Hestia's eyes went perfectly round.
That blue ribbon of hers — the one that defied all laws of physics and somehow managed to accentuate her figure from every conceivable angle — swayed restlessly with each violent tremor of her body, as if threatening to come undone at any moment. Her finger, trembling like a leaf in a gale, jabbed toward the scene inside the room.
"Th-th-th-this — first thing in the MORNING?!"
Amou Kirukiru — barely dressed!
And in Haimer's master bedroom, no less!
Did she even need to ask?!
Even the most oblivious, single-celled amoeba of an idiot — if they took even one look at the thick, syrupy atmosphere saturating this room, and at those unmistakable marks all over Amou Kirukiru's body, they would understand in an instant exactly what had transpired here last night!
However.
After a brief moment of total mental shutdown, Hestia — a virgin goddess who had lived through countless aeons in the Heavens — forcibly dragged herself back from the edge of that dizzy abyss.
No. Calm down, Hestia!
What are you even shocked about?!
Because — when all was said and done — the reason was perfectly simple.
From his very earliest days in the Heavens, Haimer had always been a thoroughgoing, unrepentant carnivore.
Across those aeons in the Heavens — stretching so long they seemed to have no end — the number of goddesses who had been captivated by his looks and his methods, whether willingly or with only token resistance, and ended up sequestered in his divine hall for days on end without emerging, was truly beyond counting.
Fortunately.
This man had his principles.
When it came to virgin goddesses like herself — and like Athena, Artemis, and others who had taken explicit vows of chastity — he had always, without exception, maintained that final line.
Feelings expressed within the bounds of propriety.
Oh, he wasn't above teasing them harmlessly — even going so far as to pinch their cheeks with those meddlesome hands of his, ruffle their hair, and gleefully destroy whatever hairstyle they'd put together that morning.
But that was all. He never crossed the line. Not once.
Aeon after aeon, consistent as the rising sun.
And that was precisely why, despite Haimer's fearsome reputation in the Heavens, Hestia and Hephaestus had been able to call him their closest, dearest friend without a shred of psychological burden.
Because — in many, many situations — when some shameless male god, say a certain pervert named Apollo, would swarm around them like a fly that simply refused to be swatted away, trying his hardest to break through their vows of chastity — invoking Haimer's name was a guaranteed solution.
It had gotten to the point where goddesses who truly couldn't stand being endlessly pestered by other male gods would often just choose to hide out in Haimer's divine hall. Even if nothing happened at all — even if they did nothing but spend one night under Haimer's roof in name only — it was more than enough to make every scheming male god waiting outside stare at those firmly closed hall doors, conjure up ten thousand words of unmentionable fanfiction in their own heads, and then shuffle home heartbroken and empty-handed.
Originally — ever since that great calamity which had plunged the Heavens into ten thousand years of desolation — Haimer had sat alone upon his divine throne, enduring in solitude for those countless millennia.
Hestia had naively assumed that after the long years of reflection following that incident, he had genuinely turned over a new leaf. That he'd started cultivating inner peace and settling into the quiet life of a refined, handsome bachelor.
She had even secretly indulged a little fantasy when he'd come to this smoke-and-fire-filled Orario:
Maybe Haimer truly had descended to experience that kind of ordinary, warm, everyday life? Maybe from here on out, the two of them — all of them — could live out those simple, tranquil days in the Lower World, popping in on each other, scrounging meals together, and taking leisurely strolls into the sunset?
And now look at this!
"HAIMER, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT——!!!"
Hestia couldn't hold it in any longer. She erupted on the spot, raging out of her mind.
Those twin tails bound with blue ribbons whipped back and forth with every stamp of her feet, her whole being like a furious little cat with every hair standing on end, half of her wanting nothing more than to charge over right now and deliver a "Hestia Flying Kick" to the absent culprit responsible for all of this.
However.
Faced with the l0l! goddess's volcanic fury.
Amou Kirukiru — still in the middle of getting dressed — simply fastened the last button with unhurried, elegant composure.
