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The Brash Goddess, apparently unsatisfied with the destruction, gave her greatsword a few exuberant swings.
"Let's go find Herpo! I'm going to enjoy myself today!" she declared, clearly unwilling to waste her "recharged" strength now that she'd rediscovered the pleasure of pure, unrestrained violence.
"Herpo might already be long gone, maybe even out of Rome's borders by now. You should always trust a wizard's ability to run, especially a legendary one who's mastered every trick for staying alive."
Ian's reasoning wasn't without merit. He'd expected Herpo to become a joke once the Sun God appeared, yet even the Sun God hadn't been able to lay eyes on him.
That didn't mean a Sun God couldn't track a legendary wizard, it was far more likely that Herpo had never been in the temple to begin with.
The voice they'd heard earlier might not have come from his body at all.
Magic was strange that way.
There were plenty of methods to pull off such a deception.
"Then you should also believe in a goddess's ability to find someone. The world isn't that big, where could he possibly go that I can't reach? My eyes can see, "
The Brash Goddess walked beside Ian, heading out of the temple.
But before she could finish her confident boast, the scene outside cut her short.
The destruction of the gates hadn't drawn the attention of all the priests stationed beyond.
Those meant to maintain the magical barrier were instead gathered at the cliff's edge, staring down below. Their faces were pale, stricken with dread, their robes whipping in the wind.
Some clutched wands that gave off an uneasy, trembling hum.
A taut, oppressive atmosphere hung in the air. Ian could hear a few of them muttering to themselves in low, shaky voices, the fear in their tone impossible to miss.
Following their gaze, the Brash Goddess's expression shifted.
Her golden hair, shining in the sun like flowing flame, suddenly seemed to ripple unevenly, betraying the deep shock surging through her.
"What happened?"
Ian stepped up beside Cassandra, someone he actually knew, and peered downward. All he could make out was a faint, distant scene, lit only by the twin beams of light blazing from the Brash Goddess's eyes.
"Over there…"
Cassandra's small, trembling hand pointed into the distance. Her face was pale as parchment, her voice thin and strained.
Following the direction of her finger, Ian saw them, countless dark shapes surging through the city streets.
They writhed and crawled along the roads like an endless tide of ants.
Ian's stomach tightened. He yanked his telescope free, lifted it, and the next instant a cold jolt shot up from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
"My God…"
His hands trembled as the sight came into focus.
It wasn't just a mob. It was the entire city's population, only, they were no longer living.
Every man, woman, and child had become one of those same withered, corpse-like monstrosities he had encountered before. Their skin was a sickly gray-white, their eye sockets sunken and hollow… yet their bodies still moved with a dreadful, mechanical rhythm, their synchronized footsteps drawing them toward the city's central square.
And in the heart of that square…
The figure Ian had once suspected might be the escaped Herpo finally revealed himself. Suspended in the air, his body seemed to fuse with the sea of withered dead.
Every corpse that touched him dissolved into a cloud of black mist, absorbed into his form. His shape shifted without pause, swelling, shrinking, twisting, as though he were sculpting himself in search of the most perfect vessel.
Countless figures, half-formed and flickering, fused into Herpo's body, their shapes twisting in and out of the roiling black mist. From within came a droning, mechanical chant, strange, unearthly, and relentless. The sound alone made Ian's scalp crawl.
"He's gathering his followers… in this monstrous way," Ian thought, the realization chilling him more than even the cruelties of the Dark Lord.
"How could he have transformed an entire city so quickly?!" The thought clawed at his mind, leaving him with the unsettling sense that even his thoughts were being tainted. He swallowed hard, disbelief etched across his face.
"He had already planted his brand, quietly, in every corner of the city, in every resident's home."
The Brash Goddess's gaze swept across Pompeii, seeing far more than mortal eyes could. What she found made even her, a goddess, feel a cold weight of horror.
Even the reflections in the waters scattered throughout the city bore Herpo's mark.
"No! This shouldn't be happening!"
"Calamity! This is a calamity!"
"Gods, save us! Save those innocent souls!"
The priests had already thrown themselves to the ground, foreheads pressed to the stone as they prayed desperately to their gods. Some turned directly to the Brash Goddess for aid, but she only stood in silence, frowning deeply as her gaze remained fixed on the far-off scene.
