How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 651: Riley’s troubles 2

"Oh, magnificent darkness, the hour of the end is nigh... please grant this blameless lamb Your divine favor!"

The old man’s cry reverberated through the cavernous, humid grotto, vibrating with a fervor that bordered on insanity.

Positioned before him was a hideous idol fashioned from obsidian stone, its contours twisted into forms that barely hinted at anything human.

Gloom clung to the statue unnaturally, as if the shadows themselves possessed life.

The elder collapsed to his knees with such force that his joints popped, slamming his brow against the freezing earth.

"Hoooooooooaaah!!"

Following his lead, the disciples behind him mirrored the gesture, sinking to the ground in succession, palms upturned and eyes quivering with fanatical zeal.

Their labored breathing saturated the air, blending with the rhythmic plinking of distant water. Comfort... expectation... fixation... all these emotions were braided into their distorted grins.

When the elder—Augustus—finally looked up, his smile pulled back with unnatural width.

"Haaah... the time is close. Soon... very soon, we shall encounter our goddess’s anointed one, our redeemer, our everything!"

Upon hearing his proclamation, the congregation shook with fervor. Tears fell from some, while others erupted in laughter. A few simply stared into the void as if a miracle were unfolding before their very eyes.

Augustus observed them with the pride of a patriarch, a spark of madness dancing in his gaze.

For an eternity, he had tended to this idol—this "darkness"—armed with nothing but conviction and hopelessness. He had performed the rites in solitude. He had petitioned the heavens alone. He had endured the wait in isolation.

But now?

Now, the cavern was teeming with the faithful.

This marked the first instance in his long, miserable service that his cult had reached such numbers.

"Truly... the currents have shifted," he breathed with a shaky sense of triumph. "The great father’s passing was not in vain..."

Asmodeus.

The formidable demon king whose abrupt demise had sent shockwaves through every circle of demonic worshippers. It was a catastrophe that had buried them in sorrow and despair.

Yet to Augustus... that death served as a herald.

Because out of that void, a fresh hope had dawned.

A new augury.

A murmur suggesting that the "chosen one of the darkness" had finally entered the world.

And that designated savior... bore the name of Hell.

Augustus trembled, clasping his hands as though offering a prayer directly to the chosen one's person.

"Soon... we shall behold the one destined to lead us to deliverance," he declared, teardrops tracing paths down his lined skin. "For the goddess has at last provided an answer."

He summoned that specific memory with perfect precision.

It had occurred during his daily miracle—just a few hushed syllables, delicate and fleeting, carried on a dark wind—yet those brief words were sufficient to earn him the rank of Oracle.

[A massive anomaly shall be unleashed upon the land...]

[My anointed child... escort him with honor and dignity.]

[For he is the one who shall bring the conclusion to all things.]

Even now, the recollection of that voice made his very marrow ache. At the time, the celestial utterance had nearly broken his psyche; the sheer weight of it hammered against his skull like jagged metal.

Nevertheless... his heart, his spirit, and his entire existence had been flooded with bliss.

Recalling that low, distorted voice—so merciless, so ancient, so sovereign—made him feel youthful and energetic once more, as if the fire of purpose had been rekindled in his blood.

There had been so many setbacks.

So many bodies of their youths, slaughtered by the cold steel of the Paladins.

So many decades spent being reviled, chased, and condemned by society.

The Holy Kingdom loathed them, the populace dreaded them, and destiny itself seemed to have turned its back.

But now... the momentum was swinging in their favor.

All their sacrifices, all their mourning—a debt of blood that would soon be collected in its entirety.

The continent would be swallowed by turmoil, and their long suffering would finally bear fruit.

Once they pledged themselves to the Goddess’s anointed child, once they surrendered their loyalty and their blades to him, their path would turn toward ecstasy, triumph, and the redemption they had long awaited.

Obstacles remained, naturally.

They could not emerge into the light just yet.

The Paladins of the Holy Kingdom had been remarkably restless lately, prowling about with newfound intensity.

However, Augustus had mastered the most difficult lesson through hardship:

Endurance.

And he was capable of waiting.

He had waited for years, even decades, and his steadfastness had always been compensated.

Time to expand.

Time to arrange.

Time for their conviction to mature into an unstoppable force.

