Somewhere high above in the divine realm, the domain of the gods.
CRASH!
As the woman swung her arm, luxurious ornaments shattered into pieces.
Delicate and artistic vessels that ordinary people—no, any human—could never even dream of seeing in their lifetime.
Tools so divine they could only be used by a single being in this world, impossible to craft with mortal hands, were mercilessly reduced to fragments.
“Damn it, damn it, goddamn it all!!! All this because of one pathetic human?!”
“G-Goddess? Are you alright? Why are you suddenly—”
“Shut up!! Can’t you see I’m pissed off?!!”
“M-My apologies!”
But the one who had caused this destruction, the goddess Kiana, didn’t care in the slightest.
She was far too emotionally overwhelmed to regret such a trivial mistake.
Well, even under normal circumstances, she was the type to lose her temper without thinking when she got angry.
“I tried to help the world, and now it’s falling apart?! My followers have gone completely insane!!”
So why was she so enraged?
The reason was simple.
It was none other than Ishmael.
That infuriating mortal was utterly ruining the grand plan she had devised.
“There’s not a single place without war. Not in Alcyone, not in the New Continent, not even in the East or West of the Old Continent. At this rate, my very existence is in danger…”
War.
Massacres.
Total warfare.
That wasn’t what Goddess Kiana had envisioned.
Why would a being who gains power through the faith and worship of her followers instigate something that would lead to their deaths?
She wanted peaceful development for the world—advancements in both technology and society.
‘The happier people are, the more they’ll revere me.’
But the world had become cruel.
The lower classes suffered under harsh labor and poverty, while the ruling class focused solely on exploitation.
In this rigid caste system, the majority of humanity lived by the equation: life = suffering.
When life was so harsh, people had less gratitude in their hearts even during prayer—if they prayed at all.
The rich and powerful were too spoiled to seek religion, and the poor were too desperate to care.
‘That’s why I tried to make the world a better place.’
The population was growing steadily.
Cities were expanding, and humanity’s living space was increasing.
Yet the amount of faith offered to Kiana continued to dwindle—far less than during the days when people had no time to rest, constantly at war with the Demon King’s army.
‘It was necessary.’
Things couldn’t go on like this.
If faith continued to decline, she risked losing not just her power, but even her divine throne.
What could she do to turn things around?
Should she deliver an oracle herself?
Or descend in a divine avatar?
No, that wouldn’t be enough.
Just showing up and giving a speech wouldn’t make humans obedient.
She needed someone who possessed the knowledge and insight to improve this situation.
So she made a decision—to use her immense divine power to intervene in another world.
A place where civilization and technology were far more advanced, yet unlike this world, was not ruled by gods.
“It should have been a perfect plan!”
Even for a god, wielding power in another world was extremely difficult.
With her capabilities, she could summon only one person.
So she chose carefully.
She found a true talent—someone smart enough to become a professor at a young age.
A genius with deep knowledge, excellent memory, and the ability to apply what he knew across disciplines.
That person was Kang Cheonsu, also known as Ishmael.
•You look smart. Want to come help the people in my world?
•Huh? Who the hell are you barging into my lab like this…?
There was a bit of an accident during the, uh, “scouting” — or rather kidnapping — process, but in the end, Kang Cheonsu was brought here.
She even motivated him by promising to send him back if he did well, so he should’ve been working enthusiastically by now.
She thought that if she just left it to him, the world would naturally improve… but to think things would turn out like this.
“What exactly went wrong? Did I pick the wrong person? No, my eyes were accurate. He was definitely the most competent one.”
What could be the reason?
Kiana was genuinely troubled.
Everything about the plan was flawed aside from the intent and the initial idea — not that she’d ever acknowledge any fault of her own.
“Maybe I should have included personality as a selection criterion.”
If she had summoned a kind and righteous person, none of this would’ve happened.
That kind of person would’ve obediently followed her commands.
This all happened because she brought in a man whose very nature was rotten!
That was genuinely what the goddess thought.
She had no awareness whatsoever of the fact that she herself had done something so idiotic that even a decent person would be driven to vengeance.