She turned around, tilting her head ever so slightly, regarding the tiny deity throwing a tantrum in the doorway. A flicker of amusement — something dangerously close to playful delight — glinted in those long, narrow eyes of hers.
She knew nothing of the ancient history of the Heavens. She had no idea what kind of deep bond existed between this freeloader goddess and her own patron God.
But.
As a woman, she could read Hestia's reaction right now with perfect clarity.
A child throwing a tantrum because she couldn't have the candy.
"The God..."
"Is truly... captivating."
"Not only powerful — but the taste is exquisite as well."
And so — right in front of Hestia, treating her furious reaction as nothing more than a condiment called "jealousy" — Amou Kirukiru extended the tip of her pink tongue and, in an utterly sensuous manner, slowly traced it along the still-slightly-swollen curve of her own lips — lips that bore the evidence of last night's passionate demands.
A gesture dripping with implication.
As if she were still savoring the aftertaste of last night's feast — one that had made even her soul tremble — still lingering on the divine nectar the God had bestowed.
—BOOM—
Those few words, paired with that one gesture.
Were like tossing a lit match into a powder keg.
The color of Hestia's face shot from zero to tomato-red in an instant, steam practically billowing from the top of her head.
"Haimer, look at her!!!"
"AAAAUGH! Absolutely SHAMELESS! How dare you say something like that right in front of a goddess! You, you, you — you're absolutely — "
Hestia stared at the scene before her, and felt the thread inside her mind labeled "rationality" snap cleanly in half with a very clear, very audible twang.
---
At the same time.
Another world.
World G-404.
Tokyo Area. The Holy Residence.
Pale moonlight poured through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, cascading across the polished marble floors — and reflected in that expanse of jarring, vivid red that stained them.
Haimer stood before the great windows, gazing down at the city below — a city that looked prosperous from the outside, but had long since rotted hollow from within.
Behind him.
Tendou Kikunojou's ragged, gurgling howls still drifted through the air in broken fragments — but to Haimer's ears, they were nothing more than the final noise of an old era on the verge of collapse. Not worth a second thought.
His gaze shifted, settling on the silver-haired girl seated in the chair.
The Holy Emperor.
The nominal supreme ruler of the Tokyo Area.
Right now, her face was ashen. Though her immaculate white ceremonial gown bore not a single drop of blood — her soul looked as though it had already been stained by the brutal scene before her, marked by a shadow that would never fully lift.
A thought stirred in Haimer's mind.
Come to think of it.
Although this Holy Emperor couldn't fight her way out of a paper bag — in terms of raw combat ability, she was probably no match for some random laborer hauling bricks on an Orario street corner — her ranking on the system-determined [High-Potential Eligible Candidates List] was actually surprisingly high.
——
[NO. 10 — Holy Emperor]
[Title]: Third-Generation Ruler of the Tokyo Area
[Profile]: A girl whose face achieves the perfection of a work of art. Skin of porcelain translucence. Silver-white hair that cascades like moonlight made liquid. Though she sits in the highest seat of power, she is a songbird imprisoned in an ivory tower — cradling the lofty ideal of coexistence, yet possessing not a shred of actual authority, existing as nothing more than a political puppet of the Tendou family. Her character is outwardly gentle yet inwardly steadfast, though she appears dangerously naive when set against the brutal realities of political power.
——
Looking at the Holy Emperor's top-ten ranking on the system panel, Haimer found himself genuinely surprised.
It was common knowledge that the power of a Grace — though its origin lay in the seed bestowed by a God — depended entirely on what kind of flower that seed ultimately bloomed into, what kind of fruit it bore, whether it grew into a towering tree or a low-lying shrub.
When all was said and done.
It still came down to the recipient themselves — the depth of their innate talent, the yearning buried at the core of their soul, and the capacity for greatness forged by everything they had lived through.
In this world, aside from those who carried the Gastrea Virus from birth and thus possessed superhuman physical abilities — the Cursed Children — it was virtually impossible for an ordinary human to attain extraordinary power.
Tendou Kisara had achieved what she had through staggering swordsmanship talent, compounded by day after day of near-masochistic, obsession-driven training fueled by her hunger for revenge.
