The Stench of Death
Death that carried a stench was the most impartial existence of all. Whether it was a king wielding supreme power or the lowliest beggar, no one knew any way to escape its touch. Before it, neither wealth, strength, nor authority could serve as any kind of shield. Moreover, death was an existence that defied all prediction. A baby born only yesterday might die this very morning, while a person who had already lived for decades might go on to live decades more. That was why death alone was both perfect and utterly unattainable in this world. And the Demon God who delivered that death was therefore the strongest deity of all.
The Demon God Worshippers revered that being for precisely this reason, worshipping the bringer of death as the one true god. They longed for the day when that death would sweep across the land and deliver the sole truth. At the same time, they called the monsters left in its wake Apostles. To enable those Apostles to spread impartial death throughout the world, they offered up other lives as sacrifices.
The worship of the Demon God had not always commanded such fierce devotion. In the beginning, its followers were simply mocked as lunatics. But as greater and greater chaos descended and death spread everywhere, more and more people joined the cult and became fervent worshippers. If you cannot escape death, then cling to it instead. The process was already miserable; the ending could not be allowed to be miserable as well.
To those who refused to believe, they would grant the most wretched and painful death imaginable. To those who believed, they would grant the most peaceful and gentle end in the world. Shouting these words, the Demon God Worshippers began their activities in earnest.
The simplest method was to spread rumors that sowed disorder and expanded their influence. They fought against religious orders that threatened the cult, and they spilled the blood of others to summon the monsters they called Apostles. Lately, however, what they devoted themselves to most was restraining the Heroes. These were the people who spread hope across a continent that should have been tasting nothing but despair after the Apostles’ defeats. The worshippers intended to crush them without fail and force every living soul to kneel before the Demon God.
“Another hard day. See you tomorrow.”
“Take care!”
The old man who ran the modest shop was one of their number. At first he had scoffed, calling them insane fanatics. But once he studied their doctrine and mingled among them, he naturally became one of their own.
The religious orders on the continent preferred those who had something to give over those who had nothing. They bestowed blessings on those who offered donations and showed only coldness to those who could not. They spoke of impartial warmth, yet there was neither impartiality nor warmth within them.
When his son was dying and he had no money for treatment, the old man had bowed his head to the priests and begged. Please save him. Please show the mercy you preach to this foolish, lowly wretch. Instead, they had rushed off to attend an elderly noble from a family that had donated generously. The only one who came to his son was an inexperienced novice who knew nothing but how to recite prayers. His son had slowly died amid complete indifference.
Even now, the memory made the old man’s blood boil. He was not angry at death itself, but at a world that was fundamentally wrong. They spoke of goodness, mercy, and warmth, yet nothing in the world was good, merciful, or warm. Only death had remained sincerely by his side and his son’s until the very end.
With a creak, he finished closing the shop and pretended to arrange goods while opening the entrance. He tapped the wall lightly several times, sending a signal inside. Moments later, several figures appeared and held out their hands. The old man promptly handed over food, drink, and a few tools.
“Brother, thank you as always.”
“Not at all, brother. You are the ones who suffer.”
“Thanks to your help, we will soon be able to deliver a warning to those foolish followers of the orders.”
“…Can you truly do it?”
“Where is the god of the orders? It exists nowhere. Their mercy and light are nothing but empty words. Has that radiance, that warmth, ever reached us?”
“…No, it hasn’t.”
“The only thing that stays by our side is death. Therefore, only the Demon God is the one true being.”
The priests of the orders were liars. They merely deceived people with pretty words. The only impartial thing in the world, the only absolute, was the death that came to everyone. Those who flailed desperately to avoid it were the fools.
“To those who have inflicted pain on us, our Apostles will soon inflict pain in return. They will suffer the same agony and meet the same death. Then we will all dance and laugh together.”
With those words, the figures vanished. Soon the blood of those who had rejected the truth would flow down there, and from that blood the Apostles who would proclaim the truth would rise. When those Apostles finally stood upon the land, the hypocrites who had spoken only of goodness, light, and warmth would face judgment. Before that spectacle, the old man and his brothers would simply watch in reverence.
Come, my God.
Hurry and come, O sole and only One.
Your servants who await You are right here.
Spread Your impartial will across this tainted land.
And lead us all to reach the one and only truth.
Having recited the prayer, the old man closed the door and carefully disguised it again. He placed a few items on top and deliberately scattered dust to erase any trace of having been touched. By the time he finished and stepped outside, the sun had already set and darkness had fallen.
Time to head back.
Just like any ordinary old man, like any unremarkable merchant, he patted his lower back and turned toward home. That was when it happened.
“Hey.”
