Honestly, Kumoko hadn't heard a single word of the Pope's grand apocalyptic speech.
Her mind was entirely consumed by a much more pressing, horrifying question: Did the beautiful maiden who stomped this wine have athlete's foot?!
It was the only thing that mattered. The very thought made her stomach churn, thoroughly killing any appetite she had left.
"Come on, Shiraori," Elliot offered, leaning over with a placating smile. "It's just wine stomped by a village girl. It's... really not that big of a deal."
Kumoko's eight red eyes snapped toward him, practically vibrating with indignation. "If it's not a big deal, then why didn't you drink it?!"
"Me?" Elliot waved a hand dismissively, his expression perfectly composed. "I'm just not much of a drinker."
It was a blatant lie, but Elliot had a good reason for trying to keep her from developing a phobia of alcohol.
Knowing the trajectory of her future, and the eventual ascension that would strip her of the System's crutches, booze was actually going to be the bizarre catalyst she needed to unlock her true godly powers later on.
If she got traumatized by foot-juice now, it might actually throw a wrench into her whole evolution.
"Look at it this way," Elliot continued smoothly, trying to bridge the cultural gap. "Back in Japan, they have kuchikamizake, right? Wine made from rice chewed and spit out by shrine maidens. Once you get past the initial cognitive dissonance, people consider it a cultural delicacy. I'm sure maiden-stomped wine is the same. Once you accept it, it probably has its own unique... charm."
He sounded incredibly convincing. Internally, however, Elliot admitted that when he had first seen kuchikamizake in anime back on Earth, he had been just as grossed out as Kumoko was right now.
Kumoko stared at him. A faint, entirely human blush crept onto her pale cheeks.
"So..." she fidgeted, looking down. "If I stomped the grapes... would you drink it?"
"Uh. Well..."
Elliot slowly lowered his gaze to her lower half. Specifically, to the eight massive, razor-sharp arachnid legs resting on the floor.
Those aren't exactly soft, delicate maiden feet,he thought.
But then again... with eight legs, she could probably crush a barrel of grapes in record time.
And, unbidden, an image flashed through Elliot's mind: Kumoko carefully wrapping her legs in pristine, incredibly soft white spider silk, meticulously stomping grapes just to brew a vintage exclusively for him.
His pulse actually ticked up a notch. Okay. That's unexpectedly hot.
But his momentary hesitation was all it took. Kumoko's blush vanished, replaced by an offended pout. She threw her hands in the air, utterly exasperated. "Elliot! You think I'm gross!"
Sitting quietly on the sidelines, Emilia watched the exchange with a mixture of awe and amusement. It was surreal. This was the Nightmare of the Labyrinth, an apocalyptic monstrosity that mowed down armies like grass, bickering and pouting like a normal teenage girl in front of Elliot.
Elliot had once mentioned that Shiraori suffered from crippling social anxiety and only really felt comfortable opening up around him.
Emilia couldn't help but think that if the thousands of monsters and soldiers Kumoko had slaughtered saw her acting like this, they would angrily claw their way out of their graves just to complain about the unfairness of it all.
"I don't think you're gross," Elliot pivoted smoothly, falling back on his favorite tactic: misdirection. "I'm just a stickler for hygiene. Here, let's ask Mera. Would he drink foot-stomped wine? If he's willing, I'm willing."
Classic deflection.
Kumoko immediately narrowed her furious eyes and glared at the vampire butler.
Merazophis, who had been tenderly draping his coat over the sleeping Sophia, paused. He looked up, his expression deadpan and utterly serious.
"If the Young Mistress stomped it, I would drink it without hesitation."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Elliot and Kumoko stared at him. Even Emilia shot him a look of absolute, unadulterated disgust.
Good lord, Elliot thought. He's a lolicon.
Sophia was a literal baby! Who would have thought the prim, proper, and tragically handsome Merazophis harbored such dark, degenerate thoughts?
