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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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The realization that the woman before me was the Goddess wasn’t followed by conversation, but by violence.
A hatchet, arcing diagonally from my upper right to her lower left, struck her shoulder, the angel who’d escorted me too stunned to react.
She was a Goddess, a supreme being.
I hadn’t expected my attack to connect. Not normally.
But rage had consumed me, overriding all rational thought. I wanted to tear her apart.
The hatchet embedded itself in her delicate shoulder, but she didn’t cry out, didn’t even flinch. She remained impassive, as if the pain was inconsequential.
And her indifference fueled my rage. There was no remorse in her eyes, only a quiet acceptance, a sense of… resignation, as if she deserved this. Her lips moved, a silent apology.
[…I’m sorry… I’m sorry…]
‘Shut up… shut up!!’
I ripped the hatchet from her shoulder and swung again, faster this time.
Thwack—
Crack—
Right shoulder, left shoulder, the hatchet a blur of motion, my hand moving instinctively, each blow punctuated by the sickening sound of tearing flesh and splintering bone.
Thud—
Crack—
[…Agh…]
Her whimpers fueled my rage, a twisted satisfaction blooming in my chest with each cry of pain.
The hatchet, its edge dulled from repeated blows against Her divine flesh, was no longer an effective weapon. I threw it aside and punched her in the stomach, my fist sinking into her soft flesh.
A retching sound escaped her lips, replacing her apologies, and I felt a flicker of satisfaction.
Thud—
Crack—
Squish—
I continued my assault, my fists raining down on her face, her arms, her legs, every exposed part of her body, even her eyes.
[…Ugh…]
Her once pristine skin was now marred by bruises, her nose broken, her arms twisted at unnatural angles, three daggers embedded in her throat.
“…Say something.”
[…I’m… so sorry…]
“That doesn’t sound like a last will and testament.”
[…It’s… my fault…]
This bitch.
I scoffed and raised my foot, ready to crush her skull, when—
I stopped.
Beside the prone Goddess, another figure, cradling her in her arms, her golden hair and white wings shimmering in the dim light. The angel who’d escorted me.
“…What are you doing?”
“…”
“Ah, is this too much for you? Perhaps you should—”
“…She’s… our Mother.”
“…So?”
“Please… just listen to her.”
No.
Why should I? I didn’t care about her excuses. I wouldn’t forgive her, no matter what she said.
I threw a hatchet at the Goddess’s head, and the angel, moving with surprising speed, deflected it.
[…Step aside, Michael.]
“M… Mother?!”
[…This is my sin, my burden. I must atone…]
The Goddess, her injuries healed, pushed the angel aside and stood up, her gaze fixed on me.
The Goddess, revered by all, a being of immense power and grace.
To me, she was nothing but a repulsive, despicable creature.
She walked towards me, her eyes filled with a grey, melancholic light, her movements graceful, yet tinged with regret. Her voice, a soft, sorrowful melody, was filled with remorse.
But I didn’t stop.
I slashed at her legs, severing the tendons, but she kept coming. I drove a hatchet into her knee, pinning her to the ground, but she pulled herself forward, her gaze never leaving mine. I bound her legs together with steel rods, but she continued to crawl towards me, her determination unwavering.
“…Don’t come any closer.”
[… ]
I backed away, my body recoiling from her approach.
“I said, don’t come any closer!”
[… ]
For every step I took back, she took two forward. I tried to crush her legs, but they regenerated instantly.
The space was limited, and I was running out of room. She closed the distance, and I raised my dagger, ready to end this, when—
She stopped, and her next action surprised me.
[…I’m… so sorry…]
“…?”
[…Please… just listen…]
She knelt before me, her hands clasped together, her head bowed low, almost touching the ground. It was a gesture of utter subservience.
“M… Mother…?”
[…Please… just listen…]
“…”
She, a Goddess, was bowing before me, a mere mortal, a being she’d created.
Her voice, choked with sobs, was unbecoming of a Goddess. She trembled, her body shaking despite her kneeling position.
Michael, the angel, tried to lift her up, but she refused, her face a mask of desperation.
I felt a flicker of… something. It was as if I were the villain in this scene.
I frowned and stomped on her head, venting my frustration.
“Why… why are you doing this now?”
[…Ugh…]
If I asked a random stranger what they thought of my voice right now, they’d probably say,
“When I begged you, when I believed you’d save me, when I confessed my sins and repented, when I lost all hope and prayed for death, you remained silent. And now…!”
Crack—
Something crunched beneath my foot.
“And now you’re doing this…!”
I couldn’t control my right foot, the force of my stomps increasing with each word.
“Why now?!”
[…Ugh…]
Her head stopped moving, and my foot, losing interest, moved on to other targets. Her hands, her back, her waist, her shoulders—I stomped on every part of her body.
“Why now… after all this time…!”
[…Ugh…]
I brought my right foot down on the back of her head with all my might.
Thud—
I saw my ankle twist, the bone protruding, and Michael, the angel, grabbed my left leg, her face streaked with tears, her voice choked with sobs.
“Please…”
“…”
“Mother… she’s not… an avatar… she can… die…”
“…”
“Please… take my life instead…”
She knelt before me, mirroring the Goddess’s posture, her pleas echoing her Mother’s.
“Do you even know my story?”
“…Yes.”
“Then you know this is pointless.”
“Please… just listen to her.”
Her desperation, her pleas, were unsettling. But I wouldn’t forgive that bitch.
I ignored Michael, who was still clinging to my leg, and approached the Goddess, grabbing her by the hair, pulling her head back.
“What do you want?”
[… ]
“There has to be a reason you’re doing this.”
[…I… want to… explain… ugh…]
“Just tell me.”
I tightened my grip on her hair, but her words remained the same. She wanted to explain. She’d accept any punishment, as long as I listened. She’d even swear a divine oath.
I threw her head back, disgusted, but Michael continued to cling to my leg, her tears flowing freely, and the Goddess remained motionless, as if she wouldn’t move until I agreed.
Two beautiful women, pleading with me. The absurdity of the situation made me want to laugh.
I slammed the Goddess’s head against the ground.
“…Make it quick.”
[…Yes… yes…!!]
“…Th… thank you…”
Even her gratitude irritated me. I didn’t want to hear it.
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Interesting. The main body of the goddess being mortal gives sense, at least partly, to why she never meets up with anyone, even her most devout followers.
So Michael is a girl huh. Eitherway, once the ordeal is over, will Jenison tell the saint and everyone on how he delivered a brutal beatdown against the Goddess and that she didn’t stop it? That she even knelt and begged for his mercy?