Chapter 69: Haunted By A Cult, of All Things

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"It's an unique painting. Who is it of? The Empress?"

"...It's the woman who saved the Empire. No, not just the world...she quite possibly saved humanity from extinction."

Taking up an entire wall of the already entrance hall of the palace, although naturally not as large as the one found in Eden, was a painting of a woman I did not know. Yet under the unnatural light, her heroic figure was illuminated in all its glory.

Stood upon a field of darkness and despair, was an image of a woman clad in light and hope. Clad in a brilliant shining armor and sword, raised into an air in a triumphant display of humanity's survival.

Yet her appearances were too perfect. Hair of flowing beauty. Rosy cheeks and a well defined jawline. Eyes that shone like priceless crystals. There was no way a human this perfect existed...could it? It was nothing but a painting born from romanticism.

Ah, what do I know. I, for one, really shouldn't comment about someone's appearance being perfect.

"She looks almost...worshipped."

There was certainly a degree of insanity involved in hanging a picture of a person in such a glorified figure, no matter what sort of deed they had done. Well, to be frank, it resembled the nature of how my subordinates would hang paintings of me on the palace walls of Eden, so I was really complaining out of experiencing here.

"Only a deity would be painted in the feverish light of a savior. A messiah."

"A messiah...a fitting title for her."

I didn't mean it that way! Were my words not sarcastic enough!?

"Yet, you could say the age of the hero is long over. While this country certainly stands to this day because of her, but we as a people have long forgotten about what she has done. Or should I say, we choose not to talk about her."

Except for hanging up a massive full body painting of her, you mean. It was very much something akin to Napoleon Crossing the Alps, you know. There really was a sensation of having had walked into a cult. I would know from personal experience.

"A very accurate image. It really did capture the essence of what I had seen that day. It's almost I've been returned to that day again, witnessing the end of the demon lord."

Cultist? Wait, old man, are you screwing with me?

"If I had to point out any dramatizations...it would be her eyes."

"That so?" I replied, not all too interested.

Zhukov did not seem to pick up my indifference, "On the day she slew the demon lord, she did not seem too happy. Even though it was her life long goal, she seemed...distant. Almost as if she was faintly aware of what fate had in store for her."

"It can't be helped. If the hero is truly the hero of fairy tales, that is to say, an individual fixated on defeating evil no matter what, how do you think she feels when she has finally vanquished her life long foe?"

I suppose that was the price to pay for being a real hero. To give up everything to chase after a hopeless future for yourself, for the sake of others. A hero in real life was an idea I hated. After all, a human that lived for others definitely wasn't a normal person.

"You speak as if you know her, Your Majesty."

I scoffed, "Surely you jest. I couldn't be bothered to understand the thought process of self righteous heroes. I am a selfish person, after all. My musings were merely observations of your nearly absurd worship of someone who has no doubt asked nothing in return for her sacrifice. Fundamentally, the lot of you misunderstood her."

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