Instinctively, I quickly averted my gaze, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt a wave of heat rising in my face, a mixture of embarrassment and… something else.
"Looks like you're done for," she said, her voice laced with amusement, a soft chuckle echoing through the throne room.
"Please," I stammered, my eyes darting around the room, searching for anything to focus on, "give me a bit of time."
This was worse than I imagined. She was even more beautiful than the goddess I had encountered before. As soon as I looked at her, I felt as if my senses were betraying me, my eyes refusing to move away from her. It was like a physical compulsion, an irresistible pull.
I tried to look at her again, testing my resolve. And it happened again. My gaze was instantly drawn to her, my mind reeling, my senses overwhelmed. It was like trying to stare into the abyss, her beauty would devour me.
"You know, Naofumi," she purred, her voice laced with a playful edge, "most heroes would have given in by now. You're surprisingly stubborn."
"Let's play a different game," I blurted, the words ragged and strained, a desperate plea escaping my lips. "I don't like this one. Can you go back to your previous form? The male one."
A ripple of amusement, a subtle shift in the atmosphere, told me she was smiling, though I couldn't bear to meet her gaze. "You don't like this one?" she purred, the words dripping with a playful, almost predatory lilt. The room seemed to pulse with her amusement, a silent, mocking laughter that vibrated through my bones.
"Don't you think your personality has changed?" I asked, my voice a shaky attempt at steadiness.
"Oh, yeah," she responded, a low, seductive chuckle that sent a shiver down my spine. "My personality changes with my forms. The male one is the ideal one, the balanced one. This one," she paused, her voice dropping to a velvety whisper, "is… you know. The playful, tempting one. The one who knows what you want, even before you do."
"So, you admit you're playing me?" I challenged, the accusation trembling on the edge of my tongue, betrayed by a slight waver in my voice.
"Playing? Oh, Naofumi," she purred, the name a silken caress. "I would never play with you. I'm simply… exploring your desires. Showing you what you truly crave."
"I crave to not be here anymore," I retorted, the words sharp and desperate.
"Well, that was… interesting," she mused, rubbing the back of her neck with a gesture that seemed both casual and calculated. "You know, you're the first person to ever ask me to change back. Most people are, shall we say, more… enthusiastic."
"I'm not 'most people'," I snapped, my voice still betraying a tremor.
"Clearly," she said, her smile widening, a predatory glint in her eyes. "So, about that messenger job…"
"Can you go back to your previous form first, please!" I insisted, the desperation now a raw edge in my voice.
"Before that, I want to tell you about something important," she paused, her eyes narrowing, their intensity like twin points of burning starlight. "Okay, Naofumi… You are an ideal hero, in many ways. But a new poison has started to boil inside you. You're way too forgiving. Or, perhaps, you're pretending to be."
"You are saying this because you think I have forgiven them all," I retorted, my voice tight with suppressed anger.
"I don't think so, it is true," she said, her tone flat, devoid of emotion. "Hey Naofumi, have you forgotten what atrocities they have done to you? The betrayal? The slander? The constant, deliberate attempts to undermine you? Hmm?"
My fists clenched, the familiar surge of rage and resentment bubbling up from the depths of my soul. "It is not that I have forgiven them," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "But I am not fully prepared yet. I still have to do a lot of things. Building my own power, securing my territory, ensuring the safety of those I care about. Revenge can wait."
"You may make yourself a fool, Naofumi, but you can never make me one," she said, her eyes glittering with an unsettling intensity. "I see the cracks in your facade. You're holding onto that anger, that hurt, like a shield. But shields can become prisons."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a chilling intimacy that sent a wave of dread through me. "Anyway, it seems I will have to remind you of those things again! I will show you what you have tried so hard to bury. I will show you the exact moment they tried to break you."
Suddenly, the throne room dissolved around me, the opulent surroundings replaced by a swirling vortex of holographic projections. Vivid, agonizing scenes from my past flickered into existence, each a fresh wound ripped open. The bustling marketplace where I was falsely accused, the cold, sterile courtroom where I was condemned, the faces of Motoyasu, Ren, and Itsuki, twisted with malice, replayed before my eyes, each frame a searing brand on my soul.
The god's voice echoed through the swirling chaos, a haunting resonance that filled the void. "Remember, Naofumi? Remember the sting of betrayal? The weight of injustice? The feeling of being utterly alone?"
Each scene was a brutal reminder of the pain I had desperately tried to bury. The god wasn't just reminding me; they were forcing me to relive it, to feel the raw, unfiltered emotions that I had locked away deep within myself.
"You think you're being strong by pretending to forgive," the god's voice continued, laced with a strange mix of pity and admonishment. "But you're only poisoning yourself. You're letting them win, Naofumi, by letting them live rent-free in your head. You have to face the truth, you have to accept the pain, and then you have to decide what to do with it."
The projections faded, leaving me standing in the dimly lit throne room, my heart pounding like a war drum, my breath ragged and uneven. The god's eyes were fixed on me, their intensity unwavering, their expression unreadable, a silent question hanging in the air.
Even though I was not looking at her, I felt the piercing weight of her gaze, a silent judgment that cut through my defenses.
"Now, Naofumi," she said, her voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. "What will you do?"
A heavy silence descended, the air thick with the residue of relived trauma. My chest heaved, each breath a painful reminder of the wounds the god had so expertly reopened. The phantom sting of betrayal, the chilling weight of injustice, the crushing loneliness—they lingered, raw and vibrant, as if the events had just transpired.
My gaze, still averted, flickered towards the god. I could feel the intensity of her stare, a silent probe into the depths of my soul.
Her voice, a silken thread laced with a hidden steel, hung in the charged air. "Now, what will you do?" The question wasn't a casual inquiry; it was a velvet-wrapped challenge, a subtle prod into the raw, exposed nerves of a situation that crackled with unspoken tension.
I met her gaze, a flicker of defiance igniting in the depths of my own. "I'll just do it in my way," I replied, the words edged with a weariness born of countless battles and betrayals. "You don't have to be concerned about it." A pause, then a sharp, almost cynical laugh escaped me. "By the way," I continued, the question burning with a desperate need for understanding, "why do you want me to take revenge? I mean, a literal god wouldn't be that interested in the tragedies of a mere mortal, would they?" The absurdity of the situation, a celestial being fixated on my petty vendetta, felt both ludicrous and unsettling.
A slow, almost predatory smile curved her lips, a glint of amusement dancing in her otherworldly eyes. "That's because," she purred, the words resonating with an undercurrent of dark delight, "I want to see your 'that' nature, Naofumi." The phrase hung in the air, a tantalizing enigma, a promise of something primal and untamed. It was a declaration that she wasn't interested in the predictable, the mundane; she craved the raw, unbridled force that lurked beneath the surface, the tempest that brewed within me, waiting to be unleashed. The air thrummed with unspoken desires and hidden agendas, the very fabric of reality seeming to bend around the raw intensity of her gaze.
"Now, Naofumi," she said, her voice regaining its playful lilt. "About that messenger job…"
"I understood, I'll do it."