Chapter 5: Hey, Sokomadeda.

“Ah, I messed up.”

While everyone stood stunned by the sudden chaos, the hulking figure—Malcolm, or whatever his name was—drew a sword from his waist and charged.

“You’re the one who started it, huh?”

Splurt—a line of blood traced across Malcolm’s neck, and his head rolled to the floor.

A strike so swift, most couldn’t even see it.

A pathetic end for someone supposedly SR-rank.

But Yoo Da-hee, having caused the mess, tilted her head, puzzled.

“Hmm… Something feels off about the swing.”

Like cutting off mid-sh*t, maybe.

Holding the blood-dripping handaxe, Yoo Da-hee wiped it on the clothes of Adikia—or was it Academia?—and went to return it to the dwarf.

Even after wiping, blood dripped from the handle, not a great look.

“…Should I get this dry-cleaned?”

“Could’ve asked before taking it.”

“Got heated and just went for it. I wiped it mostly, but… bill Dike for the cleaning.”

“Eh.”

Dike, sweating and looking sheepish, gave the dwarf a nervous glance.

“Forget it, just keep it. Seems it found its master.”

“Wha… Really? That’s forged with Parashu’s legacy!”

Dike, now standing behind Yoo Da-hee, eyes sparkling, stared at the axe like nothing had happened.

“It’s something even divine power can’t buy…! Not even thousands of planets could get you one…!”

“Huh? I can really keep it?”

“No one else could wield it anyway. They’d drag it on the ground and collapse. My apprentices will complain, but I’ll let it slide.”

Pretty cool dwarf.

More talk might build a good rapport.

“But it’s about time.”

“What… Oh.”

Yoo Da-hee, not catching the dwarf’s meaning, turned and realized.

The goddess’s split head was knitting back together, and Malcolm’s head, which had rolled on the floor, dissolved into dust, sprouting anew from his neck.

“Immortal?”

Dike watched them, her face saying the inevitable had arrived.

“N-No one dies in the arena… It’s designed that way from the start.”

“So, you kill them, and they don’t stay dead?”

“Y-Yeah?”

While talking with Dike, Adikia’s face fully reformed, though her still-moving mouth was creepy as hell.

“Y-Y-You—!!! This is—outrageous!”

“Weirdly cool.”

A different kind of regeneration from the outer gods’ immortality.

There’s only one way to kill an immortal.

Keep killing them.

Crush, tear, grind, burn, pulverize, split… until they can’t regenerate, until their soul gives up.

Immortals die when you don’t care how long it takes, just keep at it.

There’s no such thing as true, unconditional immortality—that’s the truth of this world.

It only looks that way because something else is sacrificed.

Knowing this, Yoo Da-hee gripped the dwarf’s axe, Parashu, and stepped forward.

A true healer doesn’t treat damage—they eliminate the source.

So, chopping down this goddess and Malcolm again would be right, but…

“S-Stop…”

Dike was the one to stop her.

“Cause a scene here, and… you’ll get a penalty…”

“What penalty?”

“You’ll bear the penalty in the arena, you damn—”

Adikia, fully regenerated, raised a glowing blue-crimson left hand, but Yoo Da-hee’s Parashu swung again.

[Dice roll…!]

[Determining critical hit threshold.]

[…1D20 rolls.]

[Critical hit threshold for Goddess Adikia is 4.]

[…1D20 rolls again.]

[…4!]

“Oh, critical hit jackpot.”

With Yoo Da-hee’s words, Adikia’s raised palm split, the axe slicing through her arm, shoulder, and exiting her right hip.

A clean diagonal bisect.

Another swing severed her neck, arms, and legs in turn.

Even sliced leeks wouldn’t look this bad. The goddess, worse off than shredded veggies, collapsed to the floor with a thud.

Dike’s face briefly regained color before turning ashen.

“Hieee! S-Stop…!”

“It’s reflex, okay? She was about to do something—can’t just take it.”

Waiting like an idiot for a villain’s transformation is for TV anime or sentai shows.

“I’d leave her alone if she stayed put… Look, Malcolm’s quiet.”

Malcolm, whose head had flown off once, stood pale and silent.

One hit, and he’d felt the gap in power, now cowering…

Maybe he realized Dike’s “exhibitionist caveman” being SSR wasn’t a bluff.

‘F*ck…!’

If he’d betrayed Dike, getting targeted relentlessly in the arena might be inevitable.

Even if you don’t die, fear and pain don’t vanish.

