Chapter 134 - What You Needed

  The energy in the air had finally begun to settle. A subtle but powerful crackling sound resonated between Adam’s hands as he felt the final pulse of energy flow through the small dagger he had used. The blade, once shimmering with captured divine energy, vibrated uncontrollably before a hairline crack split down its center.

  In the blink of an eye, the [Skillrend Dagger] shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments, each glinting like stars for a brief moment before crumbling into fine dust. The glittering particles hovered for a heartbeat in the broken air before dissolving completely, leaving behind only emptiness between Adam’s fingers.

  At the same time, a system notification materialized in front of his eyes, its cold, impassive letters spelling out the consequences of what had just occurred.

  Adam read the notifications silently, his expression tightening with each line. As soon as the last message faded from view, the last remnants of the shattered dagger turned to an almost invisible mist and disappeared into the wounded air of the ruined divine city.

  Despite the chaotic events of the last few minutes, despite the destruction that surrounded them and the horrifying pressure that had loomed over them moments ago, something had changed. Adam’s sharp gaze immediately turned back to Arianka. The monstrous, corrupted form of the goddess remained utterly still in the distance. Her body, twisted and blasphemous, showed no sign of returning to its original beauty. However, she was no longer moving.

  The shrieks that had once split the heavens were gone. Her gigantic frame slumped in place, massive limbs sprawled across the broken marble and golden ruins, crushing the remnants of her own sacred domain beneath her.

  The ground around her had cratered under the sheer weight of her collapse, and parts of her radiant body still flickered with unstable light, but she remained motionless. The relentless pursuit, the desperation that had driven them across the skies, was finally over.

  Meera, who had been hovering nearby atop her enlarged flying chakram, let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Her shoulders slumped with visible exhaustion as the tension that had gripped her body unwound all at once. With a tired groan, she dropped her weight heavily onto the surface of her chakram, sitting cross-legged without the slightest care for appearances. Her head tilted back lazily, and an amused, weary grin played across her lips.

  "Hah... Well."

  She muttered to no one in particular, staring up at the cracked, dim sky.

  "That’s one way to finish a chase."

  Despite the situation, her tone carried the distinct lightness of someone who could still find humor even after surviving a nightmare.

  Adam barely heard her. His attention was fixed entirely on the girl he still held in his arms. Kazue’s body, so warm and full of desperate energy just moments ago, now lay limp against him. Her breathing was shallow but steady, her face pale and drawn with exhaustion. The combination of physical and mental strain and the brutal synchronization of dangerous skills had finally overwhelmed her. She had fought far past her limits, and now her body demanded a well-deserved rest.

  Kazue’s eyes fluttered weakly for a moment before closing completely, her consciousness slipping away without resistance. Adam felt her weight shift more heavily against his chest, and he immediately adjusted his hold to keep her secure. A quiet sigh escaped his lips, heavy with complicated emotions.

  For a long moment, he simply stared down at her, taking in every detail. The slight tremor that still ran through her limbs. The faint traces of divine light that clung stubbornly to her clothes. The new tattoo on her right arm, glowing faintly like a brand, marking the cost of her reckless bravery.

  Adam closed his eyes briefly and exhaled again, this time softer. He could hardly believe it had worked. As insane and reckless as it had seemed at the time, Kazue’s absurd plan had actually saved them. Her desperate gamble with the [Rule of Funny] Plot Device, the improvised confession, the triggering of laughter from a broken goddess... All of it had somehow bought them the crucial seconds they needed. And when the aftermath had turned critical, when the consequences had begun to spiral, she had still thrown herself into action without hesitation.

  Adam tightened his hold on her slightly. As much as he wanted to reprimand her, to lecture her for the risks she had taken, he knew deep down that they would all be dead without her spirit and ridiculous courage. The price had been heavy, but they were alive. And Kazue, unconscious and vulnerable in his arms, had borne the brunt of it without complaint.

  Still, Adam could not suppress the deep unease that gnawed at him as he stared at the strange mark forming on her arm. While not immediately threatening, it was still a byproduct of his own [Mark of the Dammed], the worst and most dangerous of his skills.

