I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC344: The Corrupted Gods
"Tell me everything you know about the Second Summoning."
As soon as the words left my mouth, Khione's icy blue eyes flickered with a deep, unreadable emotion. She remained silent for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before giving me a slow nod.
"Before I speak about the Second Summoning, I must first tell you about the Demon King," she finally said, her voice steady but carrying an unmistakable weight.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Are you sure about this?" I asked.
Khione's obsession—no, her unrelenting hatred—for the Demon King was something I had noticed long ago. It clouded her judgment, dictated her decisions, and ultimately led her down the path of summoning heroes from another world. It wasn't mere duty that drove her. It was personal. But for what reason exactly, I had never pried too deeply.
I had long known that she took the Demon King's threat more seriously than most gods did—and she was right to. A hundred years ago, that monstrous being had ignited a war that ravaged the world, and even now, his influence continued to cast a dark shadow over the land. Entire kingdoms feared his resurgence, their rulers trembling at the mere possibility of his return.
But Khione's grudge ran deeper than history, deeper than mere divine responsibility.
Of course, I could have forced her to tell me everything before now. It wouldn't have been difficult. But back then, I simply hadn't cared enough to ask. And later… I decided to wait. I wanted to see when she would finally be ready to speak, to gather her thoughts, and reveal the truth on her own terms.
Now, at last, that time had come.
Khione inhaled deeply, as if steeling herself for what she was about to say.
"I think you've probably heard that the Demon King wasn't always like this," she murmured.
I nodded.
Azariah had told me that many times—usually when she was feeling lost, or when sorrow weighed heavily on her.
She had spoken of the father she remembered, the father she once loved. A man who had been kind, compassionate even. But something… something had burrowed into him, sinking its claws deep into his soul. A foreign, insidious force that had consumed him from the inside out, twisting him beyond recognition.
That thing—as Azariah always called it—was the true source of the Demon King's cruelty. Not him.
That thing had taken everything from her.
One by one, it had claimed the lives of all her siblings, leaving only her and her blood sister, Ameriah. The two of them, the last surviving children of the Demon King, had endured when the rest of their kin perished in the endless cycle of war and destruction.
Azariah and Ameriah had been born from the Demon King's last wife. A woman who, like so many others, had met an untimely, inexplicable end. A woman whose death Azariah never truly believed was an accident.
She was convinced that it had been responsible. The thing inside her father.
The thing that had turned him into a monster.
I took a deep breath before relaying what I had learned. "She told me that something was controlling her father… that it was the true mastermind behind the war and everything that has happened." My voice was steady, but even as I spoke, I felt the weight of those words settling over me.
Khione nodded solemnly, her icy gaze distant, as if recalling a memory long buried. "That entity… we call it a Beast of Iblis."
"Iblis?" I repeated, my brows furrowing. The name felt foreign yet oddly ominous, carrying a weight that sent an unexplainable shiver down my spine.
"Yes," Khione confirmed, her voice laced with a mixture of reverence and loathing. "Iblis was once a God—a mighty one, in fact. He was the progenitor of the Demon race, their creator. But creation was not enough for him. Corrupted by his own insatiable ambition and greed, he turned against the other Gods. He sought power beyond divinity, using the very Demons he had birthed as pawns in his war. Many believe he never intended to give them free will in the first place. They were meant to be his personal army, his perfect soldiers—relentless, unwavering, and obedient. But something unexpected happened."
I leaned in slightly, absorbed by her words. "What was it?"
Khione's expression turned somber, her icy features hardening. "The Demons rebelled," she said. "They saw the countless deaths of their brethren, slaughtered like cattle for a war that wasn't theirs. They refused to be disposable weapons. Realizing the truth of their existence, they turned against their creator and sided with the Gods, choosing to fight for their own freedom. What followed was a war so cataclysmic that it reshaped the heavens and the mortal realms alike. Five thousand years have passed since those days… but its echoes still linger."
I exhaled, trying to process everything. "Which Gods fought against him?"
"Almost all of them," she answered, her voice colder now, as if she were recounting something personal. "Every Pantheon, every divine ruler, every celestial being that felt threatened by Iblis' power stood against him. And they had every reason to fear. His Dark Magic was unlike anything ever seen before—ancient, primal, and beyond control. He did not merely wield darkness; he was darkness incarnate. Even the Gods themselves struggled against his overwhelming strength. But what truly sealed his fate was his own arrogance.
