Let's See If It Can Endure This Too
As Hans stepped into the house, I destroyed his brain this time.
Thud! He collapsed limply once more.
Recovery began immediately. Whether you could even call it recovery was debatable—reconstruction seemed more accurate. Before his brain could rebuild and he stood again, I did something a bit crueler: I sliced his body vertically in half.
Blood and entrails spilled across the floor. The gore on the ground writhed, slithering back into his body.
This wasn't a living creature. It had no soul and transcended the boundaries of life. So what the hell was it?
To delay the reconstruction, I cut it into a few more pieces, then summoned spirits.
[Fire spirits, lend me your aid.]
Flames flickered from all directions as fire spirits gathered. Unlike in elven villages, places inhabited by humans teemed with them.
[Burn it.]
The fire spirits targeted only Hans, igniting him precisely. I could have used magic myself, but this was why I'd called them.
His body didn't burn easily. His blood merely boiled without evaporating. The spirits ramped up their heat.
Hans held out for quite a while. Eventually, though, his flesh began charring bit by bit.
Then the chunks of his burning, severed body fused together abruptly, merging like wet clay.
[Stop.]
On a hunch, I dismissed the spirits and backed away. His body, now balled up like a sphere, squirmed before scattering in an instant.
It wasn't disintegrating—it split into tens of thousands of cockroaches, fleeing in all directions.
I stayed calm and observed. The scattering cockroaches had no souls. No need to panic, then.
I pursued one. They had to regroup somewhere and reform into something.
What intrigued me was whether this was the ancient second cockroach or the third.
The cockroach's journey was long. It hid in the sewers like any ordinary one, blending into a cluster of others. Quite a few soulless cockroaches were already there.
I killed one. No reconstruction in cockroach form—it just became a normal dead roach. A sewer rat devoured the corpse without issue.
Hans's cockroaches gathered in the sewers, occasionally surfacing at night for food. A few died along the way.
Finally, sensing the danger had passed, they mobilized—about three months after Hans became cockroaches.
No rush. I had time, and observing cockroaches left plenty else to do.
Of the cluster, twenty-three survivors remained. They bolted from the sewers in unison.
I'd half-expected this. Months in a roach nest had taught me a thing or two. Cockroaches don't live long. If these matched ordinary ones, they'd have to act before their lifespan ended.
They raced beyond the Capital to a nearby barren hill. Tens of thousands of scattered cockroaches were converging there already.
At the center stood my target: a figure shrouded in a long robe and hood, flanked by escorts.
To me, only the massive soul and golden halo inside the hood mattered. The escorts? Soulless.
Those humans were Hans-types too.
[Can you hear me?]
If it was an ancient survivor like Drakan, it might respond. No answer.
Closer now, I sensed its power. Strong, but not on Drakan's transcendent level.
The incoming cockroaches were sucked into the dangling hood, absorbed. Its soul grew subtly larger.
Up close, the robe hid no human—just a man-sized cockroach draped in cloth, standing upright.
What to do with it? I knew nothing of its ancient deeds. Drakan left no instructions on cockroaches.
The human-disguised Hans hadn't done evil. Same for this core—too little intel.
Decision made. Three months observing roaches had yielded counters for reconstruction freaks like Hans. Time to test one.
I unleashed Nergal's authority as disease upon the absorbing cockroaches.
The world brims with plagues, some fatal to insects. Cockroaches normally resist them—that's why they're everywhere.
But divine authority defies common sense. That's godly power.
The infected roach spread it instantly upon absorption. Symptoms: fever and dehydration.
Harmless? My tests said infected roaches died in thirty minutes.
"Kieek!"
It reeled with a shriek—the effect kicking in. Escorts steadied it, then recoiled.
No words exchanged confirmed their link. It abandoned bipedal stance, propping on six legs, drooling water from mouth and tail.
One escort hoisted it and bolted.
[Seeking treatment?]
Master-level speed. Soulless clones at that caliber? United, they'd form a massive force.
Couldn't let it flee. I infected the escorts too.
Masters should shrug off such ills, but as cockroach aggregates? Vulnerable.
Indeed, it hit them. They didn't last thirty minutes before tumbling together.
But no quick death. Hours later, as it worsened, dozens approached from afar—all soulless minions, some in priestly robes.
Strong holy power might cure it. No allowing that.
I burst the priests' hearts and diced them. The rest—warriors—tried carrying it. Hearts burst, limbs severed, wind spirits scattering the pieces.
Hours on, the core finally died. I absorbed its escaping soul.
Core dead, clones decomposed into cockroaches and dispersed.
Threat ended, but questions lingered. Second or third cockroach? Unknown.
[Should've asked before killing it?]
Too late.
A new authority emerged: as expected, avatars.
Worried about cockroach-style swarms? No—soul-based.
Splitting even a tiny avatar brought profound emptiness.
Millions like roaches? Drakan-level years, probably.
First time seeing my soul directly. The tiny avatar differed from human norms—cuboid, not spherical. Why? No clue.
New issue: controlling it. Not direct command—shared consciousness and actions between egos.
Sudden extra eyes and ears? Disorienting. Two months+ stuck adapting there.
I returned to the Ether Empire; Avatar-1 set off traveling.
Full freedom would take time. Return dragged far longer than usual.
Avatar-1 roamed the ruined northern East Continent. Shared senses over vast distance? Impressive. It absorbed evil spirits, growing stronger.
Back home, I resumed Yuri-fronted lessons on tech and knowledge advances.
She treated me sincerely—palace salary was hefty, pure gravy without me. I wasn't a bother; parading her solidified her position.
[This is one sweet gig, huh?]
"I'll work hard! Let me do it forever!"
She giggled, nodding vigorously at my joke. Her vibe echoed young Isabel's.
As palace duties eased, I spawned Avatar-2. Months to adapt.
Avatar-1 griped about being grounded mid-travel.
Post-adaptation, Avatar-2 headed south-central West Continent—Great Forest and Dragon Mountains.
Post-Drakan, unprecedented monster exodus from the mountains. His mere presence had restrained them.
After slaying the presumed third cockroach, intel reported countless continentals turning roach and vanishing—merchants, Master warriors, archmages, high priests. United, a superpower.
I stayed put, but avatars fed prime intel.
Avatar-2 entered Great Forest, met Amari El—now an elder. Promised elven village supplies next time.
Avatar-3 scouted Ether Empire territory—vasts, most expansive East-West combined. Infertile swaths, but size and pop meant might.
Delayed Avatar-4 for travel.
Not idle: refining Incronius's research and Prisoner Baron's preservation magic.
Still dull. Plus, Yuri was pregnant.
Late for her age; she hadn't noticed till I pointed it out.
Better prenatal rest than palace drudgery "assisting" idle me.
My leaving let her rest. Told her—seemed relieved, almost irking me into staying. Forgave the adult.
Off I went again. No destination. Travels always sparked events; expected same. Fate or whatever.