  He decided to act before the mark could fully fade. Narrowing his eyes, Adam activated one of his oldest and most trusted abilities: ‘Cursed Vision’. A subtle chill ran across his senses as the hidden layers of reality peeled back, revealing the true nature of the brand etched into the girl’s skin.

  Lines of information shimmered into view, superimposed across her arm like ghostly writing. Adam focused, reading each fragment carefully.

  Adam’s brows furrowed deeply… Divine Mark of Madness. Even the name sounded dangerous. The fact that the system itself refused to provide detailed information was a clear warning. Worse still, the hint confirmed that the skill was not something meant for mortals.

  The mark pulsed once, a slow, heavy thrum that seemed to resonate with the broken, chaotic energies still lingering in the air. Then, as if aware that it had been observed, the tattoo faded into invisibility, sinking deep beneath Kazue’s skin until it vanished from view entirely.

  Adam stared at the spot where it had been for a long moment, his mind racing through possibilities. Whatever this skill was, it was beyond their current understanding. Beyond what Kazue should have ever been exposed to. And now it was part of her.

  He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady. There would be time to worry later. Right now, she needed rest. They all did.

  Opening his eyes again, Adam shifted Kazue more comfortably in his arms and turned his gaze toward Meera, who was still lounging lazily on her chakram, spinning slowly in a lazy circle above the wrecked landscape. But before the boy could move or even shift Kazue into a more secure hold, a piercing scream rang through the air. It came from Euphemia.

  “Lady Arianka!”

  She cried, her wings beating frantically as she shot forward, leaving behind the rest of the group. Her flight was desperate, fast, and erratic, moving toward the fallen form of her goddess with pure instinct, as though simply being close might reverse the horror she had just witnessed. The once-radiant body of Arianka now lay still in the ruins of her own garden, her divine limbs sprawled across broken spires and shattered ornate fields. The tremors from her collapse had only just subsided, and yet the silence that followed felt heavier than the destruction itself.

  Euphemia hovered a few dozen meters above the massive body, her hands raised, trembling.

  “Please... please answer me.”

  She whispered, her voice cracking. She flew lower, circling slowly, her eyes wide with tears.

  She then landed softly on a floating chunk of marble that had once been part of a gazebo roof, now lodged against the twisted ridges of one of Arianka’s monstrous arms. Her hands reached out as if she intended to touch the collapsed goddess, but she hesitated, her fingers hovering just above the glowing skin.

  “I... I know you’re still in there, Lady Arianka.”

  Euphemia said, her tone softer now, pleading. But no response came, no flicker of light, and no twitch of movement. The divine monster that Arianka had become remained still, not dead, but dormant. Her enormous frame radiated heat and sorrow, but no awareness.

  Euphemia eventually knelt down, resting her forehead against her clasped hands. Her voice was barely audible now.

  “Please come back... Please, Lady Arianka...”

  But nothing happened… Meanwhile, Meera finally rose to her feet again, or more accurately, shifted her balance atop her chakram, which still hovered steadily beneath her like a spinning disc of light. She stretched her shoulders with a long groan, rolling her neck from side to side before tilting her head toward Adam.

  “It was really rough, eh? Are you okay?”

  She said with a grin and floated lazily toward him. Adam turned slightly, adjusting Kazue’s weight in his arms. His eyes remained on the unconscious girl, but he acknowledged Meera’s approach with a glance.

  “She’s alright, just unconscious. Nothing critical.”

  He said calmly. However, Meera blinked and then snorted.

  “I wasn’t talking about her, but hey, good to know where your priorities are, big bro.”

  She said with a teasing smile. Adam stared at her for a second as the joke flew straight past him.

  “What else would you be talking about? She was the one who collapsed.”

  He asked, genuinely confused. Meera let out a hearty laugh and flew a little closer, reaching out and ruffling his hair in a playful motion.

  “You’re adorable when you’re that dense.”

  She teased.

  “But I guess it’s kind of sweet that you are still the ‘self-sacrificing older brother’ that I remember.”

  Adam frowned and tilted his head slightly to the side.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Exactly.”

  Meera said with a wink. She hovered beside him for a moment longer, her eyes falling to Kazue with a curious expression.