Satomi Rentarou had traded flesh and blood for machine parts, purchasing power through technology.
But.
The Holy Emperor — an ordinary person with zero combat capability — ranked in the top ten. She even outranked some of the Cursed Children.
That said a great deal.
Her potential clearly wasn't manifesting on the physical plane — not yet, not at this stage.
That made Haimer think of someone in Orario —
If nothing went wrong.
That poor little creature was probably still suffering somewhere deep in the Pleasure Quarter right about now.
[Ishtar Familia].
— Sanjonoya Haruki.
That Far Eastern fox-girl who possessed a magic called 『Uchide no Kozuchi』.
An apprentice courtesan who would faint dead away, mouth foaming, the moment she so much as glimpsed a man's naked body — and who remained, to this day, as pure and untouched as fresh snow.
A girl who couldn't even defeat the weakest goblin.
And yet — a girl like that had awakened a magic called 『Uchide no Kozuchi』.
— A miraculous magic capable of shattering the barriers between Levels, forcibly elevating its target by one full Level.
It came with limitations, of course — "cannot be applied to the caster herself," "duration is finite" — and others besides.
But in the Lower World, where the hierarchy of Levels separated the heavens from the earth, the value of such magic was incalculable.
And the reason Haruki had been able to awaken this magic was almost certainly rooted, in large part, in her noble birth and the countless heroic epics she had read — the fact that deep in her heart, despite her cowardice, she harbored an extraordinarily pure longing for heroes.
If she herself was too frail to become a hero — then she would become the force behind one.
She would become the wind that carried heroes higher and farther than they could ever fly alone.
That pure, singular wish had ultimately been guided by Grace into the form of 『Uchide no Kozuchi』 — a magic capable of creating heroes.
Because — very often —
There is more than one way to display strength.
Swinging a blade, cleaving mountains and rivers — that is strength.
At the edge of a precipice, gripping tight the hand that is about to fall — that is strength.
In the endless black of night, lighting the very first torch to illuminate the path ahead — that, too, is strength.
Otherwise, why would God, on the very first day of creation, say:
Let there be light.
And for a leader —
True strength often has nothing to do with how many armies she commands, nor whether she can casually decide the fates of others.
It lies, instead, in this —
Even unarmed. Even cornered.
As long as she still stands in that place.
As long as the banner that embodies the ideals of countless people still snaps and ripples in the wind —
She can make multitudes willingly march to their deaths for her cause. She can rally a routed army and make it coalesce again. She can rekindle the ember of hope in people drowning in the mud of despair.
The power of belief.
Invisible. Intangible. Appearing, in many moments, fragile and laughable.
And yet — in certain defining moments —
It can become more indestructible than the hardest steel in the world.
So then.
What about this Holy Emperor?
Haimer mulled it over.
As ruler of a nation —
Though for the past decade-plus she had always been nothing more than a pretty puppet hollowed out of real power by that old fox Tendou Kikunojou —
Though in the eyes of many, she was merely a symbol. A figurehead placed on an altar for people to venerate — one who possessed no real authority whatsoever, who couldn't even freely leave the Holy Residence.
But.
Even mired in this kind of swamp. Even facing, day after day, nothing but hollow flattery and ice-cold calculation —
She had still, naively, looked upward toward the light.
She had still wanted to build, upon those already-rotten ruins — a utopia. Something called the coexistence of humanity and the Cursed Children.
That obsession alone.
Had already transcended the bounds of ordinary people.
And might this kind of pure, almost foolishly sincere obsession — in some way — profoundly shape the direction in which her Grace would manifest?
After all, Haruki had awakened 『Uchide no Kozuchi』 — a magic that shattered Level barriers — simply from the pure wish to become the power behind a hero.
So then.
This Holy Emperor — who harbored the boundless compassion of a bodhisattva and the grand ambition to save the world, but who uniquely lacked the iron-fisted means to act on it —
Perhaps she, too, might give birth to something genuinely fascinating. Something that might even surprise Haimer himself.
