The Second Nergal Fragment: Saint Seiya's Fall
The location of the second Nergal fragment wasn't far away. It was in a small village just off the path I'd taken. The plague that the nameless girl had spread from that very spot had now infected the surrounding areas, propagating outward everywhere.
The other Nergal fragment was in that plague-ridden little village. He was a young man in his early thirties. Unlike the girl, his soul was of ordinary size. But it was far from ordinary. It was a pure white soul—the first I'd ever seen in millions of people I'd observed. I'd imagined that saints or saintesses might have souls like this, even if I'd never met one. So, was this man a saint? Well, since Nergal was a god, you could probably call him that.
At first, I'd planned to take him out the moment I spotted him and head back to Kutula. But he was healing people right then. Not with medicine or divine power like a priest—just by laying hands on them like some kind of fraud, and the illnesses vanished. Nergal was the god of disease and healing, after all. If the girl embodied the power of pestilence, this man seemed to wield the power of cure.
He simply healed people, asking for nothing in return. With a faint smile, he tended to those in agony, like a scene straight out of myth. I found myself conflicted. Should I kill him and retrieve the fragment? Or could I let him be a little longer? This healing was Nergal's power too—was it harming the world in some way?
After some deliberation, I decided to watch a bit more.
The man healed the entire village and moved on to the next. It was the same there. He treated the suffering for free. The grateful villagers, despite their poverty, offered him what little they had. He took only enough food to stave off hunger and returned the rest.
The next stop was a somewhat larger town. That's where things started to change. Among those he'd helped, a group of followers formed. They were a mixed bunch: some genuinely repaying a life debt, others tagging along to exploit him, and some just mindlessly drifting behind. But the man demanded nothing from them and issued no orders. He let them do as they pleased.
Some started demanding payment from those seeking healing; others tried to stop them. The followers quickly descended into chaos. Amid it all, the man just offered words of hope to visitors and healed them with his power.
After passing through several more towns and villages, the followers had grown into a large, organized group. Following a few major clashes, their leader became a former high-ranking knight. He was half-decent. He truly revered the man and followed him faithfully, but he also exploited the situation for personal gain, cleverly boosting his reputation. Even when some followers reported this, the man said nothing to the group.
He remained exactly as I'd first seen him.
By the time they'd nearly eradicated the plague that started with the girl—sweeping across the entire kingdom—the followers had become a formidable force. Over ten thousand strong, with armed contingents that couldn't be ignored, and the economic power to sustain them. They called themselves the Jenrus Church, devotees of Saint Seiya.
They'd grown into a power even the Kingdom of Baikal dared not touch.
I'd done nothing so far, just trailing Seiya and wrestling with doubts dozens of times. Was killing this man truly right? And if so, when? His actions, backed by that pure white soul, were those of a saint incarnate. I saw no harm he brought to the world. Sure, his excessive goodness was frustrating at times, but that wasn't his fault.
I'd considered killing only the rotten elements among his followers, those harboring ill intentions. But time passed, and when the Jenrus Church finally settled in a remote corner of the kingdom and officially declared it their holy site, everything fell apart.
On this continent—spanning both East and West—there was only one religion: the Divinity Church, worshiping the One God Juno. History was littered with upstarts like the Jenrus Church. But they never lasted.
"Purge the heretics!"
The Divinity Church handled them like that.
Three of the five Heresy Inquisitors, usually scattered across the continent, converged here. With them came 300 holy knights, 500 battle priests, and 3,000 church soldiers. If the Jenrus Church was untouchable by the kingdom, this Divinity Church force could topple the kingdom itself.
All three Inquisitors were Master-level knights. The 300 holy knights were all high-ranking. That alone rivaled a nation's military might.
In the name of god, they began massacring the Jenrus faithful. There was some resistance, but it was futile against three Master knights. Over 8,000 of the 10,000 devotees died on the spot. The survivors scattered and barely escaped.
Saint Seiya closed his eyes there too. Even as an Inquisitor's blade severed his neck, he didn't flee— just smiled.
I absorbed Nergal's fragment and Seiya's soul. As before, immense power flooded into me. But this time, I didn't lose consciousness.
Mission complete. Kutula's compass-like power vanished from my view, confirming it.
