Chapter 550: Hero….

The Goddess of Light.

As the name suggested, she was the goddess who embodied light itself—but not merely the radiance that banished darkness.

Light, in its truest form, was life and creation itself.

It was love.

It was protection.

It was abundance.

And it was wisdom.

Eris, the Goddess of Light, governed all five of these domains.

Together, they formed the moral compass of countless nations across the world.

Her worship was not limited to one people, nor one kingdom; her presence was universal, her praise endless.

Temples towered in her name, hymns were sung each dawn and dusk, and her statues stood as symbols of hope in every city.

But among mortals, there was one who embodied her essence more fully than any other.

The Saintess.

An incarnate of the goddess’s divinity, blessed with her entire being, her authority on earth rivaled even that of Eris herself.

No king, emperor, or high priest dared claim superiority over her word.

She was not just a servant of the goddess—she was her mirror, her voice, her chosen light given flesh.

Loved by the masses, honored by nations, and revered by those who feared the wrath of heaven.

And yet, even the most radiant light could be smothered by shadows.

Knock. Knock.

The sound echoed softly in the darkness.

Emilia trembled beneath a heavy blanket, her body curled tight, as if trying to hide from the world itself.

Her room was swallowed in shadow; no candles were lit, no divine glow lingered.

Only silence, broken by that knock, and then by the faint creak of a door.

Footsteps. Quiet, deliberate.

Someone had entered.

“Looks like your love for your friends exceeds that for yourself… saintess.”

“…G-Get out.”

“It seems you’ve rested well enough.”

“I said get out!”

“Kuku…” A dry laugh, cruel and knowing. “Do you wish for your friends to die, saintess?”

The words froze her blood.

Her trembling stilled, but only for a moment.

Slowly, hesitantly, Emilia peeked out from beneath the blanket. Her hands shifted, chains clinking faintly with the movement.

The cold metal bound her wrists, a cruel reminder that even the most blessed could be shackled.

Her blue eyes narrowed, glinting in the darkness as she glared at the intruder.

A man cloaked in black stood before her, his face hidden behind a mask.

The man reached out, his gloved hand brushing against Emilia’s cheek.

His touch was cold, deliberate, mocking the sanctity her very existence once demanded.

“I would’ve loved to give you your well-deserved rest for being such a good girl these past few hours…” His voice dripped with false gentleness, almost affectionate in its cruelty. “…But alas, the situation won’t allow us such luxuries.”

“D-Don’t touch me!”

Her voice cracked as she recoiled, pressing deeper into the bed, but the man only chuckled.

The deep rumble of his laughter was like gravel scraping against stone, unbothered by her trembling resistance.

“Resisting now? After all this time?” His masked face tilted slightly, amusement bleeding from the hollow tone. “Saintess, do you truly believe there’s any chance of escape left for you?”

“That’s—because you threatened me!”

Her words struck like sparks against stone, but the man didn’t flinch.

He ignored her protest entirely, his hand moving not to her cheek this time, but to the blanket she clutched with desperate strength.

“W-Wait!”

Her plea went unanswered. With one sharp pull, the fabric was stripped away.

“D-Don’t look!”

Her scream echoed through the dim room as her face burned crimson.

She scrambled to shield herself, arms crossing over her body, long hair falling forward like a curtain.

But no matter how tightly she tried to cover, it was already too late.

The faint, shimmering light in the chamber revealed her fragile figure clothed in only the sheer white gown she’d been forced to wear.

Thin, almost translucent, it clung to her skin as though meant to mock her sanctity.

Her pale flesh was on display, her form unmistakable beneath the flimsy nightdress.

Her blue eyes welled with tears as the humiliation consumed her.

She bit her lip, trembling, every second of exposure another dagger to her pride.

The man’s voice, thick with satisfaction, cut through her shame.

“My gift suits you well, saintess. Despite your pure appearance… it seems you are one blessed to become the very opposite of what you embody.”