But.
A wish without resolve is ultimately nothing but a mirage.
Just as you cannot fill the hollow stomach of a dying man with a beautifully worded poem — no matter how exquisite the verse, no matter how perfect the meter.
No matter how grand the vision, if it cannot be grounded in reality, it will forever remain a castle built on clouds.
Just as Haimer's thoughts were gradually drifting back to the present —
There was still some time before dawn.
Outside the window, the night remained thick and deep.
"Kami-sama."
At that moment — the Holy Emperor spoke.
"If... this is truly the final hour."
"If tomorrow at dawn, this city truly is to face destruction and rebirth."
"I want to... set aside the identity of Holy Emperor."
"I want to see for myself — the city I have loved and tried so hard to protect..."
"In this moment, when the long night has not yet ended."
"Beneath the surface of all its prosperity."
"What is truly left."
Is it the stench of rot? Or some surviving fragment of light?
The Holy Emperor wanted to know the answer. Even if that answer might tear apart the last remaining illusion in her heart.
"Very well."
Haimer gave a slight nod, his expression calm.
No particular reluctance. No obstacle placed in her path.
If she wanted to see — then let the Holy Emperor see her fill.
Divine mercy sometimes manifests as simply allowing mortals to stare directly into the abyss.
At that, Haimer turned his head and looked toward Tendou Kisara, who stood with blade in hand, radiating killing intent from every pore.
"Miss Tendou."
"Is there somewhere you'd like to go?"
"Or would you care to join us for a walk?"
"No."
Tendou Kisara shook her head.
Her gaze fell on Tendou Kikunojou — collapsed on the floor, both hands clamped desperately over his own throat, still clinging to life by a thread.
"Kami-sama."
"I want... to go home, I think."
"After all — as a daughter of the Tendou family, having been away so long... it's about time I went back and properly said hello to all those uncles and elders of mine."
"Besides."
"I made a promise to my grandfather."
"That I would make him watch with his own eyes."
"Watch as the Tendou family he was so proud of becomes dust and history on this beautiful night."
Tendou Kikunojou could no longer speak.
All he could do was stare with bloodshot eyes, his throat producing a rattling, bellows-like wheeze — whatever emotion churning beneath it, impossible to read.
Haimer observed this, unsurprised.
"Go, then."
Snap.
A crisp snap of his fingers.
Space rippled outward like a disturbed pond.
The figures of Tendou Kisara and Tendou Kikunojou vanished from the conference room in an instant.
The next second —
When the world snapped back into focus, Tendou Kisara was already standing before a familiar gate.
— The Tendou family estate.
Looking at the massive nameplate engraved with the characters for "Tendou." Looking at this residence that had once meant warmth in the memories of her childhood, and had later become the source of her nightmares.
Tendou Kisara drew a long, slow breath.
That decade's worth of stale, suffocating air she had been holding compressed in her chest — in this moment, it released entirely.
"I'm home."
She murmured softly.
In her hand, the cursed blade Yukikage trembled hungrily in the moonlight, resonating with a low, eager keen.
---
On the other side.
The disorientation from the spatial transfer lasted only an instant.
When the Holy Emperor opened her eyes again —
The crushing, suffocating silence of the Holy Residence was gone. In its place came a kind of noise — chaotic, clamorous, brimming with the pulse of human life.
The honking of car horns. The murmur of conversations between passersby. The distant pop music drifting from a shop somewhere up ahead.
All of it weaving together into a tapestry called "life."
This was...
One of the busiest commercial districts in the Tokyo Area.
It was already deep into the night — but for this city that never slept, the nightlife seemed to have only just begun.
Neon signs flickered, painting the streets as bright as day.
Passersby moved with purpose — some clustered in groups, laughing loudly in front of izakaya storefronts; others nestled together as couples, leaning into each other with easy intimacy.
No one noticed that, beneath a streetlight at the corner of the road, two figures had materialized out of thin air.
Haimer and the Holy Emperor.
"K-Kami-sama..."
