The New War God's Coronation
The Goddess Department’s war drums thundered—woong, woo-woong! Inside the Great Forest Hollow, the Survival Magic Tower floating in midair began to glow. A black-robed dark mage descended into the forest.
“….”
He said nothing. His eyes swept over the vast clearing scorched by flames and the countless enormous craters dotting the ground. Then he broke into a run. At the forest’s edge he tore open a spatial gate and stepped through, heading straight for the Holy Empire of War.
Granzoa and the High Elf Queens, who had recovered somewhat, watched him leave in silence.
“Lady Granzoa. He has departed.”
“Have all the children in the vicinity been evacuated?”
“Yes. We gave strict orders to observe only—under no circumstances are they to attack.”
Granzoa’s descent site had already been converted into a temple. Using the divine power she had regained as an Upper God, she had healed every High Elf still clinging to life. Even so, five hundred million of her people were gone forever. The resulting resentment toward the dark mage had reached a fever pitch.
“For now we have no choice but to submit. But another opportunity will come.”
“The humiliation of becoming a subordinate god will not last forever.”
“Ah… yes.”
Just as the dark mage had predicted, the High Elf race had closed ranks around Granzoa. In reality there was no such thing as the touching reconciliation or forgiveness one might read about in novels.
In the plaza of the Holy Empire of War, the clink of wine cups and roaring laughter now echoed without pause.
“Kahaht! Cheers!”
“Uahaha! It’s been ages since I really cut loose!”
The bloody chaos that had engulfed the Great Plaza of the War God had finally subsided. The Transcendents called a temporary truce and began a grand feast. Everyone was enjoying the extravagant—albeit outrageously expensive—meals provided by the empire, and the atmosphere grew increasingly festive.
“Whoa! It’s expensive, but damn it’s good.”
“Heh heh! For this kind of spread, it’s worth it.”
Being Transcendents, they were all obscenely wealthy; the astronomical bill barely made them blink. They simply drank and reveled in the refreshing afterglow of having unleashed their full power.
“Ooooooh!”
Clang! Clang!
Cheers rang out everywhere, accompanied by the metallic clang of broken equipment being repaired. The Imperial Duke among the Transcendents was basking in the most satisfying battle haze he had felt in years. He had just fought tens of thousands of equals—opponents he would rarely encounter even on a battlefield.
After rising to the lofty position of Duke, this is the first time I’ve felt such fulfillment. To think I charged the front lines like a common foot soldier…
Scenes of the fierce fighting flashed through his mind.
The agony of death only makes the joy of resurrection sweeter. Because any wound can be healed, I was able to risk everything and give my all. I lost track of time, drowning in the ecstasy of victory and the fury of defeat again and again.
The Duke could barely remember the last time he had tasted such pure, untainted struggle—free of schemes or politics.
Cursing like a street thug, clashing without regard for interests… If the political circles of the Empire and the kingdoms saw me smiling while nursing a drink in the corner of this plaza, they would lose their minds.
Still, when he considered that every Transcendent present shared a similar status, it hardly seemed newsworthy.
Pleasant noise from the lively banquet drifted to the Imperial Duke’s ears.
“Hey, youngest! Sing us a song! Make it a dirty one!”
“Yessir! One lewd song, locked and loaded! ‘The One at the Watermill—!’”
The Imperial Duke, finally free after so long, watched a man stagger drunkenly onto a table, dancing wildly as he belted out a tune. The figure looked strangely familiar.
Isn’t that the current Hero who subjugated the Demon King? Or maybe I’m seeing things. Still, I never expected even the former Heroes to show up. The divinity of becoming a god and the magic of immortality really are incredible, aren’t they?
Boom! Crack! Rumble!
In the center of the plaza, monstrous old men whose strength and physique overwhelmed even the Transcendents—yet whose faces made guessing their age impossible—were still fighting.
“Pay back the money you borrowed from me at the tavern a hundred and twenty years ago!”
“Bring proof I ever borrowed it! Show me the damn IOU—!”
“Everyone, put your heads together. Let’s all become idiots together.”
