Chapter 45
Chapter: 45
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>Translator: penny
>Chapter: 45
>Chapter Title: Premonition (3)
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[Hahaha.]
As Nate raised his sword only to suddenly pause and let out a low chuckle, the octopus creature stared at him in utter bewilderment. Its swollen and misshapen eyes darted about anxiously.
Nate scattered the walnut shells and slowly approached the malformed octopus with a leisurely gait, as if out for a stroll. That casual demeanor felt even more intimidating than when he wielded [Calamity], causing the octopus to tremble involuntarily.
“Speak.”
He reached out and gently placed his hand on one of its eyeballs. The octopus didn’t dare close its eyelids, merely regurgitating a spurt of filth.
“Why does your king use you as a sacrificial pawn?”
Why couldn’t he end this thing himself?
What reason was there to let it go?
Nate suspected it had something to do with the schemes of [Famine], who had sent the octopus here.
But upon hearing those words, the malformed octopus forgot its own plight and shouted indignantly.
“Sacrificial pawn? I am—I am the closest confidant blessed personally by Lord [Famine]! How dare you twist his profound intentions!”
From that overreactive outburst, it seemed the creature had quietly begun doubting its king’s motives.
In any case, Nate considered a possibility from its words.
“Blessing.”
Yes, a blessing.
Nate’s eyes slowly scanned the octopus’s soul. Meeting his gaze, the creature flinched noticeably, its bravado visibly deflating.
Nate’s spirit eyes soon detected a blessing etched into a corner of the octopus’s soul—a tiny inscription, so subtly carved that it would be hard to notice under normal circumstances.
*I cherish you greatly, so your enemy is my enemy, and none who harm you shall escape my vengeance.*
Nate clicked his tongue.
“Shallow trick…”
It seemed like a simple blessing, but it came from a dimensional king. Moreover, its effects would be preserved intact at the dimensional boundary.
It couldn’t harm Nate right now, but the karmic tie of inescapable vengeance remained, providing [Famine] with a pretext to wield power in Delcross someday. It had nearly caused a major headache.
Meanwhile, the octopus remained frozen under Nate’s gaze, quietly breaking out in cold sweat.
Why had he ever thought this was merely a human soul of slightly higher caliber? To so easily suppress someone like himself—a great lord and demon king of a sub-dimension, the closest confidant of the mighty [Famine]—this was power truly befitting the title of king.
Up close, the golden halo around this man was so blinding he couldn’t even look straight at it. And those terrifying eyes that pierced through a demon king’s true form—what were they?
He must have lost his mind for a moment. Rushing in headlong at the king’s playful suggestion of earning merit—he regretted it more than anything.
But the octopus’s ordeal wasn’t over. It felt a terrifying flow of karma slowly coiling around it.
“This… what is this?!”
Flailing its eyeballs in panic, it locked eyes with Nate’s chilling stare and froze solid. An irresistible command, a powerful blessing that could sway even a demon king’s fate, bound its body.
“Though it’s merely the boundary, you’ve entered my domain, so I shall grant you a [blessing] as well.”
Was this—was this what it meant to be human?
Overwhelmed by an unprecedented terror that eroded its mind, the octopus thought in a daze.
Then, a calm declaration descended upon its soul.
*If you ever set foot in my domain again, you shall burn eternally in hellfire that consumes even your soul. Your king, who sought to devour, shall be devoured in turn, leaving not even a name or a trace behind.*
A searing pain accompanied the inscription of glowing letters into one side of the octopus’s soul. Nate tapped the trembling eyeball and continued in a mock-gentle tone.
“Understood?”
Forced to meet Nate’s gaze with no escape, the eyeball quivered in extreme terror. Its dark hide even seemed to pale.
“I’ll let you live. But if you ever return here, you will die.”
With his permission, the octopus’s body was released from its dreadful bonds.
Ssssh. Like water draining through a small hole, its massive form began to be swept away.
Fragments of the hell wall, frozen souls, and remnants of its body all vanished without a trace.
Tch. [Famine] clicked his tongue and averted his gaze.
Eyes still watched his soul from afar, but now none seemed eager to approach rashly.
After glaring back at them for a moment, Nate prepared to shift his soul back to Delcross.
It was time to return to the homunculus’s body.
* * *
Thump thump thump.
Jerome woke to the sound of his men urgently calling for him. His body felt heavy from the hangover, and his mind was foggy.
‘Did I sleep this long?’
Rubbing his stubbly face, he got up and stepped out of his quarters. The sun had already passed its zenith; it was afternoon. Something felt off.
He fully came to his senses when his waiting men reported the search results.
The prisoner suspected of being an Asesin spy had been found—already dead.
“Internal strife?”
He asked as he hurried toward the village clearing.
“No idea. At least, no visible external injuries.”
“Wasn’t he one who’d been through an inquisition? He wasn’t in normal health when he arrived. Probably died fleeing, and they ditched him.”
At the clearing, his men crowded around a small cart, murmuring. The prisoner lay atop it.
He looked like he was merely asleep.
Checking the pulse skeptically, Jerome found none, just as his men said. He really seemed dead.
“When did this happen?”
“Well… he was already like this when we found him near the fork in the pass.”
Jerome scowled at the man.
