“Shall I introduce you to the place?”

Argio, who had descended from a chair towering so high it was dizzying, welcomed Ather.

“Over there are the children of our home. Some were born here, and others were brought here. But most of them were brought. People who end up here are usually afraid of having children.”

“...Ah, I see.”

“Those over there, the ones deep in discussion, are mostly commoners. Hmm, yes. Do you see a few with notably pale faces? They used to be nobles. They’re sharing the knowledge they’ve accumulated.”

“......”

“And those there... Oh, they’re making jewelry for me. As you know, I do have a fondness for shiny things. Ah, if only all the treasures of the world could rest in my nest.”

With his bright red hair swaying, Argio led Ather along.

“This is the children’s bedroom. Well, many have their own rooms, too. Those who’ve built families here need their own houses, of course... Luckily, the place is vast, so we’ve been able to respect their personal time.”

“No, uh, I’d rather not... hear details like that.”

“Is our dear teacher not planning to marry? Haha! Don’t take offense—I asked out of pure curiosity. Relationships in this world aren’t formed as easily as one might think, wouldn’t you agree? Now, now, don’t just stand there. Come along.”

Argio also showed him a massive farm.

“This is where my friends personally tend the land. Though the sun doesn’t shine here, and the soil is poor, the harvest isn’t too bad. Everyone seems relatively content.”

“...It’s certainly impossible to maintain such farmland with just torchlight. Even so, for crops that have never seen sunlight, they look rather healthy. Have you perhaps improved the strains?”

“You could say that. More than anything, they’re technically crops from the Black Forest. It seems they've changed in structure from being affected in various ways. Still, the taste is decent—quite nice, actually.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so serious about food. Not just you, but everyone under your care... Improving strains takes considerable effort.”

“It’s thanks to the capable friends I’ve gathered.”

Argio chuckled.

“Those who’ve come here are all different. Some I dragged along, some came on their own, and others were offered to me as sacrifices.”

“Dragged along...?”

“There were some pitiful souls who insisted they’d rather live with beasts than pigs. Ah, even beyond that, I’ve taken in bratty sprouts who liked to spout nasty words and refined them.”

“...The way you say that is kind of terrifying...”

“What do you take me for? Ah, no—you probably see me clearly. I’m very violent, you see.”

“Ah-ha...”

“Right, you seemed interested in what I was making earlier.”

Argio’s golden eyes curved with amusement.

“Shall I show you?”

“...Yes. I’d like to see it up close.”

“The ladder chair’s too narrow for that, but I’ll take you somewhere where you can get a decent view.”

Together, they climbed a long flight of stairs. Eventually, they emerged onto a terrace shaped like a spire. No—what was it exactly? It jutted out to give a view of the ceiling. Ather had no idea what to call it.

But just as Argio said, the ceiling was surprisingly close.

“......”

It was a breathtaking sight.

“...There’s no magic involved in this?”

“I’m not too good at using that sort of thing.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d consider how absurd that sounds coming from someone like you.”

“I mean it. When doing things like this, magic is more of a... hindrance.”

Argio scratched his neck, as if dissatisfied.

“To me, magic is all about combat. It’s rough and crude. Not exactly suited for this kind of work.”

“So you made this by hand?”

“That’s not difficult. Whether it becomes midday, twilight, or evening, I adjust that with the size of the torches. That much magic I can manage.”

“A convenient use of magic...”

“I should probably coax some clever ones into teaching me cuter spells. It’s fortunate the torches are installed on this towering ceiling—if not, I wouldn’t even be able to adjust their size.”

“...Still...”

Ather stared at the ceiling as if entranced.

“It’s beautiful.”

So grand, it was hard to believe human hands had made it.

It captured nature. No—it was nature itself. Through engravings, he had recreated the passage of time and the skies it brought.

Argio’s laugh rang out. When Ather looked at him, Argio explained.

“You see, ruins don’t let you look up at the sky. Many were starting to fall into depression, so I thought about how I could help. That’s how... I decided to show the flow of time.”

“...Isn’t the scale a bit excessive?”

“It has to be this much. That way, my friends accept it without question. Many of them are tough and strong, but a surprising number are delicate. If you don’t take care, they’ll break.”

“You say things like that so casually and still claim you’re not a god...”

“What kind of god would live like this?”

He laughed and patted Ather lightly on the back.

“If you’ve seen enough, shall we go back down?”

“...I haven’t seen enough yet.”

“If you keep staring at a fake sky, you’ll waste time before you even realize it.”

“......”

Ather nodded.

“You’re right.”

On the way down the stairs, they encountered a horned deer.

“Oh, my beloved brother is here. Hey, friend—say hello. This is my little brother.”

“...Your brother is very cute.”

“Right? I think he’s grown quite a bit, but I still wish he’d put on more weight. He’s so skinny, the friends in the Black Forest might bully him.”

