“Wasn’t it wonderful?”

Sukui’s gaze remained fixed silently on the corpse before him, but suddenly, his vision plunged into complete darkness.

It was the same voice as before. When Sukui raised his head, the angelic being he had encountered prior to his teleportation stood there, gazing at him with a faint smile.

“To worship death as salvation—that was your creed, was it not? Especially considering your assertion that humans, subjected to unequal suffering, can only be truly equal through death. If that’s the case, you’re the perfect candidate.”

No, beyond perfect—a dream come true, she declared.

“The villagers, already devout worshippers of death. Surely, it was better for them than suffering in that impoverished village. Even the innkeeper and his child.”

She spoke flippantly about the deaths of the family Sukui had been sent to.

“A life of poverty in a dilapidated inn. Their past was hardly worthy of pride, and their future offered no chance at even an average life. This was better for them, wasn’t it?”

It was better. A cause for celebration.

“Why the silence?”

The angelic being stepped closer to Sukui, narrowing her eyes as she studied him.

“The people you wanted to save have been rescued by the very death they worshipped. Surely, you have something to say,” she taunted with a faint smile.

Sukui stood frozen, motionless.

His unfocused eyes and expression suggested the words before him were no longer reaching his ears.

Slowly, his lips began to part.

“Rejoice!”

Before Sukui could utter anything, the angelic being seized him by the throat.

Gone was her composed smile, replaced by a fury so intense it seemed as though her earlier calm had been a façade. She loomed over Sukui with ferocity.

Without waiting to hear what he might say, she bellowed at him.

“You worshipped death, didn’t you? You declared that death was magnificent, did you not? You spread the belief that death was salvation, did you not?!”

Then rejoice.

Give thanks to death. Offer blessings to those who die.

That was your creed, was it not?

“Then why that face?! Why aren’t you smiling? Why aren’t you praising?”

“You all…”

Sukui muttered softly, the words strained.

“Do you understand nothing?”

The angelic being interrupted him, her voice mocking.

“What do you mean, ‘understand nothing’? Death is salvation, equality, magnificence!”

“They weren’t ready…”

“Ready? When death is absolute, what is there to prepare for?”

Her mocking laughter rang out, drowning out Sukui’s faint protests.

“Why didn’t you kill them? Aren’t you meant to be a harbinger of death?”

Shouldn’t the wicked be saved as well? Shouldn’t everyone?

“Wherever your eyes land, wherever your hands can reach, bring death and offer salvation. Was that not your purpose?”

Sukui said nothing.

Even the angelic being understood that his silence was not born from defeat but something deeper.

“And that slave,” she spat, continuing her tirade.

“You not only refrained from finishing off a dying man, but you saved his life, gave him knowledge, bestowed him power, and then spoke of love,” she laughed again.

Uncontrollably, as though unable to contain herself.

“You claimed to save through death, to give salvation through killing, yet you only slay the wicked while spending your days helping people. What exactly are you trying to accomplish?”

Her voice dripped with mockery. Yet beneath it lay a seething hatred.

Sukui, who publicly declared his worship of death, was failing to act in accordance with his own proclamations.

That anger festered within her.

“You should understand by now,” she said at last, her laughter subsiding. Her voice grew cold and calm as she stared down Sukui.

“Yes.”

At last, Sukui spoke.

He understood. About this world. About himself.

“Then return at once.”

We’ll meet again soon enough. The final reckoning awaits.

As the murmurs reached Sukui’s ears, what did he think?

Or perhaps he thought nothing at all.

That, too, was everything.