The Rejected Goddess のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Chapter 62The Werewolf Realm Red Moon PackThe Red Moon Pack was drowning in grief. The smell of blood still clung to the air, mixing with the scent of herbs and healing salves. Warriors cried for their fallen kin, others clutched at life as pack doctors tried desperately to stabilize them, while a few were slowly recovering. No part of the pack was untouched by loss.King Johnson had already sent the order across the realm—every werewolf, from every pack, was to gather and remain within Red Moon territory. It was the largest pack in the Werewolf Realm, and even with the devastating losses suffered in battle, it was the only one large enough to shelter all survivors from every race.There was no time to scatter. No time to separate. Roosevelt could strike again at any moment.The moment the sun began to set, King Johnson called all Alphas, Betas, and council members into the main hall—the traditional meeting place. The room was filled with tension, exhaustion, and fear.When silenc

Chapter 64 The Demon Realm The throne room of the Demon Realm was a nightmare carved into existence—an endless cathedral of darkness that seemed to breathe with ancient malice. Towering pillars of bone curved like clawed fingers toward a ceiling choked with swirling shadows. Flames burned along the walls, flickering black and purple, giving off no heat—only dread. Every sound echoed as though the room itself were alive and listening. And at the very center of this cathedral of horror sat Roosevelt. He rested on his grotesque throne sculpted entirely from skulls—demon skulls, beast skulls, humanoid skulls bleached pale by centuries of fear. His cloak pooled at his feet like spilled darkness. One clawed finger tapped slowly against the armrest, rhythmic and cold, like he was listening for a heartbeat that had long stopped. A demon approached, trembling before speaking. "My Lord… all the Werewolves have gathered in a single pack." Roosevelt didn't look surprised. His lips lifted i

Chapter 66 The Werewolf Realm Clara's POV. For days, I've been forcing myself to act like Marcy—smiling softly, speaking gently, pretending to care about everyone and everything. Honestly, it's exhausting. But pretending to be her isn't even the biggest problem anymore. According to Marcy's father—my fake father—things in the realm have gotten far more serious than I expected. He even told me the Alpha got hurt. At first my heart dropped, not because I cared—hell no. Why would I worry about the man who made my life miserable for years? Levi insulted me, humiliated me, made me feel like trash for years… and yet he's still the most eligible male I've ever seen. My concern wasn't emotional. It was strategic. If anything happens to Levi, my future dream of becoming Luna would shatter instantly. Because from what Dad—yes, fine, I'll call him Dad while I'm pretending to be Marcy—told me, all eleven packs besides Red Moon were burned to ashes. Gone. Destroyed. The wolves who lost their

Chapter 68 The Werewolf Realm Erin's POV Okay… so... Um. I was in his room. To treat him. That was literally it. I was there because Levi was injured—badly. His wound was infected with demonic energy, and someone had to extract it. As the Queen of the Goldrens and a healer, that responsibility naturally fell on me. Nothing else happened. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing romantic. At least… that was what I kept telling myself. But sitting here now, with Kate and Kira staring at me like starving wolves who had just scented fresh gossip, I realized how ridiculous I sounded. "So?" Kate said, crossing her arms. "You were in his room… and?" I opened my mouth, then closed it. Kira leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. "Michelle—sorry, Erin—tell us what really happened. Slowly. Carefully. And don't skip anything." I groaned. "You two are impossible." Kate smirked. "And you're avoiding the question." I sighed deeply and finally gave in. So I told them everything. How Lev

Chapter 70 The Demon Realm The Demon Realm never slept. It breathed. Darkness pulsed through the vast kingdom like blood through veins, carrying screams long since silenced and hatred that refused to fade. The sky above the realm twisted endlessly, black clouds clashing with crimson lightning, illuminating towering structures built from bone, stone, and the remains of fallen races. At the heart of it all stood the Throne Hall. An endless chamber forged from skulls—thousands upon thousands of them—each belonging to a race that had once dared to stand against the Demon King. The skulls were fused together, their hollow eyes glowing faintly, whispering stories of conquest, loss, and annihilation. Upon the highest platform sat Roosevelt. He lounged on his throne of skulls, one arm resting casually on the armrest, clawed fingers tapping slowly in a rhythm known only to him. His expression was calm, almost bored—but the air around him trembled faintly, as though the realm itself fe