We will not kill you now. For here begins the invasion of Evil."
"..... Taste it to your heart's content—that end which is called 'Hero'."
──────────────────────────────────────────────────
Note:
As for the 13-year-old Al, currently Level 5, it is impossible for him alone to stop the massacre and save the city. Well, the Al in the original story might manage it somehow, but the Al in "Astraea Record" possesses even greater talent than the original yet is closer to being a "Tragic Hero," so it is fine.
The Al in the Astraea version did not interact with Bell much, and since he began in the "Dark Age," his personality differs markedly from the original Al. Furthermore, the fact that Airmid is younger than him also has a significant impact.
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