Vile Evil Hides Under The Veil

The sea monster landed with a heavy thud.

He then dropped Shir on the altar stone ground beside the corpse of God Raashim. He didn't say a word. He simply let go of Shir like a broken object and stepped back.

Shir groaned. His body was barely functioning, broken in more ways than one. His limbs twitched weakly as he looked around, trying to make sense of where he was.

Then his gaze landed on the body beside him.

God Raashim.

Lying face-down, completely still. His once-glorious Spirit Body had turned mortal. His skin looked pale and drained, his eyes shut tight as if refusing to see the world any longer.

Thick golden blood had dried around his lips, and the few remaining drops still slipped from the wounds on his chest and back. The Immortal Blood would evaporate before it falls to the ground. Slowly, the blood was just vanishing into thin air.

There was very little blood left in him now. His entire vitality had been eaten away.

God Raashim's pitiful face... Shir stared at it. There was pain there. Real pain. The kind that didn't just come from wounds but from deep, unbearable defeat. His expression was twisted with grief, confusion, and unwillingness.

It didn't feel real at first.

Shir blinked. Then again. But the image didn't change.

The disbelief hit him like a wave. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. His breathing got shaky.

He had known this would happen. He had watched it unfold. But now, seeing it right in front of him… He clenched his jaw.

Anger rushed into him next. Raw and ugly. His fingers curled into shaky fists, nails digging into his palms.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to lunge at Eren and tear him apart with his bare hands. He wanted to crush that sea monster. His vision blurred with fury, his teeth clenched so hard they could break.

But then, the next feeling surprised even him. Relief.

It crept into his chest quietly, without warning.

Why? Why did he feel relieved?

At first, he tried to push the thought away. But then he understood.

It wasn't just that Raashim had died before watching the temple fall. It was something else.

It was freedom.

Shir looked at the dead god again—his god, his main self, the source of his own existence. All these years, he had followed the path laid out for him. He was the avatar. The servant. The extension of someone else's will. A piece of a greater soul.

And now? Now that main soul was gone.

And that meant Shir... was finally free. Truly free.

He wouldn't have to carry out Raashim's will anymore. He wouldn't have to worry about protecting a temple's interests built by someone else. No more servitude.

Of course, the danger was still there. He couldn't die. Because if he did, that was it. No rebirth. No reincarnation. No future. He would vanish completely—erased from the concept of existence.

So the usual avatar tricks, like the buffing up of soul fragments, the sealed thoughts meant for next lives— just to have a new start at life. None of it mattered.

At this moment.

Step. Step. Step.

Shir heard footsteps approaching him.

Sifrona walked slowly toward the defeated demigod. She then crouched down slowly, folding her legs and leaning closer to his face. Her prideful eyes studied him—those pale cheeks, those lips trembling as he tried to breathe through cracked ribs, the flicker of pain that still danced across his face.

Then she smirked.

It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't even out of hate. It was satisfaction.

She remembered everything.

The way Shir had kicked her when she was on the ground, half-dead.

How he had stepped on her head like she was trash.

How he had smiled as he carved wounds into her body—not to kill her, but to humiliate her. To force her into converting her faith through pain and fear.

He wanted her to kneel. To break her spirit.

And had he simply tried to kill her back then, Sifrona might have let it go. She would've cursed his name, sure. But she would've moved on, accepted it as the cost of war.

But he mocked her when she was down. And that was something she would never forgive.

Now, their roles had reversed.

She was fully healed. Her strength had returned thanks to Empusa Nina's top-tier healing magic.

And Shir? He was done. Beaten. Bloodied. Defeated.

Sifrona turned her head to look at Eren, who stood nearby. Their eyes met.

He said nothing. But his expression gave her the answer she wanted.

A soft nod.

Go ahead.

Sifrona's smile widened.

She turned back to Shir, bent a little closer so their eyes met. Her voice came out soft and almost playful.

"Do you remember me?" she asked.

Shir blinked. He tried to lift his head but failed. His eyes moved slowly and finally focused on her.

Recognition flickered in them. Sifrona didn't wait.

Smack.

Her hand met his cheek with a sharp, echoing slap. Not strong enough to knock him out. But just enough to sting—to burn. To remind him he was no longer the one in control.

Shir's head turned with the impact. Blood dribbled from his lip.

Sifrona watched his reaction closely.

"You stepped on my face once," she said quietly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Remember, you wanted me to change my faith?"

She leaned closer, her face inches from his. "Now look at you."

The dark phoenix demoness was just getting started.

She then stood up and stepped over him, her boots planting squarely on his chest as she pushed her weight down. Shir groaned, his cracked ribs making his breathing worse.

She moved one foot to his stomach and gave him a rough kick. Not strong enough to kill, but enough to send pain shooting through his body.

And she didn't stop.

A second kick. A third.

She stomped on his arm, crushing it against the ground. A muffled cry escaped Shir's lips.

Sifrona tilted her head, eyes cool and calm, her voice steady. "See how it feels when you try to forcefully convert someone?"