How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game - Chapter 531: Grand Ball 4
Chapter 531: Grand Ball 4
A being of the end.
An absolute law.
An inevitability carved into the fabric of all worlds.
A force, not merely of power—but of finality.
Not just a god… but a concept made flesh.
Erebil.
The subconscious and conscious personification of evil.
The embodiment of death—not just the act, but the idea.
Entropy. Decay. Silence.
The last whisper after the universe breathes its final breath.
She went by many names across the lore.
A being whose presence alone warped fate itself.
To stare into her eyes was to understand that the story will end, no matter how brightly the plot burns.
That’s why—no matter how lenient she acted with me…
No matter how much strange affection or twisted fondness she ever expressed across our interactions…
No matter how many times she offered her guidance with veiled amusement and open admiration…
I could never trust her. Not fully. Not even once.
Because she wasn’t just a goddess.
She was…
The Mother of Lies herself.
In the game, Erebil didn’t play fair.
Her presence was never scripted like the others.
She wasn’t bound to any specific timeline or plotline—her interventions were coded as randomized events.
Even if you followed a strict romance route with one girl, stayed away from the harem flags, ignored the hidden triggers—she could still appear.
Sometimes to offer power. Sometimes to offer peace.
Sometimes… to simply watch.
And when she did, the result was never predictable.
Her epilogue Chapters had the highest number of Bad Ends across every path.
Almost twice the total of any other antagonist combined.
Yes, she most often appeared in the harem route, typically as a “final complication”—the ultimate test of your bonds.
But even then, her arrival could spell the end midway through certain individual routes.
Completely unannounced.
Uninvited.
And absolutely unstoppable.
That’s what made her terrifying.
Not because she was cruel.
Not because she laughed at the players’ suffering.
But because she was true to her nature.
She was the end.
“Looks like you’ve grown further… and brighter, little light,”
Her voice was soft—melodic even—but every word seemed to echo in a space beyond hearing, like a whisper spoken directly into the soul.
Then came the tilt of her head, her crimson eyes gleaming like rubies under black water.
“Though it’s a shame you haven’t developed a liking to my blessing~”
There it was. The mask slipping.
This wasn’t just Trisha Dues anymore.
No, standing before me now, draped in that haunting elegance, was something far more dangerous—Erebil, the Evil Goddess.
Whether she was possessing Trisha, assuming her form, or merely using her as a vessel—I didn’t know.
I could feel it in my skin. My bones.
The atmosphere around her shifted—like the world itself was holding its breath.
The stars above shimmered dimmer. The music in the background dulled, as if refusing to intrude on this moment.
“…Erebil,” I said, my voice lower than I intended. “How are you here?”
She smiled—not wide, not cruel.
Just amused.
“As I said… a bit of interest made me.”
She placed a finger on her lips, feigning thought. “Curiosity, perhaps~?”
“Huh?”
Her eyes sparkled with quiet delight at my confusion.
“Fufu~ you really are fun to talk to, Riley. That mind of yours—it’s always turning, always doubting. Never quite convinced I’m telling the truth… even when I am.”
My fists clenched slightly at my sides.
This goddess… why was she being so cryptic?
I’ve seen her in the game.
I knew her patterns. Her signs. The build-up before she descended, the cosmic warnings—flags you could track.
And yet…
Nothing about her arrival here made any sense.
No signs. No narrative structure.
Not even Vanessa—whose route was normally where Erebil first emerged—had shown any reaction lately.
If the world tree’s corruption wasn’t imminent, that meant the goddess shouldn’t have either.
That was how it worked… wasn’t it?
But Trisha?
I knew she was a demonic worshipper, sure, but Erebil had nothing to do with demons.
They weren’t hers—they belonged to the lower pantheon of chaos.
Another kind of evil. Another kind of malice.
Erebil?
She transcended that.
She wasn’t interested in demons. She was interested in people. In souls.
Was this random?
Just a whim? A vessel of opportunity?
Or was there something I missed?
Something critical?
The longer I stared at her—the more I tried to dissect her presence—the more questions bloomed like dark flowers in my mind.
Each answer only spawned more.
