The Goddess of Nemesis was frightened.
This was not the fleeting unease of a disturbed mind, nor the caution one felt before an unpredictable fate. It was a fear that erupted from the deepest layer of her divinity–a fear so absolute that it bypassed will, dignity, pride, and even divine authority.
Her knees slammed into the corpse-flooded ground.
Before Kiaria could not even register what was happening, her forehead struck the filth-soaked earth.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
The sound of her skull tapping against the land echoed dully through the silent battlefield. Blood, corpse-fluid, and rotting residue splashed across her black robes, yet she showed no reaction of disgust or resistance. It was as if her body had been seized by an invisible command far older and far higher than herself.
"My… My Lord… please forgive this lowly one's negligence…"
Her voice trembled uncontrollably as she continued to bow.
This was not submission born of manipulation.
It was instinctual repentance.
