Aftermath

"Eee—"

Aina let out an adorable sound.

Xia Lun pinched her chin, and she instinctively stuck out her tongue, surrendering herself to his whims.

After a while, Aina curled up against Xia Lun’s chest, her heated body gradually cooling.

Her bat wings, mirroring her current state, lay limp and spread over Xia Lun, twitching occasionally like a warm, floppy blanket.

"So, how was today’s service, Demon King? Satisfied?" Xia Lun playfully tapped Aina’s nose, prompting her to open her mouth as if to bite his finger.

"You’re such a jerk…" Aina cooed.

She knew her husband well—kind, brave, powerful… His once-straightforward nature had been molded by her into the mischievous man he was now.

But there were things Xia Lun couldn’t do.

Things he shouldn’t do.

Like meddling with the affairs of the Goddess and the world.

A man as indecisive as Xia Lun, who hesitated even to kill the Twilight Apostles—how could he possibly bring himself to annihilate an entire world of innocent lives?

That’s why, when Xia Lun had said he wanted to help her, Aina had laughed from the position of a superior.

The Hero was still too naive, raised within the cradle of the Goddess’s lies.

Now, Aina had taken over the Goddess’s duties. The warmth he needed would come from her… Xia Lun only had to live happily under her protection. The affairs beyond this world were none of his concern—she would handle everything.

Aina silently resolved this in her heart.

"Are you looking down on me, Aina?" Xia Lun whispered in her ear.

Aina blinked. "What are you talking about, Xia Lun?"

"I’m your husband. I can guess what you’re thinking… You believe I’m too weak to be of any help, which is why you laughed at me earlier." Xia Lun met her gaze squarely.

He could roughly imagine Aina’s feelings—like a child offering to help their parents with work, only to be met with an indulgent smile. That’s exactly how her earlier laughter had made him feel.

Aina’s eyes wavered.

"You’re right, Xia Lun. I never expected anything from you… I know your current strength. Even if you’re the second strongest in this world, beyond it, there are countless eldritch horrors even I find troublesome…"

"I admit, with my current power, I can’t assist you much…" Xia Lun stroked her cheek, his voice firm. "But I’m the Hero—your rival. One day, I’ll pull you down from your throne and protect both you and this world myself."

"Oh? How arrogant, Hero." Aina smoothed her disheveled hair. "You have no idea what kind of sights I’m witnessing now…"

"I will surpass you, Aina." Xia Lun’s tone brooked no argument.

"Then I’ll be waiting, Hero." Faced with his sudden intensity, Aina’s voice softened involuntarily.

"B-but enough of that. You should focus on your duties for now."

She spread her arms and damp wings, settling into Xia Lun’s lap, licking her lips greedily.

Her stamina had recovered enough—time for another round.

"Let’s see if you can back up that boast of yours…"

---

Roy slowly regained consciousness.

The surroundings were in disarray.

He lay sprawled in a rose bush—a scene that might have been picturesque, given his handsome features, if not for the sharp thorns pricking his skin.

What had happened?

Roy couldn’t remember a thing.

His head throbbed as if his brains had been shaken like a strawberry smoothie, and an enormous lump swelled on his forehead.

Roy passed his right hand over it, summoning a milky-white glow. The swelling faded—as a bishop, he knew basic healing divine arts.

Fragments of memory resurfaced.

Right—the labyrinth! The dungeon sealed beneath the Grand Cathedral had gone berserk, unleashing powerful monsters. He’d been fighting a chimera when he was struck down and lost consciousness.

Roy smirked.

He knew why the Holy City had been built here—to suppress that labyrinth. The Twilight Apostles had planned to sacrifice it to resurrect the Hero… a century-long scheme, now ruined.

Pathetic fools… Not that he cared.

Roy felt no loyalty to the Goddess’s Church. He’d stayed only for pragmatic reasons—and because the divine arts practiced here were undeniably useful.

Still, something felt off.

He’d fought a chimera… but was that lump really from the beast?

And why had it spared him after defeating him?

Too many oddities.

Eh, no use overthinking it. Maybe the other bishops had saved him.

"Bishop Roy!"

A priest rushed over, frantic. "You’re awake! Come quickly—the Grand Cathedral!"

Roy stared at the labyrinth entrance before him, momentarily petrified.

A stable dungeon—this was an unimaginable treasure.

"Wait, where’s Katheon? The other bishops?"

The priest’s face fell. "Bishop Katheon and the others… they sacrificed themselves to stabilize the labyrinth, perishing with its master! You’re the only high-ranking clergy left, Bishop Roy."

"Dead? Just like that?"

Roy scratched his head.

Though they’d been colleagues for years, he felt surprisingly unmoved.

Fighting? He could handle that. But cleanup duty? Not his forte.

"What should we do now, Bishop Roy?" The priests looked to him with hopeful eyes, as if he were their newfound pillar.

Roy studied them, noting something peculiar.

These were familiar faces—most he knew well. And they all shared one trait: like him, they’d joined the Church for pragmatic gains, not out of piety.

Yet the Church needed them. Unfaithful, but indispensable.

They’d all survived, while the true Twilight Apostles had fallen victim to the labyrinth.

How strange, Roy mused.

"Well... anyway... let's make this matter public first," Roy cleared his throat lightly. "A tragedy like this probably can't be kept under wraps... We'll also need assistance from the Magistrate or the Monastery to replenish the manpower here... Oh, and summon some reinforcements from churches across the regions."

Roy's plan was simple.

Since the situation was beyond his ability to handle, he’d just slip away once more people arrived.

This mess could be dumped on someone else.