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It reveals itself beyond the terrible stillness.

A young girl, quietly closing her eyes, wrapped in crimson divine power.

Madness is approaching.

“Wait a minute. A girl…?”

It didn’t take long for me to sense that something was off.

As she was a dead goddess, there wasn’t much detail set in her appearance, but there was one thing that was definitely established.

The god of madness is a man. In fact, when the goddess of love speaks of the god of madness as my task, didn’t she call him ‘he’?

Yet, look at the one who is flying toward me now. Wrapped in undeniable divine power of madness, it was a young girl.

Her bright red hair resembling the power of madness. Chubby cheeks tinted a rosy hue. Her adorable features hinted that she would become an absolute beauty in the future.

Looking at the small sketchbook she was hugging tightly and the distorted little bud it pressed against, I was once again convinced.

No matter how you look at it, the one approaching wrapped in the power of madness was a young girl.

“It must definitely be the power of the god of madness…”

Just for a moment I murmured in confusion. Then, I noticed a serious error.

The girl hugging the sketchbook. With eyes filled with vibrant charm that seemed ready to open at any moment… she was not breathing.

“Ah.”

A girl who doesn’t breathe. A sketchbook held in her arms. And the thick madness wrapping around her.

Only then could I understand everything.

“Ha… there’s no need for this backstory.”

Ever since the god of madness was completely consumed by his own madness, it had been viewed negatively as madness that rampages and distorts living beings.

Back in his sane days, madness was another name for inspiration.

He was not just an insane person, but the god of artists.

Creation comes from madness, not reason.

Reason was the only thing that rightly made a person human, and before the adoration of reason that said madness belonged to the realm of beasts.

To put it simply, philosophers before Descartes viewed madness as a kind of talent, not mental illness.

The god of madness is a deity derived from such history of Earth.

In distant past, the god of madness was seen as quite a decent god, but since he went berserk, he became the worst of the worst in terms of evil gods.

And to emphasize that he was originally a free-spirited god, several settings were added, such as:

The god of madness occasionally had affairs with passionate female artists… and among them, one bore a child.

A demigod.

Beings made from parts of the gods, not transcending them, but born with extraordinary abilities and long lifespans among mortals.

If the World Tree were alive, Eve would also have been a true descendant of the World Tree, becoming a demigod.

Anyway, demigods are those with such origins, connected to their parent gods in a conceptual sense, not by blood.

But the god of madness preferred descendants through more direct and traditional means.

Naturally, that was a way that was originally impossible.

Divine power equals immortality. And immortality also signifies invariability, so for a god who is a solitary and complete being, the idea of reproducing offspring is just a meaningless attempt.

Yet for some reason, the god of madness could see a child that was his own blood.

Like that god, closer to chaos than order, something incomprehensible may have occurred. After all, madness is beyond comprehension in the first place.

Regardless, there’s a setting that the god of madness named his daughter, who resembled him so closely, “Muse,” and cherished and loved her more than himself.

Not a normal case, but a child whose growth somehow halted at a certain moment.

An eternal girl, with no immortal power, whose body and heart are forever youthful.

And a celestial artist who loves singing and painting, just like her parents.

The existence of the Muse is a way to affirm that the god of madness is a rather irregular being among the many gods, thus able to perform acts that defy common sense, spreading madness across the world and turning it into monsters.

…And I didn’t name the last survivor of the War of the Gods as Muse.

She likely perished caught up in the War of the Gods, and it wouldn’t be strange if the god of madness completely lost his mind because of this long conflict.

For example… might he pour his divine power into the empty body of his daughter and try to resurrect her somehow?

“This is driving me crazy.”

Of course, this was nothing but speculation. There was always one certainty. The core.

“But how do I take that down?”

Though it was said she’s a dead girl, her body was overflowing with an unimaginable level of divine power.

The god of madness also seemed to exist healthily, even without a physical form.

The center of the crimson divine power. The sketchbook that wouldn’t let go even in death must be the core. Essentially, it’s like walking around with one’s own heart exposed.

If I can just do something about that sketchbook, the god of madness would disperse and destroy without that physical form.

Once I reached this conclusion, I understood the reason behind the settings I hadn’t specified.

Why the god of madness was targeting the goddess of love.

The mad declaration he made to the goddess of love. True madness blooms from affection, so saying he would plant madness in her womb was not a metaphor, but the truth itself.

