The scene then shifted to the face-off between the corrupt goddess and the two gods. Ferina—the corrupt goddess—declared, "This will be an interesting battle." The assembled gods trembled; Ferina's power overwhelmed them. Blikin, the God of War, cried out, "Why do we not have luck? This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake, but now it's rock-hard. We cannot defeat both of them! We must distract her while you call the gods whose divine power levels match or exceed hers. Got it? All of you—fight the goddess!"
With a smirk, Ferina sneered, "Do you think I am joking with you? I feel the need to remind you who I am." A dark aura engulfed her, as she morphed into a suit of armor complete with a helmet adorned with curved horns. In her hands, a scythe radiating demonic energy materialized, and black wings unfurled around her, transforming her into an angel of death.
Despite their terror, the lesser gods mustered their courage and unleashed their most potent arsenals. Their combined attack was halted halfway by Ferina's scythe—which astonishingly teleported from her grasp to cut them down, keeping the minor deities occupied. Seizing an opening, Blikin hurled his artillery weapons toward her. Yet, as soon as they made contact, they disintegrated. Looking down at the ruined projectiles, she mocked, "Are you serious? Do you really expect to damage me with mere toys? Have the gods grown weak since my demise? How, oh God of War, are you so powerless? Go and summon the real deal—you can go back to training camp, soldier!"
Enraged, Blikin lunged forward, pulling his knife and stabbing Ferina in the arm. With brutal force, she was thrown like a ball—crashing to the ground. Blikin then grabbed his helmet, donned it, and bellowed, "You want the real deal? Let me show you!" He channeled all his power, his aura turning a bloody red—a manifestation of the wars past, the cries of the fallen, and the triumphant celebrations of victors. With the souls of warriors summoned to his aid, his forces charged ferociously. "Two can play that game," he declared, as he and his allied beasts clashed with Ferina's retinue. In a climactic moment, Blikin roared, "I am the destruction of nations, the harbinger of chaos and death, the rewarder of victors in war, and the bane of fear! To my opponent: your head shall roll today!"
In a burst of speed, Blikin closed the distance between himself and Ferina and swung his massive clamor sword at her neck. In a sickening blow, her head was severed—an act he believed proved what even the elder gods could not do. Gloating in his triumph, he turned to savor his victory—only to be struck by horror. Ferina, with a chilling smile, allowed her head to reattach seamlessly to her body. "Do you think that a god can die that easily?" she taunted. "I can survive in the sun. A death by beheading cannot hurt me. Now you are boring—give me a challenge." Her voice dripped with both defiance and malice.
Defeated, Blikin found his courage waning, his heart gripped by fear. He thought desperately, "I hope they have called the elder gods to bind her." At that moment, the sky split open, and the strongest team of gods descended to face Ferina. With worried expressions, they greeted her. "Long time no see, friends," she sneered. "I see you are here to chain me, but I will not go down without a fight. I intend to fulfill my objective of wiping humanity from this world—and I will achieve that purpose, ha ha ha!"
The elder gods, visibly disgusted with her arrogance, spoke in unison: "We are in the wrong. Your sins can be forgiven; you may return to us if you renounce your grudge against mankind." Ferina's eyes burned with contempt as she retorted, "Do you think I am stupid? You locked me away for 900 years because of those lowly creatures, and I barely escaped the prison you set for me! You didn't even visit me once! If I recall correctly, I was once their protector—while you gods merely see them as expendable batteries. I understand: you fear losing power; if humanity is wiped out, you will have no one to control. Is that why you come to their rescue?"
At length, the eldest god's patience broke. "My decision has been made," he proclaimed. "You shall be imprisoned until you learn the errors of your ways." With a gesture, he produced a sealing charm and flicked it toward Ferina. The curse deactivated, transmuting into a crimson flower. Furious, Ferina channeled her powers and transformed the flower into a tattoo that marked the maiden's wrist.
Main Character (MC) p.o.v.:
I watched as the curse that had tormented me diminished, yet I still felt inexplicably bound to it. Gradually, my body reverted to the woman I once was—though my hair was a tangled mess and blood stained my fingers as I desperately tried to clean them. That's when I noticed it: a tattoo on my wrist, glowing with an eerie light. My eyes scanned the room and beheld the gods we worshiped—some faces familiar, others almost like strangers. They noticed my gaze. Elaria, the Goddess of Nature, approached tenderly. "Are you all right?" she asked, using healing magic to ease my pain and draping a comforting cloak about my shoulders. She then led me to a deity revered by adventurers for his dungeon-clearing blessings. I vaguely recalled his name from childhood visits to his temple—memories tinged with both loss and longing.
