Ungrateful
"Hmm… How curious."
Icarus smirked, despite the situation.
"Am I really so handsome that I got kidnapped by some crazy woman? Ahh, even without a face, I'm still majestic as hell..."
His body bounced against the ground as he was dragged like a sack of dirty laundry.
"Who is this crazy woman?! Hey, lady! You're kidnapping a minor! Aren't you afraid of getting arrested?!"
The voice that had nearly given him a heart attack turned out to belong not to an assassin but a woman—one with a screw loose.
And damn, was she beautiful.
No—beyond beautiful.
Icarus had never thought he'd see a woman more stunning than his own mother, but here she was. A complete stranger—yet somehow, she felt like the most mesmerizing being in existence.
Her eyes were as deep and endless as the crystal-clear ocean.
Her hair, a flawless white—as pure as the heavens.
Her skin, dark as the Underworld itself.
She was... breathtaking.
A slender, delicate beauty, yet something about her felt off.
Icarus could admit she was divine in every way, but—
"She's definitely a weirdo. A crazy bitch!"
Couldn't she at least carry him like a princess instead of dragging him through the dirt?
Was it because he lost his face and was now ugly as fuck?!
Discrimination against faceless people?! Hah?!
His skull slammed into a rock, sending a jolt of pain through his battered body.
"Fucking hell. Stupid forest."
Groaning, he forced his vision to focus, his eyes glowing faintly as he scanned their surroundings.
Nightmare Creatures.
They were closing in—rushing toward them from all sides.
Probably drawn to the light of Drop of Ichor.
"Well. We're fucked."
Awakened beasts. Fallen creatures.
A Corrupted one leading them.
Yeah. Life was great.
Not for him, though.
Life fucking sucked.
They were definitely going to die.
Icarus sighed, glancing at the idiot dragging him—
—only for his Divine Eyes to widen in shock.
She was… a Saint.
Holy shit.
His mind screeched to a halt.
Lady, please forgive this lowly peasant.
Please tell me you can't hear my thoughts.
His father had once told him—
"To win a lady's favor, you must be unique and funny."
Before he'd killed him.
Ahem. Moving on.
Icarus snapped back to the present.
"Hey, dimwit," he grumbled. "If you don't start dragging my ass faster, we're fucked."
The woman tilted her head at him, a charming, almost amused smile on her lips.
She rested her chin on her hand, pretending to be in deep thought.
"Hmm… Well, that's cute, love. But worry not."
And with that, she tossed him aside like a ragdoll.
Icarus barely had time to curse before hitting the ground.
He scrambled up—just in time to see her stretch lazily, completely unfazed by the incoming horde of abominations.
And then—
The massacre began.
Icarus could only watch as she tore through the Nightmare Creatures with her bare hands.
She didn't need Memories. She didn't need to transform.
She just... crushed them.
Limbs. Blood. Gore.
Yet—even bathed in carnage, she was still beautiful.
The moonlight seemed to soften around her, casting her in a surreal glow.
A Corrupted Beast lunged.
She raised a single hand.
A silver light swirled around her arm.
A white sword appeared in her grasp.
She lifted it—
And slashed.
No overwhelming force.
No explosive impact.
No blinding radiance.
Just a gentle cut.
And yet—
The beast split cleanly in half.
Not a single thing around it was disturbed.
It was… unnatural.
Saints were cataclysmic demigods—they obliterated their surroundings when they fought.
But she?
She cut only what she intended to cut.
Not even a single leaf was touched.
Icarus stared, dumbfounded.
The pale moonlight washed over her, gently wiping away the blood.
Then—before he could process what had happened—
He was being dragged again.
Like a piece of trash.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
Icarus rolled his eyes, already feeling the frustration settle deep in his bones.
With a sigh, he flicked his fingers, summoning Devourer's runes.
A crimson glow pulsed as the inscriptions rearranged themselves, revealing the details of its [War] enchantment.
---
[Enchantment: War]
"Devourer can gain the characteristics of mystical Artifacts and Materials it absorbs. By synthesizing absorbed artifacts, you can create the Seven Deadly Relics—weapons of devastating power."
---
[First Slot: Satan]
Enchantment: Impaler – A spear that strikes with death.
Enchantment: Soul Piercer – A spear that pierces the soul itself.
Enchantment: Striker of Heavens – A spear that splits the skies.
---
[Second Slot: Leviathan]
Enchantment: Flaming Sword – Burn and purify all that is impure.
---
[Third Slot:] ???
[Fourth Slot:] ???
[Fifth Slot:] ???
[Sixth Slot:] ???
[Seventh Slot:] ???
---
Icarus stared at the runes.
Then he sighed.
"Yeah... This is why I asked for an unreasonable amount of Memories, Soul Shards, and materials."
And guess what? He still didn't have enough.
Seven relics of unimaginable power—
And with everything he had gathered so far, he could barely make two.
"Just how gluttonous is this damned thing?! It's unfair!"
Icarus genuinely wanted to cry.
He had completed Satan—barely.
Gods, the sheer amount of Memories he had fed that thing…
But the results?
Absolutely monstrous.
Satan was too powerful, in fact.
So much so that he couldn't even unleash its full potential yet.
And Leviathan?
Well… he had a few ideas about that.
Icarus was deep in thought, mentally sketching out Leviathan's next phase when something caught his eye.
A cottage.
A goddamn cottage.
Here.
In the Dream Realm.