"He believed himself invincible, beyond the reach of death itself. But his hubris proved to be his undoing. His own creations—the Demons he once sought to enslave—turned against him, siding with the Gods to bring him down. It was a battle that shook existence itself… and in the end, Iblis fell."
I narrowed my eyes. "But… he wasn't truly destroyed, was he?"
Khione's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles pale. "No," she admitted grimly. "We thought he was. The Gods, the Demons, all of us believed that Iblis had finally been erased from existence. But we were wrong. He was too cunning to let himself perish so easily. Anticipating the possibility of his own demise, he devised a contingency—a plan to ensure his will would persist even beyond his death."
A sense of unease crept into my chest. "What did he do?"
"He used his own body to create something… unnatural," Khione said, her voice thick with disgust. "Fragments of himself—each one carrying a piece of his consciousness, his essence, his insidious will. These fragments became known as the Beasts of Iblis. They are parasites, seeking out hosts, latching onto the most suitable ones, and corrupting them from within. Over the centuries, they have taken root in mortals, kings, and even… Gods. Those who succumb to their influence lose themselves entirely, becoming mere puppets to his will. We call them the Corrupted Gods."
"Corrupted Gods…" I muttered under my breath.
The term felt eerily familiar. I had heard it before—Aphrodite had spoken of it.
I recalled the conversation vividly. When I questioned her about Paris and Agamemnon—their sudden surge in strength, their unnatural transformations—she had merely told me, in passing, that they had been taken, consumed by something far greater than themselves. They were no longer the men they once were; they had become vessels, pawns of Corrupted Gods.
At the time, I hadn't pressed her for details. Truthfully, I hadn't cared. Paris and Agamemnon were of no concern to me. Their fates were inconsequential. But now, standing here, listening to Khione, I realized that I had been blind to the bigger picture. The Corrupted Gods… they weren't just an anomaly. They weren't just an isolated affliction.
They were connected to the Demons.
Iblis had created them—warping true Gods, tainting them with his own essence, reshaping them into monstrous echoes of their former divinity.
"Then… the one controlling the Demon King… was a Corrupted God?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
Khione met my gaze and nodded solemnly.
A heavy silence stretched between us.
If that was true, then whatever had possessed Azariah's father was not merely some minor fiend—it had to be something unimaginably powerful. A being strong enough to bend the will of a Demon King, a force capable of twisting rulers into nothing more than marionettes dancing on its strings.
Khione's voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—cold, sharp, unyielding. "Iblis has spent the last thousand years feeding. Every war, every massacre, every soul consumed by despair—it all fuels him. The Corrupted Gods are merely his tools, conduits through which he leeches from the mortal realm. And for what? A single purpose: to return. That war he ignited… it was never just about conquest. It was a ritual. A means to an end. And he has already gathered far more than we ever anticipated."
I clenched my fists. "I see… And you knew this from the beginning. That's why you summoned the Heroes, isn't it?"
She gave a slow nod.
"Nobody believed me at first," she admitted, her expression hardening with frustration. "The other Gods dismissed the Corrupted Ones as mere fragments of Iblis, remnants of a long-forgotten past. Compared to him, they were weak—shadows of what he once was. But I knew better. I knew that if we allowed ourselves to grow complacent, if we let down our guard, then, little by little, Iblis would regain his strength. He would reclaim his body.
"And if that happens…" She exhaled sharply, her icy eyes narrowing. "This time, we won't win. Five thousand years ago, every Pantheon, every God and Goddess, stood united against him. Now?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Now, the highest Gods of each Pantheon despise one another. They scheme, they fight, they hoard power like it is their birthright. If war comes again, there will be no unity. They will think selfishly. And that will be our downfall."
Her words hung in the air, suffocating, undeniable.
And yet, something still felt… off. There was an undercurrent of emotion in her voice—something beyond duty, beyond the mere desire to prevent a catastrophe. Something personal.
I studied her carefully. "There's more to this, isn't there?" I asked. "Why do you hate him so much?"
A flicker of something passed through her gaze. Pain.
For the first time since our conversation began, she hesitated.
Her lips parted as if to speak, but then she stopped herself. Her jaw tightened. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. And then, finally, she whispered—
"My father."
