The Possessed Evil Woman Wreaks Havoc - Chapter 92

I’m not a beast. I really should break this habit of biting whenever I get angry… but controlling my instincts when I’m mad is hard.

Still, I was sure of one thing: I wouldn’t be able to break it anytime soon.

After finishing tea time with Nadia, I didn’t return to the hunting grounds right away but instead went for a walk nearby.

I wandered aimlessly through the forest for a long while until I came to an abrupt stop.

Amid the shadows cast by towering trees, I spotted an old chapel.

This place…

As if drawn in, I pushed open the chapel door.

As the heavy door creaked open, the scent of old wood filled the air, and memories of the past came flooding back.

“Zachary!”

“……”

“Zachary, why did you bring me here?”

“…I called you, Lady Bella, because I have something to say. About our future.”

It was here—here that Zachary betrayed me.

Unfamiliar emotions began to stir within me.

It wasn’t the familiar feeling of rage…

I say this now, but honestly, I would’ve preferred if Zachary had betrayed me simply because he feared for his own life.

Because for centuries in the Demon Realm, I held resentment toward him.

One day, I cursed him. Another day, I tried to erase him from my memory.

Once, I even sealed away all memories of Zachary. I thought if I forgot, the storm of emotion within me would settle.

But remnants of those memories didn’t fade so easily.

He still remained, firmly lodged in my heart as its deepest wound.

In the end, I had to accept that all my efforts were meaningless.

How dare a mere human… How dare a human have such an effect on a demon like me?

How many long years did I live with those emotions?

But it wasn’t the comfort of learning Zachary hadn’t betrayed me that tormented me further—

“Zachary took his own life a year after that incident.”

What haunted me more was the fear that I hadn’t been able to protect my contractor.

Even when I stood before the Demon God, ready to defy him, I hadn’t felt such emotion.

The last time I came here was in the dead of night. Unlike then, sunlight now streamed through the windows, illuminating the space brightly.

And that’s when I saw them—the murals covering the walls.

The paint, cracked with age, looked like it needed restoration.

Were those murals always here?

Even when I searched my memory, the only time I had come here was 500 years ago. That day, I’d had a hole pierced through my stomach—no time to be admiring walls.

I slowly walked toward them.

It seemed they were trying to depict mythology or a chronicle of some kind…

Starting from the right, I began examining the murals.

What first caught my eye were familiar characters.

‘Isn’t this Divine Script?’

Once the language of the gods. Now, just remnants etched into my instincts.

The murals depicted twenty human-like figures. At first, I thought they were humans, but the characters inscribed beside each figure revealed their true nature.

They weren’t humans—they were gods.

[Contract]

I reached out and touched one of the figures.

This seemed to represent an era of peace.

In the beginning, there were twenty gods. Seventeen each wielded a unique power. And three triplets shared the power of creation.

Twenty gods and eighteen powers. It was a fairly peaceful era.

As I stood observing the mural depicting that age of peace, a tight sensation gripped my stomach.

I hadn’t lived during that era, but the power of Contract within me was reacting.

If I could sort through the memories inherited with the power of Contract, perhaps I could find fragments belonging to the former master of that era…

‘Forget it. What good is digging up memories from an age that will never return?’

I slowly walked along the mural.

The scenes depicted progressed with time.

One day, enemies from outside the world invaded the once peaceful realm.

They hadn’t come with any specific purpose for attacking our world. Well, if total annihilation counts as a purpose, then I suppose that was it.

Beings made purely of demonic energy turned the once peaceful world into a living hell.

The gods fought to protect their realm, but they were no match.

The first to fall was the wielder of the power of Contract.

One mural depicted the fallen god of Contract, collapsed on the ground under a demonic assault.

The gods were friends and family to one another.

Morpheus, one of the triplets who held the power of Creation, could not accept the deaths of his kin.

And so, he made a decision that would change the history of the gods.

One mural showed the body of a dead god placed atop an altar.

In the next, Morpheus was shown channeling his power toward the altar.

Though his power could not bring back the dead, Morpheus created a new being who inherited the power of Contract.

The reborn god of Contract was no longer a god, but something else.

They became the origin of what would later be called demons.

I always wondered—why did the Demon God and his brothers choose to bring us back?

Was it grief over our deaths? Or did they need someone to fight the enemy?

Still, I never asked the Demon God that question before he was sealed away.

Because no matter what answer I got, I knew I’d be furious.

As time passed, every god aside from the ones with the power of Creation eventually died once.

And each time, the power of Creation brought them back as entirely new beings.

The invasions from outside never stopped.

Outnumbered, the gods of Creation began to create more subordinates.

The subordinates of Morpheus, who would one day be called the Demon God, became the demons.

The subordinates of Aster, later known as the Water God, became the beastkin.

The subordinates of Akael, later known as the Celestial God, came to be called angels.

Among the subordinates of each god, those who inherited powers were continually reborn through an endless cycle.

When a subordinate with power died, a new one would soon be born with the same power.

Eventually, in order to distinguish between empowered and non-empowered subordinates, they were given titles like Lord, Archangel, and—

‘I can’t remember what term the beastkin used.’

Knowledge about the beastkin was extremely vague, since they had vanished long before I was born.

Originally, the gods with the power of Creation were triplets, and so their subordinates were similar to one another.

But as time passed, differences emerged.

The Demon God, most deeply corrupted by demonic energy, began to descend into madness.

And his subordinates, the demons, grew increasingly violent.

The Water God did not succumb to demonic energy like the Demon God did, but she lost her voice to the madness of unending war.

Sometimes, she would cry out in the middle of the night.

Only the Celestial God remained composed. He alone maintained his seat in silence.

The murals portrayed all of this in vivid detail, but I could summarize it more simply:

Demons grew nastier, beastkin more beast-like, and angels more insufferable.

One mural depicted the Demon God descending into madness, the Water God in silent anguish,

and the Celestial God—ever noble.

‘This is why I don’t like the Celestial God.’

While his siblings suffered, he alone remained untouched. It was just… irritating.

Sure, logically speaking, none of it was the Celestial God’s fault.

But I’m a demon. I’m not the kind to evaluate things based on logic.

Anyway…

‘Who painted this mural?’

The subject matter was far too specific to have come from a human.

Stories of invasions from beyond and the fall of the gods’ era—only a handful of angels and demons even knew them.

Could an angel be behind this mural?

They do spend more time with humans than demons do…

But still, angels tend to look down on humans, even if they act friendly.

‘Then again, I’m no different.’

It’s in a demon’s nature to dismiss the weak.

But when angels put on airs while doing the same thing—it’s laughable.

In any case, based on angelic tendencies, it didn’t seem likely they would share such sensitive history with humans.

It was a mystery I couldn’t easily solve.