Chapter 327
Chapter 327: Here? Show Me Your Legs
The golden Scale appeared like a burst of brilliant starlight, threads of sacred aura dancing gracefully through the air.
The Scale's silhouette gradually sharpened, flickering in and out of clarity, as though breathing with a life of its own.
Golden radiance flowed like a river, illuminating the entire room in an instant.
The brilliance overflowed—its dazzling light made even Viktor squint.
Weija opened its single eye wide, studying the phenomenon with careful attention.
It could clearly sense that the Goddess of Justice's divine power was growing ever more concentrated.
Perhaps it was because Gwen had struck down those Devotees, transmuting their evil into her own karmic power.
In doing so, she had earned the Goddess of Justice's final recognition.
After all, she had drawn upon a portion of the Goddess of Justice's divine power to slay those Devotees.
With a merciless blade, severing all wickedness in the world.
That was the true doctrine of the Goddess of Justice.
Yet through the endless retelling of those heretical cultists, the Goddess of Justice's teachings had gradually been distorted—her justice warped into absolute fanaticism.
Not the severing of wicked thoughts, but the extermination of even the common sources from which those thoughts arose.
And that fanatical brand of justice was something human society could never accept.
Viktor's fingers grazed lightly across Gwen's bare back, tracing over the Scale that had risen there.
At his touch, Gwen's current level surfaced on her body.
Lv37
As expected—she had grown so much stronger.
At this rate, it would not be long before Gwen became a true 4th-Tier Grand Knight.
Viktor withdrew his hand.
Having Gwen kill those Devotees had been part of the plan from the very beginning.
Once slain, the 【Devotees of the Goddess】 would scatter pheromones to the remaining Devotees, much like rats.
That signal would spread like a plague.
And those Devotees would swarm in retaliation, frenzied as maddened rats.
But once they finally discovered that the one who had slain them was none other than the Goddess they worshipped with every waking thought—
Then their faith would shatter.
They would no longer be able to uphold the justice they believed in. Their twisted hearts would dissolve into pure malice.
And in the end, they would be erased by Gwen—who embodied justice—their evil converted into the very power that made her stronger.
Achieving the ultimate virtuous cycle.
So then—
"The Devotees of the Goddess want to use Gwen to bring the Goddess into this world. I refuse to allow it."
Viktor watched the golden Scale rise on Gwen's back, and even as the light stung his eyes, he spoke with perfect composure.
Once those wicked and fanatical Devotees were erased by the righteous Gwen, they would become the power she used to grow stronger.
And alongside her, the remnant divine power of the Goddess of Justice would also grow stronger.
As long as this continued, Gwen would keep growing stronger.
Humanity would no longer remember the Goddess's distorted teachings.
The Mage Council would be the sole church devoted to the Goddess of Justice.
But it was not built for the true Goddess, either.
"The world has no need for 2 identical Goddesses."
Viktor's dispassionate voice rang out.
Since the Mage Council had been founded upon the Hypocrite's Scale from the very beginning, the Goddess of Justice it worshipped was equally false.
Was that too much to ask?
The true Goddess of Justice would exist in name only—and he need not worry about Gwen becoming a true Goddess of Justice.
As long as everything went smoothly.
Suddenly, Viktor raised his head.
He sensed an unusual presence lingering just outside the door.
He extended one hand and touched Gwen's bathrobe lightly, and the parted fabric sealed itself back along its edges, once again veiling her pale skin.
He gently drew the blanket over Gwen, then rose and walked toward the door.
At the same time, blazing flames ignited across his white shirt.
The air around him instantly filled with a scorching heat.
Viktor flicked his hand lightly, and his black Coat, cleansed by the fire, settled back over him once more.
The red markings on the Coat's surface flickered briefly, then gradually faded.
With that done, he had just reached the door. He opened his palm.
The door handle turned on its own, and the door swung open.
And then he saw it.
Kneeling at the threshold was a white-haired, red-eyed young woman.
Her body was entwined by countless transparent Magic Power threads, tracing seductive lines over her slender yet full figure.
Her arms were pinned tightly to her sides, unable to move.
The young woman lifted her face, wearing a pitifully delicate and fragile expression.
She knelt on the ground and looked up at Viktor.
Her flowing red eyes carried a trace of sorrow.
"Please allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Viktor."
The young woman stood gracefully upright inside the room and bowed to Viktor.
"My name is Priscilla Nis, daughter of Count Laurien."
Viktor sat in his chair, his gaze studying the young woman carefully.
Her manners were impeccable, her demeanor respectful.
Though she appeared to be around the same age as Auréliane and Erika, she carried an unusually mature quality about her.
Perhaps it was the influence of an Earl's household upbringing.
But……
Viktor rested one hand against his face and looked at her, a flicker of suspicion passing through his eyes.
"You are a Count's daughter, and you've come to find me at this hour."
"What is it you want?"
As he spoke, his gaze drifted briefly to Gwen sleeping soundly on the bed.
