~The (Useless) Goddess of Wind and Motivation~

There was a long time ago when Sylphidia, the Goddess of Wind and Festivities, was revered by travelers, poets, artists, and innkeepers throughout Luminovia.

Her cult didn't inspire wars or found empires, but it made life more bearable: refreshing breezes on the roads, bards who never went out of tune, wines that never turned sour.

And the world's devotion to her took a complete turn since the first wars against Dracula began, his armies of monsters at his command, and all the times the Demon Castle arose from time to time due to how humanity itself was an indirect factor enabling the Forces of Chaos to revive it again and again.

While Sylphidia still continued her role as a minor inspirational deity, even motivating all the Crusader Knights and independent Demon Hunters to solve this infinite loop, even calming dying people to go to the "Other Side" when Azrael claimed their souls and determined their fate due to his role as Grim Reaper.

Until her days as a worshipped divinity were numbered.

For while Sylphidia did things her way and with her bubbly and jovial attitude, those miracles seemed ridiculous compared to the holy water and sacred weapons, from blessed swords and bows to the legendary "Ashen Lash," the whip used by the Valmont clan for generations.

What good was an army of drunken but happy soldiers when the armies of darkness were razing entire villages?

What good was an endless banquet when the crusade needed martyrs, not drunks singing off-key hymns?

The Church was quick to seize the opportunity.

It needed warlike, serious, implacable deities... and Sylphidia was the complete opposite.

Thus was born propaganda: pamphlets and sermons ridiculing her as "the half-naked drunken goddess," a corrupter of Christian morality, an enemy of virtue and duty.

The result was immediate. Her temples were closed, her statues were forgotten under dust and rats, and her name survived only in vulgar tavern songs.

From a deity of simple joys, she became a drunken joke.

And now, centuries later, an event was about to occur that would challenge the very history of Luminovia.

***

The group was exploring the ruins of a minor shrine, covered in cobwebs and dust.

Amid the rubble of a smashed altar, Ayato found a strange object: an old flute, made of cracked wood and with corroded metal inlays.

“What kind of trash is this?” he growled, shaking it.

Isolde raised an eyebrow in disdain.

“A sacrilegious instrument, surely used in minor rituals. Leave it, Ayato. It’s worthless.”

But Vera was looking at him with glittering eyes.

“It looks… special. It must be a magic artifact! Come on, Ayato, try something!”

Ayato sighed and, with his usual air of resignation, brought the flute to his lips. Scattered, squeaky notes blew out, sounding more like the squeal of a strangled rat than music.

Then it happened.

A whirlwind of wind erupted inside the shrine. Dust and dead leaves spiraled upward, accompanied by colorful flashes as if someone had set off miniature fireworks.

A ridiculously triumphant fanfare resounded in the air, as if a celestial orchestra had gotten drunk on cheap wine.

From the vortex emerged a female figure, wrapped in translucent veils and adorned with colorful ribbons.

Her hair floated like gusts of breeze, and she held a golden jug from which endless wine flowed.

“TADÁ~!” she exclaimed, spreading her arms.

“I’ve returned, ungrateful mortals! It is I, Sylphidia, the Magnificent Goddess of Breezes, Wine, and Eternal Feasts! She whose laughter blessed bards and whose windy caresses lifted the skirts of maidens at forgotten festivals! Bow down to me~!”

Ayato froze. Then he lowered his flute and muttered,

“...No. It can’t be. I died in my world because of a cosplayer dressed just like that. And now the universe is torturing me with the cheap DLC version.”

[FLASHBACK]

"That's my queen!", "My waifu!", "Give me your social media and I'll follow you!", "The only thing that dead weight is good for~"

Those were the voices that echoed in Ayato's mind on that Halloween day, as he remembered how he died in his world.

All because he was crushed by a crowd of people who stepped on everything to see a cosplayer dressed as a "Useless Goddess," and remember how everyone shouted and screamed in unison as he died in the street.

