Chapter 39: Shame is Also a Lightning Strike

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Chapter: Shame is Also a Lightning Strike

"You—don't speak nonsense. That's not something you joke about."

"I… still… have things to attend to, so I'll take my leave."

Eli Walker stammered out a string of evasions, turned around, and practically fled from Elaria Moonfest's palace. The shame of having his deepest thoughts exposed—it was like someone had opened his browser history and read it aloud in the Holy Cathedral.

He wanted to teleport straight from the Rorsted Archipelago to the Northern Continent and bury himself in a snowstorm.

"You can't leave yet."

Elaria's voice followed him like a divine verdict. "It seems there's much I still need to teach you. I'm genuinely afraid you'll stumble out there and die trying to assert your own identity."

Her movement was faster than Eli's Spirit World jump. She grabbed his long hair and yanked him back like pulling a stubborn puppy by the scruff of the neck.

Eli resisted with all his strength. He really couldn't remain here. This mind-reading, divine-ranked lightning sorceress of a woman was terrifying. Even the sealed Calamity characteristic within him was trembling with shame. He'd rather go bald than stay.

"You don't seriously think you can use what I helped you seal against me, do you?" Elaria snorted.

Her spiritual power traveled through the strands of his hair, directly suppressing the Calamity characteristic. The sudden backlash made Eli's eyes tear up from pain—but damn it, his hair refused to break.

"Don't waste your strength," Elaria said coolly. "Elven hair is incredibly resilient. The stronger the elf, the tougher the strands. Beyonder characteristics enhance keratin durability. You'd tear your limbs off before snapping one of those silky locks."

With a decisive tug, she reeled him in, slipped an arm around his shoulder, and tilted his chin up with her fingers, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Do you want me?"

Shame.

Intense shame.

It felt like a soul-exposing ritual. A single sentence cracked open the darkness inside him. His heart pounded with such force it echoed across the empty palace, a deafening drumbeat of mortification.

He didn't know why he was acting like a complete idiot. He'd been witty, sarcastic, teasing even when conning bishops or mocking Sauron… But now, here, with her?

He wanted to die.

Why wasn't he already dead?

Elaria studied his trembling lashes, his averted gaze, his face so red it looked fevered. Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him.

Just a brief touch.

Then she pulled away.

Eli stared dumbly at the Elf Queen, heart pounding louder.

"What's your name?" she asked softly.

"…Eli," he murmured, before instinctively adding, "Eli Walker. Formerly Xia Ran."

"How old are you?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Do your two lives added together even make a hundred years?"

Eli tried to turn his head, but she held his chin firm. He shook his head.

"Fifty?"

Another shake.

"So, still a baby."

Her voice held a hint of warmth now, the tone one used to talk to a wayward child.

Elaria, an ancient subordinate god who had lived since the Second Epoch, had long learned to accept that even extraordinary creatures could still be… immature.

"I'm not—" Eli began instinctively, only to trail off in embarrassment.

"Liar."

She bit down softly on the tip of his pointed ear.

His breath hitched. His scalp tingled. Lightning sparked somewhere inside his head that had nothing to do with the Calamity.

"Still thinking of running?"

"Don't want to run anymore? Hoping for more, are you?"

He said nothing, but she didn't need words. Her mind-reading dug through the soft clay of his thoughts like a sculptor testing for weakness.

"Let's talk plainly."

"How many women have you actually been involved with?"

With a lazy wave of her hand, she dragged him back to her throne, sat down, and pulled him onto her lap like a cat she was mildly fond of. She stroked his cheek gently.

"Not many," Eli muttered, awkwardly looking away.

"You're not lying."

Her fingers played with a lock of his hair.

"You didn't bring them home; you were just… dabbling. Didn't want attachments, didn't want trouble, right?"

Eli's throat was dry. He tried to answer, but when he met her gaze—calm and serious in a way that made denial feel pointless—he gave a reluctant nod.

He felt like his life was over.

Again.

"Irresponsible," he thought. "Careless. Messy."

"You did well," Elaria said softly.

She patted his head.

Eli froze.

What?

"You've been surprisingly reasonable," she continued. "Even if you're still a baby, you've at least been sensible about relationships. No wonder you tricked me into thinking you were older."

"I… what?" Eli looked at her in disbelief.

"Don't understand?"

"Confused?"

"When you were teasing those mermaids," she said, flipping her wrist. An illusory image appeared midair: Eli fishing from a reef, joking flirtatiously with a group of giggling mermaids.

Bang!

Eli smashed the projection with a thunder-infused punch.

"You've been watching me?! Can't you subordinate gods have some semblance of privacy standards?! That's practically divine voyeurism! What's the difference between this and a God peeping into a believer's daily life?!"

Right now, he seriously considered moving out. It was fortunate he had only returned to the Elven settlement after becoming a Demigod. If he'd shown up at Sequence 5, he might as well have posted his underwear inventory to the Spirit World bulletin board.

"First," Elaria said evenly, "this is my attention, not surveillance. You're fortunate I care enough to look."

"Second, believers have no privacy. Gods are merely too lazy to look—doesn't mean they wouldn't."

Eli opened his mouth, trying to argue—something about Sauron and dignity—but stopped. In Elaria's worldview, Sequence 5 mortals—Sauron included—were no different from decorative sea cucumbers.

"What are you trying to say?" Eli finally asked, standing up. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"What do I want?" Elaria tilted her head.

"You've touched me, hugged me, kissed me. Satisfied now?"

Her gaze sparkled with amusement.

Eli's expression stiffened again.

What was he supposed to say?

Yes? No? Either answer was suicidal.

Whoosh!

Another flash of lightning.

But this time, Eli caught her kicking leg midair.

He didn't hesitate. His other hand clenched into a fist and drove forward toward her shoulder.

Elaria still didn't defend.

She saw the lack of restraint in his movement. Nodded with satisfaction.

Then raised a hand—

A breeze swept by.

Her long, pale robe flared upward around her kicking leg.

Look?

Don't look?

Damn it.

Shamelessness or hypocrisy? Pick one.

Shameless, then. So what!

Eli's eyes flicked down—

—and landed on deep blue scales, like armor, covering the parts that shouldn't be revealed.

Of course.

Of course she'd prepared magical undergarments. Ancient elf queen. Of course.

Thump!

A heavy fist slammed into his gut.

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