In a somber tone, the friendly god explained the recent cataclysm, then fixed me with a serious look. "Would you like to be a dungeon boss?" he inquired. "Keep in mind, if the people discover that you are the cause of these disasters, they will torture you like an animal. And if you decline the offer, the elder gods will decide your fate. Believe me, their judgment will not be kind. Even if you are merely a medium manipulated by that vengeful goddess, you will have to bear the consequences of humanity's crimes. So, do you wish to be a dungeon boss? I will grant you one wish: you may visit your husband, and I will give him the chance to be reincarnated every century, ensuring your love endures—even as the bonds to humanity are strained." With no other viable option, I nodded in reluctant agreement. The god regarded me with pity. "Humans are truly depraved," he murmured, and then pressed into my hand a necklace bearing a single wolf-tooth fang. Its presence bestowed a calming effect upon me, steadying my trembling resolve. Finally, he presented a contract with a pen, instructing me where to sign.
When the agreement was completed, reality itself shifted, and we found ourselves teleported to a strange new world. A long line of people moved toward a glowing gate that cast a spectral chill—the sole source of light in that desolate space. Rivers emitted both cold and hot luminescence, and beyond a rickety bridge lay two distinct lands: one—a place of torment; the other—a sanctuary of eternal rest. There, my husband approached me gently. "It's not your fault," he soothed. "Do not bear this guilt any longer. I will love you, even if we are separated by a hundred years. I promise I will come back for you." Overwhelmed by his words, I reached out to hold his hand—but it slipped through his grasp as if he were but a phantom. With a soft laugh, he said, "We will meet again," and I clung to that promise as hope flickered within me. "I will control the dungeon," I murmured, grateful for the prospect of reuniting one day.
Dargor, the God of Dungeons, then teleported her to a formidable dungeon in a realm governed by adventurers. A thriving guild had made that dungeon their stronghold—its numbers vast, its S-class fighters unrivaled. Dargor handed her a tome detailing the dungeon's operation, introducing her to its strongest monster, and granted her authority over it. "He shall protect you until you grow strong enough to rule with an iron fist," he explained. "You may even alter his appearance to appear human; he can serve as your loyal butler. Do not attempt escape, for if you do, you will be sent directly to the core room. This is an E-rank dungeon, and though many adventurers will come and go, you must maintain order. Use the dungeon's powers to balance their strength and minimize casualties." With a final parting word, he closed the book: "Let us begin your training tomorrow, Miss. You need to rest—a bath and clean clothes await you. Now, off to your room."
Inspired by my lover's earlier promise—"If I come to you, I will wear my wedding ring. No matter what face you bear, you will recognize me; if you forget, show me the star mark and I will remember."—I vowed to make a fresh start.
A year and one month passed in a blur of struggle as I fought to harness the curse, attempting to bend it to my will. At times, I succumbed, rampaging within the dungeon and slaying beasts—though they respawned, sparing the dungeon from permanent ruin. My butler, ever loyal, exerted his full might to subdue the curse; yet on nights when the three moons shone in the sky, even his power could be overwhelmed. "May the gods save the souls of any poor adventurers who cross my path," I silently prayed.
In the realm of the gods, the atmosphere grew equally tumultuous. Lazara, the Goddess of Laziness, slept peacefully in her hammock—until the God of War, Blikin, rudely disturbed her with shouts about an injection for his treatment. He bemoaned to Elaria, the Goddess of Medicine, "Aren't you the one who should be acting tough? Stop being a man-child and endure your treatment! Are you a chicken?" His terrified cries drew ridicule from his peers. Smirking disdainfully, Lazara retorted, "I am mad, indeed—do you want a mad woman to treat you?" Her voice dripped with biting sarcasm as Blikin sputtered apologies like a frightened child.
Inevitably, Lazara's fury grew. With eyes blazing like fire, she delivered a swift kick to Blikin's posterior. "How dare you wake me!" she thundered. "I expended all my power to seal that fearsome lady we warned you about, yet you and your pompous head still think you can match her? You barely defeated me, and now your noise disrupts my beauty sleep!" With that, she clutched her menacing teddy bear, which now appeared even more formidable, and stalked away.
Observing the chaos, the high lord of the gods laughed. "What a funny trio," he remarked. "I wonder when they will mature. In any case, I should reward the God of War for his bravery and courage—he truly lives up to his name. I shall bestow upon him a set of strong armor as a trophy. And we must keep a wary eye on her."