  “So... when your little “friend” wakes up, you think maybe you could introduce me properly?”

  She asked, her voice still light but sincere enough to warrant attention. Adam blinked. Introduce her? For a moment, he didn’t quite understand what she meant. Then it clicked. Meera still believed he was her actual brother. She wasn’t asking as an enemy—she was asking like family. A little sister who was curious about the team his brother was part of.

  He said nothing immediately, his eyes drifting down to Kazue again. There was still uncertainty in his mind about how much influence the [Soulcrusher Virus] had implanted in Meera. The bond she felt wasn’t real, and yet… she wasn’t hurting anyone. Not yet, at least. But if things escalated in the future, he would have to address it. He knew that, but for now, though, there were more urgent matters at hand.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  He said simply. Meera gave him a grin and a thumbs-up.

  The silence between them stretched for a moment, soft and oddly peaceful considering the destruction around them. Adam found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye, studying her posture, her expression, the tone of her voice. It was strange—his relationship with Meera already felt different from the one he had with Abbess Xinhui, the other person deeply affected by his virus.

  With Abbess, things had started in a pit of torture and mistrust. She had imprisoned him, interrogated him, treated him like a lab rat. Even after the virus took hold and she was seemingly faithful to him, his demeanor had remained cautious and cold for days. Trust had come slowly and painfully.

  But with Meera, there hadn’t been that same hostility. Their only real confrontation had been the duel in the palace—and even that had barely counted, considering how one-sided it was once Malzaphir got involved. If anything, Meera had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, with the virus reshaping her memories, she had accepted Adam as her brother without resistance. It felt... strange. Unnatural, yes, but not unpleasant.

  He didn’t fully understand what it meant to have a sibling. He had always been an only child. But Meera’s easy confidence, her teasing nature, her quick loyalty—it wasn’t something he disliked. If anything, there was something comforting about it, even if it was born from an illusion.

  That comforting thought didn’t last long, however. Without warning, Meera leaned in and threw her arms around him in a tight, sudden hug, squishing herself against his side while still keeping one foot balanced on her floating chakram.

  “Big brooooo.”

  She whined in a dramatic voice, dragging out the words as if rehearsing a comedy sketch.

  “You never worry about me, do you? I bet you were more stressed about your cute little “friend” here than about me! Typical!”

  Adam’s face twisted in instant panic.

  “Hey! Watch the balance—!”

  But it was too late. The extra weight shifted him off-center, and the spectral wings flapped hard to keep him from spiraling with Kazue still unconscious in his arms. He managed to stabilize just barely, gritting his teeth and giving Meera a side glare.

  “Would you stop doing that? This isn’t the time.”

  Meera only laughed harder and pulled back with exaggerated innocence.

  “Sorry, sorry. Couldn’t resist. It’s just fun messing with you after all this time without seeing you, I feel like a little girl again.”

  Adam sighed heavily, adjusting Kazue’s position again and shaking his head.

  Yeah… No, maybe he didn’t quite like having a sister after all… he thought with a grimace. But then, to his own surprise, a faint, reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips… Maybe just a little.

  Down there, the somber sound of Euphemia’s cries drifted through the broken air, cutting through the temporary stillness that had settled after the chaos. Adam’s attention shifted immediately, he recognized the sorrow in her voice before his mind even registered the words. Meera, too, straightened from her playful hovering, her teasing demeanor fading as she looked down toward the origin of the sound.

  They both descended cautiously, Adam adjusting his spectral wings to guide Kazue’s limp form gently with him, Meera maneuvering her chakram downward with smooth, careful movements. Despite the sense of urgency that Euphemia’s lamentations created, neither Adam nor Meera rushed in recklessly. The unconscious, monstrous body of Lady Arianka still dominated the ruins as a silent and overwhelming presence. Even unmoving, her form radiated an oppressive weight that made it difficult to approach.

  Adam kept his distance at first, circling down slowly, his senses sharp and ready for any sudden movement, and Meera mirrored his caution. They both knew better than to assume anything when dealing with monstrous beings inside a scenario, even ones who appeared incapacitated. However, after several tense moments, it became clear that Arianka was truly inert. Her enormous form did not react at all. Whatever energy she once radiated had dulled into a dormant, almost pitiful presence.

