Chapter 30: Tears of the Goddess

Unlike Logos, Eros manifested herself as more than a voice. She summoned forth a dramatic flurry of pink flower petals that gradually took the shape of a body before disappearing to reveal a thirty-foot-tall woman standing to the left of the balcony. Her skin emitted a blinding light, and her pink hair was so long that it pooled on the floor beneath her. Her face was perfect, too perfect. People of this world might say she was molded from clay, but to me, she looked like an old neighbor of mine who’d had so much plastic surgery that her face barely moved. It was unsettling, and perhaps even unnecessary, as with the exception of myself, the prince, and Roman, nobody was able to look directly at her. They had all fallen to their knees upon her arrival and were now doing their best to look at her with nearly closed eyes.

My divine resistance allowed me to look at her directly, but she did not give me the same courtesy. At no point did she even spare me a glance or even acknowledge my presence. Instead, she looked only at the prince with what I could only describe as a mother’s love.

“My beautiful child,” she said with a voice so sweet it made me nauseous. “I have not abandoned you in your time of need. I’ve watched your story unfold and have not witnessed a love more pure since the day a simple farmer offered me a rose. There is no doubt in my mind that such a woman is the only possible choice for saint.”

The people cheered and applauded as if overcome by madness, and I couldn’t blame them. The goddess’s honeyed words were so strangely captivating and enticing that I found myself almost applauding with the rest of the crowd. I wanted to join them and celebrate this love that had destroyed my life. Thankfully, my anger was stronger than whatever sway she held over me. I had spent five long years studying and training for this exact moment. I had earned the right to be the saint, and now I was being cast aside? No, it was worse than that. I was being ignored. After all my effort, I had been written out of the story, and if that wasn’t bad enough, this was all her fault.

Roman had remained standing while everyone else fell to the ground. This meant that, just like me, he had developed resistance through repeated exposure to the divine. Roman had been the one to introduce the prince to Holly, and I’d long suspected that he’d been the one encouraging their relationship. Now I knew why. It was a direct order from the goddess herself. No wonder he had betrayed me, but now I knew. It was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

That single thought filled me with a rage so deep that my entire body began to shake. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to destroy her. I didn’t care that she was a goddess. I didn’t care if it killed me. I would make her see me. I would make her acknowledge me. I would not be written out of this story without a fight.

Thus, I made my move. I began to cast Tears of the Goddess, though I’m still not entirely sure why. Maybe I thought I could rewrite the spell to destroy her body and not rebuild it, maybe I thought she was some kind of undead who was weak to healing magic, or maybe my body just instinctively moved to cast the most powerful spell I could. Whatever the reason, the room’s attention began to turn to me as I drew in every ounce of aether I could from the room, and despite its massive size, the spell’s cost was still significant.

Those around me, who had already fallen to their knees due to the goddess, collapsed to the ground as they struggled to breathe, but I didn’t stop. I drew in more and more aether, far more than even when I had healed Brennan. Then, as my body instinctively moved to cast the spell, I stopped it. This, on its own, was not all that strange. If one wished to stop a spell before it was cast, they merely had to let the aether gradually and slowly seep out of their body before they could cast it again. However, I didn’t do that.

Instead, I twisted and warped the spell that I had already begun to cast, transforming it from Tears of the Goddess into Fireball. Such a thing was theoretically possible, but also forbidden and for good reason. Perhaps if this were a basic-class spell, the toll would have been bearable, but I was attempting to rewrite the power of a master-class spell. It was basically the equivalent of trying to change the direction of a tsunami with my bare hands. Every cell in my body screamed for me to stop, but I refused. I kept pushing, and after a minute that felt like eternity, a ball of white hot fire appeared before me.

It burned so bright that it outshone even Eros, whose attention was now entirely focused on me. Good. She was finally seeing me. She was finally seeing the victim of this stupid little game of hers. Still, she did not look concerned or worried. She just seemed curious. That ticked me off. This spell was everything I had. It was my limit and perhaps the limit of humanity itself. I would make her fear it, and I would make her fear me.

I filled the spell with every last drop of aether I could manage, and then I released it. It flew like a rocket toward Eros’s face, and then came to a stop just inches from her. It had hit something that I could not see, and Eros seemed to smirk, mocking me for ever thinking I could harm her. However, the spell didn’t end, and seconds later, a sound like shattering glass filled the air. Whatever had been protecting her had broken, and the spell shot forward, striking her square across the face.

Absolute and complete silence filled the air as all eyes rapidly darted between Eros and me, seeming to question the reality they had just witnessed. Roman’s composed expression shattered as he looked on in utter disbelief, and the prince wasn’t much better. They weren’t mad because how can you be angry at someone for hurting your god? It’s too absurd an idea to even process, and so they didn’t. They simply stared. However, Aster’s reaction was the most surprising. He smiled, and not just a grin either. He looked like a kid who had just gotten exactly what they wanted for Christmas. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen him smile like that.

As for myself, I was going through a list of cool lines I could say in my head. Alas, I couldn’t utter a single one because my mouth was quickly filling with blood. I was dying. The toll from such a heretical act of magic had been far more than my body could handle, but that was fine with me. It had been worth it.

The spell, despite its size and power, had done only minor damage. Eros’s cheek had turned bright red and was already beginning to blister. It was a simple wound that even High Heal could treat swiftly, and yet, she reached toward the wound with trembling hands. When she touched it, her eyes went wide as she suddenly realized that she had been hurt. Her perfect body had been destroyed.

I waited for the inevitable rampage and smiting, but instead, she cried. No, I am not joking. This almighty goddess began actively bawling her eyes out over such a minor wound. Even I was dumbfounded by her response, but then it got worse. She let out a scream so horrible that every window shattered, and the students began to fall over one by one. I followed soon after as the volume and pitch in her voice broke something inside of me.

I wasn’t sure if I would wake up again after that, and part of me didn’t want to. That had been my best shot. That had been everything I’d worked toward since the loops began, and it had failed spectacularly. Was there even a point in trying again?

“Good morning, Milady! Are you excited for the party tonight?”