Barbara glanced at Eros and said calmly, "She is indeed not Elsa. To be precise, Elsa died at her hands."

  Eros looked at Barbara in shock. Her voice remained unchanged as she continued: "I told you before, she is a 'Deformity' , and a young one at that—barely thirty years old."

  Eros’s mouth twitched. Thirty years and still a 'juvenile'? Are these Deformities long-lived species like the Elves? Though puzzled, he didn't interrupt, listening as Barbara explained. He had his suspicions, but he couldn't be sure.

  "If my deduction is correct, this Deformity formed near the Master’s Divine Kingdom. Elsa accidentally stumbled into that area, and then..."

  "She was devoured by it?" Eros finished her sentence. He recalled the Deformity’s abilities: Soul Devouring and Soul Stealing.

  Barbara nodded. "Yes. The Deformity devoured her soul and corrupted her body. That is why she was able to take on Elsa’s appearance. It is one of her traits—she can transform into those she has consumed."

  "If that's the case, why was she able to respond to divinations?" Eros asked. If Elsa had been devoured nearly twenty years ago, who was the one responding to the Church all this time?

  Barbara’s expression turned peculiar. "The one responding was also her. A newborn Deformity has no consciousness; it acts solely on instinct. It wasn't until she devoured Elsa’s soul that she gained a consciousness—one possessing Elsa’s complete memories."

  "Due to the unique nature of the overlapping Domain of Sins and the Master’s hidden power, she only consumed that single soul in over a decade. With only one set of memories, there was no cognitive conflict. Therefore, for all that time, she likely believed she was Elsa."

  Eros began to understand. But what did that have to do with responding to divinations? Seeing his lingering confusion, Barbara gave him a look as if to say, I’ve made it so clear, how do you still not get it?

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  She sighed. "Because she believed she was Elsa, and because she held Elsa’s soul, any divination targeting Elsa would point to her. Furthermore, driven by the instinct of a Deformity, she wanted to lure other souls into that area to feed. So, she began responding to the divinations to bait people in."

  Luring people in to kill them? Eros finally understood.

  But now he faced a new dilemma. "So, she has Elsa’s memories and thinks she’s Elsa, but she isn't actually her?"

  "Correct," Barbara confirmed. "She has only consumed one soul, so her cognition isn't fractured. If you don't let her consume others, her madness will eventually fade, and her logic and memories will stabilize. However, even then, she will be a Deformity possessing Elsa’s memories."

  Eros felt a headache coming on. A creature that killed Elsa now thinks it IS Elsa? What a mess. "Is there any way to save the real Elsa?"

  "Once you become a God, you can try to extract Elsa’s soul fragments from the Deformity and reassemble them," Barbara said seriously.

  Become a God... Eros rolled his eyes. That was easier said than done. Expecting him to reach godhood was less realistic than expecting the Ancestor to return in this epoch. Still, "salvageable" was better than nothing.

  But how was he supposed to face her now? If she recovered her senses later and recognized him, would her first words be: "Hey, nephew, what are you doing?"

  Eros struggled with the thought, but eventually, he made a decision. Whatever. She isn't the real Elsa anyway. Hesitation wasn't his style. He admitted he was lustful, perhaps even a bit shameless. He had a second chance at life; why overthink it?

  He reached down and scooped up the doll-like girl from the bed.

  A long time later, Eros leaned against the headboard, contemplating the meaning of life. What was the purpose of his existence? To revive the Ancestor? To improve the family’s situation?

  The family had spent tens of thousands of years trying to revive the Ancestor with no success. If they waited for that, how much longer would they have to hide? Another ten thousand years?

  Eros fell silent. Suddenly, a thought struck him. I am unique. I can look upon gods as a mortal, carry their power, and my soul is shielded from the world's history. Why did I ever think I couldn't reach the Divine Throne myself?

  He let out a soft laugh, a surge of ambition rising in his heart. There was no need to wait for the Ancestor. He would ascend to the throne himself.

  Just then, Irina emerged from his shadow. She had finished her talk with Madam Florika and returned. Standing by the bed, she wrinkled her nose and asked curiously:

  "What is that smell?"

  Eros’s composure instantly shattered.