Glitched Goddess: My Skills are maxed out

Irielle's footsteps were steady as she approached the tall gates of the elf village, though her heart beat like a drum inside her chest.

The looming wooden doors were carved with intricate markings of wolves howling at the moon, their images glinting faintly under the sunlight.

She had walked this path countless times in her childhood, but today, it felt foreign, hostile.

The keeper was waiting for her. He stood straight-backed before the gate, his pale eyes unseeing, yet unwavering in their focus.

His hair was long and streaked with silver, tied neatly behind him.

Though blind, he radiated an aura of authority that made even Irielle feel as though her every step and breath were under scrutiny.

"You know the rules. Those who do not believe in Her cannot enter the goddess's embrace."

The keeper said, his voice calm but firm.

His head tilted slightly, and though his eyes were empty, Irielle felt as though he was piercing straight through her.

"There is no deceiving me. I see not flesh, but the soul that lies within."

Irielle clenched her jaw, already knowing the futility of pretending. No spell, no trick of light, could conceal her soul from him.

Slowly, she lifted her hand, letting her brand as an elf burn faintly with its natural glow. The mark shimmered, alive with the heritage of her people.

The keeper nodded.

"So, you are one of us. A sister who follows the wolf goddess."

His hand moved, and the heavy gates creaked open.

"Enter, child, and may Her light shield you."

Irielle dipped her head, hiding the bitter twist of her lips. She stepped past him without a word, waiting until the doors shut behind her before exhaling sharply.

Irritation burned at her chest, and she yanked her hood back up, tugging it low to shield her expression.

Inside, the village was bustling. Lanterns were strung across the main street, fluttering in the breeze like captured fireflies.

Vendors had set up stalls with offerings: carved charms of wolves, fragrant flowers, and woven talismans made to honor the goddess.

The air smelled of spices and roasted meat, undercut by the resinous smoke of incense rising from shrines at every corner.

It was preparation for the great festival—one that marked the wolf goddess's return to guide them, to strike down the darkness that threatened their lands.

At least, that was how the faithful proclaimed it.

Irielle could already hear the chants of prayers echoing faintly from the central square, priests reciting blessings with fervor that infected the people around them.

Slipping into the crowd, Irielle lowered her hood just enough to blend in, her pointed ears visible among the sea of her kin.

Her gaze swept the villagers, her sharp senses tuned to catch whispers between conversations.

"The priests… they've been more restless than usual."

One woman said to another, clutching a small carved wolf in her hands.

"They say a sign has been given. The goddess is stirring. Something—or someone—has drawn Her eye."

Her companion replied with hushed excitement.

Irielle stiffened, angling closer to the pair without seeming too obvious. But just as the words reached her ears, the women noticed her approach.

Their gazes lingered a fraction too long on her face, and then, almost as if rehearsed, they ended their conversation abruptly.

With polite nods, they excused themselves and walked away.

It wasn't unusual. Strangers always drew suspicion in tight-knit villages.

Yet, the way they had dispersed felt different. Purposeful.

Irielle narrowed her eyes, tugging her hood lower once again.

'Not me, then. Something else is happening here.'

Still, unease twisted in her gut. The whispers of priests, the mention of the goddess's excitement—it all pointed to Kana.

She kept her pace slow, weaving through the festival crowd, pretending to browse trinkets while keeping her ears open. The vibrant colors and joyful chatter around her felt suffocating.

She had just turned down a quieter street when a hand landed firmly on her shoulder.

Her breath caught. Every muscle tensed.

Slowly, she turned, only to freeze when her gaze met a face she had hoped not to see.

The same shade of blond as her own hair, though streaked now with age. His posture was tall, commanding, his expression sharp and unyielding.

"Father."

She breathed, her voice dropping into a cold hiss.

His lips curved into a smile that held no warmth.

"So it is you. My daughter, sneaking back into the fold."

His grip on her shoulder tightened, unrelenting.

"Did you think you could wander freely here, after turning your back on your people?"

Irielle tried to wrench herself free, but his hand was like iron. Around them, a few heads began to turn, curious whispers rising.

"You shouldn't have come. But since you did… I won't let you escape again."

Her father continued, his tone low enough that only she could hear.

He raised his other hand, a subtle gesture she knew all too well.

At once, figures melted from the crowd—armed elves in ceremonial garb, their movements precise, their eyes fixed on her like hunters closing in on prey.

"Capture her."

He ordered.

Irielle's heart dropped, but her eyes hardened like steel. She had known coming here was dangerous. She just hadn't expected the knife to fall so quickly—and from her own blood.

Irielle stiffened as several elves in ceremonial armor stepped out from the crowd at her father's command.

She had no time to resist before her wrists were seized and bound with glowing chains of spirit-light that bit into her skin.

The festival music carried on in the distance, bells and drums echoing as if nothing were wrong, yet the eyes of the villagers flicked toward her with barely veiled curiosity.

Some whispered, others crossed themselves in reverence to the wolf goddess, but none dared intervene.

Her father's gaze was cold as stone, unflinching.

'Ah, is this the end of my life? If I knew this was going to happen, I would have spent more time with Kana to have no regrets.'