Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Scowling with disgust, she wanted to choke the life out of the minotaur girl, but doing so would only strip what little hope of control she had over Raven and the others.

Too consumed by the sight before her, the ever-present goddess grew forgetful, as not far away from the lovemaking duo, was Erika questioning her own faith in her god. Sharing a makeshift tent with Aria and Helga, her eyes were sternly kept on the blonde barbarian woman as she struggled to put herself to sleep just like her.

"What?" Noticing her gaze, Helga glanced sideways at the priestess. "I'm too old for you priestess, if that's what you're planning."

"N-no…I," blushing at the suggestion, she cast her gaze away, however, quickly returning it to Helga, Erika gathered the courage to ask her something. "Can I ask you something?"

"Hmm?" Growing curious as to what she had in mind, Helga turned to the side to look straight at Erika as they talked. "What is it? A shortcut to strength? There's no such thing."

Shaking her head in denial, Erika voiced what was brewing in her head.

"You fought against the demon's army before, haven't you?" Simply nodding, Helga squinted her eyes and continued to listen. "How did you keep your faith when there's so much evil in this world?"

"I didn't," Helga replied without a moment of hesitation.

More than a bit surprised, Erika stared at her dumbfounded.

"None of us did, the goddess died in our heart long before Nightsilver killed the demon lord," the more she revealed the further Erika's confusion grew.

"Nightsilver?! But didn't he–"

"Die a thousand years ago?" Cutting Erika off, Helga slightly leaned her head downwards and just glared into her eyes. "What better warrior than one who can only hope to die in battle? They don't age, we don't age. Just like the gods, our bodies stay the same as long as we're not killed by another. Some took it as a blessing, I did too, that is until I realized what we were fighting for."

"What do you mean?" Shaking her head, Helga chuckled lightly and closed her eyes.

"You need to realize it on your own priestess, I'm not your mother and I won't burden myself by acting like one either," turning away from Erika, Helga ended the conversation.

Left baffled by what was revealed to her, the priestess had no clue what to believe. Was Raven not the first to be revived from the dead? Were there immortals created by the goddess to fight in a seemingly never-ending war? Why would she curse them with such a thing? With a life so long and strenuous that all they could hope for was yet another war for them to die on.

'No way, the goddess isn't so cruel! There's no way!' With every goosebump tingling with doubt, she joined her hand in prayer and began chanting. Sleep didn't come to her quickly that night, but when it did, it was accompanied by far from pleasant company.

Waking up in a room lying still between the present and the future, a cold chill down Erika's spine. Looking around there was nothing but the darkness of the abyss, with but one pair of blood-dripping eyes glaring at her from above. As massive as the skies, they morphed like a glass spear's reflection looking down at the petrified priestess.

'W-what's happening?!' Erika wondered, her mind racing like never before.

Shattering the illusion of stillness, a voice rained down on her from above, however, speaking in archaic, she had not a clue what any of it meant.

"Godd-dess help me!" She begged, getting on her knees to pray, but instead of the goddess, she heard someone else entirely next.

"Has she helped you before, child?" A howled choir sang along with angelic voices.

Raising her head to the sudden golden light from above, Erika's eyes glistered with the reflection of a halo. The eyes that once dripped blood now bled gold, and the voice that had forced her to her knees, now brought her great comfort.

"What are you?" She asked through quivering lips.

"The pathfinder they call me," the angels sang again, as their choir more and more, a smile tugged at Erika's lips. "I am the one that separates time from oblivion, the day from night, and the good from the evil. I am the father of Nerva, though you're too ignorant of that name."

Having not the slightest clue what any of it meant, Erika's heart seized with uncertainty, even though the angels continued to sing.

"What do you want from me?" She asked, her hands clutched tight against her chest.

With a grumble like thunder, the darkness below the eyes parted into lips. Opening them wide, it revealed a tongue made of gold and teeth made of glistening jewels.

"Free yourself from the false prophets! Accept yourself as your god, and deny the authority of others to rule over you! Heed my warning child for you won't be the first to succumb to despair once you learn a god's true nature!" The moment the pathfinder's words came to an end, a beaming door of silver opened up beside Erika.

The priestess was more than just surprised by the sudden appearance of the door, and yet the pathfinder only laughed at the goddess's arrival.

"Here she comes, the trickster, the hungry, the depraved tormentor! Ahahaha! How foul your jealousy tastes, I can feel it behind death's door!" Despite being dead for centuries, the father of this world couldn't help but cackle with mockery.