For reference, Argio...

“...?”

...was being left out.

“Wait, is this the moment where I’m supposed to feel hurt?”

“You’re a god of evil. Don’t be upset over stuff like this.”

“To be ignored by the people staying in my house—how heartbreaking.”

“Tenants usually don’t like being chummy with the landlord.”

“How wise the Saintess is.”

This was the first time Argio had experienced something like this.

“What are you all so focused on without me?”

“We’re studying.”

“I’m good at that too.”

“No need.”

“I can be really helpful, though...”

“No need.”

“So firm.”

“Frankly, it’s hard to imagine a god of evil being a good teacher.”

“That’s a deep, deep prejudice against evil gods.”

Despite appearances, he had some talent as a teacher.

“You seem to be studying me quite hard, but didn’t know that? This Argio had so many talents while alive that I taught students who were nineteen years old at the age of six.”

“That’s... definitely the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Was there ever anyone to tell you about me, the last monster of the Black Forest?”

“No, but I could read about it.”

“That’s true. There are a lot of scribbles in my home.”

As the only beast in the Black Forest who could use language, he had a hard time holding his tongue. Argio often scribbled texts and drawings while living in the ruins. They were murals, a kind of record.

Lately, the Saintess and the Hero had been poring over them like researchers.

“They’re just boring diaries, yet they’re so enthusiastic.”

“You’re being too modest. And give yourself some credit—your diaries are plenty entertaining.”

“If I get any more confident, can you handle me, little friend?”

“Then don’t get more confident.”

“Alright, then. If my friend wishes it, so shall it be.”

“......”

The Saintess looked up at Argio with an odd gaze and asked,

“...What do you consider the criteria for calling someone a friend?”

“What meaning does 'friend' need, really?”

“On Earth, 'friend' usually means someone you’ve been close to for a long time.”

“That’s too much of a textbook definition, isn’t it?”

“Of course, the time you’ve known someone doesn’t always define how close you are. Still, your criteria for friendship seem awfully loose.”

“I know very well who my friends are.”

“You mean fate and... the future, don’t you?”

As she smoothed out a paper filled with scribbles, Aram asked,

“Will I become your friend in the future?”

“You’re already walking that path.”

“Even though I find you this annoying, is that really where we end up?”

“And yet, you’re still walking this path knowing that, aren’t you?”

“You already know what I’ll do, don’t you?”

“Hmm, well.”

In truth, Gio didn’t know all that well.

“I don’t know everything.”

“How can a divine being like you not know the will of such a small vessel?”

“You’ve guessed it already, haven’t you, my clever friend? I am a rather foolish being who prefers not to know too much.”

“...That’s a great relief to us.”

Aram grinned.

“Thank you for your arrogance.”

“Better to thank my carefree, vagabond-like disposition.”

Gio’s disinterest stemmed from a greater joy, a fascination with the unknown.

“......”

But, certainly—

“...Or maybe it is arrogance?”

When it came to Argio, that might actually make sense.

“After all, the fact that I’m letting you fumble around like this, despite knowing you’ll never defeat me, only proves my shortcomings. You’re right. I am an arrogant being.”

But who lays out a battlefield while expecting to lose?

“Please see us kindly.”

“Still, you’re not even going to check what we’re trying to do?”

“What’s the fun in that now? Look, I was a battle maniac who flipped the world while alive, and a god of evil who spread fear like a plague in death.”

“You’re right. We’ll never beat you. We can’t even kill you.”

“You’re already hopelessly disadvantaged. But I want to be righteously angry. What’s the point of lashing out at the weak and leaving only a bad aftertaste? Not just for you—for me, too, you must struggle. Grow as strong as you can. Use every means available.”

“Yes, we are weak. Compared to you.”

Aram said, gathering every last bit of recorded knowledge.

“I’ll help you find something to be angry about.”

“Ah, really?”

“You’re not some mere Evil God of Dreams.”