"...What kind of lunatic builds a cottage in the Dream Realm?"
His eye twitched.
Yeah… she was definitely insane.
Fucking idiot.
IQ 21.
Shithead.
The woman turned back at him with a bright, carefree smile before stepping inside the tiny, completely-out-of-place cottage and—
"Wha—HEY!"
She tossed him onto the bed like a dirty sack of potatoes.
Icarus grunted, landing awkwardly. Then, without missing a beat, he wrapped himself up in the blanket like a blushing maiden and shot her a scandalized look.
"Molesting minors? Ahh… there goes my purity."
He sighed dramatically, clutching the covers like some tragic damsel.
The woman just stared.
Dumbfounded.
Then sighed like he wasn't even worth the brain cells.
"Not even gonna deny it? Wow, rude."
She turned away.
Icarus smirked. Victory.
---
The Days Passed...
Surprisingly?
Not bad.
Not bad at all.
She bathed him, cleaned him, healed him.
Like some goddamn royal prince.
Icarus still had no idea why.
Madoc's sword wounds were supposed to be unhealable.
Even a Phoenix couldn't undo the damage.
But she could.
That silver light she used? It didn't just heal—it felt more like it was overwriting the damage. Like two kids fighting over a crayon drawing, and hers was just stronger.
Madoc's essence had been lingering in his body for days, but now?
It was losing.
Icarus smirked to himself. That old bastard must be pissed.
Still… something was off.
This woman wasn't just strong.
She was smart.
Too smart.
She had to know.
She had seen the corpse wearing his face.
She had seen him, completely Faceless.
There was no way she hadn't figured it out.
And yet...
She did nothing.
Didn't interrogate him.
Didn't try to kill him.
Didn't even ask questions.
Just helped him.
Weirdo.
What was her deal?
After a pleasant, warm bath, Icarus lay sprawled on the bed, feeling something unfamiliar—laziness.
It was nice.
Weirdly nice.
For someone who had spent his whole life training, scheming, and fighting tooth and nail to survive, the simple act of doing nothing felt almost sinful.
His newly awakened Flaw reveled in it.
Ahh, yes… the sweet taste of sloth.
…Yeah, like hell he was gonna get used to this.
Just as he was getting comfortable, the weirdo opened the door.
She took a seat beside him, watching him with unsettling curiosity.
"What happened to you?"
Icarus flicked his eyes toward her, then shrugged.
What happened?
Well… a lot.
Starting with Asterion kidnapping him.
Then surviving his First Nightmare.
Then plotting to kill his father.
Then scamming the Sovereigns and pissing off half the world.
Then being hunted by assassins.
...Fuck, am I that miserable?
He shook his head.
He couldn't exactly tell her any of that.
"Nothing happened."
She sighed, leaning back, a flicker of pity in her gaze.
"You're just a child… What convinced you to remove your own face? What drives you to fight? No child should experience such things. It's a miracle you're still sane…"
She paused, then shook her head.
"I guess even that's not the case."
A deep sigh.
"Taking innocence from children… It's such a cruel thing to do."
Icarus' blood boiled.
Pity?
PITY?
Who the fuck did she think she was, looking down on him like that?
He didn't need anyone's sympathy.
He wasn't some pathetic, helpless mongrel crawling for comfort.
His expression twisted, his voice low and venomous.
"Shut your mouth, or I'll gouge out your eyes and feed them to you."
She didn't flinch.
Not even a twitch.
It wasn't like he could do anything.
She was Transcendent. A Demigod.
And he?
Just an Awakened.
He was nothing compared to her.
Still, she just smiled.
"You're such a sad and lonesome child."
Her voice wasn't mocking. Not cruel.
Just… calm. Understanding.
"What are you truly doing here? A child like you should be out enjoying life. Seeing the world."
She tilted her head, studying him.
"You're Icarus, aren't you? The Morning and Evening Star. A miracle born from the Smile of Heaven… and yet, your fate is so cruel and unforgiving."
The room shook.
Icarus' eyes glowed, cracks splintering from his pupils, spreading across his face like shattered glass.
Poseidon activated.
The pressure in the air doubled, then tripled, as his fury surged—unstoppable, uncontrollable.
He knew he couldn't win against her.
Didn't care.
He hated self-pity.
Hated the weakness it represented.
His voice came out like a snarl.
"Like hell I can! Who do you think you are!? Do you think I have a CHOICE!? I HAVE to fight! I HAVE to win! That's what I DO! WIN!
He bared his teeth, seething.
"Losing isn't an option!"
She… just smiled.
Not mocking. Not angry.
Understanding.
"Hmm… You're the kind of kid who knows nothing but fighting and hurting others."
She stretched, sighing in thought.
"Oh well. I can teach you plenty of other things."
She grinned, almost playfully.
"Before Awakening, I wanted to be an artist. A traveler. An explorer… But sometimes, dreams don't come true."
She chuckled, standing up.
"Anyway, I'll show you everything I know. Trust me—you'll enjoy it."
With that, she strolled away, humming cheerfully.
Icarus lay there.
Confused.
What… the hell?
Why wasn't she angry?
Why wasn't she offended?
And… now that he thought about it—
Who the hell was she?
He knew every Saint.
Every single one.
But not her.
His brows furrowed.
And then—
A sinking feeling hit his chest.
She saved him. Cleaned him. Fed him. Healed him.
And he had the audacity to act like an ungrateful little shit.
He groaned, covering his face.
"... Fuck."