Outside, night had already fallen.
The goddesses waiting beyond the Barrier had settled onto a patch of grass, sitting quietly as they waited for Bell's return.
"Only one hour left until tomorrow."
They all believed Bell would come back by himself.
But as the promised time drew closer with no sign of him, that belief began to waver.
"Hestia, could you stop announcing the time?"
Hephaestus, already irritated, found every reminder unbearable—especially with Bell still lying motionless on the stone bed. Her heart simply couldn't calm down.
"But… the time really is almost up…"
Hestia looked like she might burst into tears at any moment, her eyes glassy as she stared at Bell.
She hadn't been this emotional in the past, but ever since forming her bond with Bell, she had unintentionally become a crybaby in every sense.
She always worried when Bell fought desperately in the Dungeon to grow stronger.
But compared to the dangers of the Dungeon, the situation unfolding before her now struck her heart with far greater force.
Hestia's gaze remained fixed on Bell, her confusion nearly tipping into sorrow.
"Ever since Bell entered the inner soul realm, all these bizarre things appeared around him."
"How am I supposed to be calm like this?"
Mouths on the sides, eyes in strange places—utterly grotesque.
Compared to these things, Dungeon monsters seemed almost adorable. These pitch-black creatures made Hestia feel like she'd go insane if she looked at them any longer.
"God-level monsters… and there are more than a dozen."
"Isn't that basically the same as having a dozen gods staring Bell down?"
"What if something happens to Bell? What if those monsters attack him?"
Hestia might have been guessing, but her guesses were enough to seize the throats of the other goddesses listening.
A possibility—just a possibility—but terrifying nonetheless.
After all, if those creatures truly intended to harm Bell, wouldn't direct action be faster? Why instead guard him like sentries?
And those pitch-black beings seemed wary of them, as if anticipating any malicious move.
But could they really be sure?
Not at all.
Everything had appeared too suddenly. No one could confidently claim those creatures weren't there to target Bell.
Freya felt a spike of irritation, but she forced herself to stay calm.
"It's not wise for us to act right now.
"Bell is surrounded by those things. As long as they make no move, our priority is ensuring our own safety. From their behavior, the moment we do something suspicious, they'll leap at us and tear us apart."
Bell's safety was uncertain—but their own danger was undeniable.
"The barriers Bell set up keep those things contained, stopping them from getting out. But they're still god-tier. If they attack together, we won't make it back alive."
Artemis bit down on her lip.
"None of you are combat gods. I can barely hold off one—against over a dozen, I wouldn't even have time to run."
Hephaestus, distressed, turned quickly to Freya.
"Freya, can't you use your Authority for something?"
"…I've already tried. Their souls are pure chaos—there's no space for me to influence anything."
Freya felt helpless. A swarm of bizarre beings had caused this much trouble in the very domain she excelled at.
"Our situation now is that we can't advance or retreat. All we can do is wait for Bell."
They were stuck—completely trapped.
All four goddesses felt the same suffocating frustration.
They couldn't help Bell. And if the god-tier beings misunderstood their actions, they risked being sent back to Tenkai on the spot.
No matter how agonizing it was, all they could do was wait.
"Crack, crack, crack!"
Suddenly, while they were caught in their turmoil, movement stirred at the stone bed.
All four immediately turned toward it.
The pitch-black masses surrounding Bell began hopping excitedly.
Then, one by one, they hunched down and sank into the black mud on the ground.
The mud spread across the floor drew back toward the bed, melting into the shadows beneath it—vanishing as if none of it had ever been there.
"…!"
Bell's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively sat upright.
"Angra Mainyu."
He whispered the name.
He now understood who had been hiding within his soul, and the secret buried deep inside it.
But even more shocking was the revelation of the existence known as "Angra Mainyu."
Suicide… Angra Mainyu… self-destruction… sealing the growth of a Spiritual Rank… Piecing together the clues, Bell could say with absolute certainty who that person was.
The "All the World's Evil," whose power in the Miniature World was a mere step away from entering double digits.
…
If He had allowed His own nature to run unchecked, He would have become the "Evil of This World," an immortal, indestructible double-digit Demon King—a trial nearly impossible to overcome.
Thus, when the "All the World's Evil" Spiritual Rank reached completion, Angra Mainyu could freely declare Himself invincible within the world.
A trial no god or Buddha could surpass.
Humans, unable to ascend to the three-digit realm, naturally had no one capable of performing the absurd miracle of defeating a double-digit Demon King from two tiers below.
Thus, once the "All the World's Evil" Spiritual Rank solidified, not a single god in the Miniature World would escape being stained black.
Even beings who theoretically could ascend to the single-digit realm wouldn't be able to avoid it.
Even if they had the theoretical ability to abandon the Miniature World and recreate a new one, there remained one barrier they could never cross:
Human history.
The "All the World's Evil" was the other side of human history itself—inseparable from it.
No matter what those beings planned, they could never escape the entanglement of the "All the World's Evil" unless they willingly chose corruption.
Had Angra Mainyu not upheld the banner of justice, recognized the horror of what would come, and chosen self-exile—shattering His own Spiritual Rank to prevent His return—then every god within the Miniature World would already have been reduced to nothing.
Yet who could have imagined that very Angra Mainyu still lingered within Bell's soul?
No one could have predicted that.