Her breath hitched. “I-I—”

“Come. The ritual will begin soon.”

He extended his hand to her once again.

Emilia’s body refused to move at first.

Her instincts screamed to fight, to resist, to spit in his face as the Goddess’s chosen vessel.

Yet her chains weighed her wrists, her body trembled, and her heart twisted.

At last, with reluctant, trembling fingers, she placed her hand in his. Her legs felt like glass as she rose slowly from the bed, the thin fabric brushing against her skin with every hesitant step.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, “…V-Vanessa… and the others… they’re fine, right?”

The man’s masked face tilted toward her, his words calm, almost reassuring. “Of course. I am a man of my word. Your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

Her eyes fell to the ground, tears brimming at the edges.

’Oh, dear Mother… please forgive me.’

…

Damn…

I feel so shitty right now.

Yeah, I can excuse it by saying it was all for her growth, for their sake, for the “bigger picture.”

But did I push it too far?

Playing the villain might have its purpose, but making such an innocent girl suffer like that… that isn’t something I can brush off.

She was practically naked just now. Humiliated, trembling, reduced to a spectacle.

In the game, the demonic cultists went even further—forcing her into something obscene, a deliberately erotic trap that marked the path toward one of the unavoidable bad ends.

Compared to that, what I’m doing now could almost be called merciful.

Almost.

Tch… what am I even talking about?

I’m just a shitty person, and that much is clear.

I turned my head slightly, letting my eyes linger on her.

Emilia.

The Saintess.

Even stripped of her dignity, she was still shining, still painfully beautiful.

If Lavane’s words alone were enough to shake Lucas, to bend him toward obsession, then what would it do when he saw Emilia—or Reina—like this?

The thought twisted in my chest, sickening and necessary all at once.

[Note: Missed Notification messages ×23]

[Would you like to open it?]

No.

[Note: Missed Notification messages ×24]

[Note: Missed Notification messages ×25]

[Note: Missed Notification messages ×26]

[Note: Missed Notification messages ×27]

[Note: Mother of Light wishes to speak with you]

[System Error! Divine interference detected—!@#%!]

[Rile!@##$@!]

[Error fixed!]

’Ignore all messages for now, system.’

[Understood.]

I’m going to have to apologize to the dear goddess later.

I don’t know if she’ll forgive me, but I have to believe she understands.

“Where are you taking me?” Emilia asked quietly, her voice trembling but steady enough to hide the dread in her chest.

“To the altar…”

She frowned, confusion flickering across her features.

I didn’t bother explaining further. Words wouldn’t help her, not here, not now.

Eventually, we reached the base of a vast staircase.

The steps stretched upward into shadow, each one carved from black stone that seemed to drink in what little light there was.

A suffocating stillness filled the air, broken only by the faint dripping of water and the echo of our movements.

“This is…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Her blue eyes narrowed as she gazed into the darkness, catching details my own sight missed.

A faint gleam radiated from them—white, luminous, the first stirrings of her divine spark returning.

Her divinity was beginning to awaken again.

I needed to hurry.

Without warning, I stepped closer and slipped my arms beneath her, one behind her back, the other under her knees.

I lifted her easily, cradling her against my chest like a princess.

She was surprisingly super light and soft…

“W-What are you doing?” she gasped, her arms instinctively tightening across her chest.

“Your feet. You’ve been walking barefoot this entire time. If I make you climb these stairs, you’ll shred yourself before we reach the top.”

Her body stiffened against me. “I’m not really hurt… and I can manage myself. So let me go.”

“That won’t do,” I said simply, meeting her glare with calm indifference. “You’re my most important piece right now. I can’t have you damaged before the ritual.”

Her eyes widened at the word, her lips parting as if to protest, but she fell silent.

Instead, she turned her face away, jaw clenched tight, and hugged herself tighter, as though shielding what dignity she still could.

She didn’t resist further, but the disgust in her expression spoke volumes.