The Holy Emperor clutched the hem of her dress, at a loss, and instinctively shrank behind Haimer's back.
This was the first time she had ever stood in the middle of a crowd like this — this nakedly, this exposed — with no bodyguards, no attendants, no armored motorcade.
Come to think of it...
This probably qualified as a rather unconventional form of kidnapping.
And beyond that —
The glances drifting toward her from the surrounding crowd were filling her with a strange, inexplicable tension.
After all, in any world, the combination of a strikingly handsome man and a breathtakingly beautiful woman drew eyes like magnets.
Haimer's flawless, otherworldly features went without saying — and the Holy Emperor herself was a beauty capable of captivating an entire nation. Combine that with the obviously extraordinary couture gown she wore, and drawing attention was simply unavoidable.
"That girl over there — who is she? She's stunning..."
"Is she some new idol debuting from an agency?"
"That man is gorgeous — is he a model or something?"
Whispers reached her ears.
The Holy Emperor's heartbeat accelerated. She instinctively raised a hand to shield her face.
If someone recognized her as the ruler of this region, it would cause a massive scene.
Don't worry.
Haimer's voice arrived at just the right moment, carrying with it a calm that settled over her like a balm.
He made no move to take her arm or guide her. He simply stood there in that unhurried way of his — yet somehow seemed to carve out a pocket of separate, sheltered space around them both.
"To the eyes of mortals, your face is unreadable."
"I've applied a Divine Power — cognitive distortion."
"They can see you. They can marvel at your beauty. But their minds cannot connect that face to the identity of the Holy Emperor."
"The moment they look away, they'll forget what you look like."
"So."
"Tonight, you are simply an ordinary girl."
At those words, the Holy Emperor blinked, momentarily thrown.
An ordinary girl?
"Come along."
Haimer gave her no time to dwell on it. He set off, long strides carrying him deeper into the streets.
The Holy Emperor hurried after him, gathering her skirts as she went.
Like a fledgling leaving the nest for the first time, she followed close behind Haimer — half a step back — timidly, curiously, drinking in the sights of a city she had governed for years and yet never truly touched.
On both sides of the road, shops of every description lined the way.
Luxury boutique windows displayed jewels worth small fortunes. Restaurants breathed out tempting aromas into the night air. Large screens broadcast cheerful variety programs in a blaze of light.
Everything looked prosperous. Everything looked peaceful.
Judging purely by appearances —
This truly was a beautiful world worth protecting.
A glimmer of hope flickered in the Holy Emperor's eyes.
Perhaps... things aren't quite as dire as Kami-sama said?
However.
Just then.
A song drifted into the Holy Emperor's ears.
A melody hummed purely by a human voice.
Haimer came to a stop.
The Holy Emperor stopped too, following his gaze with a puzzled tilt of her head.
There —
In a shadowy corner not far ahead.
In front of the shuttered rolling door of a closed shop.
Stood a small figure.
A little girl.
She looked no older than seven or eight. Her frame was painfully thin, and she wore a dirty, ill-fitting garment covered in patches — a single layer far too thin for the season.
In the cold night wind of late autumn, she trembled slightly where she stood.
What drew the eye most immediately was her hair.
Ashen white.
And...
Wound around her eyes — a thick band of bandaging, yellowed with age and grime.
The bandages covered both eyes entirely, leaving only the bottom of her small face exposed — skin gone blue-tinged from the cold.
The ethereal song was coming from her lips.
And in front of her —
A battered, rusted iron bowl.
Empty.
Beside it stood a crude sign fashioned from cardboard, on which crooked, unsteady characters read:
[I am a Cursed Child from the outer district]
I am a Cursed Child from the outer district
わたしは がいしゅうの じゅそわれた こ
Cursed Child?
The moment the Holy Emperor read those words on the sign, something in her chest clenched violently.
She had been pushing forward the New Gastrea Law all this time, trying to improve the conditions of these children — but this was the first time she had ever seen, up close and in person, a Cursed Child living on the street.
And moreover...
The outer district?
That was the outermost fringe of the Tokyo Area — a slum within the slums. The place specifically designated for exiling and segregating the Cursed Children.
