Chapter 27

Ah, right. Gart nodded briefly. “I had forgotten my hometown.”

A distant past rose to mind. Though a hundred years had passed, the image of Paradise remained vividly clear. The god had been beautiful. With gentle, clear eyes, she wore the face of a benevolent woman and smiled innocently like a child. But it wasn’t mere beauty that had allowed her to rule over humans.

All beings on the continent were once believed to have been part of a single divine entity. So when people met someone they felt fatefully drawn to, they believed it was a piece of their soul returning to them. Since this instinctual pull couldn’t be explained otherwise, the vague concept of love was layered on top.

Paradise possessed the power to make every individual believe that they were her soul’s other half. It sounded impressive, but in Heimdrix, this kind of mind-based power was relatively common.

Still, back then, to humans, gods were inherently noble and great—regardless of what they did. Paradise added one more element to the faith born of awe and fear of the unknown: she used her beauty and allure to dig deep into each person’s heart and draw out love.

Love like that of a parent for a child, a child for a parent, between lovers, between friends—every form of love in the world was blended and directed toward her. Humans didn’t even hesitate to rip out their own hearts to see Paradise smile. They smiled in ecstasy even before death.

Gart was the only outsider among them. His yet-unawakened divinity had shielded his mind. True uniqueness, wherever it is buried, always stands out. Paradise choosing Gart as a sacrifice had been inevitable.

“It’s an honor! A great honor!”

When Paradise pointed at Gart, his father wept with joy. A child is a reflection of the parent. If his son became one with Paradise, then he, too, would be united with her.

Whether that was true or not, the man believed it completely. After meeting Paradise, he had never once cared for his son. Now, he shoved Gart into a freezing lake and scrubbed him harshly with his rough hands.

“Father, it’s cold. It hurts.”

There were so many things he wanted to say, but Gart’s lips turned blue and his body trembled too violently to utter even a single word. So he could only let out faint whimpers as he was dragged to the altar.

When Paradise saw the special sacrifice, she smiled sweetly like a child receiving a birthday gift. Humans wept and etched that smile into their memories. On the altar, Gart shivered. The frozen slab beneath him quickly drained the last warmth from his body. His vision blurred. It wasn’t fear, but cold that brought the most immediate pain.

“Cold.”

That was the only thought in his mind. Perhaps the awakening of his fire-controlling power was triggered by that extreme situation. At the brink of death, his divinity awakened. And then, Gart’s hand pierced through Paradise’s heart. The god, who had always smiled beautifully, twisted her face in agony and screamed.

Only then did Gart manage a faint smile at the warmth blooming in his hand. That was where the story known to others as “The Birth of Hero Gart” ended. What happened after was never told. It wasn’t a tale suited for a hero’s origin.

The fanatics’ beloved lover, friend, parent, and eternal Paradise was reduced to ashes by a frail child. They went mad, charging at the hero who had accomplished such a feat, determined to kill him. Among them was Gart’s own father, thrilled at the thought of joining Paradise in her embrace.

And so Gart fled. He killed some of them along the way. Though he had slain only one monster, he had killed more humans. The word “murderer” suited him more than “hero.”

The fanatics’ pursuit was relentless. Those who once lived only for Paradise now lived only to kill Gart. Without a stroke of luck, he would’ve never escaped.

Thus, Gart left Olkiedpan. Shortly after, he heard that the supreme being of Heimdrix had descended and frozen the entire region. So divine punishment did exist, apparently. While doing odd jobs for a small mercenary band, Gart had scoffed at the news and moved on. He didn’t have the time to dwell on it—an agony that gnawed at his nerves was devouring his entire body. It was the manifestation of a curse.

“Oh… b-beautiful… P-Paradise…!”

The wailing voice of a monster snapped Gart out of his thoughts. He glanced again at the creatures before him.

It seemed these monsters had consumed the humans who once lived in Paradise. What a ridiculous coincidence. To return home and be greeted by familiar faces—that was a line his subordinates liked to say. After all, heroes who returned to their homelands were usually showered with support and worship.