“Repent your lewdness, all of you. What do you plan to do after being rejuvenated?”
“What would a six-hundred-year-old virgin know? A woman’s mystery is greater than any god’s.”
“Ahem! You have crossed a line that should never be crossed. I shall send you to the Lord God, who is even greater than the gods.”
They dragged up nearly a century’s worth of shameful secrets and hurled insults at one another; there was no end in sight. The uproar was finally silenced by a thunderous surge of immense magical power.
Kwaaaaaang—!
Hundreds of defensive spells that had been cast around the plaza to prevent collateral damage shattered at once. Every Transcendent seized their weapons and hurled Fighting Spirit and magical power toward the source of the disturbance.
Goooooooong—!
An overwhelmingly violent and colossal magical energy blanketed the sky.
Crrrrrrrrack—!
A gigantic spatial fissure tore open from ground to heaven. A robed figure stepped out. Ten glowing circles hovered behind him as he chanted.
"The Tower of Babylonia does not fall and stands in the sky."
⟨ The Tower of Babylonia Does Not Fall and Stands in the Sky ⟩
Fwaaaaaah—!
A colossal curtain of light unfurled across the heavens, illuminating both the War God’s plaza and the dark mage. He shed his black robe.
Crack. Crunch. Pop.
Wearing only trousers, his upper body was revealed—dense, sculpted muscle packed with terrifying density. Fist-fighters and swordsmen, self-proclaimed muscle connoisseurs, gasped in shock. The countless scars covering every inch of his body made them recoil in horror.
“Ooooh! What magnificent muscle! Perfectly optimized for speed!”
“How can a mage possess a body like that?”
The dark mage’s physique was no ordinary trained flesh. The traces of training severe enough to visit Hell multiple times, and the innumerable scars from being torn apart again and again, covered him like living tattoos.
Mages who recognized what such a body signified turned pale.
“Those horrific wounds and recovery marks… he really is a dark mage of the Root School.”
“The sovereign of black magic has finally reached godhood!”
The Mage King of the former Hero’s party let out a long sigh.
“It really is the Root School. This is going to be troublesome.”
Among the countless schools of magic, the Root School was the most brutal and powerful. Anyone who encountered one on the battlefield had to stake their life.
Root School mages charge in faster than knights.
How many times have friendly forces been ravaged by their overwhelming calculation speed and destructive power that surpass even high-ranking mages?
More terrifying still is their courage to leap alone into enemy lines.
Root School mages proudly display their scars and refuse to heal them completely. The number of wounds engraved on their bodies is the number of medals earned by surviving and winning wars.
The Root School they knew was reckless, valiant, and overwhelmingly strong—the school that produced the sovereign of black magic. Fortunately, very few could endure its training, and advancing circles was extraordinarily difficult.
The last time a Seventh Circle dark mage of the Root School appeared, he raided the imperial palace of the Magic Empire and kidnapped the imperial prince.
Dozens of Seventh Circle Transcendents couldn’t stop him. Hundreds of thousands of troops failed to capture him.
A legendary school that had risen to become the sovereign of black magic through miraculous feats and terrifying power had finally produced a Tenth Circle mage.
The handsome man with long black hair streaked with gold—proof of his school—revealed his face to the entire Middle World and declared:
“We shall now begin the selection ceremony for the new Pope of the War God.”
Yet the eyes of the new War God were fixed on the former Heroes.
“Before that, if any of you wish to kill me, come at me now.”
At those words, the former Hero party began radiating Fighting Spirit and killing intent. The sudden surge forced the surrounding Transcendents to retreat in panic.
“The moment you saw me, you already wanted me dead. Come on, then.”
The former Hero stepped forward.
“An incomplete human must never become a god.”
“Is that all the justification you have? Fine. I’ll entertain you.”
Wooooooooong! Goooooooong!
The dark mage’s black-and-gold hair writhed in response to his magical power. Simultaneously, aura began condensing violently around the former Heroes’ swords and fists.
“Darker than twilight, redder than fresh blood…”
“O almighty and supreme Lord God. The world…”
The Mage King’s incantation began. The Unified Pope’s holy power blazed with brilliant light. The Transcendents around them also prepared for battle.