It was at least several kilometers from here.
How had a blind little girl traveled such an impossible distance to get here?
While the Holy Emperor stood there, momentarily frozen —
The passersby around the child came and went.
Some walked past without even glancing at her. Some detoured around her with expressions of open disgust. One person deliberately kicked the iron bowl — sending it spinning with a harsh, piercing clang — then walked away laughing as the girl cried out in startled apology.
No one stopped.
No one gave anything.
Bathed in the glow of those brilliant, festive lights — this corner existed as though the world had forgotten it entirely.
Haimer hadn't specifically intended to bring the Holy Emperor here.
But in a world this thoroughly rotten, corners like this existed everywhere.
One only needed to lower one's proud head and look.
"Go."
Haimer gave a quiet gesture.
If she didn't even have the courage to face the truth, how could she speak of saving anyone?
The Holy Emperor drew a slow breath.
On trembling legs, she took two steps forward. Then slowly, she crouched down.
That priceless, hand-stitched pure-white ceremonial gown — crafted by a master designer — dragged without hesitation across the dust-covered ground.
She extended her hand, wanting to touch the little girl's shoulder.
Wanting to give her even the tiniest warmth.
But —
The instant the Holy Emperor's fingertips were about to make contact with the girl's thin shoulder —
The blind girl's entire body went rigid, as though she'd been touched by a live wire.
The Holy Emperor's hand froze in mid-air.
A feeling welled up inside her that she had no words to describe — a deep, aching bitterness.
She forced her voice to come out as gently as she could. Gentler still.
"D-Don't be afraid."
"I'm not a bad person."
"I just... I only wanted to..."
The Holy Emperor's gaze dropped to the bandage wrapped around the girl's eyes.
"Your eyes... are they... sick?"
"From what I know, Cursed Children shouldn't get sick... should they?"
And besides...
The Holy Emperor bit her lip.
"And if you... didn't hold up this sign..."
"If you didn't write out that you're a Cursed Child..."
"With a voice like yours, you could earn money begging just from your singing, couldn't you?"
"Why... why would you display an identity that makes people hate you — even attack you — like this?"
After all, everyone knew that in this city, discrimination against the Cursed Children was public and open.
As much as the Holy Emperor despised that reality —
It was the reality.
Announcing yourself as a Cursed Child this openly and brazenly was no different from actively inviting malice.
Hearing that voice — so unbearably gentle it almost didn't seem real —
The blind girl went still for a moment.
As though she couldn't quite believe it.
That in this world — aside from others like herself, scrounging for food in the same garbage heaps — there existed someone who would speak to her in a tone like this?
She tilted her head, listening carefully.
Once she'd confirmed that the stranger truly seemed to mean her no harm —
She gradually let some of the tension ease out of her body.
Then.
She raised her hand and lightly touched the dirty bandaging wrapped around her own eyes.
On that little face, blue with cold, a smile appeared again — that ingratiating, servile smile that looked as though it had been carved into her very bones.
"This..."
"It's okay."
The girl's voice was very soft — but what came out of it struck the Holy Emperor like a bolt of lightning.
"...The mother who abandoned me said she hated my eyes."
"Mama said... these red eyes are the eyes of a monster."
"So..."
The girl paused.
"To make Mama hate me a little less."
"So that Mama would look at me even one more time."
"I had Mama... pour molten lead into them..."
Pour molten lead.
Those three simple words.
From the mouth of a child who could only be a handful of years old. Spoken in that calm, almost proud tone — as though reporting something she deserved praise for.
— BOOM —
The Holy Emperor felt her mind go blank with a sudden, deafening ring.
White noise.
In that instant — she felt the clamor of the surrounding streets, the flickering of the neon signs, even the sound of the wind — all of it — vanish entirely.
The whole world.
Contracted to just those three words, echoing endlessly.
Pour molten lead.
That meant... taking liquid metal — scalding, molten, superheated metal — and pouring it...
Into a living person's eyes?
And moreover...
Done by her own mother?
"Ugh..."
