?!

As the rat’s words dropped like stones into still water, Lucimia’s heart kicked like hooves. Her breath snagged, a tight band of iron cinched her chest. No matter how she gulped air, she felt like a fish hauled onto dry sand.

She wasn’t shocked that Plague God Niral could reason out her Reversion like a lantern cutting fog. She was shaken that Plague God Niral knew her as if reading lines carved in bone.

First, it knew she had Reversion, like spotting a spring under winter snow.

That was strange. Why was it so sure she had Reversion, not Time Halt, like ice clamping time? Why jump straight to time-based power, like a compass fixed north? It made no sense.

Unless it knew from the start, like a hunter who laid the trail himself.

Did that pale-green-haired girl tell it, like wind whispering through willow leaves? Did she know it was time-related?

Second, it knew she was a Dark Deity, and it named her Authority Power as [Devouring], like labeling a blade by its bite.

That was strange too. Just from the surface effect, to be one hundred percent sure—like calling a storm’s path before the clouds even gather—that was wrong. It didn’t fear saying the wrong word at all.

Lucimia guessed the smoky Dark Deity wouldn’t dare be sure it wasn’t [Ban] or [Transfer], like roads splitting under fog. Maybe other words could reach the same effect.

Third, it even knew her name, like plucking a silk thread in a crowded hall.

Worse, it knew where she came from, where she’d gone, what she’d done—like someone stripping shutters from a window. It felt awful, like standing without clothing under cold moonlight.

Did it use worms to watch, like eyes in the soil? Because Desty often called her name, so it learned it, like a bell carrying across a valley? With that, it could know what she’d done.

But that still didn’t explain how it knew about Reversion, like claiming the shape of a river without seeing its source.

“You’re right…” Lucimia forced calm like smoothing ripples by hand, then spoke slow. “But I don’t get why you’re so sure I have Reversion. Time Halt could do it too, right? Or some other power.”

“Heh, well said.” The rat sprang down like a shadow hopping a ledge and landed light. “If I had only that thread, I couldn’t conclude Reversion. Why did I? Because I wasn’t inferring or guessing. I was confirming.”

“What? Confirming?” Lucimia’s brows drew tight like a bowstring.

“Yes, confirming. I know you have Reversion because someone told me, like a message tucked under a stone. I used that little deduction earlier just to verify.”

“Someone told you? Who?”

“Someone you know.”

Someone I know? Besides Yuna and Elyssus, who knows my Reversion, like the secret name of a star?

Wait… could it be…?

“Looks like you’ve guessed.” The rat lifted its head, its red eyes glowing like coals, and locked on Lucimia’s tense face. “Her name is Olivya.”

“…”

So it was her?

Lucimia’s heart pitched again, like waves striking a cliff.

Olivya, missing all this time, emerged from the Plague God’s mouth like a ghost stepping from mist. What was she doing? Why tell the Plague God this, like tipping oil onto fire?

Was it to make Lucimia lose control, so she could seize Lucimia’s body like ivy choking a tree?

No. She would never let that happen, like a door barred with iron.

“I won’t help you.” Lucimia’s voice held fast like a knot. “I can trigger Reversion now. After that, I bolt like a deer under thunder.”

“Wait, Lucimia.” Seeing her emotions flare like sparks, about to use Reversion, the rat’s tone sharpened like flint. It hurried to stop her.

Its Authority Power couldn’t shield it from memory reset when Reversion rolled back time, like footprints washed off by tide.

“You don’t need to decide now. Hear what I plan, like listening to rain before setting sail. Then choose.”

“…”

Lucimia didn’t answer. She watched the rat in silence, eyes cool as moonlight on steel, which counted as consent.

The rat let out a breath like steam and drew in another like smoke. “First, my aim is to spread disease and plague like rot through roots. I’ll harvest energy, enough for… revenge.”

“Revenge? Against that smoke?” Lucimia’s words were steady, like a blade laid flat. “What Dark Deity is it? Is its Authority Power [Transfer]?”

She asked, but kept alert, like a cat poised on a wall. Any change, she’d trigger Reversion. This time, she briefly toggled her passive skill, like setting a charm in place, to avoid Reversion failure.

“Yes. Its Authority Power isn’t [Transfer]. It’s [Curse],” the rat said, voice dry as paper. “In your phrasing, it’s the Deity of Curses, named Ment.”

“The Deity of Curses… Ment…” Lucimia repeated low, like tasting bitter bark.

If it’s curses, that explains swapped wounds like mirrored cuts. It explains bans like frost on a gate.

It could use ‘Curse Lucimia cannot use magic’ like a seal stamped on skin. It could turn Lev into a curse doll, so wounds on Lev bloom on Lucimia like twin flowers.

Gods… If that’s true, [Curse] is terrifying, near omnipotent like a net cast over sky. It’s a half-omnipotent Authority Power.

It can add any words after “curse,” like writing laws on water that still obey. How scary it is depends on Ment’s mastery, like how a musician bends a note.

“What? Curse God Ment?” Desty’s eyes widened like lamps. “I’ve never heard of it. The church books never record it.”

“Heh, that’s normal.” The rat’s gaze slid to Desty like a beam shifting. “The Deity of Curses doesn’t spread its name like banners. It loves hiding like moss in shade. That’s why it claims to be among the Independents.”

“I want revenge because it used me, then shackled me with a curse,” it said, voice heavy as wet rope.

The rat began to speak of the Bannubi Empire, like unrolling old maps, and of its feud with Ment.

“Once, as a proper god, I helped the empire’s people with all my heart, like rain feeding fields. I don’t know when it happened, but the empire’s high ranks made contact with the Deity of Curses. They came to me and introduced Ment. Ment spoke of his ideals, like a monk under pine, hoping we’d help the people together.”

“Forgive me. Back then, my mind was simple, like clear glass. I thought everyone with Authority Power was like me. So I believed him, and the nightmare began, like night swallowing the path…”

Through Nirael’s tale, Lucimia and Desty learned many things, like lanterns lighting a tunnel.

[ Sacrifice ] wasn’t a trait of the Plague God; it was a curse laid upon Plague God Niral by the Deity of Curses, Ment, like chains tossed over a swimmer.

At first, Nirael’s Authority Power healed others by consuming energy, like burning oil in a lamp—same as Lucimia. In truth, all Authority Powers work that way, like engines that eat fuel.

On energy use and intake, there is a law: too much drain or too much absorption births loss of control, like a dam bursting either way.

Nirael didn’t know at first. It used Authority Power recklessly, like rain without end, until it felt wrong, like thorns under skin. It didn’t go to Ment immediately. It studied and found the rule by itself, like Lucimia tracing the grain in wood.

To absorb energy, it chose disease, sending sickness to harry magic beasts like wolves among sheep. Or it granted Blessing to some, turning them into Plague Knights, so they could stand on battlefields like black-helmed oaks against foreign foes.