"I keep feeling like, in a moment of impulse, I blurted out something disastrous."

The afterimage of the Goddess of Love had died, the flowers withered and ruined. Looking at the wreckage all around, Moen couldn’t help letting out a long, bitter sigh:

"I don’t know if it’s still in time for me to go back to being a a loser clinging onto my senior sister and Celicia."

After carefully checking the surroundings and confirming that both Arag and the projection avatar of the Goddess of Love were completely dead, with no possibility of revival, Moen finally let out a breath of relief.

But with a glance out of the corner of his eye, the heart he’d just let settle immediately leapt back up. With a beckon of both hands, Elizabeth flew back into his palm. After soothing the living spirits within the two blades, Moen spun around and hurried to…

The side of the girl who, at this moment, lay powerless on the ground.

The girl named Faye lay quietly on the ground, her small face pale, eyelids lightly drooped as if sleeping peacefully. The flowers on the ground had long since all withered, yet the ones on her body were still blooming vividly.

"Sorry."

Moen slowly crouched, gazing at this innocent girl, and said softly:

"Because of my carelessness, I indirectly harmed you."

Although Arag had planted a suggestion in him—strictly speaking, that situation didn’t really count as negligence—Moen still felt a bit guilty.

After all, she trusted him so much, and yet…

"Rest in peace. I’ll avenge you."

Moen reached out, intending to pull out those flowers that seemed rooted into her very flesh.

A simple burial here probably wouldn’t work, but at least, when seeing this saintess candidate off…

"Wait!"

Faye suddenly opened her limpid, bright eyes: "I think I can still be saved!"

"The Goddess of Love hasn’t kicked the bucket yet?"

Startled, Moen’s face changed drastically. He gripped the pure-white blade at once, ready to hack down the dark god’s puppet before him.

As expected, the Goddess of Love was cunning—has multiple backup plans. To think even Faye had completely become her…

Better play it safe: mince it finely first, then put a torch to it so there isn’t even a speck of ash left…

"No, no, no—the Goddess of Love’s projection avatar is completely dead. I’m Faye! I really am Faye!"

With a kip-up, Faye sprang to her feet, waving frantically at Moen. Seeing the blade in Moen’s hand flashing cold light, she was tearfully terrified like pear blossoms in the rain, just short of dropping to her knees.

"Faye?"

Moen looked suspicious. "Polluted by the dark god and you didn’t die?"

"It didn’t reach my soul, so I still had a breath left."

Seeing Moen put the blade away, Faye let out a long breath, her speech turning a bit unsteady.

"I’m a saintess candidate trained by the Church from childhood. Naturally I’ve got some resistance in this area. Even the Goddess of Love can’t pollute me in such a short time."

"I see…"

Moen nodded. "To be safe, may I give you a check?"

"A check? I get it, I get it."

Faye covered her chest with both hands, put on a shy expression, and fluttered several coquettish glances at Moen:

"Didn’t expect Mr. Moen to be so eager, doing it in a place like this… Ah, only now do I notice Mr. Moen isn’t even wearing clothes—so handsome. Be gentle, okay? It’s my first time with a man…"

"…"

Alright, odds are about eighty percent it really is Faye.

Even so, Moen still cautiously examined Faye—of course, he absolutely wouldn’t do anything he shouldn’t.

After confirming there was indeed no residual power of the dark god left on Faye before him, Moen asked:

"What are you going to do next?"

"Leave right away."

Faye flicked at the flowers on her body in disgust and said, "These damned flowers have grown into my flesh. Maybe only the Church has a way to treat it."

"Not competing for the saintess’s seat anymore?"

"Not competing, not competing. Whoever wants that crappy post can have it. I’m going back to be a magic aristocracy. The old geezers dote on me—how could they let me suffer this much?"

"…That’s fine too. Get a thorough checkup while you’re at it. That deceitful old schemer of a Goddess of Love can’t be underestimated…"

Moen’s gaze also fell on those flowers. "Right, about these flowers… huh?"

He was about to ask something, but was interrupted before he finished.