“Correct.”

“You’re the god of wrath.”

A mystery far beyond petty tantrums or rage.

“I’ll disrupt your battlefield.”

“Please do.”

This would be Argio’s final battlefield.

“Only when both sides are sincere can true wrath be born...”

Argio respected everyone’s desperate resistance.

***

“We found it.”

“At last! Finally!!”

While Argio was away, Aram and Ather shouted with joy.

“If not for Argio’s records, we never would’ve found it!”

“And they were so damaged, decoding them was extremely difficult.”

“To make it worse, it was written in archaic language no longer in use. We practically had to reinvent an entire script.”

“Thankfully, it was a dead language—no longer used—so there weren’t too many complicated grammar rules. That made the letters simpler, in a way.”

“We still don’t know how to pronounce it, but at least we’ve deciphered the content. This should be recorded in a royal library!”

“Calm down—we don’t need to build a library right now. But your help as a former royal librarian was invaluable.”

“I didn’t expect the old texts I read for fun to be this useful. If I had remembered more letters, we could’ve deciphered it even faster. That’s a regret.”

“But look what we achieved in the end! With our brains combined, lost languages don’t stand a chance! That’s the power of knowledge!”

After their excited chatter, the two calmed themselves.

“S-So anyway... where exactly was the being? Was it really the one we were looking for? Are you telling me my theory about its existence was right?”

“Yes. I searched the Black Forest bit by bit and eventually found it. Like me, it’s a ghost of the old world—it couldn’t escape to the surface amusement park.”

“If it had escaped, we truly never would’ve found it. But ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) thank goodness...! So, where is it now? Could you talk to it?”

“I judged it too risky to bring into the ruins, so I had it hide near the entrance. It can speak—and was surprisingly cooperative.”

“I want to meet it. Let’s go right now!”

In truth, their excitement hadn’t settled at all. The two of them moved toward the ruins’ entrance, happier than they’d ever been since meeting. Aram scanned her surroundings with hawk-like eyes.

And then gasped.

“Ah...!”

A deer with beautiful horns.

“Knew it was you!”

“......”

“According to the records, you aren’t just an ordinary deer, right? You can use language. I have so many things I want to ask. Please, respond in my language.”

“......”

“...Creator of the Evil God,”

Aram asked the silent deer,

“Why did you kill your friend?”

The ancient ghost answered.

“Wrath.”

“......”

“...I wanted a great, terrible wrath.”

He was the first beast to be granted language.

***

There was a deer.

It could not speak, lacked intelligence, and was driven more by instinct than reason.

Its owner had red hair. On the owner’s fifth birthday, the deer was given as a gift.

“What should I name you?”

The child, praised and worshipped by many humans, postponed the decision.

“Hmm, yes. A name is deeply tied to one’s soul—something valuable and sacred.”

“......”

“I’ll teach you language. If a genius like me spends a lifetime teaching you, even you can learn. Then, you can choose a name you like. I’ll help you.”

“Piiik...”

“Someday, you’ll understand everything I’ve ever said.”

The boy’s ridiculous vow lasted a long time. Even after he was cast into the Black Forest, the lessons continued. He protected the deer from dangerous beasts.

“Who would dare harm you, my brother?”

The deer still couldn’t understand his words. But it felt the affection. A family member—stronger and kinder than anyone. Under such tender care, the young deer grew healthy.

“You must be growing slowly because you’ve only eaten the best food. Deer don’t usually live this long. Fascinating. I promise to teach you language until one of us dies.”

“Piiik...”

“Though I already love your cries. So delicate and lovely—they tickle my heart, my friend. My little brother. I’m a human, you’re a beast—but I’ll make you more.”

It was an arrogant vow—but he followed through. When the boy was called Argio, the monster of the Black Forest, he achieved a miracle.

He taught a beast to speak.

“See? I was right.”