  Gaining confidence, they drew closer, landing carefully a few meters away from where Euphemia knelt. The tiny gatekeeper was sobbing openly now, clutching her hands together, as if prayer alone could awaken the fallen goddess.

  Adam glanced at Meera, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he spoke in a low voice, careful not to startle Euphemia further.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Is she dead?”

  He asked, cutting to the heart of his concern. Meera shook her head, letting out a small, tired laugh.

  “Not a chance, you don't kill gods that easily. Trust me.”

  She said lightly, placing her hands on her hips. Adam’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Then what happened? What did you do to her?”

  Meera shrugged, her tone casual but honest.

  “Honestly? I’m as surprised as you are. All I did was use the [Skillrend Dagger] to steal a random skill. I didn’t know what she had. I just stabbed and hoped.”

  Adam frowned, the words settling heavily in his mind.

  “You’re telling me you stabbed a literal goddess… without knowing what you were trying to take?”

  “Yup.”

  Meera said, popping the word with an amused grin. Adam resisted the urge to rub his temples. Instead, he pressed further, his voice steady but intense.

  “You realize that the Skillrend’s conditions require the target to accept their death, right? Otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked.”

  Meera tilted her head thoughtfully, as if recalling a distant memory.

  “Yeah, I figured. But it felt like she had already given up. I don’t know... you saw her. All that suffering, all that madness. I just... felt it. Like she had already let go a long time ago. Guess I was right.”

  She shrugged again. Adam processed her words carefully. As reckless as it sounded, it made a strange kind of sense. Arianka’s mind had been eroded, corrupted beyond repair, and in her final lucid moments, maybe she truly had accepted the end.

  Still, it didn’t explain everything. Adam shifted Kazue carefully in his arms, then looked back at Meera.

  “Then why throw the dagger at me? Why use it on Kazue?”

  Meera’s smile returned, smaller but no less genuine.

  “Another bet, based on what we dug up back in the Empire and what we learned about the paladins, it was obvious Arianka’s divine powers were primarily regenerative in nature. Healing, restoration, life energy. So... stealing a skill from her? Odds were good it’d be some healing skill. Something that could stabilize your little friend here.”

  She said cheerfully. Adam breathed out slowly through his nose, considering the chain of chaotic events that had unfolded. He glanced down at Kazue, whose face, even in unconsciousness, seemed more peaceful now than it had moments ago.

  “You were lucky.”

  He said finally. Meera laughed.

  “You’re welcome, big bro.”

  Adam's gaze darkened slightly.

  “Although I’m afraid the dagger is gone… It shattered after transferring the stolen skill into her. The skill fused with another inside Kazue, and it didn’t return to the blade.”

  The boy said. Meera raised a single eyebrow and gave a light shrug, completely unbothered.

  “Well, that’s that, then. No big deal.”

  Adam blinked.

  “You’re seriously not upset about losing it? That was an SS-rank artifact. I didn’t even know items of that rarity existed in the system.”

  Meera's grin widened, bright and fearless. She leaned back slightly, resting her hands behind her head as she floated just above the fractured marble.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She said simply with the biggest and sincere smile she could muster.

  “I found something way more important.”

  Adam’s chest tightened unexpectedly. There was a strange feeling growing in his gut, a cold, uncomfortable knot. He knew what she meant even before she finished the thought. The dagger, the artifact, the strategic advantage—all of it paled in comparison to what Meera believed she had found. Her brother. Him.

  The guilt hit Adam harder than he expected. It wasn’t a sharp stab of regret, nor was it a pang of shame he could brush aside with logic. It was deep, suffocating, and real. Meera’s trust, her happiness, her devotion—it had all been manufactured by his hand, by a skill he had unleashed during a moment of desperation. Yet seeing the raw, innocent joy on her face made it impossible to simply dismiss it as an accident or necessity.

  She continued speaking, utterly unaware of the turmoil tightening inside Adam's chest.

  “I’ll figure something out. If anyone asks, I'll just say the dagger exploded during an attack of a rabid god or something. It’s not a total lie, right?”

