Project Necro is an official initiative by Re:Library.

“The Creator God…?”

In this world’s mythology, the Creator God is said to appear in the form of a person wearing a cloak with the hood pulled low over their face, holding a staff.
The face hidden beneath the hood is said to be either two-faced or faceless, and two bells—“Fate” and “Chance”—are tied to the staff in their hand.

—The Creator God swung the staff. One of the bells, was it Fate or was it Chance, the bell rang, and light was born from nothingness.

The creation myth Ekaterina had read began like that. She remembered being a little surprised that the staff depicted in the illustration looked like a khakkhara.
The Creator God swings the staff, the bell rings, and the world is created. Whether the bell that rang was Fate or Chance is never told.

Supposedly the Creator God never speaks. And does not involve themself with humans. They merely cast forth Fate or Chance at will. The other gods also avoid involvement with the Creator God, and there are several stories of humans being stopped or reproached for wishing for something from the Creator God.
For that reason, it is said that no temple dedicated to the Creator God exists.

“Indeed. What you call holy magic is connected to the power of the Creator God.”

The god of death said so.

W-what does that mean?
But wow, holy magic is amazing. As expected of Flora-chan, the Heroine.

“The Creator God may have swung their staff, and chance may have interfered with the world in which you lived in your previous life. The one who wrote the story you read, without realizing it, glimpsed the fate of those in this world who possess holy magic, and depicted it. That created a bond between your soul and this world, and your soul came to move here… That may be how it was. It is the sort of thing that one would do.”

Oh… so is that like this?
Sometimes creators say things like “it came down to me” or “it felt like it was already complete from the start” when writing novels or composing music. So the true nature of inspiration might be something like this? A reckless demand from a god of another world?

“…I have spoken of things that should not be told to humans. Never speak of this to others, so that the Creator God does not appear before you and bestow Fate or Chance upon you.”

Fate or Chance—those definitely sound like things you cannot resist. I will be careful.

“I shall engrave it upon my heart. Um, I know it is presumptuous of someone like me to worry, but since you have shared such secrets, will the two of you not suffer any trouble because of it?”

Even the gods themselves may be unable to oppose Fate and Chance.

The god of death gave a soft laugh.

“To worry for a god—indeed, fitting for a soul that crosses worlds. …As for how the Creator God will act, no one can know. However, that one has already swung their staff toward us.”

Without thinking, Ekaterina looked at the god of death and Selene.

“I do not know at what point that was. When those who worshiped me were destroyed by Selene’s ancestors, and I became a sealed god—was it then? Or when a daughter of the clan that sealed me generation after generation was born with the magic of ‘Nether’?”

A sealed god?
Come to think of it, in this world, gods and demons were separated by only a thin line. It was not uncommon for the gods of conquered peoples to be reduced to the status of magic beasts.
But the magic of “Nether”?

“It is rarer even than holy magic, and thus unknown to humans. The magic of ‘Nether’ is a power that affects life and souls, the power possessed by one who should become my shrine maiden. However, before that time could come, that clan was once again murdered, and Selene ceased to be among the living… Perhaps that one swung their staff then.”

…Let’s not worry about how it seems he can read my thoughts. He is a god, after all.
In the legend that Forli had told, the Maiden of Death was said to have rejected the god of death when he tried to lead her to the underworld.
But Selene had originally been born into a clan connected to the god of death?

Then, for Selene to become what she is now—the Maiden of Death, who brings death to everything she touches—

“…I became like this by my own will. I did not know I had the magic of ‘Nether,’ but as I was being killed and dying, in my anger and hatred, I remade myself. I completely twisted what should have been a gentle power to heal life and souls.”

As though she had read Ekaterina’s thoughts as well, Selene said.

“My entire clan was killed on my sister’s wedding night. By my sister’s husband-to-be. The very man who told her again and again that he loved her, that he would protect her for life, that she was more precious to him than his own life. I thought I would never forgive those people who killed my sister so cruelly, on the day of her utmost happiness.”

What crossed Ekaterina’s mind was the image of her late mother. A woman who loved her husband to the very end, even though he never once protected her from his mother’s abuse.
I want to punch and kick that b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲ father who did not protect my mother… Even though it does not compare at all to Selene’s experience, I still think that, so how could I ever blame her grief and fury?

“Yet if left as you were, your body would have decayed and you would have become a wraith. I was the one who held you back. At first, it was to make you release my seal, but… you did not agree.”

Stroking Selene’s hair, the god of death smiled wryly. Looking up at him, Selene said:

“You have long been free.”
“I am bound… deeply.”

At the god of death’s words, Selene smiled.
Then she looked at Ekaterina and gave a small laugh.

“I am happy. Even how I am now—it’s strange, isn’t it? It’s sad that I cannot touch flowers, but still, I am happy.”

Ah, right. When she touched them, flowers withered instantly.
Suddenly, an idea came to Ekaterina.

“Pardon me, but please wait a moment.”

She hurried back to the tent. Opening Mina’s tool bag and searching, she found it at once.
The blue rose hair ornament.
Sorry, Lev, I’m using what you kindly gave me without permission.

“Lady Selene, please. It is a flower that does not wither.”
“Oh my!”

Seeing the glass-crafted blue rose that Ekaterina held up, glittering in the moonlight, Selene widened her eyes.

When she was asked to place it on the ground and did so, Selene cautiously picked it up.
Gazing at the flower in her hands, still beautiful and unchanged, her face lit up.

“It doesn’t wither… Look, this flower does not wither… How beautiful…”

Then she looked up at the god of death and offered him the rose she held.

“Do you remember? When I was alive, I used to pick flowers every day and throw them into the mausoleum where you were sealed. Worrying if you might be lonely.”
“I will never forget.”

The god of death gently took the blue rose from Selene’s hand.
And adorned it in her long golden hair.

Meeting his gaze, Selene smiled.

“Ekaterina, thank you very much.”
“Daughter of Jurnova, you have my thanks. This debt shall be repaid someday.”

At their words, Ekaterina shook her head with a smile.

“Please do not trouble yourselves over it. If it makes you happy, that alone is enough for me.”

The god of death’s peerless beauty smiled.

“You do not understand. For a human to bestow a debt upon a god is no small thing. One day, the Creator God may swing their staff toward you. When that happens, remember this.”