The Hypnosis had worked well. This sleep would carry Gwen peacefully through to morning without interruption.
His meaning was clear.
You are the daughter of Count Laurien, and you've slipped alone into the room of a man with a fiancée in the dead of night.
And that man is a guest who has only just arrived—the two of you are barely acquainted.
Coming to him like this without a reason would be stranger still.
Priscilla sensed Viktor's suspicion. Her hands tightened together, her expression stiffening slightly as she seemed to wrestle with herself.
She was quiet for a moment before finally speaking.
"I know who you are. You are a very powerful Mage."
"Only you—only a powerful Mage can help me. I'm hoping you can."
She spoke with urgent desperation.
"I am willing to pay any price."
Viktor straightened slightly in his seat upon hearing this.
He examined Priscilla with a scrutinizing gaze.
Feeling his faintly invasive stare, the young woman gently closed her eyes—yet allowed Viktor's gaze to travel freely across her.
"Is that so?"
Viktor's voice returned, unhurried and tinged with mild amusement.
Priscilla's body gave an involuntary shiver.
She opened her eyes again. Her face had gone faintly pink, her red eyes like a ripe apple—yet one being slowly crushed, a few drops of tears squeezed free.
But she still nodded.
"Y-yes."
"I am willing to pay any price."
Viktor's gaze settled on her, his face utterly without expression.
He leaned back in the chair and asked plainly.
"Tell me what you need help with."
Priscilla quickly replied.
"Please save my mother."
"She has been locked in a room by my father—Count Laurien—and forbidden from leaving, not even a single step."
"If this continues, she will die in that room."
She pleaded desperately, her emotions growing visibly distraught, her brows knitting slightly—not from inner conflict this time, but from a desperate appeal for salvation.
Priscilla's body seemed to go weak, her strength nearly spent, and she was on the verge of collapsing to her knees before Viktor.
Her emotions nearly broke apart with her words, and tears spilled from her eyes.
"Please……please help me."
The corner of Viktor's mouth curved faintly upward, a sardonic expression surfacing.
"I can help you. But right now, I have one condition."
Priscilla, as though grasping at a lifeline, nodded immediately.
"I—I can agree to it!"
"Then show me your legs."
Viktor's words brought the weeping young woman to a halt.
"Wh-what?"
She seemed entirely unprepared for Viktor to say this. Her tearful expression froze in place, and for a moment she could not process anything at all.
Viktor rose unhurriedly to his feet and fixed Priscilla with a level stare, enunciating each word with gravity.
"Lift your gown. Let me see your legs."
The forceful pressure in his bearing made Priscilla step back several paces.
Then, the Magic Power around Viktor erupted outward, actively tearing apart the black gown that wrapped around the lower half of the young woman's legs.
Riiip—
The black gown shredded apart in scattered pieces, revealing the hollow lower half of Priscilla's body.
There, where a pair of legs ought to have been.
There was nothing—as though transparent.
Below the gown, only a pair of black leather boots stood on the floor, as if they alone were supporting her body.
Priscilla's complexion turned deathly pale in an instant. She dropped to the ground, clutching the torn fabric of her gown and doing her best to cover her lower half.
But it was already too late.
Viktor was now watching the young woman before him with a gaze full of danger.
His voice turned cold and merciless.
"As I suspected. How could an ordinary person have been restrained by a Magic trap I set so casually?"
The moment the words fell, blazing flames erupted around Viktor in a roaring surge.
The roiling fire spread outward like ocean waves, forming column after column of flame in the air.
But none of it ignited anything—it only scorched the surrounding air into searing heat.
The burning temperature began to sting Priscilla's skin, and the fierce firelight cast itself across her pallid face.
Fear surfaced in the eyes of Priscilla, who had only moments ago been weeping with tears.
She instinctively began shrinking away from the flames.
The fire would not burn her—but the heat would.
The scorching air coiled around her like a venomous serpent, and the searing temperature left Priscilla breathless.
It was as though a pair of burning hands had seized her lungs in an iron grip, flooding them with nothing but fierce, blazing heat that filled her chest and throat.
The air turned scalding, and for a moment she could not breathe.
Viktor stood with both hands in his pockets, flames burning across his Coat.
The fire at his back had taken on the shape of a savage beast, licking at the dry and stifling air.
He was surrounded by fire, yet remained utterly calm.
His feet trod upon the roaring blaze, firelight burning at the corners of his eyes.
And yet beneath those fierce, blazing depths flowed an immeasurable coldness—like adamantine ice wrapped in flame, filling even the scalding air with a bone-deep chill.
"To come disturbing my rest time with my Lady in the middle of the night."
His unhurried voice rose gradually, blended with the collision of scorching heat and freezing cold, carrying a faintly chaotic edge.
"I am quite curious. Since you know that I am a powerful Mage—"
"A mere wandering soul."
"How dare you roam freely in my presence?"