  Then, with a mischievous smirk, she added.

  “And hey, if it saved my big brother’s girlfriend, then it was totally worth it.”

  Adam lifted one eyebrow slowly.

  “She’s not my girl—”

  But he didn’t have the chance to finish. Euphemia, who had been quietly sobbing a few meters away, suddenly turned toward them. Her small hands were clenched tightly against her chest, her face streaked with tears.

  “Please!”

  She cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate.

  “If there is anything, anything you can do for Lady Arianka... I will give anything in return. Anything. I beg you.”

  The urgency in her plea crashed into the conversation like a tidal wave, sweeping away the playful banter and dragging them back into grim reality.

  Adam and Meera exchanged a glance, both silently asking the same question neither of them could answer out loud. What were they supposed to do now? Despite all that had happened—the battle, the chase, the transformation of a goddess into a monster and back again—neither of them had the faintest idea how to help someone like Arianka. She wasn’t just a person. She wasn’t even just a normal system entity.

  Still, they couldn’t simply do nothing… Wordlessly, the two of them stepped closer to the collapsed form of the goddess. Even unconscious, Arianka’s immense body radiated a passive pressure that made their skin crawl slightly, as if they were standing next to a dormant volcano. Meera floated above the surface cautiously while Adam hovered closer to the broken ledge where Euphemia was still kneeling. His gaze lingered on the colossal frame sprawled before them.

  He shifted Kazue’s weight gently, then turned to Meera.

  “Hold her, please.”

  He said softly. Meera blinked but nodded, accepting Kazue into her arms with an ease that surprised him. Once he was sure she had a secure grip, Adam knelt beside Arianka’s shoulder. His mind worked quickly, searching for a starting point. He wasn’t a healer. He wasn’t even a real doctor. But he remembered his first years of medical school—the basics they had drilled into every student like scripture. If nothing else, he could try that.

  He reached out cautiously, pressing his hand to what resembled the neck region of Arianka’s humanoid upper body. It felt strange beneath his fingers. Her skin was soft like silk, but it emanated a strange warmth that almost tingled against his palm. He focused. First, for breath—he watched her chest, waited patiently—and then, yes, there was movement. It was slow, subtle, but it was there.

  Pulse next. He pressed two fingers to the side of her neck. There was resistance at first, but he adjusted, applying just enough pressure.

  A beat. Then another. Her pulse was faint, but steady. Finally, he listened for her heartbeat. His ear was close to her chest for a few seconds before he heard it. Distant. Deep. But unmistakably present. Adam leaned back, letting out a quiet sigh.

  “She’s alive, breathing, pulse, heartbeat. Everything’s there. Just unconscious.”

  He said simply. Euphemia looked at him with teary eyes, clinging to the words like a lifeline. But even so, her brows remained creased with worry.

  “Then why won’t she wake up?”

  She whispered. Adam had no answer. He looked away, his fingers tightening slightly in frustration. His ‘Cursed Vision’ had no use here. The ability, which normally revealed hidden data, simply refused to work on scenario characters. He had tried it before. He tried it now, and the result was the same: the system didn’t show any status information on Arianka. He shook his head.

  “There’s nothing more I can see, I wish I could tell you more.”

  He admitted. Silence followed—brief, but heavy. Then Meera suddenly narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly.

  “That’s... odd.”

  She murmured, making Adam turn to her.

  “What is?”

  Meera blinked, then looked almost annoyed.

  “Zha’vrin just contacted me again.”

  She said flatly. Adam raised an eyebrow.

  “Your god?”

  “The one and only, and before you ask, yes—I was about to tell him to go to hell for abandoning me during that nightmare chase... but then he told me he knows what happened to Arianka.”

  Meera muttered. Adam straightened slightly.

  “And?”

  “He said he knows how to fix it too, but...”

  Meera continued. Adam’s brow furrowed.

  “But there’s a condition?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Of course there’s a condition. Zha’vrin doesn’t do charity. He wants a favor…”

  Before Adam could even speak, a voice echoed inside his head, rich with amusement and venomous glee.

  “Deal.”

  Adam flinched slightly. He didn’t even need to ask. That tone, that smug inflection—it was unmistakable.