Sensing the sudden, crushing weight of their collective judgment, all the color drained from Mera's face. "W-Wait! That's not what I meant!"
Everyone just kept staring at him with expressions that clearly read: Yes, officer, this man right here.
"I meant because she's a baby!" Mera stammered, sweating bullets. "She doesn't have athlete's foot! Her feet are pristine! So... so the grapes would be entirely hygienic! That's all I meant!"
He was telling the truth. He possessed absolutely zero inappropriate thoughts toward his Young Mistress. Truly. Not a single one!
But the damage was done. The disdain in the room was palpable. Merazophis slumped his shoulders, realizing his pristine reputation as a loyal knight had just been permanently swapped for the title of "Creepy Lolicon."
Kumoko, however, was still hung up on the original slight.
"What does that mean?!" she snapped, glaring at Elliot. "You think my hygiene is worse than a baby's?! Fine! I'll show you! I'll stomp the best wine you've ever seen!"
She was fiercely competitive now. She had chugged a massive glass of foot-wine while these cowards had pushed theirs away.
She needed to reclaim the high ground. She was going to prove that her eight-legged spider-silk brewing method was infinitely superior to whatever those village girls were doing.
Her mind immediately spiraled into a fantasy: Elliot taking a sip of her custom wine, his face melting into absolute bliss, falling so deeply in love with the vintage that he could never, ever leave her side!
The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach!
Determined, Kumoko spun on her heels and stormed out of the room, fully intending to hunt down the nearest vineyard and begin her brewing empire.
...
Watching the Arachne stomp off into the night, Elliot could only shake his head with a wry smile. Once Kumoko got an idea in her head, not even a team of wild horses could drag her away from it.
She's probably just blowing off steam, he reasoned. She'll wander around outside for a bit and calm down. It's not like she's actually going to hijack a vineyard... right?
He decided to let it go for now.
Emilia carefully scooped the sleeping Sophia into her arms, shooting Merazophis one last highly suspicious glare before carrying the baby into the adjacent bedroom.
She was definitely going to minimize the "pervert's" contact with the child. Merazophis just stood there, rubbing his temples, utterly defeated.
With the room finally quiet, Elliot sat back in his chair and brought up his System interface.
He still needed to review the rewards he had earned for saving Sophia in the first place. He had received three things: The Dragon puppet (Kanna), ten Godhead points, and something called the Enigma Space.
He had held off on using the last one, but now seemed like the perfect time to investigate.
As Elliot read through the mechanics of the Enigma Space, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face. It was brilliant.
The Enigma Space functioned remarkably similar to the 'Sefirah Castle' from the Lord of the Mysteries novels back on Earth.
In essence, it allowed him to create an isolated, metaphysical pocket dimension and forcibly pull the consciousnesses of others into it.
It was the absolute perfect tool to pair with his primary objective: The Imaginary Tree.
To grow the Imaginary Tree, Elliot needed believers. But more specifically, he needed people to willingly consume 'World Bubbles'.
However, Elliot wasn't stupid. If he just walked up to random heavyweights in this world and offered them mysterious cosmic bubbles, they'd treat him like a deranged door-to-door salesman.
No one with half a brain eats a glowing anomaly handed to them by a stranger.
But the Enigma Space changed the game.
Within this dimension, the true identities of all "guests" would be obscured by a thick veil of mystery, while Elliot himself would be elevated and projected as an omnipotent, ancient, and divine entity. It provided the ultimate theatrical flair.
Why build a cosmic pyramid scheme on the streets when you could summon the strongest souls in the world to a divine roundtable, making them beg for the World Bubbles?
"Initial member count: 4," the System prompted. "Would you like to open the Enigma Space?"
Elliot didn't hesitate. Yes.
With a silent hum that vibrated through the very fabric of reality, the Enigma Space activated. In the void of his mind, the sprawling, majestic silhouette of a mysterious, ancient realm began to rise.
….
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