To her, every touch must have felt like a curse.

Eventually, we reached the summit of the stairs.

The air grew heavier with each step until, at last, the altar loomed before us.

Two massive statues stood sentinel on either side, grotesque depictions of demonic entities Emilia immediately recognized from the forbidden scriptures she had studied.

Their jagged horns reached upward as if trying to pierce the heavens, their fanged mouths frozen in eternal hunger.

Their eyes, carved from obsidian, seemed to watch every movement with unblinking malice.

The altar itself was carved from black stone, rough and ancient.

Cobblestone walls enclosed the chamber, cracks running deep through the surface as if the very place strained under the weight of what had been done here for centuries.

Though darkness hung heavy over everything, faint torches and a dim unnatural glow provided just enough light to see.

It was enough to set the scene—perfect for a ritual.

Perfect for a sacrifice.

At the center stood a raised chamber, a slab stained with things Emilia dared not name.

But what drew her attention more than the altar itself… was the single object hovering just above it.

A feather.

Pure white. Radiant, impossibly so, its glow untouched by the corruption of this place.

It floated gently, slowly turning in the stale air like a fragile piece of heaven torn from the Goddess herself.

Emilia’s eyes widened, the faint glimmer of her divinity reflecting in them as I lowered her back onto the ground.

“Come…”

She hesitated, trembling, then forced herself to follow.

Each step carried the weight of dread, and yet her faith compelled her gaze forward.

Then she froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

“R… Reina!?”

Her voice cracked in panic, her composure shattering as she lunged forward.

Clank! Tink!

The sound of her chains jerked through the chamber as I pulled them taut, halting her before she could reach.

“You… what did you do to her!?”

“Just a few things…”

Her focus snapped back to Reina, and the sight before her crushed what little stability she had left.

Reina’s body hung limply, bound high above by her wrists, chained to the gaping maw of one of the demonic statues.

A faint blush colored her face unnaturally, her breaths shallow and ragged, chest rising and falling as if each breath was a struggle.

Her long lashes fluttered, her eyes glassy and wet, their clarity drowned in haze.

Saliva glistened at the corner of her lips as she swayed, her knees buckling beneath her.

She wore a wedding dress of haunting beauty—white silk embroidered with crimson thread, the fabric clinging to her as though mocking the sanctity it was supposed to represent.

Her body bent downward under its own weakness, legs trembling as if she couldn’t stand even if the chains were released.

“Reina…” Emilia whispered, her voice cracking, tears stinging her eyes as her friend’s broken state reflected in her own helplessness.

“You… you broke your promise!”

“Trust me,” I said calmly, almost mockingly, “I never did, saintess…”

With a flick of my wrist, her chains were thrown upward.

The demonic glyph etched into the cuffs lit up, glowing a sinister crimson as they clamped together with a sound like grinding metal.

CLINK—CLANK! CLANK—CLAAAANG!

Emilia gasped as her arms were yanked above her, pulled taut until her body mirrored Reina’s helpless posture.

Her slender frame arched back slightly, forced into an unnatural bend as the runes pulsed across the chains, sealing her movements.

“N-No! What are you—” Her voice faltered, her face burning as her legs wobbled beneath her.

She squeezed her thighs together, twisting as if she could shield herself from my gaze.

“D-Don’t look… please…”

Her pleas fell uselessly into the suffocating air of the chamber.

I raised my palm, and the glowing white feather—trembled in the air, then floated gently into my hand, the radiance dimming as my fingers closed around it.

Emilia’s wide blue eyes followed the motion, confusion breaking across her face, the flush of humiliation and fear reddening her cheeks further.

One heroine should have been enough.

But time was no longer a luxury.

“Master, everything’s ready!”

Lavine’s voice echoed from the shadows at the edge of the chamber.

I turned my gaze back to Emilia, drinking in the sight of her bound and trembling.

My lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Now then… it’s time to defile you, dear saintess.”

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