  “Malzaphir, what do you mean, ‘deal’?”

  He muttered mentally. The archdevil’s voice hummed back in his skull, dripping with entertainment.

  “Oh, vile human. This is divine business. You do not get a say. Consider it a courtesy that you are even aware.”

  “I’m your contractor, you don’t just accept things for me.”

  Adam snapped mentally. However, Malzaphir’s laughter rolled across the inside of his skull like thunder.

  “And yet I did. Watching you navigate the consequences will be absolutely delightful. You should be thanking me.”

  The boy clenched his jaw, but there was nothing he could do. The contract between them bound him tightly, and Malzaphir held absolute authority in matters involving other divine entities. And apparently, Zha’vrin had used that rule against him.

  “Let me guess. Does the favor involve me?”

  Turning his attention back to Meera, Adam exhaled through his nose.

  “Sort of, Zha’vrin wants a soul pact. Between you and me.”

  Meera said, making Adam blink in disbelief.

  “What?!”

  “You’re the contractor of Malzaphir. I’m the contractor of Zha’vrin. He says he wants us linked. Says I’ll grow stronger if I stay closer to you.”

  Adam stiffened immediately. He knew what a soul pact was. Kazue and Katya had one—it allowed for sharing energy, emotional synchronization, even instant communication in certain cases. But it was also deeply personal, invasive, and worst of all, permanent.

  He didn’t respond immediately, but Meera must have seen the tension in his expression, because she tilted her head and gave a small laugh.

  “Relax, I figured you wouldn’t like that.”

  She raised her hand, and with a swift flick of her fingers, summoned a system window into existence right in front of her.

  Adam’s eyes narrowed, scanning the glowing text.

  “Accept my friend request instead.”

  Meera said, grinning.

  “Come on, big bro. Let’s keep it simple.”

  A second later, another system window popped up in front of Adam.

  Adam stared at the floating system window for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he examined the contents in silence. On the surface, it looked completely harmless. A standard friend request, issued through a common social skill. He double-checked the details, scanning for hidden clauses or additional lines of text, but there was nothing suspicious. The skill was just as described—simple contact management, no binding clauses, no soul pact, no divine contract. Just a harmless way to communicate between users across team boundaries.

  “Is this really enough to satisfy Zha’vrin?”

  Adam asked cautiously, glancing at Meera without closing the window. She nodded casually, arms still wrapped around Kazue’s unconscious body.

  “Looks like it. He hasn’t said anything else since I opened the request window, so I assume this counts.”

  Adam let out a quiet sigh, exhaling through his nose. With no better alternatives and no immediate danger, he reached up and pressed [Y]. As soon as his finger confirmed the request, Meera grinned wide.

  “Great! That means we can stay in touch even if we’re separated after the end of the collab! Messages, voice, alerts—you name it.”

  Adam raised an eyebrow slightly, opening his mouth to ask something, but he didn’t get the chance. A new window popped up in front of him immediately, catching him off guard.

  “What? Why—”

  Adam blinked, genuinely confused. Meera interrupted him, clearly anticipating the question.

  “You’ll see, through [Friend List], voice chat happens mentally. Thought-to-thought. That means you’ll be able to hear Zha’vrin now as well.”

  She tilted her head, giving him a knowing look. Just as the connection finalized, Adam’s mental space was pierced by a voice he had heard once before—a deep, smooth tone, polished like silk but with an edge of divine weight. It was the voice he had heard during his duel with Meera. Zha’vrin, god of the false sun, and Meera’s contracted deity.

  “Now that the connection has been established, I expect that both contractors will benefit from each other’s presence. Growth is fastest when challenged, after all.”

  Zha’vrin’s voice rang calmly through Adam’s mind. The boy barely had time to process the oddly formal greeting before the god’s tone changed slightly, musing aloud.

  “Of course, this is also the perfect excuse to keep you close enough for revenge. I’ll bide my time, then—yes... Perfect... Closer, and closer... until you lower your guard, and then—hmhm…”

  There was a pause… Then silence… Then Meera’s voice broke through the mental link with an exhausted groan.

  “You’re on a group line, you idiot. We can all hear you.”