“Um... I don’t know. He seems pretty sturdy for a deer...”

“Don’t you see these bony legs?”

“I see muscle, actually.”

He was slim, of course. But that was a limitation of the deer species. For a deer, the one Argio introduced was rather muscular—so solid he looked like biting him would leave no mark.

Argio guided Ather along with the deer.

“Never thought such a good friend would come looking for me. Was the journey hard?”

“It was very difficult.”

“Really?”

“My head was cut off.”

“That’s hilarious. Your head was cut off?”

“The rest of my body ended up in the hands of the Evil God.”

“You’re truly a devoted man.”

“I’ve never thought of myself that way...”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

The Evil God laughed.

“You gave up everything to seal me.”

“......”

The torches went out.

The ruins that had radiated warmth were now filled with cold, heavy air.

He looked around. Ruins collapsed and shattered. Dust had piled up, insects crawled in silence, moss crept over the stones.

In the blink of an eye, the shattered ruins filled with stillness.

“...Yes, I did.”

It was the scene just after sealing the Evil God.

“Weren’t you enjoying a happy dream?”

“I was merely appreciating a precious painting I held.”

“You don’t regret those old memories?”

“I’m not the type to be that delicate.”

“I heard they call you the Evil God of Dreams...”

“Whatever the name, as long as it’s interesting, isn’t that enough?”

Argio shrugged, petting the deer beside him. Then he began to walk again. Ather followed him obediently.

“You’ve really suffered a lot because of me.”

“It’s true—over half of the suffering in my life is because of you.”

“You say such righteous things—that’s why the Saintess was so furious with you.”

“More like, she seemed furious with you...”

“How am I supposed to resist when the reaction is that sweet?”

“You really are the Evil God.”

“Of course—I mean, who else could I be?”

Argio cackled as he descended the stairs. Clip, clack—the sound of hooves echoed through the ruins. Stones settled beneath them, forming a strangely pleasant noise. A light rhythm.

Argio stroked his chin.

“Hmm. Yes. I see...”

“......”

“Why did you come all the way here?”

The Evil God asked curiously.

“Was my embrace that uncomfortable?”

“...It was comfortable.”

With his severed head, submerged in boiling hatred, Ather had screamed, gone mad, and thrashed. He saw a broken world through the cursed gazes of countless dragons.

It had been, to his surprise, more comfortable than imagined. It felt like becoming whole. A sense of fullness. A descent into the endless abyss without pain or resistance. Honestly, it hadn’t been bad. It was even... pleasant.

“But I will remain human.”

That was what he wished.

“There were too many things I couldn’t bring myself to give up.”

“Hm, is that so. As expected, these so-called heroes are awfully stubborn...”

“If I weren’t this stubborn, would I have tried to seal you by burning through my own body? No one sane would do such a thing. And yet I wanted to.”

“Weren’t you just exiled for offending the higher-ups?”

“That was part of it, probably. My temperament never fit with the royal family. But in the end, I made the choice. I could’ve endured longer... I just didn’t want to.”

“Then the three of us were all mad.”

The Evil God smiled with the satisfaction of a well-fed beast.

“In that case, let me ask you once more.”

As they reached the underground tomb, Argio looked at Ather. The deer, too, gazed at the hero with unwavering eyes.

『...Why did you come to find me?』

He was wrapped in bandages.

A coarse voice, rasped and ruined. It still carried a hypnotic weight, but it was far from melodious. From head to toe, he was covered—not in actual bandages, but in torn strips of cloth. Soaked in blood and pus.

Argio’s body now seemed so frail, he could barely stand. His limbs had thinned like withered branches. His golden eyes could no longer be seen.

“......”

Ather’s expression twisted as he confirmed the torn-up neck, as if something had chewed through it.

“...Argio.”

『Yes.』

“It’s really you...”

The last dragon murdered in a burning forest.

“...I... you...”

The Evil God watched him in silence. Was it apathy? Or permission?

Ather reached out a trembling hand toward Argio’s. Just like so many times before, he faltered—but he grasped it in the end.

A hand that seemed like it would crumble into ash at the slightest touch. He held it reverently, like a son serving his god; desperately, like a refugee pleading for salvation.

“......”

His breath shook.

“...I wanted to meet you.”

He wept.

“I wanted to apologize.”

The words spilled out.

“As the last remaining human of the old age, I wanted to beg forgiveness on behalf of those who betrayed and abandoned the dragons. I—I was called a hero, but before that, I was a human... I understood all those tragedies, even hated them... That’s why I wanted to apologize.”

These were the honest feelings he had hidden behind duty and history. It was guilt. He confessed them now, in the absurd dream of an Evil God—because he was human.

“I’m sorry. Truly sorry. We were wrong.”

