Chapter 32: A Shocking Revelation and a Predatory Encounter

“The mind follows the body.”

I don’t know where I heard it, but that phrase suddenly popped into my head.

To explain it roughly:

A person’s nature changes depending on the form of their body… or something like that.

I used to think there was some truth to it.

Before I possessed Beatrice’s body, back when I still had my “third leg,” things were definitely different.

When I neglected myself versus when I hit the gym and took care of my body, my mindset wasn’t the same.

But now, I was vehemently denying that idea.

No? I had to deny it.

Otherwise, I’d be admitting that both my body and mind were female!

I was genuinely shocked.

I never dreamed I’d so naturally slip into thinking like a female.

What? Secure?

If you get stronger, it’s good for you and me?

Anyone hearing that would think we were lifelong partners!

“Gaaah…”

I clutched my head, groaning.

I usually thought in a stream-of-consciousness style, but how the hell did my brain wire itself to adopt this female mindset?

It was dizzying to think about.

Despite all my caution, this sneaky heroine—no, female—corruption was creeping in.

To snap out of it, I slapped both cheeks as hard as I could.

Smack!

The stinging pain finally brought my mind back.

Carl approached with a worried look, but I scowled and shooed him away.

“Get lost.”

“No, I’ve got something else to say.”

“What?”

“Is that really okay?”

Following his pointing finger, I saw the evil god’s Apostle slowly dissolving into dust.

[“P-Poneriana! Please, just one more chance…! This can’t—Arghhh!!!”]

Whether Poneriana chose to destroy it rather than let it be taken, the ashen giant let out a heart-wrenching scream as it was consumed by gray energy.

From my perspective, though, this was a relief.

Honestly, that thing was like a white elephant to me.

The evil god’s Apostle.

Its power was undeniably impressive.

Even after the lust-crazed Erophs and the near-top-tier protagonist party hammered it relentlessly, it stood strong.

If sacrifices could be secured, it might even take on the theocracy.

But—

“That’d make me a real villain.”

Keeping an evil god’s Apostle, bent on destroying dimensions, as a minion?

If that’s not villainous, what is?

This novel I’m stuck in is definitely a comedy, but villains don’t exactly get treated well.

In the original, the northern villain was cleanly erased.

The western villain—this fainted Master—lost everything, just like now.

I don’t recall the central arc well, but I know it ended miserably too.

The southern elves, though not quite villains, lost some of their prized stallions, but still got rough treatment.

Being a villain is the last thing I want.

My goal is to live cozily in a peaceful place, not to fight endlessly like Veldum.

Watching the giant fully dissolve into dust and scatter in the wind, I sighed in relief.

Is the western arc over now?

It’s over, alright. The main villain’s been crushed, and Paradise is too ruined to function.

“Sigh.”

This time, I sighed for a different reason.

…My chest felt so tight I could go mad.

This was a complete waste of effort, wasn’t it?

If it had been moderately damaged, I’d planned to settle here.

Like with the Apostle, I intended to force a contract with the demon sealed in Paradise and live a cushy, slow life.

But the evil god’s followers, those damn bastards, ruined my brilliant plan.

If it was gonna be like this, I should’ve ignored everything and gone north. Why the west?

As I clutched my forehead, grappling with a bleak future and a throbbing headache, someone gently tapped my shoulder.

“Witch, I get you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

Turning, I saw the lead elf, looking as pensive as I felt.

She set up a wooden chair and table—where she got them, I don’t know—and gestured for me to sit.

“Our business isn’t done yet.”

…Right.

Come to think of it, Chapter 1 was still ongoing, damn it.

Uncharacteristically polite, I sat quietly at the elf’s invitation.

And so, the insane negotiations with the Erophs began anew.

Amid the noisy ruins of the elf-witch negotiations, the Master, Nephilim, stirred, unable to ignore the clamor.

Glance, glance.

Awakening, she frantically scanned her surroundings, but all she saw were the ruins of Paradise and the meddlers who’d wrecked her grand plan.

The proud Apostle she’d summoned was nowhere to be found.

“Sigh, I failed in the end.”

Exhaling, she lay back on the rubble.

Everything felt futile.

Her long-planned scheme had crashed into ruin just before success—nothing could be more draining.

…What did I sacrifice everything to the evil god for?

A sliver of regret crept in, but she shook her head.

“Regret, my ass.”

She chuckled.

The result was a mess, but wasn’t the process joyful?

That’s enough. No need to regret the happiness.

Closing her eyes, Nephilim savored a moment of languor.

Fleeing desperately would only get her caught, and even if she escaped, with her meager holy power, she’d end up a tool for vagrants’ lust.

She considered ending her life to join Poneriana’s side.

“Martyrdom…”

Not a bad idea, but for now, she wanted to bask in this laziness.

Using the distant shouting as a lullaby, she tried to drift back to sleep.

But a soft voice beside her made her eyes snap open.

“Why does my sister mention martyrdom?”

A believer would’ve called her “Master.”

Calling her “sister” meant this wasn’t a believer.

A child of hypocrisy, then.

Normally, she’d have stabbed without hesitation with her ritual dagger, but she was too weakened.

And this person had approached unnoticed—a true powerhouse.

Suppressing her killing intent, Nephilim began talking with the voice’s owner.

“Pfft, just tired. Too many things aren’t going my way.”

“Oh, that’s a shame! But it’ll be fine! From now on, the Goddess’s grace will be with you, sister!”

“Really? Whew, that’s a relief.”

“Right?”

Sure it is.

Hiding the goosebumps on her arms, Nephilim forced a laugh.

When a lion bares its teeth and roars, who wouldn’t comply?

Maybe that witch, still yelling cluelessly in the distance, could.

Nephilim moved her ritual dagger to an easily accessible spot, then asked.

“By the way, sister, why’d you come to this barren place? Getting here must’ve been tough.”

“Hehe, it was tough, alright. Bandits, heathens… they kept coming, and I had a rough time!”

…Definitely a powerhouse. Not drawing the dagger right away was a stroke of genius.

As Nephilim thought this, the voice’s owner continued, brimming with excitement.

“But it’s fine! They all came to serve the Goddess through holy rituals! There was a slight hiccup, but who cares? Hehe…”

“A hiccup…?”

“Hehe, nothing for you to worry about, sister. Just atonement for insulting the Goddess. Don’t stress! You haven’t done anything yet*, right?”

The sound of lips being licked followed.

Nephilim felt a chill run down her spine.

“Why am I so uneasy?”

More uneasy than ever.

Exaggerating a bit, it was scarier than receiving Poneriana’s revelations.

The feeling of being “prey” to a top predator?

Trembling, she gripped her ritual dagger tightly and asked the voice to show itself.

But—

“No way.”

The voice whispered low in her ear, grabbing her chest.

“You’d stab me with that cute little dagger, wouldn’t you, leader of the heathens?”

“…!”

Eyes wide, Nephilim swung her dagger backward.

As expected, it was easily blocked by a gauntlet. When she turned to attack again—

“Oh? Time to atone♡”

She saw a blonde, blue-eyed priestess lunging at her with lustful eyes.