The words came out bitter, hollow.
"Boreas. He was killed by a Beast of Iblis." Her voice trembled ever so slightly before she forced it into steadiness. "And now… now he has become one of them. A Corrupted God."
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I ENSLAVED THE GODDESS WHO SUMMONED MEC345: The first summoning
"My father."
The words came out bitter, hollow.
"Boreas. He was killed by a Beast of Iblis." Her voice trembled ever so slightly before she forced it into steadiness. "And now… now he has become one of them. A Corrupted God."
I had never seen such a sorrowful expression on Khione's face—yet beneath that sorrow burned a raw, seething hatred.
Her father had been slain by Iblis. That alone was enough to fuel her vengeance. But it wasn't just about that, was it? No, she wasn't merely after retribution. She wanted to wipe out every last Corrupted God. She wanted them erased from existence.
Then, suddenly, a realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened.
"Azariah's father—the Corrupted God who tainted her bloodline…" My voice was slow, hesitant, as the pieces clicked together. "It was your father, wasn't it?"
Khione's jaw tightened.
"He is not my father anymore," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "But yes… that thing… that abomination is wearing his body. Using it, defiling it—twisting it into something monstrous." Her hands trembled at her sides. "He slaughtered my entire family with his own hands… and since then, I have been alone."
I reached out and grasped her hand firmly.
"You aren't alone, Khione," I told her, my voice steady and resolute. "I'm here. Nivea is here. You have a family now."
For a moment, she simply stared at me, her icy blue eyes searching my face as if trying to discern whether my words were empty or real. Then, without a word, she squeezed my hand tighter—silent, but unmistakable in the way she tried to reassure herself with my presence.
Khione was never one to express herself easily. So instead of speaking, she simply nodded.
"You want to kill him," I continued. "And that's understandable. But for now, the Demon King is no more." I exhaled slowly. "Still… I'll confirm it for myself."
Azariah.
I had avoided questioning her about her father all this time. I never pressed her for the truth, never forced her to relive those memories. But now? If it meant helping Khione, I would ask. And I knew Azariah wouldn't hold back anymore—she would tell me.
Khione gave a small nod, a hint of appreciation flickering in her gaze.
Then, after a deep breath, she turned her eyes forward, gathering her thoughts before speaking again.
"After my family was slaughtered, I swore I would hunt them all down. Every last Corrupted God. I searched for years, but they hid well. I could never find them—until the Demon King appeared." Her fingers curled into fists, her voice thick with frustration. "He was once a good man. A noble ruler. And then he changed. He was consumed—tainted by a powerful Corrupted God. By him." She clenched her jaw. "I went to Olympus. I pleaded with the Gods to help me. I warned them. Begged the other Pantheons to listen—to understand the threat we faced. But they ignored me."
I already knew where this was going.
"So you used forbidden magic," I said, finishing her thought.
Khione nodded.
"The summoning of Heroes," she confirmed.
And just like that, the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.
She hadn't done it out of some grand design. She hadn't done it for glory or power.
She had done it because no one else would act. Because she was alone.
Because it was her only choice.
"The first time I invoked that forbidden power was seventy years ago. Back then, I did so in secrecy, ensuring the Gods remained unaware of my actions. I moved in the shadows, manipulating events beyond their watchful eyes. To achieve my goal, I turned to the Empire of Light, an entity I had already come to understand intimately. Their people, their rulers, their beliefs—all of it was laid bare before me, making them the perfect instruments for my design. With careful planning, I wielded the forbidden magic and, for the first time in history, summoned the Heroes from another world."
She paused, her gaze distant, as though she were seeing those events unfold once more.
"And those Heroes," I asked, my curiosity piqued. "How did they compare to us?"
A faint, almost melancholic smile touched her lips. "They were... different," she admitted. "Far less accepting of their fate than you and your companions. For a full month, they refused to take up arms, resisting their role in the battle against darkness. They struggled against their new reality, unable to grasp why they had been chosen or what was expected of them. But then came the day that changed everything."
She inhaled slowly, her voice taking on a sharper edge as she continued. "The Demons attacked the palace. I had foreseen it, of course. I knew the exact moment the assault would begin, the devastation it would bring. And yet, I did nothing. I allowed it to happen. I stood back and watched as the chaos unfolded. Because only through the fire of battle would they understand the truth of this world."