Even watching that girl perform a suggestive dance shaking her butt before he ended up in Luminovia because of that female voice that summoned him (who turns out to be Rydia).

[END FLASHBACK]

"I died for a 3D waifu..."

Ayato readies his sword, remembering that even his death is parodied due to the presence of Sylphidia.

Isolde, glaring, took a step forward.

“You call this ‘goddess’? It’s merely a heretical lesser spirit! A half-naked drunk who desecrates the very concept of divinity.”

Sylphidia laughed brazenly, sipping from her flagon and letting the wine spill shamelessly.

“Ohhh, you’re so stern. If you smile too much, you’ll break, my dear~.”

This was one of those rare times Ayato and Isolde saw eye to eye, as they drew their respective swords and attempted to attack the Festive Goddess of the Wind.

He sought to land low blows or thrusts, while she sought blind spots and flanked, alternating between thrusts and transformations.

Sylphidia, on the other hand, merely dodged in a dancing manner.

“Weren’t we going to solve this with a beer or a glass of wine~?”

Then, Sylphidia began to sing to calm their angry mood, causing them to stop their blows.

Vera, on the other hand, jumped with excitement, almost like a child after seeing the 'miracle'.

“Incredible! A true goddess! Sylphidia-sama, from today on you are my sole patron. The queen of wine and my devotion!”

Sylphidia winked at her, delighted.

“A faithful devotee! Finally, someone with good taste.”

Ayato raised his hand to his face, resigned.

“Great… we have an arrogant vampire, a naive witch-nun, and now… an alcoholic carnival goddess cosplaying? This is already looking like a traveling circus.”

Sylphidia, ignoring the complaints, raised the golden jug.

“To celebrate my glorious return, I will make a greater demonstration of my divine power! Let the winds blow and the cups be filled!”

A gust of alcohol swept through the sanctuary: dust turned to confetti, cobwebs turned to streamers, and the altar chalice began to overflow with sparkling wine.

Vera squealed with happiness:

“A miracle, a true miracle!”

Ayato coughed, a mixture of disbelief and disdain:

“This smells more like a drunk's hangover than a divine blessing…”

Isolde, her face red with fury, pointed at the desecrated altar.

“Enough! You dare turn a sacred place into a tavern!”

“Sacred tavern!” Sylphidia corrected, blowing another mischievous gust that lifted Isolde’s skirt mid-speech.

The vampiress screamed in indignation while Vera laughed uproariously.

Ayato muttered,

“...Great. Goddess of wind, drunkenness, and cheap fan service. Just what I needed to ruin my day.”

Sylphidia leaned against him as if they were lifelong friends.

“Come on, Ayachi, admit it. Life is more fun with me around.”

He pushed her away,

“Life was quieter without you… but I guess I never had quiet.”

Sylphidia remains clingy to Ayato, as if everyone he wants will recognize him as a hero...It had to be her...

The Goddess of the Festive Wind continues speaking in an extravagant yet childish manner.

"Come on, Ayachi, admit I'm fun~"

"Fun, yes. Useful... I doubt it. Although you might be useful in your uselessness."

Ayato reluctantly accepts Sylphidia's addition to the group. He already has to put up with Isolde and Vera, on top of dealing with Rydia, and he doesn't rule out the possibility of Zeltha appearing again in the future... Adding another hallucination doesn't make a difference, does it?

Because what History calls vulgarity, the desperate call a miracle.

***

When the commotion subsided and the three (now four) left the place, some villagers from a nearby farm were talking among themselves.

“They say a shining knight is purging the roads… he claims that anything that smells of a witch, vampire, or false god deserves to be burned at the stake.”

“He proclaims that the Dark Lords must be eliminated. And that even heteromorphs, beastmen, and those who don't go to church are proof of his divine fury!”

Ayato leaned back, exasperated.

“Perfect. Between the drunken goddess and a psychopathic paladin, my life will never be peaceful or epic…”