The bewildered Pope and cardinals tried to rush out, but the new god’s stern command stopped them cold.
“Stop! You are no match for them. I will not tolerate meaningless deaths!”
“But—!”
“For the sake of ultimate victory, survive no matter what! The only thing you weaklings can do right now is prepare for the future.”
“O God! Punish us for our weakness. We are the true sinners.”
As the provisional Pope and cardinals of the War God wailed and prostrated themselves, the former Hero party—who had been about to charge—exchanged glances.
The sudden display of the War God’s mercy is shifting the surrounding mood toward hostility.
Our plan to rally the gathered Transcendents for a joint attack is falling apart. That’s a problem.
Against a Tenth Circle dark mage, their current force alone could never win. They needed the cooperation of those around them. The former Hero, skilled at manipulating public opinion, quickly stepped forward and began loudly listing the dark mage’s crimes.
“The dark mage may have slain the Demon Kings, but he also brutally slaughtered millions of people in a single night. He stole the heirs of every human empire and kingdom, attempting to seize their lines of succession. He blackmailed the Holy Empires, took the Saintesses hostage, murdered the War God, and stole his nation. He massacred hundreds of millions of innocent High Elves in the High Elf Empire. We can never accept such a cruel monster as the god of humanity. Even if we all die or face divine judgment, we will reject you!”
The former Hero bravely stepped forward and denounced the sins that no one else had dared speak aloud to the dark mage—who could kill Demon Kings and summon stars to destroy nations. The dark mage listened without a word. The former Hero’s speech grew more impassioned.
“Using treasures to seduce humans and incite pointless wars—this War God must never be tolerated. If an elf goddess can massacre countless High Elves, the same tragedy will befall humanity. You are not a god. You are a Demon King. And Demon Kings are subjugated by Heroes and humans!”
Wooooooooong—!
The dark mage’s divinity began to decline. The faith humans offered, moved by the former Hero’s words, was rapidly diminishing.
Tsk! They fell for the propaganda. So broadcasting through The Tower of Babylonia Does Not Fall and Stands in the Sky has this kind of side effect.
The negative perception of the War God spread across the entire Middle World through the live broadcast. Faith plummeted.
As expected, shortcuts always carry heavy backlash. I was in too much of a hurry and it bit me immediately. I let my guard down because my karma was at [Extreme Good].
Nothing stimulates human desire quite like treasures and titles. He had planned to rapidly increase his divine power using treasures, but the former Heroes had exploited the plan’s weakness and damaged the War God’s divinity.
Thanks to broadcasting this scene across the entire Middle World, countless believers have abandoned the War God. The other gods still haven’t stepped in… so this is their independent action? They’re only Seventh Circle, yet they’re doing something this insane.
Those who rebel against an Upper God of Light whose karma is at [Extreme Good] are normally annihilated. The so-called “just cause” humans spoke of meant nothing to the gods.
What meaning does an ant’s sense of morality hold for a human? The scale of influence and reality is simply too different. Even if I stepped forward and wiped them all out right now, cold-hearted karma would side with me. Because right now I am a Supreme God who can restore any damage caused by the slaughter of sentient beings.
Only higher beings—Lord Gods, Demon Kings, and karma itself—could judge the definitions of god and Demon King. And because gods never forced humans to believe, attempting to judge a god was blasphemy and would only result in judgment.
“…Therefore, we shall gather our strength and subjugate you. By the will of humanity—!”
The former Hero was clearly experienced at this; many of the other Transcendents seemed to have been swayed by his rhetoric. From the dark mage’s perspective, the man possessed decent ability and quite a talent for politics.
He has the skills, and if he can talk that well, he’ll make an excellent Pope. If he survives until the end, he wins the jackpot.
The dark mage even clapped for the former Hero’s moving speech—which had turned everyone except the rejuvenated provisional Pope and the newly promoted cardinals into enemies.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
“…….”
“…….”
The moment the new War God’s applause rang out across the plaza, right as the former Hero finished speaking, silence fell. Not a single Transcendent dared open their mouth.