There, "Witness… my rise!"
Herpo's voice rolled across the city as he lifted his head.
His form was that of a god, wreathed in power, and his lips curled in a mocking, scornful smile. His eyes cut through the very air, locking on Ian and the goddess before the temple, as if silently declaring that the victory was already his.
In that instant, both Ian and the Brash Goddess understood: the shadowy temple's appearance, their arrival here, it had all been nothing more than a single step in Herpo's grand design.
It was a meticulously set trap.
Its purpose was clear, to draw away every force in the city capable of resisting him, or at least most of them. Only then could Herpo, using the goddess's very presence as a shield against the watchful eyes above, complete his plan with ruthless speed. He had even foreseen, with chilling precision, the exact choices the goddess and Ian would make.
And Riddle's decision had been no different.
"This man… is he truly trying to ascend to godhood?"
A wave of unfiltered dread slammed into Ian's mind. His gaze snapped to a figure standing beside Herpo, one he recognized instantly, though the sight felt wrong in every possible way.
Draco Malfoy.
The Slytherin wizard's entire body was wrapped in black markings, as if darkness itself had claimed him. His eyes were vacant, his expression empty. Kneeling in submission, he raised both hands high, as though offering Herpo up to the heavens.
It was then Ian noticed the ground. Three deep recesses had been carved into the stone, each forming a point of a perfect triangle. Malfoy knelt in one of them.
"The number of impossibility… three."
An uneasy chill coiled in Ian's gut.
Two of the triangular positions still lay empty, as though awaiting their appointed occupants. He turned toward the Brash Goddess, intending to ask her what it meant, when his heart lurched.
Riddle, who had been standing right beside him, stunned and motionless under Stupefy, was gone.
"Where's Riddle?" Ian's pupils narrowed sharply.
A heartbeat later, in the distant city square, a flash of green light burst into one of the empty recesses. From within that light, Riddle's body slowly took shape.
He was still unconscious.
But that didn't stop Riddle from assuming the same posture as Malfoy, both hands raised high, as if holding up something unseen. Black markings, dense as a swarm of ants, began to spread across his skin until they covered every inch.
Ian was still reeling from Riddle's sudden disappearance, wondering how they could have missed even the faintest magical ripple, when the Brute Goddess suddenly stiffened.
"Damn it! We have to leave, now!"
Her voice was sharp with urgency. Color drained from her face as she seized Ian's wrist with a grip that brooked no argument, as if desperate to drag him away from this place gone wrong.
"What's going on? You're just going to run and leave all this behind?" Ian protested, feeling an irresistible force pulling him. He barely had time to scoop the trembling little Cassandra into his arms.
Save one, if you can save one, that was all he could think.
"Of course I'll come back! But I have to warn the other gods first!" The Brute Goddess tried to sweep away the black clouds gathering overhead, only to find they clung stubbornly in place, immovable.
"Uh… your father didn't say anything just now, so it can't be something worth calling down the heavens for, right?" Ian said, though a chill crept down his spine at his own words.
What could possibly shake the gods themselves?
The Brute Goddess's expression was grimmer than he had ever seen.
"I've seen it, why Herpo can still move freely in the mortal realm. He exists in a paradox, caught between life and death. Now he seeks another being carrying the same paradox, to become his Angel, to hold aloft his divine throne, to ring the great bell of godhood, and to become something that should never exist… a Paradox God."
Even in her voice, there was the faintest tremor of fear.
She pulled Ian with her, already beginning to transform into a stream of golden sunlight to escape the cursed city.
Then her voice echoed again in his ear.
"Riddle, the boy you were searching for, is also burdened with a temporal paradox. Now, only one more Paradox Angel remains… Tell me, Ian, who do you think that will be?"
Her words struck Ian like a thunderclap.
Good heavens. All this time, it wasn't that he had been hunting Herpo; Herpo had been hunting him, ever since the moment he stepped into this era!
Ian had wanted to use Herpo to forge a legendary tale… but Herpo intended to use Ian and Riddle to ascend to godhood.
So this was the true darkness lurking behind the glorious name of an ancient Dark Wizard.
(End of Chapter)