Inazuma.
Narukami Island.
"So… something like that really happened?" Kitsune Saiguu frowned slightly.
"He's a complete fool. This was never his fault. I really want to pry open his head and see what's rattling around in there."
Chiyo stood with her hands on her hips, puffing her cheeks in frustration, clearly feeling it was unfair to Elliot.
"Who knows? He's always thinking too much about others and never about himself. I want to share some of his burden, but he's so stubborn that no one can get through to him."
After returning to Narukami Island, Zebul had explained everything to them in detail. Their reactions were more or less what she had expected—outrage on Elliot's behalf, paired with an inability to understand his way of thinking.
"Everyone knows nothing in this world is perfect—not even gods."
"And he knows it too. He knows better than anyone that he can't save everyone."
"But even so, he still shoulders the blame for every failure."
"When you watch the people you swore to protect die right before your eyes, that pain doesn't fade easily."
"Give him time. He'll recover."
Baal's voice was gentle, her warm gaze holding unshakable conviction.
She believed Elliot was not someone who could be defeated so easily.
It didn't matter how many times he fell—what mattered was how many times he could stand back up.
Losing over a dozen lives because of his own oversight… grief and guilt in the short term were inevitable.
If someone could simply bounce back right after going through something like that, it would only mean they'd never truly felt the weight of guilt or grief at all—perhaps not even a ripple inside.
"…I suppose that's all we can do," Zebul agreed softly with her sister.
On a nearby stool, a small pink fox stretched lazily before curling back up, covering her face with her tail and dozing off again.
Though Yae Miko could now take human form, she was still too young to maintain it for long. Most of the time, she remained in her fox form.
Elliot's position as Tenryou Commission was never revoked; Zebul would temporarily serve as the head in his stead.
For now, if Kin-ta encountered a problem he couldn't solve, he would report to Zebul—not Elliot.
In Zebul's own words: "As long as Inazuma stands, he will always be Inazuma's Tenryou Commission."
...
In the months that followed, the tension in their hearts gradually eased.
They could still feel it—Elliot's presence nearby, watching over them, never truly gone.
And from that time onward, a legend began to spread across Inazuma.
"There are two gods in this land."
One, the god in plain sight, seated high in Tenshukaku.
The other, a god in the shadows, moving unseen through the darkness.
This rumor began two months ago, when streaks of violet lightning started flashing swiftly across the skies of Inazuma.
Not only that—many claimed to have witnessed that purple lightning obliterating pirate ships.
According to rough counts, in just two months, at least twenty to thirty pirate ships of varying sizes had been destroyed by it.
Since then, Inazuma's waters had become forbidden ground for pirates.
Once, these seas had been crawling with them—terrorizing the islands, burning and plundering, leaving people fearful and desperate.
Merchants, fishermen, islanders… all loathed them. They were like a rat dropping in a pot of fine soup—small, but enough to spoil everything.
Inazuma as a whole had always been a good place, but because of those "rat droppings," countless people dared not sail near its waters, let alone trade there, fearing interception on the open sea.
The Tenryou Commission had struck hard against piracy, but the numbers were simply too great to control completely.
Then came the purple lightning. Pirates either fled or perished.
In a short time, the situation changed completely.
Now, Inazuma's seas were far safer than its land.
Here, you could always feel it—
a god hidden in the dark, watching over you, guarding your safety.
From then on, more nations sought trade with Inazuma, confident in the safety of its waters.
The economy flourished, growing at a stunning pace.
This prosperity wasn't limited to Narukami Island—Yashiori Island and Watatsumi Island also saw significant benefit.
The entire nation was thriving, to the point that at one time, Inazuma was said to be the most prosperous of the Seven Nations.
And all of it stemmed from that second god hidden in the shadows—
that streak of purple lightning.
Not once had it harmed an ordinary vessel.
It walked through the void.
No one had seen its true form.
No one knew its name.
Its presence meant both peace and destruction.
It was Inazuma's second god.
The pirates' death god.
The common folk's shield.
The lonely watchman.
...
"You're right, sister."
Zebul's voice was quiet as she looked down at the bustling streets below.
It was a sight she had never witnessed before—Narukami Island teeming with people, the streets packed, merchants from every land coming and going.
The prosperity here was beyond anything she had imagined.
She had never thought Inazuma could one day be this powerful, this vibrant.
"What?" Baal asked, puzzled by the sudden remark.
"He really has…"
"…never rested."
Zebul sometimes felt Elliot was more fit to be this country's god than any of them.
Compared to him, their own efforts seemed insignificant.
"He values life more than any of us."
"He carries the most precious quality, but I wish he could be a little colder… relax a little… be a little more ordinary."
"This kind of pressure—neither he nor we can bear it forever…"
"One day, that string he's holding so tightly will finally snap."
Baal wasn't as optimistic as before.
She knew exactly what kind of burden Elliot's choices placed on him.
They had tried to reach out—Zebul had sought him out—but he only kept running, as if avoiding her entirely.
And so they understood—this was the path Elliot had chosen, and there was nothing they could do to stop or change it.
As Zebul had said before: "He's as stubborn as a bull."
No one could persuade him.
No one could stop him—except himself.
"How long…" Zebul murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
"How long until he comes back?"
"He's right there… yet it feels like he's a world away."
Hearing her sister's words, Baal felt the same ache in her chest—an unshakable sorrow and concern.