In her previous life, Sarah Rosenbaum had sold her country.
Not once, but twice.
First, she had sold her native kingdom to the Empire. Then she had sold the Empire itself to the revolutionaries.
Put that way, anyone would condemn her. What kind of person would stoop so low as to sell out her own country?
But only someone ignorant of the circumstances would ask such a question.
Sarah had sold her country because there had been someone willing to buy it. And she regretted nothing.
She knew perfectly well that her actions were hardly considered righteous. But what of it? By selling her country twice, she had prevented wars and saved countless lives.
Surely that was preferable to everyone dying together.
In the end, weren't the results what mattered, rather than the methods?
That was why Sarah had always held her head high, even in the face of relentless condemnation. She had never acted out of malice. At every turn, she had simply done what she believed was best.
Of course, no one had bothered to understand her reasoning. They had simply hated her.
And when the Holy Sword finally claimed her life, the world had rejoiced so loudly that the heavens themselves seemed to tremble.
They called her an evil black mage, a wicked woman who had sold her own country. They celebrated the death of the undying demon as though the world had finally been rid of some terrible scourge.
Sarah had never understood it.
Why was she the only one to blame?
Why had she sold her country? Because someone had been willing to buy it, obviously.
Where there was demand, there would always be supply. By that logic, shouldn't the ones who created the demand be punished first?
After all, she hadn't been the one to start the wars, deceive the people, or lay waste to the continent.
So why was she the only one expected to pay?
"And so, Almighty God..."
Having finally reached the end of her lengthy defense, Sarah adopted the most solemn, respectful tone she could muster and delivered her heartfelt plea.
"Would you please consider forgiving my sins?"
In other words, couldn't you cut me a little slack?
For all her rambling, her request was remarkably simple.
"Please, let me reincarnate like everyone else."
All she wanted was to put an end to her miserable existence in hell and be reborn, just like any other soul.
Naturally, as a sinner, she could hardly expect a pleasant life awaiting her in the next world. But whatever hardships reincarnation might bring, they couldn't possibly be worse than being roasted alive in the fires of hell.
"If you grant me this mercy, I swear I shall never forget your kindness."
With every appearance of sincerity, Sarah bowed her head deeply. Her hands were clasped tightly in prayer, and when she raised her face toward the divine presence before her, not a trace remained of the defiance she had displayed upon first arriving in hell.
Which was only natural.
After enduring flames that scorched the very soul, anyone would become as obedient as a well-trained dog.
Sarah, for her part, had undergone that particular course of correction for a staggering three hundred years.
At this point, if crawling across the floor and licking the soles of God's feet would spare her another moment of torment, she would gladly do it without a second thought.
"..."
Unfortunately, the god, enveloped in brilliant light, gave no indication of what they were thinking.
Growing increasingly uneasy beneath that inscrutable gaze, Sarah hurried to reinforce her case.
"Even the infamous tyrant Raghaim and the Demon King Chechen, who terrorized humanity for a hundred and fifty years, only had to suffer in hell for two hundred years before they were reincarnated! But I've already spent three hundred years burning here, and I barely lived for a little over a century! Don't you think that's a little excessive?"
Her words tumbled out in a rush.
If monsters like those had been allowed to reincarnate, surely she deserved the same consideration.
"What exactly did I do that was so terrible?!"
For a moment, indignation overcame her carefully cultivated humility. But Sarah quickly caught herself, forced her voice back into a more measured register, and pressed on.
"Think about it. Those two were far worse villains than I ever was. They ended up in hell because they actually enjoyed tormenting people! But I'm different. Compared to Raghaim and Chechen, I'm practically a saint. I've spent plenty of time reflecting on my mistakes, and I'm confident I can live a good, virtuous life from now on. Wouldn't it be far more meaningful to let me reincarnate and put all that reflection to good use?"
For the sake of her reincarnation, Sarah had no qualms whatsoever about throwing her former companions in hell under the carriage.
She had once called them comrades, certainly, but what did that matter now?
They had already reincarnated. They weren't even in hell anymore.
What harm could a little slander possibly do them?
Besides, when her own interests were at stake, intangible notions such as loyalty and friendship had never carried much weight with Sarah.
There was only one thing that mattered.
Reincarnation.
As far as she was concerned, her argument was flawless: logical, reasonable, and supported by ample precedent.
Surely, after hearing such a compelling case, the god would finally abandon that infuriating silence and admit, Now that you mention it, you do have a point.
"Hmm..."
Had her prayers finally been answered?
The god shifted slightly and let out a long, thoughtful hum.
Sarah immediately fell silent.
Only then did the indifferent deity look down upon the sinner before them, as though having finally reached a decision.
And at last, the verdict came.
"Guilty."
A single word.
No explanation. No preamble. Not even a hint of hesitation.
A gavel fashioned from light descended upon the judgment platform with a thunderous crash.
"What?!"
The sheer finality of the declaration shattered Sarah's painstakingly maintained composure.
She sprang to her feet, her eyes flashing with the rebellious fury she had spent the entire audience trying to suppress.
The god gave a faint, almost mocking chuckle.
"Sarah Rosenbaum."
"...Yes?"
"Even after three hundred years, you still have an extraordinary number of sins left to atone for."
With a casual wave of the god's hand, golden plaques materialized in the air.
One after another, they came crashing down upon the judgment platform.
The pile grew higher.
And higher.
