Aluka opened her eyes. Within them, there were no whites, no pupils—only an abyssal darkness that seemed to devour everything.

Her head began to rise slowly, floating upward. Then, her mouth parted open.

The monstrous creature's enormous body suddenly shattered, disintegrating into a river of blood interspersed with fragments of bone and severed limbs.

The river of blood flowed onward, and under the influence of some strange, eldritch force, it gradually shrank, transforming into a thin trickle that was eagerly sucked into her petite cherry-colored mouth.

Gulp. Gulp. It sounded as though she were savoring a delightful beverage.

And as the blood river vanished into her, an overwhelming aura of dread began to coalesce above that floating head.

"Take this!"

Moen snapped out of his stupor. Without hesitation, he grabbed his short blade and slashed down.

Whatever you are, let me hack at you first and ask questions later!

No way I’m allowing you time for some magical girl transformation!

*Clang.*

A crisp metallic collision echoed through the air, and Moen's face froze in an instant.

A feather.

A single pure white feather was hovering in front of him, blocking his path.

The feather, delicate and weightless, swayed gently in the breeze.

But when Moen's short blade struck it, the result was an explosion of fierce sparks.

How could a feather be so impossibly hard?!

If that’s the case…

"Ann!"

If I can't break through this on my own, I’ll call in reinforcements!

Steel howled to life!

Metallic thorns sprouted around Moen, circumventing him and lunging violently toward Aluka's floating head from all directions.

*Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.*

But in the next moment, the only sound filling the air was the repeated ringing of collisions.

The steel blades couldn’t approach Aluka.

Because suddenly, a pair of pristine white wings unfurled behind Aluka’s head, effortlessly deflecting all the metallic barbs.

The wings were immaculate and untarnished, exuding a sanctity that repelled worldly filth.

Like the descent of an angel, their holy radiance shone so brightly that it was almost blinding.

But…

Those seemingly divine wings sprouting from the back of a mere head? That is some seriously twisted crap!

Where’s the body? For heaven’s sake, at least conjure up a body!

You might look all majestic and powerful, but there’s absolutely no way anyone can revere you like this!

Give me back my adorable little beastie! The more I stare at you, the creepier this gets! My cute monster was way more endearing!

"What the heck is this thing…"

Moen muttered complaints as he desperately tried to recall descriptions from the original novel—at the very least, he needed to figure out what kind of enemy he was facing.

An angel?

No, the angels of the Life Church didn’t look this grotesque.

A minion?

But given that the chaotic nature of dark gods often led them to slaughter their own followers, aside from some deranged cultists, there wouldn’t really *be* any minions.

And the fact that this entity was borrowing Aluka's head suggested that it didn’t have a physical form of its own either.

As Moen puzzled over this, the blood river was entirely drained, and suddenly, he felt a gaze fixed upon him.

It came from those abyssal black eyes.

In an instant, a chill gripped him.

It felt as though his entire body had been frozen in ice; even breathing became a struggle.

It was as if an insignificant ant crawling on the ground had been noticed by a being of immense grandeur from the heavens.

Moen couldn’t help but tremble in the face of his own smallness.

"Don’t tell me…"

An utter, horrifying thought began to materialize in Moen’s mind.

"You’ve got to be kidding…"

"All I did was call you a jerk—was that really angry enough to make you show yourself?!"

Even if it was just a fraction—one thousandth, one ten-thousandth of its will—it was unmistakably a higher entity’s consciousness. There was no way Moen could deal with such a thing.

Without hesitation, Moen shouted out the ultimate move he had kept up his sleeve all this time:

"Black Book! Help me!"

He didn’t know whether it would work, but shouting it out felt like the last resort.

【■■】

And then—

As the last of the blood river vanished, Aluka’s head—or rather, the dark god—slightly opened its mouth. An ancient, indecipherable utterance spilled forth.

It was a language that defied comprehension, and yet, as it reverberated in the air, it carried the authority of a command directed at all creation itself.

In an instant, everything froze.

Not just Moen—the metallic thorns lunging toward Aluka halted mid-air, as did someone far in the distance: Ann. Everything was suspended motionless.

Their consciousnesses remained intact.

But it was as if they had become living puppets.

Moen’s expression contorted with terror.

Then, he saw the dark god’s gaze, laden with malice that was nearly suffocating, sweep past him as though dismissing him as insignificant dust and instead settle on Ann.

Joyful.

And then greedy.

Such human-like emotions radiated from those eyes, black as the void.

"Don’t tell me…"

"The dark god’s target is… Ann?"

In that instant, Moen understood why the dark god had gone to the immense trouble of sending even a fraction of its will down to this plane.

A God’s Chosen.

Someone bestowed with divine blessings.

And those blessings—true to their name—embodied fragments of a god’s power and dominion.

For a dark god, the authority of other divine beings was the most delectable banquet one could imagine in this world!

"How could I have forgotten?"

"In the original novel, the protagonist was constantly targeted by dark gods because of the numerous blessings she had received from the gods. Wherever she went, it was practically a magnet for dark gods!"

"If that’s the case, then another God’s Chosen like Ann…"

"That’s why Aluka was so obsessed to possess her."

"Damn it. I never should’ve let Ann get involved in this!"

Moen’s eyes widened with fury, his expression twisting in despair as he watched the dark god’s form floating closer and closer to Ann.

A hint of terror flashed across Ann’s face as well, but there was nothing she could do.

Under the suppressive force of the evil deity’s manifested will, she was reduced to a helpless little rabbit prepared for slaughter. She couldn’t even activate her powers.

So powerless.

She’s going to be consumed by the dark god!

Damn it.

Think.

You have to think of a way.

You have to act before it’s too late.

You cannot let this wretched dark god lay a hand on your maid!!

…

*Sigh.*

A faint, almost imperceptible exhalation stirred the air.

Moen’s vision suddenly went black.

He hadn’t lost consciousness, though.

"This… is the Black Book’s space?"

Moen looked around. The pitch-black surroundings confirmed that this was indeed the familiar domain of the Black Book.

But this time, he hadn’t entered voluntarily.

"Which means… you brought me here?"

Fixing his gaze on the Black Book floating before him, Moen pushed aside all other thoughts and got straight to the point:

"Do you have a way to save Ann?"

The Black Book trembled slightly in response, its pages flipping rapidly.

The turning pages blurred like fleeting shadows before stopping on a blank one.

But before Moen could even speak, fiery red flames abruptly ignited on that blank page.

Red flames.

They looked somewhat familiar.

Without time to ponder further, the flames morphed into a peculiar, eerie pattern.

A grotesque, burning eye.

"This is…"

Moen frowned deeply. Though the fire wasn’t particularly dazzling, staring at that malevolent, flaming eye made his own eyes ache.

This didn’t seem like anything good.

But…

There were no other options left.

"This… will save Ann, right?"

Moen reached out, grasping the sinister pattern.

"Then there’s nothing to hesitate about."