“Keh, you damn bastard! Malcolm, tear her apart!”

‘Aaaah! Please, no!’

The memory of his head flying off flashed back.

He’d faced other SSRs in the arena before—100 participants at once, it’d be weirder not to.

But those others? Malcolm found Yoo Da-hee scarier.

Her eyes held no light, like the cosmic void, an abyss that permitted nothing.

He desperately prayed to avoid this insane order, clenching his teeth, but there was no choice.

Adikia’s divine power in him forced his body to act.

Drawing his sword, about to charge at Yoo Da-hee—

[That’s enough.]

“Oh, sokomade da…!”

Yoo Da-hee let out an impressed exclamation at the voice squeezing the space.

Malcolm’s sword froze.

“Th-Thank… Hic!”

Mumbling relief, Malcolm found Yoo Da-hee’s axe blade at his throat.

The razor-sharp edge nicked his skin, a trickle of blood running down his neck.

A moment later, and his head would’ve flown again.

Unable to see or sense her move, Malcolm’s spirit broke completely.

“No more disturbances will be tolerated by the Administration.”

A calm voice echoed, and someone descended from the air.

A white-winged archangel with twelve radiant wings, like falling snow—Archangel Michaela, a member of the Pantheon Administration.

Her white hair and unyielding presence commanded the scene. With a gesture, the sword and axe returned to their places, and Adikia’s bisected body reformed.

Despite her restoration, Adikia’s rampage was predictable, but when the angel leaned in, she took slow, heavy breaths, grimaced, and clenched her teeth.

Even a goddess couldn’t ignore the Administration’s authority.

“It’s quiet now.”

Michaela’s gaze swept the scene, landing on Yoo Da-hee.

“Contractor of Goddess Dike Astraea, …Yoo…”

Zzt—

“…Da-hee.”

Michaela frowned slightly, as if sensing something odd, but continued.

“You’ve clearly caused a disturbance in the sacred arena. Do you acknowledge this?”

“Objection!”

Yoo Da-hee thrust up her index finger, shouting her protest, but…

“Do you deny striking Goddess Adikia with an axe?”

“Well… no, I can’t.”

Facts are facts, no denying it. But…

“Adikia provoked it first.”

“It’s Adikia, you filthy caveman!”

“Adikia, Akidia, same difference.”

Starts with an ‘A,’ ends with an ‘A,’ what’s the big deal?

With her head, body, and limbs all separated, calling her Goddess Exodia wouldn’t be an issue either.

“This arena strictly prohibits physical altercations between participants before the match begins, regardless of the cause. Those responsible face severe penalties.”

So this was the penalty Dike mentioned.

“Uh, is there anything like a suspended sentence in arena law?”

In Korea, even causing a fatal accident while driving drunk often gets you a suspended sentence.

Yoo Da-hee whispered to Dike.

“Dike, got any booze…?”

There’s that saying, right? If you’re about to get caught for drunk driving, turn off the car, grab some soju from the trunk, and chug.

Say you did it in a drunken rage—might get some leniency.

“…There’s some in the truck… soju…”

She’d asked half-jokingly, but it was real?

“Did you hit me while drunk?”

What did this silence mean?

F*cking hell.

Anyway…

She swung the axe, but no one died, so it’s fine, right?

“For injuring Goddess Adikia and her contractor Malcolm… considering it’s your first time in the arena, a penalty will be imposed.”

“Considering?! That jerk chopped me up multiple times!”

Adikia’s protests didn’t faze Michaela, who got to work.

With a light snap of her fingers, a ring of light formed, clamping onto Yoo Da-hee’s right wrist.

The weightless, eerie glow tightened, leaving a mark before vanishing.

A lettering tattoo circled her wrist.

Normally, a human like Yoo Da-hee couldn’t read divine script, and Dike was about to explain, but…

“[For this match, you may use your primary weapon only once.] That’s what it says?”

Yoo Da-hee beat her to it.

“Huh, how’d you know?!”

“It’s basic divine script. They wrote it in fancy cursive to make it look complex, but it’s straightforward.”

Dike stared at Yoo Da-hee, her eyes brimming with curiosity about the unknown.

What the hell was this?

She’d been thrilled about a golden returnee, ramming her with the Isekai Truck without thinking twice, but she hadn’t looked into her properly.

A human who could cleave a goddess with an axe and read divine script.

Far from ordinary.

What kind of world had her contractor returned from?

Dike’s mind swirled with confusion.