Ater had spent all this time thinking deeply.
‘No matter how I consider it, I have clearly been given a role.’
He had hurled every vile curse he knew at the Evil God and challenged him to a duel, yet here he was, perfectly unharmed. The role might be nothing more than that of a toy, but his instincts warned him otherwise.
Above all, Argio had shown Ater his heart.
‘That is not mercy one would bestow upon a mere toy.’
Then did the Evil God truly want him to open the tomb?
‘Or does he simply not care either way?’
His contemplation continued for a long time, and Ater’s life became monotonous. He threw himself at the Evil God in an attempt to read even a fraction of the being’s intentions, suffered a crushing defeat, survived yet again, studied the ruins, and pondered the future.
Then, one day, a small and fragile being entered the Evil God’s tomb.
“…A hero…?”
“…A holy figure…?”
The one who called him a ‘hero’ was a Saintess in the body of a child.
‘Surely no more Saints could be born in this world?’
What holy figure could appear in a world abandoned by its Creator? Yet Ater, who had lived bearing the mission of a Hero, could feel it. This tiny being truly was a Saintess.
‘Then she must be a Saintess who serves a god other than our Creator….’
He sensed no trace of the beasts from her, so she had to be a holy figure from an entirely different world.
The sudden encounter…