That spot was no short distance from the slash-and-burn village. It must have taken hours to get here—did that make sense?
The corpse showed no pallor. No chill of death when he touched it. Just peacefully closed eyes, not even a hint of rigor mortis.
Examining the joints for stiffness, Jerome suddenly noticed something and hurriedly brushed the prisoner’s hair aside, tracing the facial contours.
“…Was this guy’s face like this?”
He tilted his head.
He hadn’t noticed at first, but with eyes closed, why did the face seem so familiar?
Jerome gripped the chin and turned the head this way and that, scrutinizing it. Feeling like he was missing something crucial, he couldn’t easily let go.
As his men’s whispers grew louder behind him, Jerome finally gave up without finding anything unusual and stepped back from the cart.
“Maybe he’s not dead. Put him in the shed and watch him for now.”
At his order, the men quickly swarmed the cart.
Jerome rubbed his face with one hand to clear his foggy mind and left the clearing.
“…Huh?”
One bandit pulling the corpse off the cart paused.
“What? What is it?”
“Weird, man. Why’s this guy so light?”
Another shoving the cart aside to the clearing’s edge brushed it off.
“What’s weird? Priests and alchemists are usually scrawny, right?”
“No, that’s not it…”
He couldn’t explain the unease.
Even a lightweight person has bones and flesh proportional to their size.
But this prisoner felt different—off. Like touching something not quite human, hollow. It gave him chills.
“Probably just my imagination…”
Shaking off the creepy feeling, he hoisted the corpse and headed to the shed.
Meanwhile, one of his men stopped Jerome, who was staggering toward his hut.
“Boss.”
A burly veteran from Rohan days, with a wild beard.
“Uh… too bad about Marta. I told them to handle the funeral properly, so don’t worry too much.”
He hadn’t dared yesterday amid Jerome’s foul mood, but seeing the listless leader now, he felt compelled to offer comfort. Jerome’s reaction, though, was odd.
“…Marta?”
Jerome blinked with a blank expression.
Who was that? Marta…
Frowning in thought, he finally recalled his wife who’d died yesterday.
“Oh, Marta! Right, yeah… Handle it. Good work.”
“…Boss?”
The subordinate, who knew Jerome cared deeply for his wife, called out puzzledly, but Jerome waved him off and resumed stumbling to the hut.
If the man could have seen Jerome’s soul, he’d have been horrified. It dangled with its head torn clean off, only half remaining.
Back in his quarters, Jerome habitually shut the door and blankly scanned the hut.
Hangover? He felt strangely off today.
Why did everything feel so alien and numb? Thoughts fogged his mind; old memories faded hazily.
His gaze lingered on scattered bottles and tools, then settled on Kaien dozing in the corner, eyes closed. Without that fierce third eye, just a neat, pretty adopted son’s face.
His body jolted as if struck by lightning.
That face…!
“Urgh…!”
Jerome collapsed to the floor, emitting a groan-like scream.
His paralyzed soul malfunctioning, realization wouldn’t form into thoughts or words. He just dragged himself backward, mumbling incoherently.
“Urrgh…!”
Huh? Kaien rubbed his sleepy eyes at the noise. Spotting Jerome sprawled and trembling on the floor, he frowned.
“What’s with this guy? Suddenly acting all weird?”
All I did was rip out his head.
Kaien yawned and stood.
“Was trying to nap ’cause he kept bawling ‘Marta, Marta,’ but maybe I rushed it. Didn’t think a healthy guy would go half-wit like this.”
Whatever, didn’t matter anymore.
The village was done for soon; time to move on.
Kaien approached the crawling Jerome and yanked out the remaining soul fragment. Jerome rolled back his eyes and toppled over—dead.
Just days ago, this Jerome had punched tongueless, mumbling prisoners to death in irritation. Now he’d met the same end—hilarious.
Chewing the soul chunk sloppily, Kaien packed haphazardly. Rodrigo hadn’t returned from Kartago Pass, but no time to wait.
He had the new ID Rodrigo prepped anyway; he’d manage solo.
But the strong final thought from Jerome’s soul left a vivid piece of info in Kaien’s mind—one of those occasional soul-eating perks. It halted his packing.
‘That suspicious devil worshiper’s in the slash-and-burn village now?’
* * *
Holy Emperor Nate awoke surrounded by a gang of rough-looking bandits and sighed gloomily.
‘Fell behind after all, huh…’
Told him to ditch me, but he really did without hesitation, Enrique.
As Nate opened his eyes, the bandits flinched like they’d seen a ghost, then grinned menacingly and closed in.
“Boss was right. You’re alive after all.”
He tried moving, but his arms were twisted back, wrists shackled and roped tight. No easy escape.
Looked dead, yet so cautious.
Worse, every bandit’s head bore clear bruises. Split foreheads, bloodied bandaged scalps, swollen crooked noses.
All deeply resentful toward Nate.
“Trying to run, you bastard? Spill it! Who’s your backer? You an Asesin spy after all?”
One grabbed his collar, yanking him up effortlessly.
“There’s an inside man here, right? Confess, or you won’t like what happens next!”
The bandit tapped Nate’s cheek with a sharp dagger, issuing threats. Nate sighed wearily.
“Should’ve had Enrique cut off my arm earlier.”