Her fingers curled slightly, as if grasping at memories long past.
"When they saw the carnage, when they faced death with their own eyes, something shifted within them. It was no longer a mere story they had been told. It was reality. It was survival. That day, they understood—if they wished to live, they had to fight. And so, begrudgingly at first, they began to train. Slowly but surely, they adapted. The process of bestowing Skills was still in its infancy back then—crude, unstable, far from refined. They struggled to master their abilities, fumbling in the dark with powers they barely understood. But they had no choice. This world would not wait for them to catch up. They learned through hardship, through blood and battle. And in time, they became the Heroes they were meant to be."
She let out a soft chuckle, though there was no humor in it.
"The people of the Empire of Light witnessed their rise, and soon, the other kingdoms followed suit. They all came to grasp the significance of the summoned Heroes—the immense potential they held. It was a turning point, one that would shape history forever."
Her gaze darkened. "At first, the Gods remained silent. Many among them disapproved of the forbidden magic, but instead of condemning me outright, they merely watched. I believe they were entertained—intrigued by the spectacle of the Heroes and the battles they waged. Even in those days, despite the monstrous power the Demon King displayed, the Gods failed to take the threat seriously. Perhaps they were right not to. Perhaps, had they truly wished, they could have erased the Demon King with but a thought. And yet, I understood something they did not."
She exhaled, her expression unreadable. "A threat left unchecked will only grow. And if allowed to fester for too long, it will spiral beyond anyone's control. That was why I acted—why I did what had to be done before it was too late."
"What about the Heroes?" I asked, watching Khione carefully.
She exhaled softly before answering. "They took it far more seriously than the Gods ever did, obviously," she said, her voice carrying a note of quiet sorrow. "Unlike the Gods, they were the ones in immediate danger. They were the ones forced to fight for their survival. And because of that, they stood together."
Her gaze drifted into the distance, lost in memories. "They were much closer than your class or even the second group of summoned Heroes. They trusted each other completely, forming an unbreakable bond. They relied on one another in ways you and your peers never have. But..." her voice faltered for a moment, growing quieter, "even that wasn't enough."
I studied her expression carefully. The way her eyes darkened, the way her lips pressed together—she was mourning. "You were close to them, weren't you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
Khione nodded slowly, her expression tightening.
"It wasn't easy at first," she admitted. "They struggled to understand why they had been summoned, why they were being asked to risk their lives in a world they barely knew. And I understood their frustration. Their fear. But I needed them. I knew they had the potential to change everything, to tip the scales in our favor.
"Eventually, after much hesitation, they accepted their fate. And when they did, our relationship changed. We grew closer. I helped them become stronger, guided them in understanding their Skills, taught them the rules of this world. I did everything in my power to prepare them, giving them all the knowledge and support I could offer."
She let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "It may sound foolish now, but... I considered them my friends. True friends. We shared a deep bond, and I watched them grow into formidable warriors. Stronger than I had ever imagined. I truly believed—" she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper, "—that nothing could stop them. That they would succeed where so many others had failed. That they could kill him. The Demon King."
Then, suddenly, her entire demeanor shifted. Her hands clenched into fists, her body tense with barely restrained emotion.
"But it wasn't enough."
She forced herself to breathe, but the weight of her grief was unmistakable.
"When the day of the battle finally arrived, it lasted for three days. Three days of relentless bloodshed, of exhaustion, of desperation. And everything... everything went wrong."
Her voice trembled slightly, but she pressed on. "By the laws of the Gods, I was forbidden to interfere. I was powerless to step in, to save them, to turn the tide. And perhaps—" she bit her lip, her frustration bleeding through "—perhaps I was gullible. Perhaps, deep down, I still believed they would triumph. That their strength, their unity, would be enough."
She looked down, her fingers curling tighter. "But it wasn't. When I finally made my decision to intervene, it was already too late."
Her next words came out in a whisper, but they carried the weight of devastation. "They were gone. Every last one of them. Destroyed by the Demon King's dark magic."
The pain in her voice was undeniable.
"That Demon King... he was stronger than even me. I was ready to fight him myself—to avenge them—but before I could, Aphrodite pulled me away."
She fell silent after that, lost in the ghosts of the past.
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