He was overjoyed. Hugging the deer’s neck, he expressed his happiness.

“Now we are equals. I haven’t lowered myself—you’ve risen up. Be proud. This is your achievement. Don’t forget that.”

“......”

“You can do so much now. Choose your own meals. Sing. Learn new languages—or even invent them...”

“......”

“I’m proud of you. You make me so happy. Do what you want. Create a name of your own. Since you’ve learned mine, you owe me one in return.”

But before the deer could name itself, tragedy struck.

Argio became the root of all evil in the world.

The deer, once only protected, was captured by humans. Taken as a hostage.

“So that wicked beast cherishes this deer?”

“Supposedly a great treasure—but it’s just a deer.”

“What kind of bond could a beast like that have formed?”

The deer pretended to be normal. The more it revealed, the tighter the surveillance would be. But no chance to escape ever came.

And the Black Forest burned.

“Gods, burn away this vile curse!!”

The monster called cruel never left the forest.

“Reduce that savage beast to ash!!”

“Burn the plague-infested forest—cleanse it all!!”

“God will protect us!!”

“He’s dead! The cruel beast died in the fire!!”

“The plague is gone! A new human era begins!!”

Why?

“......”

The deer, trapped in a human storage shed, could never understand.

Why hadn’t he run?

Was he too wounded to move?

Did he spend all his time saving other humans and beasts?

Or... was it because of me?

“...My friend.”

Taking advantage of a moment’s lapse in the humans’ guard, the deer returned to the burning forest.

The red-haired boy who taught it language was dying.

The air was filled with the horrific stench of scorched flesh.

“I’m... so angry.”

“......”

“It really hurts... It burns inside.”

“...Piiik.”

“...Wrath is consuming me...”

The boy laughed and cried.

“I don’t want to leave it like this.”

He knew the magic woven into the forest and his own body. If he died consumed by rage, what kind of curse would be born? Argio didn’t want to be swallowed by wrath for eternity.

“Ugh, no. If I live like that, it would be horrific. It wouldn’t be fun. Not satisfying. Just a beginning with no end...”

“......”

“Gather our family. My friends. If they stay by my side, I won’t be consumed. I’ll consume the wrath instead. I can swallow it all.”

“......”

“...Please, can you do that for me?”

So the deer gathered all the beasts Argio had once cherished. The humans he had nurtured were all killed or had fled—but the beasts remained and waited for his death.

Argio was deeply happy.

“You give meaning to my cruel life.”

He was truly sealing away his wrath.

It was a miracle. By remembering the love he gave and received as family, he forgave the world. He understood. He endured. He forgot.

“I’m satisfied. I can die like this.”

“......”

“......”

But the deer wasn’t.

“...You aren’t?”

The deer was angry.

Unlike its brother, it could not forgive the world or accept the demons.

It was still a young deer, just now learning to reason—and its weak judgment was swept away.

It was furious. The humans were disgusting. The world was detestable. It raged against the gods who ruined its beloved kin.

How could it end like this?

“Please, grant me this request. Help me end this curse...”

“......”

“It was the perfect ending. My chosen end. The cruel beast should’ve died with the Black Forest. What cleaner, more dignified end could there be?”

“Please, let it end with my wrath. I don’t want to become any uglier.”

Ignoring its brother’s plea, the deer bit into his throat.

“Gghk—cough...!!”

“......”

A herbivore’s teeth could not kill quickly. But that was what the deer wanted.

Let this pain and betrayal make you even angrier.

Become a calamity.

“......”

“......”

The deer cried, staring at its brother who died without even closing his eyes.

Then it smiled.

“...When you rise again as a calamity, give me a name.”

By killing the son of a god, the deer stole the power of language.

And so the Demon King of Wrath was born—

—but never received a name.

***

The one fragment never returned.

Deer.

A small, young deer.

Its memory was sealed in a heart.

Resonance Rate: 99.9¿%

It was a fragment of wrath.