The Origin of the World
In this world, in an age when all things had yet to take shape, there existed two supreme goddesses—the ones who laid the foundation for all living beings.
The Goddess of Light, the embodiment of hope, radiance, and unceasing effort, was the first to open the world. She created all things with a gentle nature: fertile land, clear rivers, and living beings that relied on one another without the need for slaughter. Within her creations, there was no concept of domination or destruction—only survival and continuation.
The Goddess of Darkness appeared afterward. She did not represent evil, but rather the profound darkness that exists within every living being: fear, instinct, hunger, unnamed desires. From her hands, monsters were born. They bore grotesque forms, but they were not created to massacre. They were merely beings who did not yet understand the light.
Seeing the imbalance, the two goddesses together created humankind.
Humans were expected to be the bridge—those who could understand the light yet also touch the darkness; those who could help monsters cleanse the depths of their souls.
After that, both goddesses departed.
With no gods to guide it, the world began to operate on its own.
At first, magic did not exist. Humans and monsters lived together for many centuries. There were conflicts, but no wars of annihilation. Until—
The third god appeared.
The God of Ambition.
He called himself the God of Ambition—the embodiment of power, desire, and self-interest.
He granted magic to both humans and monsters.
Not as a gift, but as a curse.
Along with power, he sowed greed into the world—a greed that eroded both light and darkness alike. His power overwhelmed the legacy of the two goddesses. From that moment on, the world entered thousands of years of slaughter.
War gave birth to cults.
Cults gave birth to extremism.
Extremism gave birth to annihilation.
After countless purges, only three splinter cults remained.
The Cult of the Goddess of Light
They worship absolute light.
They despise darkness, viewing everything related to it as heresy that must be burned away.
The Cult of the Goddess of Darkness
They worship the deepest darkness.
They hate the light, believing it conceals the falsehood of the world.
The Turning-Head Cult
They worship no gods.
They venerate only physical pain.
They believe pain is the only truth left in a world that has already rotted away.
Kiriel finished the story in a voice so calm it was cold.
Kiriel:
"That is the history the world is told."
"But only a little of the truth remains."
"Because both the Cult of Light and the Cult of Darkness…"
"…share the same enemy."
She looked straight at Lioren.
Kiriel:
"The Cult of Light."
"And just like me—an incarnation created to kill the Pope."
Lioren was silent for a few seconds.
Lioren:
"I understand the gist of it."
"Then… let's go."
---
The Church
Inside the church, the scent of incense mixed with damp stone and dim yellow candlelight.
Father Vincent:
"Lioren?"
"Why have you come here?"
"And who is that girl?"
Lioren:
"Father."
"We have come to join the faith."
The priest froze, then broke into a rare smile.
Father Vincent:
"You wish to join the faith?"
Kiriel:
"Yes, Father."
Joy was clearly written on his face.
Father Vincent:
"Tomorrow, we will perform the ritual."
"Thank you for choosing this path."
He handed Lioren an old leather-bound notebook.
Father Vincent:
"Rules, customs, rites."
"Everything is in there."
Lioren:
"Thank you, Father."
---
Nightfall
The city sank into flickering lights.
The two rented a small inn room.
Lioren sat reading the notebook. The lines describing pain, purification, and bodily liberation made him frown.
Kiriel looked around the room.
Kiriel:
"This place… will do."
She closed the door and locked it tightly. The atmosphere changed—heavier.
Kiriel removed her clothes, leaving only her underwear.
By the time Lioren realized it, she was already standing very close.
He stepped back instinctively.
Lioren:
"What are you doing?"
Kiriel:
"Having sex."
Kiriel:
"Men always need a woman to release themselves."
"You have no one."
"So I'm here."
Lioren:
"But you are an incarnation of—"
Kiriel:
"Just a title."
"Think of me as a woman."
Lioren fell silent.
In this world, the value of women was almost nonexistent. They were born to serve men, to reproduce; that was why, when night fell, countless prostitutes called out from dark alleys.
He understood that. And that very understanding caused his desire to rise.
The candle flickered.
The door closed.
