Infernal Ascendancy
Chapter 40: The Woman who became Worship

Chapter 40: The Woman who became Worship

Aria stood frozen at the entrance, eyes wide as she took in the unbelievable sight before her. The guards—every single one of them—were lying flat on the floor like foot mats. Some groaned softly, others stayed completely still.

"What in hell is wrong with this gate...?" Aria muttered under her breath.

"Welcome," Selmora’s voice echoed through the hall. She sat on her grand throne with one leg crossed over the other, a lazy smile on her face. "Come in."

Aria took a cautious step forward. "Where should I even pass?"

Selmora chuckled. "Step on the rugs."

"You mean your loyal guards?" Aria blinked in disbelief. "They’re still breathing..."

"They’re all gravel now," Selmora said simply, rising from her seat.

She stepped down casually, her heel pressing into one of the guard’s faces. The man let out a groan.

"Lady Selmora... our goddess... step on me more..." he mumbled deliriously.

Selmora didn’t hesitate. She stomped his face harder, blood splashing out as he smiled in twisted bliss.

"Step on us too!" the others cried out, their voices full of longing.

Aria stood stunned. "What... is going on here? Did she hypnotize them or something...?"

Without saying a word, Selmora walked up to her, gently took her hand, and guided her forward—right over the fallen guards. Aria made sure to tiptoe awkwardly, her expression stiff as she carefully stepped on each man.

Eventually, Selmora let go and returned to her throne. She waved her hand toward a cushioned seat beside her. "Sit."

Aria sat, still trying to make sense of what just happened.

"So," Selmora said, looking her over, "you’re the Aria I’ve heard so much about. The girl with the gods mark... and the holy flames."

Aria crossed her arms and muttered to herself, "I wouldn’t call myself blessed when I’m in hell..."

Selmora smirked. "I know Azrael plans to send you to every gate for training. And I must say... I’m impressed. You managed to soften that hard-scaled man."

"Hard-scaled man?" Aria tilted her head.

"I mean Dragos," Selmora said. "Didn’t think he had a soft side, yet he gave you a medal."

Aria sighed. "I wouldn’t call that a soft spot. He almost killed me the first time I came here."

Selmora raised a brow. "Oh? What did you do?"

"Well... I interrupted the elders’ meeting," Aria said.

Selmora burst out laughing. "You did what? Gosh, you’re one hell of a girl. Then what happened?"

"He took me to the surface... and attacked me."

Selmora leaned forward. "You’re still alive, which means you defeated him, right?"

"Huh?" Aria blinked.

Selmora grinned. "Just kidding. There’s no way in your life you could beat him."

"I thought so," Aria muttered.

"Then what happened?" Selmora asked again.

Aria’s face turned red. She nervously pointed her fingers together. "It’s... a little too embarrassing to say."

Selmora smirked. "Now you’ve made me curious. Tell me."

"Well... he collapsed after seeing my inside."

Selmora burst into uncontrollable laughter. "Wait, wait—you mean to tell me... he collapsed without you lifting a finger?"

Aria pouted. "Hmph. I told you it was embarrassing..."

Selmora held her stomach, trying to stop laughing. "No, no. That wasn’t luck. That was seduction!"

"What? No way! That’s not what happened—it was an accident!"

"Come on, don’t be shy," Selmora teased.

Aria narrowed her eyes. "Then what about you? These guards—did you seduce them too?"

Selmora waved her hand. "What’s there to seduce? When people see true beauty, they just know. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just let your beauty do the work."

"That doesn’t make me feel any better..." Aria muttered.

Selmora stood up. "Come. I want to show you something."

Aria hesitated, then followed her through the grand hall.

They stopped in front of a large painting. A girl in a plain white dress danced barefoot in a wide meadow. Her dark hair was tangled with flowers. The sun poured down through the trees, making the whole scene golden. Birds flew above her, and the wind seemed to follow her steps. In the distance, from a high balcony, a young king watched her from the shadows—not captivated by her beauty, but by her light.

