Chapter 142: The Blasphemous Witch
"Mortal, my name is Avna Iniede Vanovna, the great and all-loving goddess of life." The goddess spoke with grave, solemn authority, her declaration falling like a proclamation from heaven itself, the mountains and forests seeming to stir in quiet joy at the sound of it.
Evan lowered his head, turning the name over in his mind. He remembered Avna simply as Avna — no surname attached. In the ancient age when she'd ascended, surnames hadn't been common practice at all. So what was this? Iniede Vanovna didn't sit right either — Iniede rang a bell somewhere. Wasn't that the name of one of Solomon's seventy-two demon lords, the one called the Blasphemous Witch? And Vanovna — that wasn't any surname he recognized at all.
Evan snapped his head back up, meeting her eyes directly. "You're not the goddess of life. The true goddess of life has already fallen. You're the Blasphemous Witch, one of Solomon's seventy-two demon lords!"
The words carried more guesswork than certainty, but the moment they left his mouth, they landed like a thunderclap, stunning everyone present. They'd all heard tales of Solomon, certainly, but the seventy-two demon lords themselves remained a mystery to nearly everyone — hardly anyone in the world knew the details. Evan himself had only learned this much after his encounter with Ormani, another of the seventy-two, prompting him to spend real time researching the subject.
She laughed abruptly. "You're an ordinary mortal, and yet you carry some genuine insight. What you've said is only the common, worldly view. I am the goddess of life. Solomon's 'seventy-two demon lords' is nothing but the Creationist Church's own invention — calling itself the Creator, how laughable. The universe is vast beyond measure, its mysteries without end, and I have never once heard of anyone truly capable of creating a universe from nothing. Your so-called Creator is nothing more than a living being who ascended to divinity, and yet claims, again and again, to be the very architect of the cosmos itself. Serve as my divine messenger. I will grant you tremendous power, and absolve you of whatever sins you've committed."
She smiled as she spoke, but Evan already understood her true nature. Had he never met Avna herself, perhaps her words might have swayed him — but he knew better now. The word "blasphemous" alone told the story clearly enough. She'd stolen divine authority for herself, gaining, to some degree, power on par with a true god's — but at the root of it, she remained nothing but a thief. Likely she'd discovered this half-plane after the real goddess of life fell, and decided to seize the divine power left unclaimed here, taking the name Avna Iniede Vanovna in her place, hoping eventually to kindle a true divine flame of her own.
But her indifference to the sanctity of life hadn't changed a bit. She dreamed of ascending through borrowed glory while feasting on blood sacrifice all the while — the goddess of life had never held life in contempt, yet here this creature wore her name while walking an entirely different road, one that led nowhere near true divinity at all.
Evan smiled as well. "What sin have I committed, that requires your absolution?"
"Mortal, you do not believe in the true god. That alone is your greatest sin. Those without faith, and those of weak faith, shall stand before the true god's judgment once you are dead." Her voice rang cold and elegant, as though pronouncing divine law itself.
"Enough of the disguise. You've only stolen glory that belonged to the goddess of life. You're nowhere near a true god yourself," Evan said flatly. It was almost funny — a genuine goddess of life would hardly need a lich as her divine messenger. Clearly, she hadn't seen through his true nature either.
"A god's wrath turns heaven and earth pale," she said coolly.
Evan was about to speak when Corey cut in. "Noble ascendant, do you know the secret of achieving divinity?"
The question caught Iniede's attention at once. She'd focused on Evan until now because his strength outstripped everyone else present, and she'd sensed a faint thread of faith-power clinging to him — if he could be made to worship her, some portion of that faith would transfer to her in turn. That was why she'd overlooked his true identity entirely, working instead to tempt him toward her cause. As for the beastman king, his fate was already sealed — dead and gone to the underworld, his soul already crystallized into a gemstone, one more piece in her collection. She hadn't truly ascended yet, hadn't opened a divine realm of her own, and even devotion offered to her now would find nowhere to be received. Following the principle of wasting nothing, she'd simply resorted to a devil's trick instead, converting his soul into a soul gem.
Hearing Corey speak, she turned her attention to him for the first time, noting the naked hunger in his eyes — an insect of a man, and yet daring to reach for the secret of ascension itself. She laughed. "Of course I know the secret of divinity. Why should I share it with you?"