---
Morning
The pale light of dawn slipped through the window crack, falling across the inn floor like dull knife marks. There was no birdsong, no sign of life—just a cold morning like every other in this city.
Lioren woke up.
His head felt heavy, memories of the night before lingering like a thin mist that refused to fade. He turned his head to the side.
Kiriel was still asleep.
Her long hair spilled across the pillow, her face so calm it was almost emotionless. Both of them were naked, with no disguises left.
Just two bodies existing beside one another.
A thought flashed through Lioren's mind—quick and dirty.
(I… having sex with the incarnation of the Goddess of Darkness.)
(How lucky.)
Immediately, he frowned.
Lioren (whispering):
"What am I thinking…"
He sat up, rubbing his forehead as if to drive the thought away. An unpleasant feeling welled up inside him—not quite guilt, but the familiar emptiness of realizing he was no different from this world.
He turned to Kiriel.
Lioren:
"Kiriel. Wake up."
"We have to go."
Kiriel opened her eyes. There was no embarrassment, no confusion. She simply woke up.
The two silently put their clothes back on.
No one mentioned the night before.
---
The Church
The church stood under the morning sun, blindingly white—a false purity amid a rotting city.
Inside, the metallic smell of dried blood mixed with incense, making Lioren's throat burn.
Father Vincent was already waiting.
Father Vincent:
"Do you understand the initiation ritual, Lioren?"
Lioren:
"Yes, Father."
Without further questions, the priest placed a small knife into his hand. The blade was thin, sharp, gleaming with a cold gray sheen.
Father Vincent:
"I have prepared everything."
"Go in."
Lioren nodded and walked deeper into the church.
Rows of old wooden pews lay silent like blind witnesses. At the center was a large magic circle drawn entirely in blood—tangled, twisted lines, as if pain itself had guided the hand that drew them.
Lioren stood before the circle.
He took a deep breath.
Lioren:
"O gods of pain…"
"O gods of suffering…"
"This lowly lamb humbly asks permission…"
"To revere and kneel before your power."
Without hesitation, he gripped the knife.
The blade cut through flesh.
Sharp pain surged to his brain, but Lioren made no sound. Gritting his teeth, he used the bleeding finger to draw an inverted cross onto the magic circle.
Fresh blood mixed with old.
The circle trembled.
A dark red light erupted from the bloodlines, twisted together, condensed into a hazy entity, and then shot straight toward Lioren.
He felt his hand burn.
When the light faded, an inverted cross had appeared on the back of his hand, carved into his skin like a permanent scar.
The priest clapped, the sound dry and hollow in the sanctuary.
Father Vincent:
"You did very well, Lioren."
---
Lioren turned to Kiriel and handed her the knife.
She took it without hesitation and stepped into the circle.
A thought crossed Lioren's mind.
(An incarnation of the Goddess of Darkness… can she really join another cult?)
Kiriel knelt.
Kiriel:
"O gods of pain…"
"O gods of suffering…"
"This lowly lamb humbly asks permission…"
"To revere and kneel before your power."
She cut her finger.
Blood fell.
She drew the inverted cross.
Nothing happened.
The magic circle lay silent. Blood was just blood.
The silence stretched on.
Father Vincent (in a low voice):
"It failed."
Kiriel stood up and walked back to Lioren. There was no disappointment on her face—only cold confirmation.
Kiriel:
"Of course."
"I am an incarnation of the Goddess of Darkness."
"Other than her cult, I cannot belong anywhere else."
Father Vincent:
"I am very sorry, Kiriel."
Kiriel:
"It's fine, Father."
Lioren clenched the hand bearing the mark; the burning sensation had not faded.
Lioren:
"Then… we'll take our leave."
---
That Night
Night fell over the city like a burial shroud.
In the inn room, the flickering candlelight illuminated the back of Lioren's hand—the inverted cross seemed to breathe, as if alive.
Kiriel stared at it.
Her gaze changed.
Not mere physical desire—but resonance. The mark of the Turning-Head Cult, of pain, of suffering… was touching something deep within her essence.
The physical desire of both of them was not easily satisfied by just one night.
That night, they sought each other once more.