The Fallen Tower (2)
“Screeeech, click…”
Luksisituka unconsciously touched her neck.
The suffocating pressure felt like it could kill her at any moment. But she couldn’t just stay silent.
If she did, she might end up like the leader of the Dark Moon.
“A-a pillar of light… it was a pillar of light.”
[A pillar of light?]
“Yes, I saw it clearly. A pillar of light piercing the snow-covered mountain peak… and the sky shrouded in dark crimson clouds…”
[A snowy mountain and dark clouds…]
Several arms moved slowly, as if lost in thought.
With the pressure slightly eased, Luksisituka managed to let out a shallow sigh. How did things come to this? Her mind retraced the past few months.
When she retreated from the herb city of Revivach in the southern city alliance, her teleportation scroll malfunctioned.
Was it because of the snowy mountain and the pillar of light she saw last? She didn’t know, but she ended up in the middle of a great forest, far from the Dark Moon’s base.
Luksisituka didn’t give up. After months of wandering, she finally made it back to the Dark Moon.
Her self-assigned mission was simple: report to the higher-ups that the main target of the Dark Moon had ascended to the rank of demigod.
Of course, by higher-ups, she meant the leader of the Dark Moon, not the god’s avatar currently tossing the leader’s head around.
What should she do now? The leader was dead, and the Dark Moon members at the base, including the Six Fingers, were annihilated.
The Dark Moon was effectively disbanded. Should she run? But the god’s avatar was too overwhelming.
The teleportation scroll had already malfunctioned once. It was clear she couldn’t escape a god with such a tool.
‘Ancient texts describe an oppressive presence, but nothing like this…’
An overwhelming pressure that could freeze even a transcendent being. And the appearance was subtly different.
Dozens of arms, pale hands with hook-like fingers, and a body almost amorphous, just like the idol carved in the hall.
But the black chains loosely wrapped around the body and the hundreds of skulls threaded on them were unlike anything seen in ancient murals or idols.
Weren’t black chains and red skulls the symbols of the evil god Ssum?
An evil god so obsessed with battle that even the northern barbarians had few followers. The same god who recently invaded the Tsar’s kingdom and suffered a crushing defeat.
[A being who ascended to the sixth rank and defeated both the Blood Lord and the Vampire Count. I wonder what vision the prophesied one holds.]
”······.”
[I should learn more from Temomron. With the Blood Lord gone, he must have gone into seclusion.]
Luksisituka couldn’t understand what was being discussed. Weren’t the Empire and the Blood Demons allied? And now the Blood Lord was gone? The Count too?
Confused, she cautiously looked up at the god’s face. The god was faintly smiling.
He extended a hand. Pat, pat. A large hand gently patted Luksisituka’s head.
[Well done. You were more helpful than expected.]
“Th-thank you. Then, perhaps…!”
[Yes. I’ll make sure your head is specially placed in the cauldron.]
“Screech…?”
The cauldron? In the interstellar throne of Enaksagus’s great hell?
Going there meant death, didn’t it? And just the head?
Suddenly, her throat burned, and her head felt dizzy and faint. Her vision spun and floated into the air.
Beyond the blurring focus, she saw a headless body. A body she often saw in the mirror.
‘Am I dead… now?’
That was Luksisituka’s last thought.
[I’ve gathered quite a lot of materials. The Dark Moon was a half-abandoned piece, but this is an unexpected harvest.]
Enaksagus tossed the blood-drained ratman’s head into a subspace.
In the subspace, enchanted with powerful preservation magic, rat tails, limbs, innards, and heads were piled like a mountain.
All were collected while clearing the Dark Moon’s base. Parts extracted from high-level superhumans and transcendent beings. Excellent materials for the cauldron.
Well-mixed ingredients would be reborn as high-level monsters or demons. If luck was on their side, perhaps a new archdemon would emerge.
“My lord, the unification of the Palace of Destruction and the Throne is complete.”
At that moment, a demon emerged silently from the hell gate.
An archdemon with the head of a bird, the mane of a lion, the body of a human, and the tail of a snake.
“My hearts have never raced like this. Congratulations, my lord. You are now the god of gods, ruling over two great hells.”
[Don’t make a fuss. It’s just the first step. Is the gift for the Labyrinth City ready?]
The bird-headed servant bowed deeply.
“We’ve sent followers through the lower streets into the sewers. It’s pure gunpowder, not magical devices, so there should be no issues.”
[Good. With the Seer’s gaze on the south, now’s our chance. Blowing up the barrier tower will eliminate the last variable.]
“Pardon me, but what do you mean by the last variable…?”
