Clo never thought she would see such a scene. The images recorded on ancient stone tablets had perhaps come to life at this very moment. The ruins and broken architecture she had only ever seen in books now stood before her eyes; the entire experience felt like a dream.
Clo took several items of clothing from her ring and handed them to the benevolent-looking woman before her. Silk threads intertwined in the woman’s hands, and in just a few moments, a garment with a similar texture but sized perfectly for Jormungandr was created.
“It’s so pretty! Astarte, thank you!” Jormungandr skipped about like a child after receiving the clothes. Clo noticed that while the garment mimicked the style of her own black dress, many scales had been sewn onto the surface of the skirt, shimmering with a faint azure-purple light.
“You are... the Deity of Prosperity?” Clo swallowed hard, unsure if she should reach out and shake her hand. She had read in ancient texts that this deity could drive sane humans into madness, eventually leading them to self-destruct through endless reproduction.
“You seem very afraid of me. Have the stories of the human world cast me as some kind of villain?” The older-looking woman smiled, appearing quite pleased. “Are stories of us still circulating in the secular world? Even though everyone currently walks the earth in the form of ordinary magic users.”
“Your clothing makes me realize that perhaps we really haven't visited the human world in a very long time.” She rested her head on her hand, watching Jormungandr change into her new clothes with a gentle smile.
“No... it’s not...” Clo’s voice choked. She didn't know how to explain the future she had seen to them.
“You are a traveler of time, come from the distant future?” Astarte continued to watch Jormungandr, her tone carrying a hint of indifference.
“Ah... your thinking is... very leap-frog, but that is indeed the case...” Clo stammered, appearing somewhat flustered.
“There is no need to be afraid. Metis guessed the moment Chronos died that her successor would eventually come to this point in time,” Astarte said calmly. “It seems she succeeded. Her method of saving the world is quite interesting—choosing to die and letting a human from thousands of years later inherit her authority.”
“Saving the world?” Clo was stunned. She looked at the court bathed in sunlight. In the distance, waterfalls merged with the mountain range, and behind those high peaks lay an endless field of flowers. Everything looked so beautiful, as if every part of it was a seed nurturing something wonderful.
“Our era is coming to an end; so says fate.” The needle and thread in Astarte’s hands danced on their own, weaving the next garment. “We will die miserable deaths, or rather, we will find ourselves unable to live and unable to die.”
Astarte smiled faintly. She measured the next piece against Clo’s own clothes, seemingly unconcerned about her impending fate.
“Um... well...” Clo didn't know how to respond. She worried that revealing information about the future too early might bring about a so-called punishment of fate.
“There is no need to be secretive; we are all more or less aware of what is to come.” Astarte smiled thinly. “We didn't tell her. She is our executioner... the executioner we chose. Such a cruel future is better left unsaid to her.”
“She will eventually become the God of Death. Let her use our blood as the catalyst for her ascension. In that broken world of the future, I hope she can destroy it utterly... and then reshape it.”
Astarte pointed toward Jormungandr, who was laughing happily with her new dress. Clo’s eyes flickered with a mix of trance-like realization and terror. She seemed to see that world burning in the fires of war, and the blood demon king who ended the age of gods ascending her throne as the God of Death, presiding over the world’s slaughter.
“So... in the future... is she doing well?” Astarte bit through the thread in her hand. She glanced at Clo, seemingly having understood everything. “I see many strange emotions in your eyes, especially when you look at little Jormungandr.”
“In the future, I did indeed meet her...” Clo said, her lips involuntarily pursing.
“What kind of god did little Jormungandr become? I am truly curious... though I suspect the answer is not a joyful one.” Astarte narrowed her eyes. The garment was finally finished. Clo saw extremely fine scales upon it, along with layers of complex magic arrays that even her current level of power could not fully identify.
Truly worthy of a god... Even after humanity has developed for thousands of years, their level of magic remains breathtaking, a height far beyond reach...
Such complex defense arrays... the range they cover is far too vast... Is this garment sewn specifically to deal with her future self and everyone else? It is... truly tragic...
Clo was lost in thought for a moment. She finally understood why Li Yue was always in such pain, especially when recalling the past. Li Yue had said her memories were a blur of blood; looking at it now, that was indeed the case.
Dong! Dong! The sound of a bell tolling came from the distance, seemingly produced by a legacy left behind by the God of Time.
“The time for the Holy Meal has arrived. Come and join us; you shall sit in the seat of the God of Time.” Astarte rose slowly. She looked at Clo’s complicated expression and sighed softly, gesturing for Jormungandr to come over from the distance.
“It won't take up too much of your time. Once you have finished what you are meant to do, you will naturally return to the time you are familiar with.”
...
Inside the deep blue hall, blood-red crystals blossomed upon the bodies of the gathered followers. Immediately after, their flesh began to grow wildly, bloody muscle tearing through skin as they sprinted and roared like a pack of gory blood demons. Their beating hearts had stopped, and slowly, solid blood-red masses formed within their chest cavities.
“What... is this...” The Bishop’s teeth were clenched tight. He felt his scalp go numb. The Great Mages surrounding him kept him in the center, releasing waves of soul magic to affect the creature in the distance—a being whose flesh was still reconstructing, and whom they knew not whether to call a monster or a girl.
“I remember... I finally remember... why blood demons... exist in the first place...” Li Yue’s flesh slowly reconstructed. Pitch-black clothing covered the surface of her skin along with her reforming body, appearing like the scales of her true form.
“Come... share in my pain!”
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