『...You’re the one saying that?』

“I am. These are my words. My plea for forgiveness. It’s an apology on behalf of humanity. We suffered many losses and tragedies at your hands... but nothing ends just because of that.”

『Then what is it you wish to end?』

“Truthfully, nothing needs to end. But there are things we must do. Things we ought to do.”

Resting his forehead on that frail hand, Ather cried. Then he raised his head and looked directly at the bandaged face.

“...I’m sorry.”

『.......』

“I truly am.”

『Ah...』

A rough smile formed between the gaps in the cloth.

“...I’ve been waiting to hear those words.”

The last dragon slowly embraced Ather.

It was a feeble strength—one Ather could’ve shaken off at any time. But he accepted it willingly. A faint warmth spread, tinged with the scent of a forest long burned to ash.

Argio asked,

“Would you listen to the first name I was given by a god?”

“...Of course.”

“Seyton.”

“......”

“I had a beautiful dream.”

Like an old parent in twilight years, he gently patted Ather’s back.

“Thanks to you, my friend.”

Argio whispered.

“...I forgive you.”

“...And I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

He released the embrace, pulled Ather’s hand toward him, and gently brushed his lips against Ather’s fingertips.

“And you did well.”

With a soft laugh, he crumbled into sand.

“......”

“Thank you.”

“...Ah...”

Ather closed his hand tightly.

The deer, who had offered its thanks, settled like it was nesting atop a small mound of sand. Then it closed its eyes.

As if falling asleep, its movements quieted... and it melted. Soon it became a bouquet of blooming flowers.

All that remained was the deer’s skull.

“......”

Ather knelt and gently swept the fine sand and the cluster of flowers that had bloomed over it. He stared blankly at it for a while before reaching out.

There was something between the sand and flowers—a silver necklace adorned with a crimson gem.

“...I’ll take this as a gift.”

He stood.

Then he left the underground tomb. His hand was heavy, but his breath was light.

He closed the tomb’s door and began to climb the stairs. Up and up again. The torches of the ruins glowed faintly. It was a more aged version of the sight he’d seen when he had been reshaped into a man.

“...Haa...”

Ather continued walking.

After a while, he saw the spot where the children had been playfully running about. Past that, he passed where the young men had been making ornaments. Further on, the place where the fugitives had been sharing their wisdom.

And after that, the distant ceiling came into view.

“...A night sky.”

Though the light was gone, the stars and moon still sparkled—night sky.

“It’s beautiful, Seyton.”

How many had found comfort in a sky shaped by human hands?

He had been a god even when he was just a man. And even as a god, he remained human. A saint who raged countless times, but still knew how to forgive.

And at last, Ather stood before the entrance to the ruins.

“......”

Clink...

He put the necklace on.

“...It’s time to move forward.”

And he took a step.

***

Rustle—

Ather’s head shattered and fell apart.

“...Ah...”

Seeing it, Aram clenched her hand tightly.

...You’ve fulfilled your role, haven’t you?

Aram stared straight at the Evil God.

The head of the Evil God, whose second hand was now left empty, tilted to the side.

He looked down at his hollow hands, lips parting slightly—twitching faintly, as if calling out to a beloved family member.

That hand began to tremble, then shake violently, until with a monstrous scream he tore off half of his own head.

『...Ah, aaah, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh—!!!!!!』

The overflowing golden fluid looked like tears—tears of the Evil God, wailing in agony.

『Why... why... why, why did you leave me!!!』

『Forgive? Forgive? Forgive?』

『Please, give me your wrath...! Your pain!! Your contempt—!!!』

The brilliance of the red wings quivered grotesquely. It radiated the Evil God’s pain and chaos. It was a sight detached from life or warmth—like the twitching nerves of a dead bird.

『My brothers...!!!』

The rotted and withered dragons screamed in reply to the dissonance. A thunderous roar echoed, drawing the dragons together. Aram’s shattered, broken, and incomplete universe once again began to fill with dragons.

“Saintess, may I ask you to explain?”

“...You probably have a rough idea by now...”

Aram answered, wiping away her tears.

“This is the first and last chance.”

“I see.”

“This time, I’ll do it.”

“Will you be all right?”

“Our senior brothers and sisters should have their say, too.”

With reddened eyes, she winced and embraced the broken moon.

The moon, cradled in Aram’s arms, soon returned to its original form. Holding it in her hands, Aram looked upon the dragons—those who had gathered and those still gathering. Their rage had begun to blur with confusion.

The fallen dragons.

The pitiful envoys of a god.

To them, she whispered softly, as if speaking to a friend.

“...We can talk, can’t we?”

As Aram once again raised the moon into the sky, the silver moon shone brightly.

“We have a lot in common.”

The moon’s faint warmth spread across the world.

And the young dragons, at last... had their eyes captured by that warmth.

“...Right?”

Aram gave a wincing, tearful smile.