Why now?
Why Trisha?
Was it because I diverged too far from the original storyline?
Or was this part of the grander game—she wanted to play…
Erebil’s smile widened just slightly, as if tasting the storm inside my thoughts.
“Careful, little light,” she purred. “Think too hard, and you might summon even darker things.”
She stepped forward—barely a breath—but the weight of the world followed with her.
My body trembled—just slightly—but enough to make me notice.
Her gaze…
I felt my mana churn violently within me, like a caged beast trying to protect its master.
My divinity prickled against my skin.
My skills—passive and active alike—flared, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation.
I was ready to move. Ready to fight.
“Calm yourself, little light,” Erebil spoke, her voice still that same maddening mixture of calm and eeriness.
“Trust me… before you can reach me…”
Her eyes flicked toward the ballroom.
“I’ll have already reached everyone else~”
That threat—gentle as it was—landed like thunder in my chest.
I froze.
Every instinct screamed, every thread of logic begged me to act, but I breathed.
I had to think.
Not react.
No rash moves. Not with her.
Whether this was a descension, a possession, or something else entirely—I couldn’t afford to treat it like a normal encounter.
This was Erebil.
If she so wished, the deaths of Snow, Alice, and everyone else in this hall would be nothing more than a casual side effect.
I couldn’t guarantee their safety—no matter how fast I moved.
And she knew that.
“Fufu~” she giggled softly, stepping further into my space like a predator teasing prey that refused to run.
“Please don’t look at me like that, little light. I promise… I won’t harm you, or the ones you hold dear. Not in this small little moment of ours…”
My eyes narrowed.
“How can I trust you?”
She grinned, tilting her head in mock innocence.
“Simple. You don’t.”
Her voice dropped, silk turned to shadow.
“Though I doubt I need to tell you that.”
Then, she stepped even closer.
I felt her presence almost push against my mana—like a void pressing into light.
Without a word, she reached out.
Her fingers brushed against the side of my face, sliding up to touch the edge of my right ear.
A chill—deep and wrong—ran down my spine.
Like the cold of the grave, not in temperature, but in concept.
I caught her wrist immediately.
My hand clamped around hers, firm but cautious.
“What are you doing?” I asked, voice low.
She blinked slowly. Then smiled again.
“Nothing….”
She went being cryptic again.
I looked around.
No one had moved.
Not a single flicker, not a blink, not even the subtle shifting of breath.
Frozen mid-motion, the ballroom was locked in place like a painted canvas.
My gaze swept the crowd—students mid-laugh, servers mid-step, dancers mid-spin—and all of it stood still.
“…Did you stop time?”
Erebil, gave a slow, elegant nod.
“Yes, it would be such a hassle to have watching eyes during our little moment. Though I must warn you… It’s only temporary. And I highly suggest you don’t get too wild in any way, shape, or form.”
A teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“After all, my gift to you might… run wild in my presence~”
Her gift…?
The blessing she gave me?
“I understand you’re curious about my… visit,” she continued, lifting her right hand slowly and gracefully, fingers pointed skyward. “So, allow me, as a gentle mother—”
“—to kindly offer you the meaning behind my presence.”
Her hand lowered, now reaching toward me with an eerie softness.
“Little light,” she said, eyes glowing like dying stars, “would you care for a dance?”
“…Huh?”
The word slipped out involuntarily. But before I could process what she meant—
Music began to play.
The air filled with haunting, slow rhythms that didn’t match the lively jazz from before.
The frozen band—musicians who just moments ago were stilled in time—moved again, but their eyes had changed.
Their pupils were clouded, washed in swirling darkness that pulsated faintly like a heartbeat.
And yet, they played—deliberate and slow—as if some ancient command had overridden their very will.
I looked back to Erebil, confused and tense.
Before I could speak, she stepped forward and took my hand.
Her fingers curled around mine.
With her other hand, she guided mine to her waist, the motion fluid and unnervingly intimate.
We moved.
The ballroom parted for us.
The frozen guests shifted like shadows retreating into fog, their stillness forming a path across the center of the hall.
It was like we were the only two beings in existence.
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