[Tsk, still so dense. Didn’t I tell you to use your bird brain more? Do you think there’s anything like the Stone of Wishes as the last variable?]
“Ah…”
The bird’s beak slightly opened. Its disproportionately small brain momentarily questioned. Wasn’t the Stone of Wishes a legend?
”······.”
No, it must exist. The servant shook its head vigorously. If the lord said it was there, it was there. He bowed even deeper in submission.
“Once again, I am in awe of your insight, my lord.”
[Tsk tsk.]
”······.”
A pale hand waved through the air. The hell gate the demon had crossed closed, and a new one opened wide.
[Bird-head.]
“Yes, my lord.”
[Let’s go to the Land of the Dead.]
The avatar moved its massive body. The bird-headed servant bowed and followed.
Rumble…
Not long after they disappeared, the hall began to collapse.
It was the moment when the assassin guild, which had lasted over a thousand years, vanished from history.
Rumble…
A low thunder. Dalen looked up.
The sky was covered with dark crimson clouds. Beyond the fire and lightning, multicolored lightning flickered like an aura.
‘Another dream.’
He wasn’t meditating, nor did he remember opening his domain.
His last memory was of sinking into a bed after training. Not the straw bed of an inn, but a plush mattress of a noble’s house.
After dealing with the Vampire Count and the Blood Lord, the group retraced their steps westward.
They were currently resupplying and resting in a city near the Empire’s border.
They weren’t staying at an inn, so there was no lodging fee. They were staying in a grand mansion, a reward for introducing the vampire noble to an axe.
As Dalen continued his thoughts, he scratched his chin. It was about time.
“Sorry to disturb your sleep again.”
Just as he thought that, the back door of the cabin creaked open, and someone stepped out.
Dalen turned his head. It was the person he expected.
A warrior clad in celestial robes with a worn fur coat, carrying an axe and a sword.
His rugged face and exposed torso were covered in scars from cuts and stabs. It looked like a solid rock weathered over the years.
”······.”
Dalen habitually fiddled with his waist. Fortunately, the axe was securely attached today.
It was strange. He had grown much stronger since their encounter in the north, so he should feel less intimidated.
Yet, the power emanating from the man hadn’t diminished at all. If anything, it seemed even greater.
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of threatening you. You’ve simply grown enough to hear my voice before, and now you can sense my presence.”
The warrior smiled gently. A smile he still couldn’t get used to…
“Judging people by their faces isn’t a good habit. Didn’t you think last time that a gentle smile doesn’t suit me?”
Right. You can read minds too. Damn, even ghosts would be baffled.
“Ghosts are unsightly, so could you drop the first letter?”
“···You speak Korean too?”
The warrior’s smile widened slightly. Dalen scratched his neck awkwardly.
Damn. Could he really be an all-knowing being? In the early days of being dropped into this medieval land, he cursed non-stop in Korean when alone. He spent months cursing gods and everything else.
He had no choice. It was the only way to endure. How else could a 30-something guy who used to play games in his room survive in the blood-and-guts mercenary world? He cursed the gods to cope.
“So… are you here to introduce me to someone again?”
“No. I came for a different reason today.”
“Then will you finally tell me your name? You said you’d tell me next time.”
The man’s laughter grew a little louder, and Dalen, feeling somewhat uneasy, took another step back.
In truth, Dalen had his own suspicions about the man’s identity. There was more than enough evidence to support them.
The sanctuary of the High Oaks had statues of the great ancestors wielding axes and swords. Just like the warrior before him, who carried an axe at his waist and a sword slung across his back.
“Could it be that the gods descended in human form for this reason? Or perhaps humans were created to be the closest to the supreme beings.”
“Do you think the order of knights with thousands of years of history just sprang up from nowhere? The great hero who fought in the Great War truly existed.”
These were the tales spun by the ancient dragon, a living, breathing history book, who had lived since before the ancient wars.
And then there was the legend of Hadash, the war god worshipped by the northern tribes before their fall from grace.
Many legends and doctrines spoke of the hero who fought in the ancient war.
Though expressed in different languages and manners, the essence was the same.
The hero charged into the demon-infested enemy lines with a sword, ultimately sacrificing himself to slay the evil gods, dying a glorious death in the process.
And not long after, he was said to have resurrected, ascended, and returned to his original world, later being revered as the great ancestor, the war god, or the divine warrior.
“I promised, so I should tell you. Are you curious about my name?”
”…I don’t need to know your name.”
He probably had many names. Knowing one more wouldn’t change anything.
What Dalen was truly curious about lay elsewhere. After a moment of silence, he spoke.
“Are you from another world?”