  Zha’vrin went completely silent. Adam just closed his eyes slowly and exhaled, jaw tight. He could practically feel the archdevil’s reaction before it even arrived. And sure enough, Malzaphir’s laughter exploded inside his mind a second later, a deep and gleeful sound that echoed like thunder across a hollow canyon. It wasn’t just amusement—it was full-blown mockery, and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

  Meera facepalmed, gently adjusting Kazue’s weight with one arm while using the other to rub her forehead.

  “I’m so tired.”

  She muttered. Adam, meanwhile, was entirely out of patience.

  “Can we get to the point? What happened to Arianka? Why is she still unconscious?”

  He said sharply. Zha’vrin, to his credit, composed himself quickly. His tone returned to its prior level of professional detachment.

  “Fine. The source of the issue was a divine affliction. Arianka is a lower-tier goddess, with minimal protections against skills that specifically target divine beings. A human exploited this with a combination of two effects: the skill [God’s Plague], and another unidentified source, creating a hybrid infection named [Corrupted Divinity]. That is what destabilized her mind and body.”

  Adam’s breath was instantly caught.

  “[Corrupted Divinity]? … You mean the skill Meera stole with the dagger? The one we transferred directly into Kazue?”

  “Yes.”

  Zha’vrin confirmed without hesitation.

  “It appears you removed it from Arianka by complete accident. That skill was the source of the problem. Transferring it into the girl sealed it, also by extreme luck. The affliction no longer exists within Arianka’s body.”

  Adam froze. His hands clenched at his sides, his voice rising with tightly controlled anger.

  “So what you’re saying is... she’s cured? There’s actually nothing else to do?”

  A pause followed.

  “Correct.”

  Adam’s eye twitched. His jaw clenched. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. But if the voice connection had been physical, he would have sworn Zha’vrin had just stuck his tongue out at him. Malzaphir, of course, howled with renewed laughter.

  “Oh, how magnificent.”

  He howled while Adam’s fists clenched tighter, burning with annoyance, however, he forced himself to breathe through his frustration. After a long moment, he finally spoke again, calmer now.

  “Fine. Whatever. If the infection’s gone, that’s what matters. She’ll recover eventually, and—”

  “I never said she would recover.”

  Zha’vrin cut in smoothly. Adam went still.

  “What?”

  Zha’vrin’s tone dropped slightly, more serious now.

  “The infection is gone. The skill [Corrupted Divinity] no longer exists inside her. However, the damage it caused—specifically, the lingering mental corruption—it doesn’t disappear with the removal of the source. That’s not how divine mind-altering effects work. Once embedded, they stay.”

  Meera’s expression dropped. Adam turned toward her instinctively, just as she looked back at him. Neither of them spoke, but the concern in their eyes was unmistakable. Zha’vrin continued.

  “When she wakes up, she will still be dangerous. Possibly unstable. The mind she once had will not return so easily. The structure has been altered.”

  Adam pressed his lips into a thin line. That wasn’t the answer they needed. But before he could respond, another voice slid into his ear like a whisper made of smoke.

  “Zha’vrin speaks truth, vile human, there’s nothing that can be done to save her.”

  Malzaphir said, his voice suddenly low and conspiratorial, but lacking the usual mocking tone.

  “There is no clean cure. That type of corruption doesn’t leave once rooted. But…”

  Adam stiffened slightly.

  “…But?”

  “There is a method.”

  Malzaphir purred, and Adam could feel the grin behind the words.

  “You must not cleanse the mind… You must dominate it. Overwrite it. Replace her existing corruption with something far stronger.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed.

  “And what would that be?”

  Malzaphir whispered, almost laughing now.

  “Don’t play dumb. Just use your favorite trick, vile human. The same one you used on the lovely Meera.”

  The implication hit Adam like a wave of ice water.

  “No, you’re not serious.”

  He said aloud, voice tight.

  “Oh, but I am.”

  The archdevil cooed. Adam’s hands tightened into fists. A soul-ripping skill like [Soulcrusher Virus]—on a goddess? He felt his stomach turn, and, for some reason, it seemed that neither Meera nor Zha’vrin were able to hear the devil's temptation to his contractor.