"I... believe humanity’s reliance on gods won’t endure, like morning fog under a rising sun."

After long thought, Aphelia gave that answer, her voice steady like a stone in rain.

She weighed it from many sides, a mind setting storm and harbor on a quiet scale.

She spoke as a human, and as a former god, a gaze from mountain peak and abyss.

"Your reason."

The green-haired woman was composed, her eyes cold as winter water as she asked.

"My reason..."

Aphelia drew a deep breath; memories rose like ash and salt from a black sea.

"You, as the god humanity reveres, must already know them well."

"In an age before awakening, people couldn’t read the sky or the earth. So they prayed to the unknown, seeking answers, shelter, and a way to live."

"As a human—at least I believe I am—I once longed for gods. Alone before a horrific invader, I despaired and broke, and cast a pitiful wish into a hollow sky."

She gave a bitter smile and shook her head, though her body of Crimson Fire showed no expression.

"In that moment, no god answered me. It was my companions..."

She paused on that word, turning it in her mind; if her black eyes still existed, they would have held a storm of feelings.

The green-haired woman seemed to sense it; her austere gaze softened like frost under first light.

"...It was my former companions. They risked their lives and dug me out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood."

"From that moment, as a human, I started to doubt the gods."

"If a believer like me once hoped and still turned away, imagine those who struggle to live here. They have no pure, overwhelming strength; no supreme bloodline. A Plague of Beasts or a human-made calamity can break them, let alone gods high above the clouds."

Aphelia glanced at the green-haired woman, a so-called god without self-awareness; in the era Aphelia knew, such a figure would never be worshiped.

"And you, as a god—or as a representative of gods—are a presence they must fear. Pay the price demanded by rulers, and one can survive this age thick with nameless things."

"It’s harsh to say, but as they gradually learn the world, so-called gods will be drowned by a roaring tide and vanish without trace."

At her deliberate emphasis on “vanish without trace,” the green-haired woman laughed softly, tilting her head and cupping her cheek, amused as if she had found a rare insect in a glass.

"Vanish without trace? Miss Aphelia, aren’t you too arrogant?"

"I called myself a creation of the gods to suit these benighted folk—a representative of heaven in the land of man."

"But in the end, what I truly am—you’ve already guessed, haven’t you?"

Formless Aether spread around the green-haired woman, invading air once devoid of Arcane Power and Aether, a barbarian wind seizing every inch of space.

Aphelia, lacking a body, saw it clearly. The Aether filled every breath, yet before the Crimson Fire it halted, keeping a reverent distance like living men before a grave.

She knew this Aether well. Not long ago, the goddess of Good, Brynhildr, wielded the same kind of force.

"Miss Enkidu, you are a god of the same Origin as Brynhildr... I don’t know why you can’t tell me, but I thank you from the heart."

Aphelia let out a heavy sigh. For Enkidu to circle so carefully around the truth, the reason must be something even a being standing above True Gods would fear.

Seeing Aphelia grasp it so quickly, the green-haired woman smiled. She waved, and the formless Aether faded like mist. Relief flickered in her emerald eyes, then was masked.

"Ah... I haven’t said anything. Please remember that. Still, let’s continue. Your view is interesting, Aphelia. Tell me—under absolute suppression, how do humans break from the gods they depend on?"

"Heh..."

Aphelia smiled and shook her head.

"No power, however vast, can erase humanity’s root—desire."

"In the end, power can bring fear, but it can’t erase the human heart. Human nature is the ground we stand on."

"A farmer, to escape hunger and cold, seeks the art of tilling soil; a scholar, to probe the world’s Origin, pursues the craft of understanding; a king, to steady his rule, studies the arts of empire."

"Because of poverty, they seek goods; because of class, they seek power; because of fear, they seek knowledge; because of anger, they seek strength."

"A human life is a road of seeking survival. As long as gods don’t strip human nature away, however long the years, even the loftiest god will fade before the future that belongs to humankind."

"So the world moves, and so must gods."

For some reason, the more she spoke, the more force surged in her chest, a flood that was half confession, half release.

Watching her, the green-haired woman fell still; in her emerald pupils, a familiar silhouette seemed to bloom like a shadowed flower.

When the silence stretched, Aphelia grew awkward, neither standing nor sitting easily. The green-haired woman broke it with a smile; she gave a soft clap, as if praising a stirring speech.

"My, a theory that makes me concede, Miss Aphelia."

Her laugh carried a teasing glint.

"Sorry to have made you laugh, Miss Enkidu. I’ve been through... complicated things recently. My answer is just a rather extreme sliver."

Aphelia noticed her own lapse, and sat with a sheepish smile.

The green-haired woman shook her head, refusing Aphelia’s self-reproach.

"For you to reach that conclusion, you must have weathered many trials. You’ve done well."

"As for humanity’s future, I agree completely. As humans explore the world, what was once inexplicable will be replaced by tool after effective tool; awe of the mysterious will be replaced by science."

"Humans—a species one can’t get enough of."

As she said it, her lids lowered; she seemed to recall something and turned her gaze away.

"Then, Miss Aphelia, may I ask you to act with me in a play?"

She looked at Aphelia with a light laugh; a trace of release shone in her green eyes.

"Eh?"

"I’ll pay a price you can hardly refuse. It’s shameless to say, but it’s what I owe you anyway... I still hope you’ll hear my request."

The green-haired woman took Aphelia’s crimson hands; her pleading tone made refusal almost impossible. Aphelia sighed and listened to her story.

Hours passed; dusk bled across the sky. With several women in black robes attending, a richly dressed figure stepped into Enkidu’s domain.

"Enkidu, your king is here. Why don’t you—who goes there?!"

Before that languid, noble voice could finish, a terrible force burst in the pavilion. A shock wave tore up the flowerbeds; countless petals whirled skyward like snow, then were shredded mid-air.

The woman in regal dress, ringed by black-robed women, let out a roar. Vast, radiant Aether condensed in the air, forging countless blades as she lunged for the pavilion’s heart.

Her fury had a single cause: inside the pavilion lay the green-haired woman, a spear through her heart, and beside her stood a crimson silhouette fierce as a wildfire.

As she charged, Crimson Flame detonated, and even she—wielding golden Aether—staggered back, bracing herself with her blades to keep from falling.

"You petty wretch over there! I’ll grant you a chance to kneel and beg!"

She did not retreat. The languor was gone; icy killing intent flooded her eyes. Golden Aether poured from her blades, thick enough to blur sight, and a domain-like barrier unfurled around her.

The crimson figure only glanced her way. Crimson Fire erupted, and the pleasant garden became a purgatory of flame. Crimson Flame devoured everything; if not for the golden Aether holding the tide, the black-robed women would already be dried husks.

"Insolent cur, you’ve truly angered me!"

The woman in finery roared. Golden Aether exploded, becoming sky-filling pillars of light that hammered down on the crimson figure.