It means that the god of madness, realizing he cannot revive Muse in this way, intends to use the goddess of love to make Muse reborn.

“A madman…”

The physical bodies that cannot overcome madness twist and distort and are a common sight seen in monsters.

On a large scale, there are instances where the head of the dragon I just defeated split into three, and on a smaller scale, a rabbit sprouted horns so it could run at an unbelievable speed.

Those touched by madness invariably distort. And this is a type of recreation.

Not pure creation, but the power to create something similar yet new using the material of something that already exists.

Since the Muse is a child born not from need but from love, perhaps he thought that if he could distort and shape the goddess of love like clay, the body for Muse’s soul could be completed.

That is, if the corpse still has a soul.

I glanced at the approaching corpse of the Muse and the intangible god of madness that surrounded her.

Understanding this, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances.

Even though we’ve reached a situation like this, this continent is still a world I created. The god of madness, who seeks to kill me, is also a being close to family.

But this applies to others as well.

The goddess of love, watching me anxiously from the temple, the various gods looking my way from afar, and Ellie, Lydia, Benny, and even the goddess of love from a millennium in the future, all waiting for me.

No, I must say that I have a preference for the latter, especially as feelings as a person add to it beyond just being a creator.

So, this is a simple issue that doesn’t require deep thought.

I released my grasp from the rough surface of my left arm.

Then I fiddled with the lighter in my pocket and readied the dagger again.

“I have to go.”

I must return. I’ve made a reason to go back. Therefore, returning is imperative.

The imbalance from not having one arm. Lacking the strength to correct this, I staggered towards the source of madness.

One step. Another step. Slow yet steady.

Perhaps because it was using most of its power to protect its daughter’s remains, as I got closer, the divine power of madness started to intensify like a fierce storm, yet I couldn’t feel any physical presence at all.

Instead, that intense gale was meant to tear my psyche apart, not my physical body.

The outlines of objects warped and colorful hues slipped out amidst the distortions, and, to top it all off, voices that were not mine began to whisper, while an unfamiliar landscape pounded in my mind.

No matter how great a hero, they would have fallen long ago. Perhaps even the gods would hesitate.

But my steps will not be stopped by anything.

It may be because I acquired tremendous mental resilience upon awakening the embodiment of love, or it could be the spiritual fortitude of my soul rendering mental attacks ineffective… or perhaps my will, which has already sharpened to a point, may be cutting away all interference.

Either way, I don’t care. What’s important is that the distance is increasingly shrinking.

The gentle, crimson wind. The immense resentment and violence felt within it, along with a hint of hope.

I did not let it slip away but gathered it steadily in a corner of my heart and moved my feet.

As my heart grew heavier, my steps lightened. There is no distinction of body for the god of madness; thus, my empathy towards his emotions must have reduced so too his resistance towards me.

After a considerable time stumbling along, I finally looked up at the sky. The god of madness was directly above me, along with the Muse’s corpse.

Perhaps due to the recoil from excessively surpassing my limits, which I couldn’t cure with divine sacred magic, I found myself in a situation where I could hardly stand still, let alone jump.

But would it really be necessary for me to climb all the way up there on my own strength?

“… Goddess.”

A single murmured word. In response, a barrier that had been opened to gather the monsters appeared in the air.

Thud.

I stepped on it, and the next barrier wobbled as it became a foothold.

Thud.

It felt as if I was climbing a staircase. With each of my steps, new barrier footholds continued to unfold.

After repeating the process of stepping into the air several times, soon enough, the girl, enveloped in crimson currents and closing her eyes, stood before me.

My goal was the sketchbook she clutched tightly.

Raising the dagger high, I drove it down with full force.

Kachang!

But the dagger was blocked by the crimson divine power and bounced back as if repelled.

“Ah, it’s happening as I thought.”

The god of madness, who until now hadn’t been affected by physical force, seems to be properly protecting the most important part.

Of course, I had a plan for this too.

Gripping the red scarf around my neck, I raised a prayer.

“Sif. O thief god who steals nothing, grant me a miracle just this once.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

And nothing happened.

“?”

Thinking back, the reason why the thief god survived until the end of the War of the Gods was that he ran away from every disaster.

In other words, it means that in front of a big event like this, he closed his eyes, covered his ears, turned his back, and distanced himself.

“No….”

That’s what makes him a thief, after all!

 

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