“Sigh… how do I even begin to fix this?”
Clutching her throbbing head, she reached for a bottle of water — only to remember she’d smashed it earlier.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“Hey! Someone bring me water! And clean up this mess on the floor!”
“Understood, Goddess!”
With just a little divine power, she could easily clear out these ceramic shards in an instant.
Restoring them to their original state wouldn’t even be hard.
But right now, wasting divine power on something so trivial was difficult to justify — not in a time like this, when her precious believers were dying in wars.
She had to conserve her strength, thinking about the future.
Back in the day, faith would increase during wartime… but now?
Not anymore.
All thanks to that ungrateful bastard.
Usually, war would drive people to lean more heavily on their faith.
But not anymore.
Because Ishmael had spread ideas like absolute monarchy, nationalism, and his “115 Theses of Rebuttal,” the number of atheists and anti-theists had skyrocketed.
The few remaining believers had been snatched away by the leaders of various nations.
With the sharp rise in royal authority, there were now even people who believed in kings instead of gods.
Compared to before the war, the inflow of faith had dropped to less than half.
“Goddess, as ordered, I brought you water.”
“Leave it there and get lost.”
“Y-yes. Excuse me!”
Taking a deep gulp of the ice water brought by the angels, the goddess let out a long sigh.
Where should she even begin to fix this world that had fallen into chaos?
What must she do to reclaim her influence and authority?
The most obvious solution that came to mind.
“Yeah. I’ll just have to kill that bastard.”
She needed to capture Ishmael.
Capture him, expose every single thing he’d done, and turn public sentiment back in her favor.
The damage done so far was enormous, but it wasn’t too late to recover.
There was still hope.
The current conflict growing ever more widespread and intense was entirely the work of Ishmael.
If he were eliminated, calming the war would also become far easier.
“But how?”
The problem lay in the how.
Kiana didn’t currently possess the ability to directly intervene in the mortal realm.
To be precise—at the moment, she couldn’t.
“I’m in no position to get involved myself.”
Divine punishment?
Sending down an incarnation to issue commands?
Doing something like that would seriously put her life at risk.
Using divine authority required divine power, and she had already used up all of hers to summon Ishmael.
What little she had left was spent delivering a revelation to Saint Joan.
If she squandered any more divine power, she might not even be able to maintain her dignity as a goddess.
“If it were that woman from the past… No, no—what am I thinking? That was thousands of years ago.”
Shaking her head to dispel the thought, the goddess clenched her teeth.
“I’ll have to use a proxy.”
She’d have to contact Joan again and request the capture—or possibly the assassination.
It would still take a fair amount of divine power, but far less than descending herself or delivering divine punishment.
Even if she wouldn’t be able to act for a while afterward, she’d have to endure it as a sacrifice for the greater good.
“Let’s think positively. I’ve overcome crises worse than this before. I can do it again.”
The goddess encouraged herself.
She had faced far greater dangers in the past.
Back when Demon King Ioseb Stalin (she couldn’t even remember his name properly) had driven humanity to the brink—that had been far worse than this.
If she could just overcome this, she’d regain her former prestige—her authority, her believers, all of it.
So she had to hang on just a bit longer.
“I should change before delivering the revelation. Now where did I leave that mirror?”
A pitiful spark of hope lit in her heart.
Whether that hope would ever be fulfilled, however, was another matter entirely.
*****
Around the same time, at a grand cathedral.
“Still not coming out?”
“No. The nuns went in to comfort her, urging her to stay strong, but…”
“It didn’t work, huh.”
Several priests and holy knights spoke in hushed, deeply troubled tones.
They’d been with the church for decades and had seen all manner of incidents—but never anything like this.
“This is insane. With His Holiness gone, the head of the church goes into seclusion? Who’s supposed to run things now?”
“That’s what you’re worried about? We’re losing more and more believers by the day. If this keeps up, we’re finished!”
“And it’s not like we can force the Saintess to come out!”
The Saintess had suddenly thrown down all her duties, saying she couldn’t take it anymore, and shut herself in her personal chambers.