"Papa! I've discovered it! The solution to save..." The girl's hopeful voice trailed off as she swung open the creaking door of her home, only to be met with a harrowing sight. Her beloved parent lay sprawled on the floor, their lifeblood staining the surroundings.

"So this is where you've been hiding," said a woman.

A shroud of darkness seemed to materialize, giving birth to a woman who stepped forward from its depths. A blade gleamed ominously in her hand, drenched in the crimson evidence of her sinister deeds. Her eyes bore into the girl, a chilling mixture of triumph and malice.

"My sweet doll, Cellia."

The fragile fragments of memories shattered like fragile glass, and I was drawn into a scene of chaos—a blazing town engulfed in flames. Amidst the devastation, a figure emerged, a girl with ethereal white hair. She knelt upon the scorched earth in despair and anguish. Her trembling fists collided with the unforgiving ground, the impact tearing through her delicate skin, causing crimson streams to flow.

Tears mingled with her whispered words, a broken lament that resonated with heartache. "I'm sorry... Cleo... It's all my fault. I failed you—!"

Chilling laughter pierced through as the echoes of her anguished cries still lingered in the air. The girl's tear-stained face twisted with a mix of fury and disbelief as she turned towards the source, only to find her mother standing there, consumed by a perverse delight.

"So this is how you save those humans? How interesting," Her creators's voice dripped with a twisted mockery.

A growl of defiance escaped the girl's lips as she mustered the strength to confront her creator. "Nyghtingale, why? Why did you do this? What have they done to you? To us?!"

Her creator's voice, tinged with a sickening satisfaction, slithered through the air like a venomous serpent. "Why, my dear? Those people were dying, consumed by a mysterious disease, threatening the prosperity of my domain. Yet they had the nerve to abduct my beloved creation and brainwash her."

With a wicked smile, Nyghtingale continued, "I think burning those mongrels to ashes is rather considerate for me."

The girl's eyes widened with disbelief, her mind struggling to comprehend the depths of her mother's twisted logic. "You... you wicked witch! How could you!"

"Oh, my naive child. You never realized, did you?" Her Creator's voice oozed with disdain, the words laden with cold, calculated cruelty. She lifted the girl's chin and continued, "Do you realize what caused their disease? That's right. It's the wonder drug you created, your blood, dammit! You're infecting them with your cells, giving them fake hope of recovery but in truth, your blood turned them into Anima!"

The girl's trembling voice carried the weight of disbelief and heartbreak. "N-No... it can't be... You... I... all this time—"

Nyghtingale's laughter echoed with unhinged amusement. "Yes, my dear. You are the daughter of the Goddess of Death, my first successful Malice. And from your blood shall rise Army of Darkness that shall conquer all world and crowned me as The One God!"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The girl clenched his fist and grunted, "No...You will pay for this!"

At that moment, an explosion of raw magic erupted from the depths of the girl's being. Flames danced hungrily, wrapping her body in an infernal embrace, etching intricate dragon tattoos upon her skin. Her once-beautiful blue eyes blazed with a burning crimson, a manifestation of the power surging through her veins. She broke free from the clutches of the dark shadow that held her captive, her spirit unyielding, ready to face her ultimate reckoning.

Yet, her creator regarded her with an amused gleam in her eyes, as if toying with her prey. "Ah, how delightful. My hypothesis has been proven true. By inflicting the deepest pain upon one's heart, the Loom of Fate responds, granting even you, the Seed of the Hero," she taunted, opening her cloak and unsheathing her sword with a malevolent grace.

A surge of primal rage consumed the girl, propelling her forward with wrath that shook the very foundations of her being.

"You fucking whore! I will kill you! I will annihilate every single one of you!"

Her mother met her fury with a sickening smirk, her eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. "Come at me, my sweet Cellia. Let us dance the World's Death!"

...!

A sudden thump awoke me from my slumber. The steel carriage rattled along the cobblestone streets, the sounds of hooves and wheels blending with the cacophony of the city. Oh, that's right, I was summoned by The Mahamagi today. It was a long journey that I'd taken a quick nap... and...

Was it a simple nightmare? Or perhaps it was my memory that resurfaced after I discovered my name? Either way... It wasn't pleasant thing to remember.

I wanted to forget, yet the truth always followed me in my shadow. I am... a goddess and the traitor of my kind, including my Creator.

"You look pale. Did you just have a nightmare?" Arthur who sat across from me, asked while giving me his handkerchief, "Use it, you're drooling, Princess."

Gratefully accepting the handkerchief, I dabbed at my lips before replying with a grumble, "That's not a nice thing to say to a girl, Arthur."

Arthur shrugged, "Yes, yes, I'm sorry. Anyway, you should tidy yourself up a bit. See the Clock Tower there? It's the Black Company HQ."

I stared out the window, my gaze fixed on the Clock Tower as its bell continued to toll. The absurdity of the situation struck me like a lightning bolt. With the bell ringing, everyone stopped working and prayed fervently at Yggdrasil. But to whom? The world should've been liberated from the gods. There was no reason for humanity to be chained by them anymore.

And then I saw Arthur was praying too, leaving me as the only weird one. After he finished praying, I asked my master,

"Who are you praying to, Master Arthur?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "Who else but Nyghtingale, the one and only God?"

Before I could ponder further, a searing pain shot through my head, causing me to gasp in agony. It was as if my mind was being torn apart, and amid the pain, a static voice whispered urgently,

"No, there must be another way! I... I don't want to lose you, Cellia. We can defeat her!"

I winced, clutching my head as the pain intensified. The voice echoed in my mind, unfamiliar yet filled with desperation and longing. It was the same voice that guided me to discover my name. The voice of a mysterious man who saved my life before.

Arthur, sensing my distress, leaned closer and asked, genuine concern etched on his face, "Hey, are you alright? If you're sick, I can report the incident to Lady Megistus myself."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The pain subsided gradually. "It's okay, Arthur," I said, forcing a smile. "I just...well, it's just that time of the month for girls."

His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he stammered, "Uh, y-yes, of course. I-I understand."

Clearing his throat, he quickly changed the subject, trying to regain his composure. "Let's head to the clinic first before meeting Lady Megistus. They might have something for your headache."

I nodded in agreement, grateful for the shift in focus. As the carriage continued its journey, I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at my core. The people who worshipped me as their god, the voice of a man desperate to save me, the enigma surrounding my daughter... It all pointed to a hidden truth that had been deliberately erased from my memory.

Just what happened to me in the past?