Ten years had passed since that day.

  An old man lay quietly on a simple bed, his breath shallow and slow.

  Solon—once the Gatekeeper of eternity—was now nothing more than a mortal at the end of his life.

  Beside him sat Tethys.

  She tried to hold back her sobs, her small hands clenched tightly over the blanket. She didn’t need divine water to cry anymore. Her tears were human now.

  “Don’t cry, child,” Solon said softly.

  His voice was weak, yet calm—free of regret.

  “You’ve grown so beautifully, Tethys. When I’m gone… leave this village. Go to the big city. Learn. Study. Make friends.” His lips curved into a faint smile. “Live a full life.”

  Tethys shook her head, tears spilling freely now.

  “I don’t even know,” Solon continued gently, “whether what did was right or wrong.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, memories drifting through him.

  “But I do know this—these last ten years as a human…”

  A single tear slid down his wrinkled cheek.

  “…were far more fulfilling than millennia of immortality.”

  Tethys trembled.

  “Having a beautiful granddaughter like you. Watching villagers argue, laugh, struggle, love… I never knew mortal life could be this rich.”

  His hand tightened weakly around hers.

  “So I’m happy now. Truly.”

  He smiled.

  “Be happy too, Tethys.”

  And then—

  like any other human—

  Solon took his final breath.

  There was no divine light.

  No cosmic ripple.

  Just silence.

  Tethys stood later before a simple pyre, watching the flames rise.

  A human cremation.

  A human farewell.

  When it was over, she left the village.

  Her journey began toward the great city.

  As she walked past the outskirts, a boy—still in his teens—ran up to her, breathless.

  “H-Hey, Tethys! Where are you going? Don’t go yet!”

  She stopped, turning slightly.

  “I’m training to become a strong soldier,” he said quickly, puffing his chest out. “I’ll guard the village! I can protect you if you stay! And then maybe we could—uh—m-marry—”

  She flicked him lightly on the forehead.

  “Shut up, brat,” she said flatly, turning away.

  “You’re eight thousand years too young to protect me.”

  She walked on, hiding the faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

  Her first destination was Aquaria

  the land she had once ruled as a goddess.

  Ten years had passed.

  Most of those who remembered her were now elderly, and the child they remembered no longer matched the grown girl walking its streets.

  No one recognized her.

  She looked around slowly.

  The world had changed.

  Truly changed.

  The ugliness hadn’t vanished—there was still theft, still murder.

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  But people no longer bowed to gods for justice. They had built laws. Courts. Systems.

  When sickness struck, no prayers echoed skyward.

  Instead, hospitals stood tall—medicine replacing miracles.

  Humans had adapted.

  Far better than the gods ever had.

  “Did he know… this would happen?” she murmured.

  Lost in thought, she nearly collided with an old woman struggling under the weight of several flower vases.

  “Oh—let me help you,” Tethys said quickly, taking a few from her arms.

  The woman smiled warmly.

  “My, thank you, dear.”

  She squinted at Tethys for a moment, then chuckled.

  “You know… you look just like our little Goddess Tethys.”

  Tethys froze.

  “How could I be her?” she replied softly, forcing a smile.

  After a moment, she spoke again.

  “Can I ask you something, granny?”

  “Of course.”

  “I heard the goddess has been missing for over ten years… don’t you hate her? For leaving you without protection?”

  The woman laughed.

  “Hate her? How could anyone hate a child?”

  She shook her head.

  “We don’t need her powers anymore. Aquaria protects itself now. Our craftsmen are even building a fortress around the city.”

  She smiled wistfully.

  “We just miss her. Not because we need her… but because when she walked these streets, the city felt warmer. Livelier.”

  Tethys felt her chest tighten.

  “I think,” she said quietly, “wherever she is now… she’s happy.”

  The old woman nodded.

  “I think so too, dear.”

  She pressed a small bundle of sweets into Tethys’s hands.

  “For your help.”

  Tethys walked away slowly, clutching them.

  “I thought they needed me,” she whispered to herself.

  “But I was the one depending on them the most.”

  A gentle smile formed on her lips.

  Her next destination awaited.

  Aethelberg.

  Tethys made her way toward a familiar home.

  A path she knew only because Dryas had once told her about it.

  She stood before the door for a moment, then knocked.

  A woman opened it—someone Tethys didn’t recognize.

  “Yes? Who are you, miss?”

  It took Tethys a second to realize.

  “Oh… you must be Alden’s wife. Is your husband home? I’m an old acquaintance of his brother.”

  The woman stiffened and hurried inside.

  Moments later, Alden rushed out, worry written plainly across his face.

  “Where is he?” he demanded. “How do you know my brother? What has he been doing all these years?”

  Tethys didn’t flinch at his barely controlled desperation.

  “Your brother is dead,” she said calmly. “That’s all I came here to say.”

  She turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  Alden’s voice was quieter now. Fragile.

  “…Was he happy?”

  A brother’s final plea.

  Tethys stopped—but didn’t turn around.

  “No,” she replied. “He was empty. He was ugly. Nothing else.”

  She paused, then added flatly,

  “Don’t remember him. Make sure your new family is happy.”

  And she walked away.

  She sat beneath a tree on the outskirts of Aethelberg, resting her back against its trunk.

  A long sigh escaped her lips.

  “What should I do now…?”

  She hugged the tree weakly.

  “If only big sister were here.”

  The thought slipped out before she could stop it.

  “Um… are you lost?”

  A voice startled her.

  Tethys stood up quickly.

  “Oh—no, I’m fine—”

  Her words froze in her throat.

  “C… Cornea?”

  The woman standing before her bore no trace of the demon queen of the Hollow Court.

  She held an infant gently in her arms. Her posture was soft. Her eyes kind. Human.

  “Do you know me?” the woman asked apologetically. “Sorry… my memories are unclear.”

  Tethys swallowed.

  “Oh—no. It’s nothing. You don’t need to know me.”

  She remembered something Solon had once told her a couple of years ago.

  “I can’t do that,” Tethys thought.

  “If I do… then he suffered for nothing.”

  Pain pressed against her chest.

  She forced a smile.

  “Well… goodbye. Be happy with your husband and child.”

  “What?” Cornea blinked. “I’m not married. This child is an orphan. I work at the orphanage.”

  Tethys nearly stumbled.

  Shock—

  and relief.

  An unknown, unwelcome relief.

  “You should’ve said that sooner! Idiot demon queen.” she snapped.

  Then caught herself.

  “—no I mean — idiot orphanage caretaker!”

  Cornea laughed softly.

  “Sorry about that. How about I make you some tea to make up for it?”

  Tethys followed her.

  Inside the orphanage, as tea was poured, Cornea spoke quietly.

  “I don’t remember anything from before the last ten years. I could’ve married… but something in my heart keeps telling me I can’t. That there’s someone more important to me than myself.”

  She hesitated.

  “Someone I’m forgetting.”

  She looked up.

  “Do you know anything about this someone?”

  Tethys smiled gently.

  “Nope,” she said. “Just your imagination.”

  She stood up.

  “Don’t dig into the past if it’s meant to stay buried. Find happiness in your future.”

  She bowed lightly.

  “And… thanks for the tea.”

  They parted.

  As Tethys walked away, she murmured to herself,

  “I think I’ll try enrolling in this… ‘school’ thing.”

  For the first time—

  not as a goddess,

  not as a weapon,

  not as someone’s burden—

  but simply,

  as a girl walking toward her future.

  The End

  "God Slayer."

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