Truth be told, I rather liked Seiya. That's why I'd just followed without interfering. If nothing had happened, I might've tailed him until he died naturally.
His followers' Jenrus Church, though? Not so much. A new religion might itself be Nergal's baleful influence on this world.
I could've prevented Seiya's death. Hell, if I'd wanted to, I could have. But I didn't.
That didn't mean I wouldn't avenge him.
[These fanatic bastards.]
I didn't like the Jenrus Church, but they were mostly people Seiya had saved from the plague. Of course, far more had died untreated—tens, maybe hundreds of thousands. While Seiya toiled to save even a few more, the idle Divinity Church swooped in for a slaughter.
[Die.]
I unleashed the power. Didn't need much. On the three Inquisitors before Seiya, I used the ability gained from absorbing Nergal's fragment.
"Gasp!"
"Urk!"
"Agh!"
The three Inquisitors groaned almost simultaneously and collapsed. As Master warriors, they wouldn't die easily. But the dozens of diseases I'd inflicted would gnaw at them bit by bit. Whether holy power could cure them? I didn't care to ponder.
I felt drained, shrinking back. The power cost was enormous.
Whether sensing no need to wipe out the Jenrus remnants or concerned for their Inquisitors' health, the Divinity forces withdrew.
After resting a day and recovering some strength, I began scouting the area. There was still work to do.
Finding the fleeing Jenrus remnants was easy. Even after heavy losses, over a thousand remained. I zeroed in on the first coward who'd bolted from yesterday's massacre: the Jenrus archbishop, that ex-high knight.
He'd fled at the first sign of the Divinity assault. Now, he was rallying the surviving faithful for who-knows-what.
[You die too.]
My power descended on him. Not as potent as on the Inquisitors—no plague. Just a rot that would consume his limbs. Nosy meddling, the whim of a mad soul, or petty vengeance—whatever. I'd done what I wanted.
Mission done. Time to head back.
Or so I thought. But on the way, I had to stop.
[What the hell? The apocalypse?]
The sight was that apocalyptic. Tens of thousands—maybe over a hundred thousand—humans were on the move. But soulless. Humans moving without souls. And they weren't human anymore: rotting flesh or bare bones, shambling on.
Undead. Hundreds of thousands of them, crashing like waves, destroying everything.
[Could Nergal's fragments have caused this?]
Undead couldn't harm me, of course. But I couldn't stop them either. A few dozen, maybe. But hundreds of thousands? What I could see suggested even more.
I flew higher, seeking the source of this undead plague.
Undead arise from a few causes, but it boils down to black magic. Could any black mage summon this many? History said no. Even a lich obsessed with undead for centuries might struggle.
I tracked to the horde's heart. The culprit had to be there.
After days scouring the sea of millions of undead, I found it: the strongest specimens ringed a central figure like guards. A black mage perched on a massive cauldron carried by undead.
Not a lich. But from afar, his soul was enormous, gleaming with golden light. Like mine or the Beast King's—imbued with divine power.
Something was embedded in his soul.
[What? Didn't I collect all of Nergal's fragments?]
Then the black mage looked up. Straight at me, watching from the distant sky. His gaze locked on.
This felt familiar.
"You're that soul from back then, aren't you?"
He recognized me. Studying his face, it clicked.
[Viscount Jimnus Kragel?]
The black mage from Benus's capital, caught experimenting on humans, who'd fled from me. Well, I'd fled first back then too.
This time was no different. I bolted with everything I had.
"You won't escape this time."
His words chased me, but I ignored them. I'd grown stronger since then.
Then an immense force yanked me back.
[Aaaargh!]
I strained with all my might, but my body inched backward. Caught by that mage? Unthinkable.
Time for the trump card.
[Teleport!]
I hadn't just learned subspatial magic from Inklonius's grimoire. Teleportation too. Never thought it'd save my skin.
Vision flickered. I chained teleports repeatedly, widening the gap by over a hundred meters in seconds.
My soul force plummeted.
But I escaped Viscount Jimnus Kragel.
[Just you wait, you black mage bastard!]
I yelled a third-rate villain line mid-flight. Folks who say "just you wait" are all bark, but whatever. I'm a soul, not a person.