But it didn’t apply to Gart. All the familiar faces were dead, and even if they weren’t, they wouldn’t have welcomed him.

“O noble and b-beautiful god—g-grant us your… r-radiant… s-smile!”

Yet oddly enough, they had welcomed him. They said he was beautiful, begged him to show his radiant smile—so in a way, it was genuine support.

A scornful grin curled Gart’s lips. As he silently watched, the monsters began to feast on the corpses of their fallen kin strewn across the ground. Loud crunching filled the air as they ripped out hearts and tore into flesh.

Paradise, who had ruled thousands underfoot with a moonlit smile, and these monsters weren’t all that different. Watching the grotesque display, a wave of disgust surged through him. Since when had he become the type to wait while others ate?

Heat rippled around Gart. Before the monsters could flee, they were engulfed in black flames. The stench of burning flesh stung his nose. Screams and laughter echoed from within the flickering fire.

A splitting headache pounded in his skull. Gart slowly ran a hand down his face. Ever since leaving the fortress, the curse that had spread from his heart now filled his fingers, toes, and head—his entire body had been consumed.

He laughed viciously. The pain felt sharper than ever. The reason was obvious. It was like how the cold feels worse after stepping out from a warm place.

“My… b-beautiful… godde-ess…!”

The stronger the pain, the more his thoughts drifted. Though he knew the goddess they chanted for referred to Paradise, another figure surfaced in his mind: the radiant silver hair like opal, and the clear, pink eyes of the beautiful goddess—Mariax.

“My… one and… only Paradise…!”

My one and only paradise.

***

“What happened in Jullaphan?”

Three Thousandth politely phrased what essentially meant, “Your foul personality is even worse than usual today.” It wasn’t the first time the curse had caused him pain. Still, if someone like Three Thousandth, who’d known him for a long time, pointed it out, then it must have been obvious—Gart was in a foul mood.

And Gart wasn’t clueless about the reason. The moment he reached the city walls, he sensed Mariax hiding among the crowd. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there. The wind carried her scent to him.

The smell of a snow-covered forest. Before he even identified it, his body instinctively relaxed. It was like inhaling the smoke of burning herbs—his body reacted before his mind did. No, it was more intense than that. He had become thoroughly conditioned in less than a week since meeting Mariax.

An irresistible force kept pulling him toward her. Like those who had once basked in Paradise’s embrace, he wanted to love her blindly. Because he knew how sweet the peace she gave was.

Only now, after a hundred years, did he begin to understand the minds of the fanatics. But he also knew that eternal paradise was a mere illusion—and what happened to those who chased it.

He was no longer the child who once begged a god for mercy. Nor did he seek salvation. Therefore, he had no need for gods.

“Mariax.”

“…Out of nowhere?”

To a question about what happened in Jullaphan, the answer was Mariax? Three Thousandth raised an eyebrow. Then he remembered what had happened outside the outer wall just hours ago—Gart’s murderous aura toward Mariax. It had been so intense it was palpable even from afar. Now that he thought about it… yes, that had happened. Three Thousandth stared at Gart with a strange look.

“Should I kill her?”

“…Out of nowhere?”

Though his voice was as indifferent as usual, Three Thousandth couldn’t brush it off as a joke. There was a chill in the murderous undertone that raised goosebumps.

“You mustn’t.” Three Thousandth quickly added, “We haven’t learned much from her yet.”

“It’s too late.”

“She’s beginning to open up, bit by bit. We’ll speed things up as much as we can, so please wait.”

“No, it’s too late.” Gart smiled coolly. “I’ll do it.”

A vision of a charred corpse flashed through Three Thousandth’s mind. It was a criminal’s fate—but it could easily become the next result of “I’ll do it.” Since every place Gart passed turned to ashes, the weight of those words hit even harder. Three Thousandth’s face turned pale.