He snapped his head around and, along with Faye—whose expression had subtly changed—looked into the distance.

"What’s this…"

After the mass of flowers dispersed, Moen finally caught the extremely distinct stench drifting in the air.

The stench of rot.

And at the far end of his vision, that flesh-and-blood plain was darkening at a rate visible to the naked eye. The already nauseating, misshapen flesh was gradually rotting, growing even more disgusting.

"Is this the mutation Freya mentioned? Has the dark god’s incursion begun to spread?"

Moen murmured under his breath. When the moon appeared earlier, he already had his suspicions, but he hadn’t expected… so fast?

Is it because… the door opened?

"Wait, it’s not over yet!"

Faye suddenly cried out.

On the flesh plain, the twisted ground began to writhe. One grotesque monster after another crawled out of the earth like infants emerging from placentas, throwing their heads back to the moon with piercing howls.

The monsters quickly split into two groups: one pounced on the rotting flesh, devouring it ravenously.

The other… headed for the tower.

"Those monsters… aren’t from ‘Outer God’ pollution, but from this world itself?"

Moen frowned subconsciously.

But the diary clearly said those twisted monsters were the result of the dark god’s pollution…

"Looks like there’s no time to chat."

Faye turned to Moen. "I’m going. You?"

"I’m going to find Lea. She’s still waiting for me."

"Looks like a lot of monsters are heading for the tower. You sure you’ll be fine?"

"It’s fine. People are on their way."

In the distance, several figures were racing toward them; their faces were already faintly discernible.

Their expressions were anxious, but unafraid.

"Is that so?"

Faye looked far off and sighed. "Looks like a lot happened while I was sleeping."

"A lot did happen. All I can tell you now is that Freya is actually a good person."

"A good person…"

Faye’s cherry lips parted slightly. She stared blankly at Moen for a long moment. After confirming he wasn’t joking, she suddenly stomped her foot in anger:

"Damn it! If she’s a good person, who’s going to compensate my losses? I’ve lost everything down to my last thread this time!"

"…"

That’s what you care about?

"But this was actually within my expectations too," Faye suddenly said.

"Within expectations? Why?"

"Because… she’s also a saintess candidate, a disciple personally chosen by the saintess teacher. Betrayal, no matter how you think about it, is pretty unlikely."

Her wistful words rippled on the breeze.

Moen suddenly recalled the saintess candidates summoned that night.

Just as he’d felt then, every one of them was truly formidable.

…

"Tsk, that bastard Freya."

A few minutes later, standing atop a hill and looking down, even the always-proud Anne couldn’t help but darken as she cursed:

"She actually has us doing this kind of thing. Don’t tell me she thinks it’s too quiet down there and wants us to go keep her company."

"Hush. How could the road to the Goddess’s embrace ever be quiet?"

Margarita pushed back, then sighed softly. "But this is indeed a bit much to ask."

At the base of the hill, a vast number of monsters had already begun to gather, gradually climbing toward the giant tower at the summit.

If not for the special terrain here—only a single stairway leading upward—those monsters would likely have surged up long ago and drowned this place completely.

"Still, this counts as an opportunity."

Margarita pulled out a crystal and gazed at the faint threads of light within:

"With the natives here gone, if we want to become saintess, I’m afraid the only way is to purify the souls within these monsters."

Anne’s eyes lit up, fighting spirit surging.

But she quickly coughed primly, folded her arms, and glanced over. "Can you even do it? You look so fragile. Maybe just admit defeat ahead of time?"

"Shut up, you laughingstock who, as a saintess candidate, still got controlled!"

"What did you say?"

Furious, Anne snapped, "Bastard! When I become saintess, the first thing I’ll do is make your bust size public!"

Margarita sneered. "Heh—right back at you!"

They faced each other, and in the clash of their gazes, it was as if sparks flew.

From this moment on, they were comrades—and rivals.

"Reta!"

"Paul!"

They almost turned at the same time, issuing orders to their respective knights in unison:

"Prepare for battle!"

"Destroy them!"