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Corey laughed as well. He'd come to this half-plane precisely for this secret. He knew, or thought he knew, that obtaining a god's core and fusing it with one's own body could grant divinity — the lowest rank of it, at least, a mere demigod. But from Evan's words, this creature was nothing but the Blasphemous Witch. Whatever the truth of her actual nature, Corey understood well enough that she counted as some manner of devil, and a devil's word meant nothing at all — he knew that much clearly, and yet he played at fascination all the same. If this truly was the goddess of life's temple, and the true goddess had already fallen, did her divine core still exist somewhere, perhaps already claimed by this impostor? If Evan was right that she'd stolen divine power for herself, then perhaps some fragment of a true god's core could still be wrested from her hands — even a sliver would be enough to make him a genuine demigod.
He didn't realize that although Iniede wasn't a true god, she had stolen enough of the goddess of life's glory to carry one of divinity's defining traits — a form of omniscience and omnipotence within a given range. Only a rudimentary version, but more than sufficient for her purposes here. Not even Evan grasped this fully. Mortal and god belonged to entirely different orders of magnitude.
"Ignorant creature, wretched thing — do you truly believe your thoughts can hide from a god? How laughable. A conversation devoid of any sincerity, and a lowly being daring to reach for divine authority besides. In my name — be stripped!" Iniede's voice rang cold, pronouncing what sounded like divine law itself, and in an instant Corey felt every one of his senses vanish. He couldn't move, couldn't so much as make a sound, standing frozen in place, his eyes gone dark and empty, plunged into overwhelming terror, forced to endure it in complete silence.
Something jolted in Evan's chest. He alone, of everyone present, remained untouched by that omniscient reach — a debt he owed, unknowingly, to the goblin Nobi's faith. That trace of goblin devotion ran so faint that Evan himself had never once sensed it, and yet it shielded him now, keeping Iniede from perceiving him at all. That same faint thread of faith was exactly what had kept his true nature as a lich hidden from her. In the end, Iniede had only stolen the goddess of life's authority — she'd never truly claimed it. Had she held the real thing, even Evan's faint protection would have counted for nothing.
"Now you understand a god's true power. Serve me, and I will grant you a place among the divine," Iniede said, her voice still cold toward Evan. In that same instant, Evan sensed Corey's condition — not entirely clear on what had happened, but understanding it was her doing, and felt a genuine chill at it. No warning at all, and she'd toyed with a man like a puppet in her hands — that alone was terrifying. Whatever else could be said of Corey, he was a senior mage in his own right.
Corey lowered his head, turning things over. Everything had already slipped beyond his control, every scheme rendered pale and foolish in the face of true, absolute power. This was a test of his own character now. He let out a breath. He feared death badly — and yet some quiet part of him sensed that reaching for something higher demanded setting life and death aside entirely. He wavered between the two choices, and at last, he made his decision, lifting his head. "Honored ascendant, I regret to say I cannot accept your generous offer. Whatever trust you extend, I must decline."
There was another reason behind his refusal, one that mattered more than pride: she was one of Solomon's seventy-two demon lords, and a devil's promise was worth nothing at all.
"Very well. Then face my wrath!" Her voice carried unmistakable fury now — the fury of something exalted, rejected by a mere insect.
The Spear of Hadir appeared in Evan's hand and shot free, contempt dripping from her voice as she spoke. "The Spear of Hadir. Do you believe a god can be slain by so small a thing? In my name — vanish!"
For the first time, the Spear of Hadir failed entirely, dissolving into nothing before it even reached her. "I will prove that divine dignity cannot be trespassed upon, and I will prove it with your blood!"
As her voice rang out, a vast force gathered out of thin air, immense and overwhelming, though it touched no one else in the gathering. It seized Evan and lifted him bodily, drawing him toward the altar. Everyone else stood frozen, blank, unable to tell whether Evan had moved on his own or been swept up by something beyond their perception — none of them had felt even the faintest trace of the force at work.
Evan's body rose against his will, though his mind stayed perfectly clear. No panic touched him at all — panic, in a moment like this, was fatal. He let his body sway with the pull, black smoke rippling across his skin as he triggered Undead Calamity — only for the smoke to dissolve into nothing the instant it appeared. His magic simply didn't function.
In that same instant, Evan felt himself achieve a strange, absolute clarity, his mind running like a machine at full speed, time itself seeming to slow. His mental sea surged, energy pouring through his body, and his blade slid free of its own accord, vibrating with some mysterious resonance in perfect harmony with his mental power, a vast pressure building around it. The blade let out a soundless dragon's cry, faint ripples radiating outward, sword-intent locking onto a single target. In that instant, understanding came to him — why his magic had failed. Magic drew on the energy of heaven and earth, channeling it through incantation and gesture, one's own small reserve of power reaching out to touch the vaster world beyond through mental force. A knight's strength, though, drew only on power gathered within the self, built through years of relentless training — and that, even here, still answered.
Evan's blade flared with sword-force. But Iniede's face only twisted into a mocking smile.