Aria stared at the painting, eyes wide. "It’s beautiful..."

"I know, right?" Selmora said.

"Who is she?" Aria asked.

"She’s everything," Selmora said softly. "People call her by different names. But let me tell you her story. She became the mother... and the epitome of true beauty."

Selmora continued:

---

"Long ago, in the realm of Eirathal, where gods walked among mortals, there lived a girl named Lysaria. She was born from humble roots, raised by the wind and whispering trees. She had no jewels or riches, but her presence stirred hearts—of men and gods alike. Not because of her looks, but because of her spirit. Her eyes mourned fallen petals. Her voice could calm storms.

During the Festival of Bloom, King Vaelion watched from his balcony. Nobles, priestesses, warriors surrounded him—each trying to win his heart. But his eyes fell on Lysaria. She danced, not to impress, but to thank the earth. He didn’t even know he was watching her. She didn’t know she was being seen.

Days passed. He grew restless. Her face faded from memory, but the feeling lingered. He sent knights to find her—based only on the light she carried.

When they brought her to the palace, she bowed. She didn’t try to impress. She laughed quietly. She cried during songs. And in her, the king saw more truth than in a thousand jeweled thrones.

The courtiers mocked her. But the king said: ’She is the wind after rain. You may not see her beauty at first, but you feel it forever.’

He made her queen—not from lust, but because he longed for the peace she carried. Some say she wasn’t a mortal at all... but a forgotten deity of love and humility. A goddess who came to teach us: beauty can’t be worn. It has to be lived."

---

Aria sniffed, tears welling in her eyes. "That was... so touching."

Selmora raised a brow. "You don’t have to cry. Even I didn’t cry—and I’m a true believer. Now stop. You’re making me question my own faith."

Aria wiped her tears. "Your faith?"

"Of course. Faith."

"You worship her?" Aria asked.

"Worship... I don’t know. That word’s usually for those who worship gods. But there’s also devotion... idolization. They all link together. If I’m devoted to her, if I idolize her... then maybe I do worship her."

"I guess that makes sense," Aria said.

"Why do we worship?" Selmora continued. "Why have faith? Why believe? Why be devoted? Why idolize? Those are questions you should ask yourself. Have you ever questioned your belief?"

Aria looked down. "Yeah... when I got here, I kind of resented the gods. I didn’t belong here, but I was sent anyway."

Selmora nodded. "Tell me—do you think a human can be worshipped?"

"I don’t think so."

"That’s where you’re wrong," Selmora said. "Now answer this—do you believe in the gods?"

"Yes."

"Too easy. Do you have faith in them?"

"My... faith..."

"Come on. You doubt your faith. You say you’re devoted. You say you believe. You say you worship. But where’s the faith?"

Aria looked at her, confused.

"Worship without faith isn’t worship," Selmora said firmly. "It’s idiocracy. Belief, devotion, faith, idolization—they all fall under worship. Doubt one, and the whole thing crumbles."

She stepped closer, her tone sharper.

"That’s what worship really is. You don’t just kneel and say you believe. You idolize. You have faith. You’re devoted. That’s worship. And if I have all those for Lysaria... then yes. I worship her."

Aria’s eyes welled up again. "Thank you... for opening my eyes. I’ve been fooling myself all this time..."

Selmora scoffed. "Gosh, you’re such a crybaby. I didn’t expect to give a full lecture today. Maybe I should become a preacher."

Aria laughed softly through her tears. "The way you spoke... I could feel it. The sadness... and the anger. Do you... hate the gods?"

Selmora turned away.

"Now you’re just fishing for another lecture. I can’t say what I feel for the gods. If I answer now, I’d just be lying to myself."

She walked away, leaving Aria standing in front of the painting.

Aria stared at Lysaria’s peaceful image and whispered to herself.

"Worship... belief... devotion... faith... idolize... all part of worship. Who do I worship? Or... who did I worship?"