A gentle voice echoed through the air, but to Sol, it felt like being hit by the loudest sound in existence.
He staggered a few steps before catching Camelia in his arms—she had fainted, though he couldn't understand why. Even weakened, she should have been far stronger than him.
Then came a light giggle.
"How sweet. It warms my heart that your first thought was to care for my rebellious daughter."
The voice that had felt like the sky crashing down suddenly seemed less threatening.
As Sol gathered his wits, he finally looked around—and was awestruck.
They were no longer in the church. Instead, they stood in a vast landscape stretching endlessly beneath a black, star-filled sky. A gentle breeze brushed past.
It's like Teacher's world, he thought.
"Please, don't compare my divine realm to a mere alternate dimension," another voice said—this one smooth, rich, and sensual.
When Sol looked up, he saw fourteen floating silver thrones, all but one occupied. It wasn't hard to guess who they were.
The goddesses.
Then he heard footsteps—soft crunches on the grass. A woman was approaching.
She wore a golden dress that clung to her curves, the short skirt barely preserving modesty. Every movement radiated grace and allure. The sight itself was divine.
But the moment he tried to look at her face—
Huh?
—he realized his mistake.
People say never to look at the sun directly. But compared to this, staring at the sun at noon would've been mercy.
His mind crashed. His reason shattered. Blood boiled through him like fire. Her face—no, her existence—was beyond comprehension.
Her beauty was not something a human could even process; it struck him like a mental assault.
W-what kind of face is this…? His eyes burned, as if melting under her radiance.
The woman smiled faintly and stepped closer.
"N-no…"
Every sense he had screamed for her—demanded he surrender, forget everything, and give in to his desire. He wanted her—completely.
No! I refuse!
Something deep inside screamed back. He could not give in.
"Hah… If you keep looking at me like that, I'll get shy," she teased, amused by his struggle.
Just hearing her voice almost shattered his remaining will.
He understood now.
This was sin.
This was divinity.
This was something no mortal could resist.
Her beauty wasn't charm—it was authority, an inescapable truth of the world.
Blood dripped from his eyes and nose, his skin flushed red.
The woman looked surprised. "Impressive."
Then, as if cooled by ice water, his head cleared. He gasped for air, barely managing to stay upright while holding Camelia.
He suddenly understood what it meant to be an ant before a god. Even the strongest man couldn't break an ant's mind with a glance—but a goddess could do far worse without effort.
It was humbling. Crushing.
"Fufufu. You're the third man who's seen my face and not fallen into lust instantly. I'm impressed."
Sol didn't feel proud. But he bowed his head respectfully.
"I'm honored to face you, my Goddess."
He knew exactly who she was now—the goddess of lust, Luxuria.
Her face became veiled, sparing him from her unbearable beauty.
"My, my~ So polite! Even Mars wasn't this composed the first time he met me."
"Thank you for the compliment," he replied steadily, checking his body—it was already healing.
Apparently, his father had been one of the two men who resisted her before. That didn't surprise him.
But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.
"Please, Goddess," he said. "Can you cancel Camelia's ritual? I don't know what she asked for, but it isn't necessary."
"Oh?" she mused, tilting her head. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Even if one of her requests was for you to form a contract with a direct daughter of the sacred Phoenix?"
Sol froze. That was no small thing—such a contract would put him on the same level as his mother in status and potential.
"And even if she asked for your bloodline to be refined?" Luxuria continued.
His heart pounded. His mother was the daughter of Tiamat herself—refining his bloodline could make his rise to power inevitable.
"Even if she asked for you to gain full access to the Astral World?"
Sol trembled—not from excitement, but fear.
That crazy woman! he thought.
Every wish required a price. He could only imagine what Camelia must have sacrificed to make such demands.
He wanted to scream but forced himself to breathe deeply.
Each of those gifts was a dream beyond dreams—any one of them would've made him ecstatic.
But—
"Please," he said quietly, lowering Camelia's body and kneeling, forehead pressed to the ground. "Cancel it."
He begged without shame or pride.
The women in his life had sacrificed everything for him—he could do no less for them.
"I see…" Luxuria murmured, placing a finger on her chin. A smile colored her voice. "But I refuse."