A sudden unfamiliar voice came from behind. A flicker of unease rose, but the old man turned with a deliberately calm expression. Then, without realizing it, he let out a sigh of relief.
“…Phew.”
“What the hell? Crazy old man sighs the moment he sees me? That hurts my feelings, you know?”
They were the local thugs who occasionally came demanding protection money. They never dared make a sound to merchants with powerful backers, but they were experts at picking on those who had nothing.
“Hey, old man. Got the money ready?”
“Today isn’t the day for protection money, is it? I paid two weeks ago, so there should still be time…”
“That’s your problem. We’re a little short on cash right now. Hand over everything you’ve got.”
“…I barely have anything left after paying protection money, and business was terrible today…”
“Our old man sure has become talkative. Is your time almost up? Give us the money. Money.”
For a brief instant, a murderous gleam flashed in the old man’s eyes before vanishing. These pieces of trash ran wild, yet no one paid them any attention. Those who claimed to uphold order only fought against the Apostles who delivered impartiality. Those who claimed to illuminate the world only cared about places where sunlight already reached.
“…Then would you follow me for a moment? I don’t have money, but I do have some goods. You can take those instead.”
“What? Trying to pawn off weird stuff again?”
“It’s definitely worth money, so just follow me.”
Today was exactly that day. The day his brothers had longed for, the glorious day they would summon the Apostles directly. If these pieces of trash could be of help, if he could grant them a beautiful death, then surely the exalted one would be pleased.
The old man thought so and led the thugs inside. He cleared away the goods and slowly opened the hidden entrance.
Clunk.
“What the hell, old man? You built a secret basement?”
“Unbelievable. What kind of amazing thing are you hiding in there?”
There was only one reason he revealed the well-disguised entrance: if anyone opened this door without first giving the proper signal, they would be attacked by his brothers. These thugs might have strong fists, but to the brothers who served the one true being they were nothing but petty scum.
The three thugs crowded together, each trying to get a look inside. The entrance was narrow and they were bunched up, so it was easy. The old man gave a hard shove to the back of the man at the rear.
Thud!
“…Huh?”
“Ugh?”
They had all pressed forward to see inside, and each of them was built like a mountain. Once their center of gravity broke, they were no different from giant bricks. What happened next was obvious without even looking. Short screams followed by bodies tumbling into the basement. The old man turned away from the sight and immediately closed the entrance.
He had never done this before, so he might receive a scolding from his brothers. Still, after all the service he had given them and the one true being until now, surely they would understand this much.
“Aaaah…!”
“Uwaaaah…!”
He pressed his ear to the entrance and listened carefully. The thugs’ screams rang out. It seemed his brothers had judged them as intruders who had entered this place.
…
The old man looked down at his own hands. Those men would either meet their end at his brothers’ hands or be used as splendid and honorable offerings to summon the Apostles. If someone asked whether he felt guilt over that, he would answer proudly, “No.” How many people had suffered from the evil deeds they committed? No one had judged them. Now he, his brothers, and the exalted being had condemned them.
“Hoo…”
With a sigh, the old man began cleaning up again. People might grow suspicious about the thugs’ disappearance, but since they had made enemies everywhere, any investigation would cast a wide net. There would even be those who celebrated their vanishing. The old man shook off all his worries. He simply hoped his brothers’ work would go well.
“Shopkeeper.”
He had closed the door and was finally about to head home when another voice stopped him. This was a voice he had never heard before, one that left no trace in his memory. The old man turned, tense. A man stood there.
His appearance was strikingly handsome, almost like the son of some noble house, yet he gave off a subtly alien aura. A truly strange man.
“I’m the one who bought that jerky from you this afternoon. Not sure if you remember.”
Now that he mentioned the jerky, it did seem familiar. Only one person had bought jerky today.
“Ah… I think I remember. What seems to be the problem?”
“I just checked the jerky. It’s in bad shape.”
“Pardon?”
“It seems spoiled.”
The man held out the jerky. The bag itself was already filthy with all kinds of filth. Even dried food would spoil quickly if stored like that. The old man kept a smile on his face with some effort and spoke.
“Look here, customer. It was perfectly fine when I sold it. You must have stored it improperly. Unless you threw it in a trash bin, there’s no way it would end up like this.”
“Why is that impossible? From what I see, there’s more than enough chance that it’s your fault.”
The old man bit his lip slightly at the man’s words. He wondered why his luck today was so terrible; irritation surged up once more.
“I think you’re misunderstanding…”
“I told you I didn’t. The jerky went bad because of you.”
“Why would it be my fault?”
“Because a rotten, decaying bastard worse than a corpse touched it. Of course the jerky would spoil quickly.”
The man smiled and continued.
“Don’t give me your lame excuses. The stench is overwhelming.”