This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

In the dark underground, a ritual was in progress.

Under the unsettlingly bright yet sickly glow of torches and candles, the sacrifices writhed.
"Descend upon us!!"
As the high priest chanting the incantation shouted, the sacrifices suddenly screamed in agony.

The trembling bodies of the sacrifices instantly exploded, transforming into pools of blood. Crimson liquid, mixed with fragments of human flesh and entrails, slithered toward the center of the altar like a living entity.
The blood converged, clumping together and beginning to take shape.
Bones formed first, followed by muscles and veins weaving over them. Organs slowly settled into place.

And before long, the blood took the complete form of a human.
A woman with dozens of eyes embedded in her body.
The Chosen of the Evil God.

Her body trembled as she opened her eyes, then immediately collapsed onto the ground.
"Chosen One!"
"The ritual was a success!!"

The Chosen's life was inexhaustible, but each time she died, a new body had to be resurrected.
For this revival ritual, the priests of the Evil God’s cult had exhausted the massive stockpile of curses and sacrifices they had been accumulating.
It was a devastating loss, but they had no other choice.

Everyone rejoiced, but the one who had been revived did not seem the least bit pleased.
No.
She was utterly terrified.

The countless eyes scattered across her body and face slowly turned toward a corner of the room.
At the edge of the altar—
A grotesquely dark figure was slowly rising from the ground.
The Chosen shuddered violently before abruptly prostrating herself on the floor.

"A... the Evil God...!"
"Bow down!!"
The high priests, who only just noticed the figure, also threw themselves to the ground, trembling in fear.

The strange, black mass slowly approached its followers before opening its mouth.
[You have disappointed me.]
It was a quiet roar.

The sound itself was not loud, yet it sent a tremor through their very souls, forcing everyone present to clutch their heads and collapse.
Only one remained standing.
The Chosen One.

"P-please forgive us... have mercy...!"
The Chosen grit her teeth, barely enduring, and desperately pleaded.
The Evil God ceased its roar.

[I even granted you a piece of myself, and yet you returned in failure. You wasted one of the Chosen's lives? I have never seen such incompetence.]
"If not for the Saint of Healing, our success would have been guaranteed!"
The Chosen trembled.

Just the thought of that name sent chills down her spine.
The Saint of Healing.
They had gone through countless sacrifices to infiltrate a spy into the Church of the Sun, only to have them exposed immediately.

The Fragment of the Evil God, which they had spent years nurturing, had been obliterated in an instant.
More than twenty years of planning and preparation had crumbled in mere moments.
The sheer loss of curses, sacrifices, and time—

It was catastrophic.
For the time being, the Evil God’s cult had no choice but to retreat into the shadows and focus solely on recovering.
[I do not want excuses.]

The Evil God's cold words made the Chosen immediately bow her head.
"My deepest apologies... please, have mercy..."
[Do not act for the time being. We must prevent further losses at all costs. Lurk in the darkness and gather strength.]

"...We shall do as you command."
[And I will personally eliminate the Saint of Healing. Mark my words—he is extremely dangerous.]
The Chosen flinched.

For that being to utter the word dangerous...
Even during the Celestial War 300 years ago, when the greatest warriors, saints, and holy women of the Pantheon of Gods fought against it, there were very few records of the Evil God acknowledging anyone as a threat.
"O Evil God, I dare to ask... what exactly is the Saint of Healing? We have no way of comprehending his power."

The Chosen of the gods always bore distinct characteristics.
The Chosen of the God of Destruction had a clear domain, as did the Chosen of the God of Prophecy.
But the Goddess of Grace had never granted humanity a saint or a holy woman throughout history.

So it was impossible to discern what kind of abilities he possessed.
"In order to eliminate him, we require your wisdom. Please, bestow knowledge upon your incompetent followers. What divine authority did the Goddess of Grace grant her Chosen One?"
The Chosen cautiously inquired—

And suddenly, the Evil God let out a laugh.
[My Chosen One, you are misunderstanding something.]
"W-what do you mean...?"

[That whore of grace did not send him into this world.]
The Chosen's eyes widened.
Hadn't everyone been calling him the Saint of Healing, the Chosen of the Goddess of Grace?

But the Goddess did not send him?
"...I do not understand."
[Bestowing a saint or a holy woman upon humanity demands an enormous expenditure of divine power. Many gods have weakened and faded away simply from miscalculating their strength when appointing one.]

"Would that not make it even more likely for Lilia to have sent one? She has never granted a saint before—surely she must have accumulated enough power. Wouldn't she have appointed an exceptionally powerful saint just to obstruct us...?"
[No. That whore of grace does not have that kind of power. And for good reason...]
The Evil God sneered.

[Among all the gods of the Pantheon, none suffered a greater wound during the Celestial War 300 years ago than that woman—except for those who lost their divinity and fell completely.]
****
The celestial gods, the demons of hell, and the abyssal Evil Gods below them—

A war where all these forces clashed in a cataclysmic battle.
That was the Celestial War.
Even sworn enemies, demons and Evil Gods, had momentarily allied to launch an attack against the Pantheon of Gods. In the early stages, the Evil Gods and demon coalition held overwhelming superiority.

Many gods of the Pantheon were severely wounded, and some even lost their divinity entirely, crashing down to the mortal realm.
Because of this, several of the twenty-four thrones of the Pantheon remained vacant to this day.
Yet among the gods who retained their divine status in the heavens, the one who suffered the most grievous wounds—

Was none other than Lilia, the Goddess of Grace.
[That whore, Lilia, barely has enough strength left to grant her followers the most meager divine power. A Saint? She wouldn't have the energy to create one. A Saint powerful enough to destroy my fragment in an instant? Even more impossible. If she had truly sent down such a Saint, she would have immediately lost her divinity and plummeted to the mortal world.]
The Chosen trembled violently.