And shortly—very shortly—a legion forged specifically for the Great Chosen One would emerge from the darkness.

Augustus raised his limbs, his voice quivering with intense piety.

"Oh, let us glorify His name... Oh great Hell, we surrender our faith to you!"

Instantly, his disciples joined in the refrain, their voices rising as one—feral, pious, and crazed—like a choir singing to the abyss.

.......

"Master, it looks like your fame is growing in... well, in several different directions," Lavine remarked, her diminutive fairy form resting lazily on Riley’s head as if it were a custom pillow. "You were already far too notable—now your notoriety might lead to some genuine complications..."

Riley let out a long breath. "Yeah..."

Lavine drummed her feet against his brow. "Is it because they caught on to you quietly picking off their members?"

"I don't think that's why."

"Then how do they have your name? Even if it's just hinted at, they’re clearly worshiping and honoring this 'Hell' figure. And that’s basically you, isn't it? You’re the only Hell I’m aware of who’s in the middle of all this."

Riley couldn't argue; he felt the weight of her logic settling in his chest. Even he wasn't fully convinced that his recent exploits—particularly the last few messy clashes—weren't the cause. But...

"I suspect there's more to it," he whispered.

Lavine blinked. "What are you getting at?"

He paused for a moment before replying softly, "Erebil might be making a move behind the scenes..."

Lavine’s wings went rigid. She seized a clump of his blonde hair, pulling hard enough to make him flinch. "Wait—what? I thought you said you had a pact with her! That she wouldn't mess with you or your girls until the appointed day, right?"

"She won't," Riley answered. "At least... not in a direct way."

He placed a hand on Lavine’s small form, gently uncurling her fingers from his hair.

"Erebil is the goddess of malice and shadows," he explained. "Oaths are sacred to deities, certainly... but that doesn't stop them from finding loopholes. She can't strike at me now—she gave her word. But she can still put events in motion. Minor things. Indirect things. Matters that might cause me grief much later rather than today."

Lavine went still, then nodded slowly in grim realization.

It was perfectly logical.

If the goddess’s meddling wasn't immediate—if it didn't impact Riley this very second—then Erebil wasn't technically violating her oath at all.

She was simply... arranging the pieces on the board.

And Riley was forced to deal with whatever was coming.

Riley pondered for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose as a troubling thought took root.

Why was he being deified instead of being hunted?

They should be fully aware of my ties to Eris by this point as well...

The dilemma hung over him like a heavy burden.

He considered endless scenarios—plots, hidden agendas, godly schemes, political maneuvers—but every path eventually led back to the same frustrating realization:

Erebil was likely acting on a simple whim.

And that fact alone was enough to give him a migraine.

He sighed in resignation.

Just the thought of the chaos that would follow every captured demonic worshipper screaming his name like a holy mantra was enough to make him want to go into hibernation.

Eventually, the Paladins of the Holy Kingdom would likely pay him a "friendly visit."

Which... wasn't a major issue in itself.

But if they decided to label him a villain, restoring his reputation would be an absolute nightmare.

Lavine’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"So, what's the plan, Master?"

Riley looked ahead with a soft sigh and gently lifted Lavine from his head.

"I'm going to put you to work."

Lavine blinked in confusion. "...Excuse me?"

He didn't offer an explanation. Instead, he pressed a finger firmly against her tiny fairy body.

"W–Wait, Master! I might be small right now, but you shouldn't be touching a lady so—"

Her high-pitched complaint cut off as her eyes grew wide.

A warm, overwhelming wave of divine energy flowed into her like liquid light.

"This is...?" she breathed, stunned.

"That should be enough power to keep you going for several months," Riley said nonchalantly. "You won't require my constant connection anymore. You'll be able to travel freely even if I'm not nearby."

Lavine hovered in silence, feeling the divine essence thrumming inside her like a second heart.

"...Yes," she whispered, a tiny flicker of excitement rising within her. "But why give me so much?"

"I told you I was going to make use of you."

Lavine arched an eyebrow.

"Lavine, from this point on, I want you to scout the continent and collect every bit of intelligence you can find regarding these demonic worshippers."

She stared at him.

Stared.

Then she stared some more.

Finally, she produced a choked sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh.

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope..."