A surge of violent nausea shot up the Holy Emperor's throat.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, her face draining to the white of paper. Her body swayed — she nearly collapsed to the ground entirely.
Too cruel.
Too senseless.
This wasn't hell.
This was ten thousand times worse than hell.
Because in hell, the ones being punished were sinners.
But here —
What was being punished was a child who had been willing to destroy her own eyes — just to earn a little less hatred from her mother. Just to receive even the faintest scrap of love.
"Mama said that way, I wouldn't be able to look at her with those eyes anymore."
"And besides... once the lead solidified, there was no way to take it out again."
"Even when my eyes try to heal and grow back..."
"Because the lead is packed inside... they can't."
"Every time they try to grow back, they press against the metal... and it hurts so much."
"So... they just can't get better."
The girl said this — and then rubbed the back of her head with a slightly embarrassed little scratch.
"Even though... not being able to see hurts a lot."
"Even though... Mama left me in the end anyway."
"But... it doesn't... matter."
"Because I'm ugly..."
"And my eyes turned out like this... it's really scary to look at."
"But as long as... I cover them up..."
"And as long as I... behave myself... and let people know what I am right away..."
"Even if everyone hates me... maybe there will still be someone who takes pity on me?"
"Even stale leftover bread would be fine..."
"Because if I don't rely on other people, I really... really have no way to survive."
"I have a little sister."
"But my sister is very small... and very scared... and she doesn't dare come out."
"So if I don't come out..."
My sister will starve.
Such simple logic.
Simple to the point where it required no thought at all.
Compared to the agonizing pain she had to endure every time her eyes tried to heal against the packed metal inside them. Compared to the despair of being abandoned by her own mother. Compared to the humiliation of being treated like garbage by strangers on the street —
In this child's world —
All of it — every last shred of it —
Was not as terrifying as a single word: hunger.
Because hunger meant death.
And so — to keep her little sister from starving to death — she had somehow decided, as a matter of course, that suffering that level of pain — pain that would have driven an adult to madness — was simply an acceptable price to pay.
These were... her people?
Was this...
Was this the child — the Cursed Child — she proclaimed, every day, sitting in that bright, spacious, climate-controlled office in the Holy Residence, surrounded by stacks of documents and rows of neatly dressed ministers, that she would protect?
If so —
Her New Gastrea Law.
The speeches she had delivered in front of all those cameras.
What did they amount to?
What, in the end, did any of it amount to?
"I'm sorry..."
"I'm sorry... I'm so truly sorry..."
Thud.
A dull sound.
The Holy Emperor dropped to her knees in front of this girl — this girl who was filthy all over, who smelled of misery, whose eyes were bound in dirty bandaging.
---
[Author's Note: Waah~ I've noticed some readers discussing whether I changed my writing style — looking back, the last few chapters really did shift focus a bit. I've switched back now, so how does everyone feel? I also wanted to share some of my worldbuilding thoughts: regarding the number of Cursed Children, it's actually far more than just tens of thousands — just the registered Initiators alone number over two hundred thousand, and the total Cursed Children population is approximately five million. So it would be impossible to bring all of them along in the early stages. And not all of them want to fight, either — older children like Enju, Kohina, Tina, and others would serve as backup support, while the rest would participate in combat on a rotating basis.
For now, the plan is that the protagonist will grant Graces to all Cursed Children in this world, as well as Gastrea Graces — essentially raising a private army — but won't take all of them out of this world. Instead, he'll open a portal, with a fixed daily quota, allowing interested children to come to Orario and serve as something like mysterious little faeries within the Familia grounds. Later, once the Familia grounds expand into a high-end residential district and a proper base like a castle is built — similar to the Loki Familia's setup — the number of Cursed Children who can enter this world can be further increased.]
____
👻🔥Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Group chat of the Dead
✅ New releases are dropping, plus get exclusive content & updates.
✅ Help us unlock community rewards:
🎯 100 Powerstones = +1 Bonus Chapter for everyone
🚀 140 MEMBERS = +5 extra chapters of ALL STORIES!