Not sent by the Goddess?
Then who was this being, worshipped by all as the Saint of Grace?
Who was he, to become such a massive obstacle to them?

"Could it be... that one of the other gods' Chosen Ones is being mistaken for the Saint of Grace?"
[That is also impossible. Do you think the other gods are in a normal state? Consider this: why have there been no Saints, Holy Women, or Heroes granted to humanity for the past three hundred years?]
The Chosen of the God of Destruction, Dulaney, and the Chosen of the God of Prophecy, Luphiel, had enough power to create Saints or Heroes.

But aside from gods who carefully selected their Chosen Ones based on merit, the majority simply anointed the most devout of their worshippers as their champions.
For there to have been no Saints, Holy Women, or Heroes for three centuries meant that while the other gods were better off than Lilia, they were still far from unscathed.
"Then who... who could possibly be...?"

A Saint capable of annihilating a fragment of the Evil God in an instant.
Yet, not granted by any god of the Pantheon.
The Chosen stopped in place, their thoughts freezing.

There was only one possibility.
"...Could it be that the Saint’s power comes from Hell?"
Hell.

If there was anything the Evil God despised even more than the gods of the Pantheon, it was the demons of Hell.
And why?
Because three hundred years ago, during the Celestial War, the moment victory seemed certain for the Evil God and the demons, the demons had turned on their so-called allies.

Internal strife erupted, giving the Pantheon an opportunity to unite and crush both the Evil God and the demons of Hell.
As a result, victory belonged to the Pantheon.
Of course, it was a Pyrrhic victory.

Unlike the demons and the Evil God, who quickly retreated the moment things turned unfavorable, the Pantheon had stayed behind to clean up the aftermath, ensuring that the devastation of war would not spill over onto the mortal realm.
Because of this, while the Pantheon had technically won, they were also the ones who suffered the greatest loss.
[Correct.]

The Evil God ground its teeth as it spoke.
The Chosen's face twisted in disbelief.
"How... No, how could a being with the power of Hell be revered as a Saint? Surely, you must be mistaken..."

[When my fragment was extinguished inside him, I saw it clearly. Deep within his soul, I witnessed the source of his power. I am not mistaken. That man—
He wields the power of Hell.]
The Evil God clenched its teeth.

The sheer disgust in its voice filled the chamber with an oppressive aura.
"What kind of power...?"
[The greatest master of deception and subterfuge in both the Abyss and Hell. A being whose illusions were so flawless that he could wander freely between the Abyss and the Pantheon, treating them as his personal playground.]

The Evil God's voice dripped with hatred.
[And the one vacant seat among the Seven Demon Kings of Hell.]
"...No... No, it can’t be..."

Among all the demons in Hell, only one fit that description.
With a trembling voice, the Chosen spoke his name.
"Lust."

One of the Seven Demon Kings.
"The Creator of Deception and Corruption."
The only Demon King to have been truly destroyed during the Celestial War.

"Asmodeus."
Yet, a new question arose.
"O Evil God... If Saint Amayel truly possesses the power of Lust, then why has the Pantheon allowed him to roam freely?"

Would they really let the Demon King of Lust rampage in their own domain?
Especially when Dulaney, the God of Destruction, would never tolerate a demon or an Evil God within his reach?
At that, the Evil God chuckled.

**[The power of Lust is... special. His authority perfectly mirrors the user's will. If he wants to imitate a demon, he can become a demon. If he wants to imitate a god, he can wield divine power.
Even during the Celestial War, both I and the Pantheon were deceived by his power.]
"Then...?"

**[When I glimpsed into the Saint's soul, I saw his true nature.
A fool—so pure and kind-hearted it was almost sickening.
The power of Lust has simply mirrored that purity, making it appear as something holy.

So, the gods of the Pantheon see no reason to question it.]
"By the heavens..."
**[Even I did not recognize him until my fragment entered his soul and saw his essence.

I am likely the only being in existence—among the Pantheon, Hell, and the Abyss—who knows his true identity.]
Yet, another doubt remained.
"Wouldn't the gods of the Pantheon still question the source of his power? If it is not from them, they should at least suspect something, shouldn't they?"

**[Do you not recall? Some gods of the Pantheon fell to the mortal realm after the Celestial War.
It is highly likely that the Pantheon believes the Saint to be the reincarnation of one such fallen divinity.
Besides, the gods are desperate for faith to recover their strength.

When a being radiating divine goodness amplifies their worship, why would they question him?]
"If they truly believe that, then why hasn't any god attempted to speak with him? Wouldn’t they want to clarify his origins through direct communication?"
At that, the Evil God's laughter reached its peak.

[That is the most beautiful irony of all, my Chosen.]
The Evil God was ecstatic.
**[The aftermath of the war left the heavens so devastated that the gods of the Pantheon can barely communicate with mortals anymore.

At most, Luphiel, the God of Prophecy, manages to send out vague visions from time to time, but that is the extent of their reach.
However—
I am different.

I can still freely interfere in the mortal realm.
And because of that, I have devised a plan.]
The Evil God's voice was practically giddy with anticipation.

**[Hell seeks to reclaim Lust’s power.
The Pantheon seeks to protect it.
I will pit the two against each other.

And when they destroy each other—
Will there be any victory... more perfect than that?]