Chapter 12: A New Follower

 Apostles were those who could directly communicate with a god and borrow its power.
In Lema’s view, Bel was clearly a being with transcendent abilities.
But she couldn’t be called an apostle of Luxlon.

Anyone from Lucilonia would have recognized the pattern instantly, and an actual apostle would never have released it so casually.
Moreover, apostles in charge of heretic trials held much higher authority than ordinary apostles. It wasn’t a power just anyone could wield.
Even if one could, it would’ve taken time.

But Bel had undone it completely with just a wave of her hand.

One more thing—
No matter how devoted an apostle was, they were still human.
They couldn’t kill people so emotionlessly.

And yet, she had curiously avoided killing the truly weak.
Her criteria for judgment didn’t resemble that of a normal person.

“Who is this Luxlon?”
“…”

Lema’s expression faltered slightly at Bel’s question.
Because the being he suspected to be the Supreme God had spoken with unsettling indifference.

Still, Lema forced himself to stay composed.

“The god of light, justice, and order… sir.”

“Hm.”

Bel pondered the words justice and order.

The summoner had called her Evil.
He’d also said his purpose was to destroy the world.
If Lucilonia upheld doctrines like light, justice, and order, then Bel might well be the polar opposite.

But she couldn’t be Luxlon.

Well—
She could be, in some cases.

But in this era, the summoner had called her Evil.
So she should respect the summoner’s will first.

“Then I’m probably not him.”
“…”

Lema raised his head.
His green eyes trembled violently, as though his very faith were turning to dust.

“I am Evil.”
“…Lord Luxlon can take any form.”

As Bel tilted her head, Lema desperately spoke again.
His trembling gaze had lost focus, and cold sweat trickled down his face.

“The god of light… is just one of the values Lucilonia upholds as orthodox doctrine. But Lord Luxlon is always, everywhere by our side. The god of light, the god of darkness—they’re all the same being under different names. So…”

Lema clung to his explanation with desperation.

In fact, the powers wielded by apostles did vary slightly depending on their region or culture.
Some had the power of healing, others the power of judgment.
Even if they served the god of healing or judgment, in the end, it was all considered a piece of Luxlon.

“Then if they’re all the same god, why are you a heretic?”

“Th-that’s…”

Lema, who had been speaking so confidently, suddenly fell silent.

“…I don’t know. Lord Luxlon must give me the answer.”

According to Lema, in this era, the god of light, the god of healing, even the evil god, and even trivial entities like the god of flowers—were all Luxlon.

But then, what was the standard for other gods?
What made one a heretic?

“Do you need an answer, Lema? There is no god.”

Lema quickly looked up.
His trembling eyes stared at Bel with desperation.

And Bel understood.
This wasn’t a truth Lema knew.
It was a wish. A desperate plea.
An explanation cloaked as faith.
A question in disguise.

A fanatic who had lost his god was now searching for a new one.

And now, Bel understood why this man exuded such a delicious scent.

Guess I don’t have to rush to find the summoner.

Lema was human—yet fully qualified to be a summoner.
If this feeling had deepened just a little more, he might have summoned Bel himself, even if it took more time.

So Bel became a little more generous.
This too could be part of the summoner’s will.

“Alright. If you wish, I can be called that. But I am Belmias, not Luxlon.”

Lema’s face lit up.

“Th-then…”

Still kneeling, he began to crawl toward her.

“Then… please take me in.”
Lema lowered his body until he was bowing at her feet.

“Please… take me in.”

This human was experiencing a kind of cognitive dissonance.

In truth, the existence of a god was nothing more than an illusion created by humans.
Perhaps, from ancient times, they’d been calling the same thing by different names.

While granting their wishes, Bel had often assumed the role of a god.

Humans only believe what they want to believe.
Even though Bel had always been the same being, she was sometimes seen as good, sometimes evil.
A savior—
Or an avenger.

In the end, this man didn’t accept the proposition that there is no god.
He wanted to believe she was a fragment of the Supreme God he worshiped.
But it also seemed he wanted to resolve the doubts gnawing at him.

He had already suffered the collapse of his world after being branded a heretic.
Maybe he had denied the existence of the Supreme God countless times after being enslaved.
Surely, his heart was in turmoil.

“Hm…”

He would probably understand if she explained it properly.
Though blind in some ways, he didn’t seem unintelligent.

How should she explain that the divine power he referred to was, in fact, just a phenomenon?

Perhaps she had learned this era’s language poorly because she’d only eaten dreadful sacrifices thus far.
She should’ve started with better offerings.
Because she’d been in such a hurry, she’d consumed only low-quality ones.

To refine her language ability, she would need many more high-quality sacrifices to dilute what she had absorbed so far.

“M-Master.”

As Bel remained silent, Lema—misreading her reaction—grew more anxious.
He blushed bright red, trembling under her gaze.

His expression was so transparent, even Bel could sense the emotion clearly.

Desperation.

Looking straight at her now, Lema swallowed hard, as if he had made up his mind.
He spoke faster than before.

“Didn’t you say you were looking for something? I can help. I can be of great use.”

Realizing that begging wasn’t working, he began offering his usefulness.

“You said you would be useless.”

“No, I won’t be. Not anymore. You’ve released my restraints. I can now be your sword.”

Lema’s expression tightened.

“Valkite’s… faith is not inferior to that of apostles. If we just lost our way for a while… if our faith wandered…”

Bel narrowed her eyes.

Lema Valkite wasn’t using the word heretic.
In the end, he chose belief over acknowledging the absence of a god.

And for the first time—Bel was flustered.
If only slightly—one eyebrow lifted.

Because in the next moment, Lema grabbed her foot.

“What are you doing?”

Ah. She quickly realized what he was about to do.

After grabbing her foot, Lema kissed the top of her dusty shoe.
Then, he carefully removed the shoe—
And kissed the bare skin of her foot.

It was a ritual of submission.
A plea to be accepted.

Of course, Bel had experienced this before.
Many summoners had expressed reverence by kissing her feet…

“…Huh?”

…But this was the first time someone had licked between her toes.

“What are you doing?”

The soft, wet sensation between her toes wasn’t just ticklish—it was strange.

Bel could instinctively block threats without effort.
It was an internal immune mechanism she’d acquired over countless years.

But that didn’t mean she could repel every form of contact.
Doing so might harm even the summoner.

So Bel usually tolerated reverent, worshipful approaches.
In fact, she accepted them.

If someone offered themselves as a sacrifice like this, the result was often satisfying—delicious, even.

But this was new.

“…Hmm.”

His tongue traced every crevice between her toes.
He sucked gently, one toe at a time, rolling them on his tongue.

Only the sound of wet slurping echoed through the quiet lounge.

…And it didn’t feel bad.
No—

It felt good.

“Ah… yes.”

As Bel let out a soft moan and looked down at him, Lema looked up from her foot and met her gaze—smiling with his eyes.

It felt like she was standing on his face.

“Master… as your knight, your servant… I’ve demonstrated my worth, haven’t I? I—I can be worth more than any gold coin.”

Lema smiled with his tongue sticking out.
However, his eyes had no focus, making him no different from a madman.