I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 127: The Sins That Feed

The chamber was dim when the message arrived.

Brynhildr stood at the center of the Council Hall, wings folded and armor dimmed. The tension from the last confrontation had not yet settled, and the council members still lingered—silent, waiting, uncertain.

Then the air shifted.

Light poured from above—soft, silver-blue, shimmering like stardust through water. It wasn't showy. It wasn't loud. It was divine.

Brynhildr's eyes fluttered shut.

She didn't speak.

She listened.

Every member of the Council watched as the Valkyrie's brow furrowed, as her expression darkened from focus to something rarer—concern. When she finally opened her eyes again, the mana that lingered around her shimmered with a touch of warmth… and dread.

"I have received Her message," she said softly.

No one needed to ask whom she meant.

Brynhildr turned toward Aelira first, then swept her gaze across the gathered elves.

"The withering of Yggdrasil… has a source. And it is not from this realm."

Isaac stepped forward slightly, the silence drawing him in.

"The Abyss," he said.

Brynhildr nodded. "Its roots were touched by something not merely evil, but hungry. A Sin has made its move."

Murmurs rose.

"Which Sin?" Sylvalen asked sharply.

Brynhildr's tone darkened.

"Mammon. The Sin of Greed."

She waited as the word settled across the chamber like a cold mist.

"His touch corrupted the lower rootbound realms—pierced the Abyss where Yggdrasil's roots should never have been reached. He seeks dominion, to draw the World Tree's lifeblood into his hoard, to make it part of his eternal claim."

Aelira's lips parted in disbelief. "But that would mean—"

Brynhildr raised a hand.

"There is more."

She looked toward Isaac—only Isaac.

"Another has joined him."

Isaac's jaw tensed. He could feel it before she said the name.

"Beelzebub. The Sin of Gluttony."

Gasps swept the chamber.

"He does not fight beside Mammon. He feeds. The decay you feel now? The rotting veins beneath our feet? That is not Mammon's magic. That is Beelzebub's hunger devouring the life of the World Tree."

"And Freya?" asked the Y'selaria priestess. "What of Her?"

Brynhildr looked to the sky—though there was no sky to see.

"She fights even now. Locked in battle with Mammon, far beyond the reach of this world."

"And we're left to face Beelzebub," Isaac muttered.

Brynhildr didn't correct him.

Instead, she nodded.

"Yes."

When the Council dissolved at last, none of the members spoke as they left. The air carried too much weight. Even Sylvalen looked thoughtful—her brows furrowed, lips pressed into a pale line.

Only Aelira remained behind.

She stood in the chamber alone, watching Isaac from across the distance. Then, quietly, she descended the curved steps of the Council's dais and approached him.

Isaac raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I owe you an apology," Aelira said without hesitation.

Isaac blinked once.

She continued, her voice steady but soft.

"You arrived when the world changed. You brought powers we didn't understand. And I… judged you. I let fear guide reason, even when your actions didn't support my suspicion."

She looked up at him, not as a councilor—but as a sister, as a woman who had spent her life clinging to order.

"I was wrong."

Isaac was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you."

Aelira hesitated… then extended her hand.

"I don't expect trust to appear overnight. But if I can be of help—if I can use my seat, my knowledge, or my name to aid your fight—I will."

Isaac studied her face. She meant it.

He took her hand.

The roots still trembled beneath the city.

But perhaps, now, they weren't the only ones.