Until the mountain of golden plaques seemed on the verge of reaching the heavens themselves.
Only when the final plaque had settled did the god announce the remainder of her sentence.
"To atone for all these sins, you will require at least another 504,932,781 years."
"Five... hundred million years?"
Five hundred million years?!
For a moment, Sarah could scarcely breathe.
The sheer enormity of the sentence robbed her of speech.
It couldn't be real.
It simply couldn't.
What in the world could she possibly have done to deserve a punishment like that?
Her lips moved soundlessly before she finally managed to mutter the question under her breath.
The god answered as though the matter were perfectly obvious.
"You committed those sins yourself."
There was something almost gentle about the response, which somehow made it all the more infuriating.
"Didn't you sell your country?"
Twice, no less.
The god placed particular emphasis on that detail before proceeding to explain just how far the consequences of Sarah's seemingly insignificant actions had spread.
"Because you sold the Kingdom of Feyden, its king, who was destined to enjoy a long life, met an untimely death."
So that was her first sin.
Her homeland, Feyden.
But the accusation was absurd.
That old man had practically been on his deathbed when she'd known him. And now she was supposed to believe he had been destined for a long and prosperous life?
"And because he acquired Feyden so easily, Emperor Soser, who should have gone down in history as a wise and benevolent ruler, became a tyrant consumed by the desire for conquest."
Apparently, that was her second sin.
Sarah found this even harder to swallow.
The emperor had seemed half-mad from the moment she'd met him. Yet according to the god, he had somehow been destined to become an exemplary sovereign.
"You then sold the Soser Empire to the revolutionaries, allowing those who were fated to die to survive and bring their revolution to a successful conclusion."
Now that was simply ridiculous.
Those revolutionaries had been like cockroaches, surviving one disaster after another no matter how many times they ought to have been wiped out.
And she was supposed to believe every last one of them had originally been destined to die?
It sounded like something out of a particularly far-fetched novel.
Besides, who was to say none of those things would have happened without her?
Sarah regarded the god with undisguised skepticism.
The deity seemed to find her disbelief rather amusing and continued without the slightest hesitation.
"As a result, the monarchy, which should have endured for several more centuries, came to an abrupt end. Do you understand what that means?"
"Hah. How should I know? Isn't it a good thing if society moves forward a little sooner?"
Unable to see what was so terrible about any of this, Sarah gave a dismissive snort.
By now, she had completely abandoned the painstaking courtesy with which she had begun the audience.
BANG!
The god struck the judgment platform.
It had not looked like a particularly forceful blow.
Nevertheless, the resulting shockwave tore through the heavens and the earth, setting the very air trembling before surging toward Sarah like a colossal tidal wave.
"Eep!"
Sarah squeezed her eyes shut as the violent gust struck her.
Her shoulders hunched instinctively, and her entire body seemed to shrink beneath the overwhelming pressure.
By the time she managed to straighten herself, she discovered that she was kneeling on the judgment platform.
"..."
Still dazed, she slowly raised her head.
The god was looking down at her.
From that lowly position, the divine presence seemed to tower endlessly overhead, vast and imposing as an entire mountain range.
Sarah had to tilt her head farther and farther back just to take it all in.
The sheer magnitude of that presence left her frozen.
She could barely draw breath.
"Tsk."
The god clicked their tongue, apparently irritated by the sight of Sarah cowering before them.
Then the immense figure, which had seemed large enough to encompass the entire world, began to diminish.
In the space of a moment, the deity had shrunk to something resembling human proportions.
"It means humanity was forced to confront a catastrophe centuries before it was meant to occur."
"..."
Perhaps deciding that Sarah was too insignificant to warrant further intimidation, the god restrained their divine power and answered the question she had failed to comprehend.
"Over the past three hundred years, countless destinies have been thrown into disarray. Those who were meant to live have died. Those who should have died have survived. And with every deviation, the course of fate has strayed further and further from what it was supposed to be."
Then, without warning, the god's expression turned cold.
Each succeeding word was delivered with deliberate, chilling precision.
"The mortal world is now in utter chaos."
And it's all because of you.
The god had not actually spoken those last words.
Yet Sarah could hear the accusation as clearly as if they had been shouted directly into her ears.
"Unless this situation is resolved, Sarah Rosenbaum, you will never leave hell."
The god looked weary.
One hand passed slowly over the towering stack of golden plaques, while their cold gaze glittered with a sharp, metallic light.
Watching the scene unfold before her, Sarah opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Then opened it again.
No words came.
An increasingly dreadful premonition was creeping over her, sending a chill down her spine.
"So take responsibility."
Before Sarah could fully grasp the implications of those words, the god reached out and seized her by the collar.
The movement was so sudden that it reminded her of a predator snatching up its prey.
She barely had time to blink before the deity's radiant face was directly in front of hers.
Whoa. What's this all of a sudden?
Overwhelmed by the abrupt proximity, Sarah awkwardly lowered her eyes.
The god's fingers remained clenched around her collar.
And when she dared to look up again, she found herself staring into eyes filled with an unfathomable light.
There was something terrifying about that gaze.
Something almost mad.
Holding Sarah firmly in place, the god spoke, carefully enunciating every word.
"Return to the mortal world at once and set right the fates you have twisted—and those you have yet to twist."
And with that, the god commanded Sarah to restore the mortal world, whose destiny her actions had plunged into chaos, to the course it had originally been meant to follow.