Chapter 9: The Eldritch Godness’s Party

Night had fallen.

Beneath the glow of streetlights, the carriage carrying me, Father, and Mother rumbled down the road.

Inside the creaking, gently swaying carriage, Father was poring over a thick, ancient-looking book, while Mother watched him with a faint smile.

"Father, what are you reading?"

At my question, Father snapped his head up from the book and fixed me with bloodshot eyes. Scary...

"Hehehe! Interested, are you, Iris—or should I say, Iriress? This is a grimoire known as The Wisdom of the Starless Night. It details how the Outer Gods of the cosmos have been worshipped by us humans. Naturally, it includes records of your veneration as well—the most ancient, most grotesque form of devotion, predating all myths and scriptures… Heheh!"

Probably something like a fanbook about me, I guess. Not that I’d know.

"Tonight, a great many devotees—witches among them—will come. To worship you."

Father’s words came abruptly.

"At the banquet, your name shall be exalted and chanted in fervor. But whether you answer their cries is your choice. After all, they are but foolish lumps of flesh, twitching with chemical reactions and electricity… Hehehe!"

The more he spoke, the more terrifying it sounded. What was this event, exactly?

My name being called—

"Iriiiis! Iriiiis! Iriiiis!"

"Irisuuu! Irisuuu-chaaan! Kyahh!"

—Exalted.

"My oshi is so cute today it hurts…! I could die…!"

"Iris is the cutest in the universe!"

"This level of cuteness can’t be human! Oh wait, she isn’t!"

"Iris-chan is just… sublime! Too sublime…!"

For some reason, the scene in my head resembled an idol concert. Not that I’d mind that, but… I doubt the reality matches. Probably.

Our carriage continued into the slums of the imperial capital—a district populated by impoverished migrant workers and foreigners.

This area was dangerous. Not that all poor people or foreigners were criminals, but it was undeniable that crime thrived here. Worse, the government had all but abandoned them.

As I pondered this, the carriage stopped in front of a certain building in the slums. A towering spire stretched into the night sky, its silhouette faintly outlined by moonlight—a structure resembling a church.

It looked like a ruin, yet carried an eerie sense of life. Unsettling.

"This way, Iris—or should I say, Iriress."

"Yes."

Guided by Father and Mother, I stepped inside the church-like building.

The interior was in ruins.

Pews lay shattered, the once-sacred statue of the Holy Mother stood headless, and the walls were covered in scrawled markings that resembled writing—yet nothing coherent.

The only sounds were the skittering of small creatures—likely rats—scurrying about.

"Below us."

Behind the pulpit was a metal door leading underground. When Father opened it, a musty draft wafted up, revealing a staircase descending into pitch-black darkness.

"Flame."

As Mother murmured the word, a pale blue fire ignited midair, illuminating the abyss.

"Let us proceed."

Mother took the lead, descending the stairs.

Step by groaning step, we made our way down—until voices reached us. A chorus of discordant hymns, sung by what sounded like multiple people, their tones clashing unnaturally.

It was definitely coming from below.

A flicker of fear gripped me, but if I lagged behind, I’d be left in the dark. So I forced myself forward, down into the depths.

The underground was a catacomb—filled with countless skeletal remains. Ugh.

"Once, these heretics died as outcasts, denied burial in consecrated ground. And now, those who claim to follow the same faith brand others as heretics, persecuting them in turn. How foolish humans are… Kehehehe!"

Father chuckled ominously as we advanced, Mother joining in with her own soft laughter.

Meanwhile, I was just trying not to freak out over the skeletons and the spiders (and other bugs) nesting in them. Gross. Scary.

Past the catacombs lay a chapel.

A chapel of heresy, that is.

Where a statue of the Holy Mother should have stood, there instead loomed the same blasphemous idol from Father’s study. The walls were carved with the same indecipherable scrawls as aboveground—only these were etched in blood.

Inside, countless fanatics moaned in song. Their eerie voices occasionally aligned into something resembling a choir, but for the most part, it was a cacophony of shattered dissonance.

"Behold, all of you! The Queen of Rot! The Darkness That Writhes Upon the Throne! The Great Blasphemy Herself—Iris, or should I say, Iriress! Kehehehehe!"

Father’s booming declaration at the chapel entrance drew every gaze toward me.

"The Queen of Rot! Ahh, ahhh! Praise her, praise her! Ahh, ahhh!"

"The Darkness Upon the Throne! Ahh, ahhh! Worship, worship! Ahh, ahhh!"

The chapel echoed with their grotesque harmonies as the fanatics shuffled toward me like zombies. Their bloodshot eyes, unfocused and half-lidded, dripped with drool—yet the words spilling from their mouths were unmistakably adoration.

Scary! So scary!

"Don’t come near me!"

The moment I shrieked, the crowd lurched backward in unison, scrambling to keep their distance.

"Iris, Iriress! Iris, Iriress! Ahh! Ahhh!"

Then, with slack-jawed reverence, they dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the ground like Islamic prayer, chanting all the while.

At least they weren’t advancing anymore. I exhaled inwardly in relief.

Then—clap, clap, clap—a slow applause cut through the noise.

"Magnificent. Truly magnificent. So you’ve succeeded in harboring Iris within her, Anneliese. As a fellow witch, I commend you."

A girl’s voice. I scanned the room for its owner.

There.

A figure draped in a jet-black dress and an antiquated gray military coat. Just as her voice suggested, she was young.

Long, raven hair cascaded to her thighs, framing a face of delicate features—save for the madness glinting in her blood-red eyes. She stood shorter than me, likely younger too. Yet the aura around her was nothing like the other fanatics.

"Claudia, Claudia. One of the dreaded witches of Karmazen. What you failed to achieve, Anneliese and I have accomplished. Well? What say you in the face of true greatness—no charlatan’s trick?"

"Abhorrent. Nothing could be more abhorrent."

The girl—Claudia—spoke her name with a smile.

"A pleasure, Iris. I am Claudia von Winterstein. One of the witches of Karmazen… and head of the Witch Association."

Unlike Father or the rabid devotees, her madness wasn’t overt. But it lingered in her eyes, in the curve of her lips. Probably.

Wait, was she in the game? I don’t remember her…

"All shall prostrate before you. You herald chaos, collapse, slaughter, and madness. And oh, how glorious it is."

Claudia giggled before she stepped closer.

"May you be exalted for eternity. You are greatness incarnate."

As she spoke, something impossibly soft brushed my lips—a sweetness lingered in the air.

Huh. Huh? Huh?!

D-did I just get kissed?! I did!

"Fufufu."

Claudia smirked, enigmatic.

W-wait, was this how I lose my first kiss?!

…Well, not that I’m complaining!

……………………