Chapter 165
Chapter 165
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 164
Chapter Title: President
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A natural disaster.
The current Dayus Verdi was truly worthy of being called one—no different from a heavenly calamity.
The only difference was that he was clearly and unmistakably striking at the enemy.
Through Horua's flames, he guided the souls so they wouldn't attack innocent civilians.
Of course, this was just the bare minimum precaution, and most of the ghosts were surging toward the Republic's soldiers—the ones responsible for turning them into this state.
"Extermination Squad, form up and push forward!"
"The opponents are mages! Get close, and it's over!"
"Sniper teams, to your positions! Fire on my signal!"
Research Director Baxter let out a hollow laugh as he watched the soldiers move with perfect discipline.
Camp 1 had already vanished from the maps, and Dayus Verdi's footsteps were marching straight toward the heart of the Republic.
Camps 2 and 3, along with an entire brigade, had been wiped out in a matter of hours.
"Truly ridiculous."
Baxter had no intention of doing anything himself. He simply shared his field of vision with the other members of Dante.
Some of the more belligerent Dante members had egged him on to fight, but he remained unmoved.
Wasn't it truly laughable?
"How could a human possibly stop a disaster?"
Baxter shook his head with a chuckle, feeling the scorching heat of the inferno rising from beyond the horizon, and he clicked his tongue in amazement.
"How can he wield Horua's power to such an extent?"
It went beyond mere surprise.
It was awe-inspiring.
Of course, compared to the firepower of Horua in his days as the guardian deity of Marias Great Forest, it was less than half, but the fact that Horua—now a soul—was being handled so masterfully by a human...
- It's because even Horua is ultimately just one soul.
Baxter had no choice but to agree with the heavy voice echoing in his mind.
"You're right. Absolutely right. Is it because you're a necromancer too?"
- …….
The man referred to as a necromancer didn't respond. This only piqued Baxter's curiosity further.
"What do you think? You, who formed an organization called Dante to save the world?"
- I can't deny it's an enviable talent.
"Hmm? But you're not admitting defeat."
- He's not worthy of being called a necromancer, so of course not.
A firm declaration.
Even while witnessing this scene, there wasn't the slightest tremor in the voice—it didn't seem like he was even considering it.
At those words, Baxter probed lightly.
"True. To Heralhazard, who orchestrated a massacre, this must seem like mere child's play."
A brief silence fell.
The man changed the subject naturally, without betraying any emotion.
- That Black Necromancer woman would have been far more troublesome to deal with.
"Heh heh, isn't her guidance a bit too lukewarm for someone who taught from the shadows?"
- …….
No answer, but it was as good as agreement. Baxter stroked his chin regretfully.
"Because of Horua, my matchup is terrible. Guess I'll just watch. Tell them to keep a close eye on how far Dayus Verdi goes."
With that, the connection cut off, but he knew they were still watching through his eyes.
Rising like the sun, the blaze surged alongside a vortex of raging souls.
Even from this distant spot, the vicious, blade-like winds could be felt.
It wasn't Dayus Verdi using the souls to create the vortex.
The souls were gathering on their own, forming a single disaster as they advanced to bring the Republic to ruin.
"How did he acquire such talent?"
The situation was so absurd it bordered on the ridiculous. Heralhazard had said he could kill Dayus Verdi, but...
He hadn't said he could recreate this spectacle.
Even with the same ingredients, a different chef produces a different dish.
This was a landscape that Heralhazard's necromancy could never produce.
Gazing at the vortex of the dead, Baxter suddenly recalled Princess Elenoa Luden Griffin's warning.
"The weight of death," she had said.
The spire of deaths the Republic had piled up was now crashing down. Indeed, it was undeniable that more blood had been spilled on Republic soil than it could bear.
"But what can be done? This place harbors a monster that feeds on blood."
If that was truly the weight of death come to judge the Republic...
"It's still far from enough."
Heh heh!
Baxter turned away, leaning on his staff. The soldiers around him were pleading for his help.
"Too late already."
Souls lunged at Baxter, engulfing and exploding on him.
And that wasn't all.
The Extermination Squad members preparing to charge Dayus Verdi felt something wriggling inside their Unbreakable Armors.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions erupted simultaneously from within the armors. The armors themselves remained intact, but the squad members inside were charred black, rolling on the ground.
"It's because they're spirits."
Baxter, who had reappeared unscathed, clicked his tongue.
"Pardon?"
Oskov, who had lost his armor but was still acting as commander, received a mocking laugh from Baxter in response.
"No matter how invincible the Unbreakable Armor is, it can't be flawless. The spirits slip through the gaps and convert into magic from inside."
"B-But Dayus Verdi is still far off over there...."
And that was perfectly true.
The massive vortex was still small enough to be obscured by a single thumb.
Yet it wielded this much power from there?
"Well, what can you do? This is reality."
Oskov paled as he watched Baxter shrug.
In that case...
What would happen when that vortex drew closer?
Dread welled up within him.
Reports came in that the snipers had been taken out—blown apart by the spirits' magic from well beyond sniper range.
[Reeeepuuuublic!]
[Hell! This place is hellllll!]
[President! That hated naaaame!]
[What did we do wroooong!]
[I'm not a traitor! I said I'm not a traitor!]
The screams of spirits rampaging through the military ranks echoed. Unlike the Griffin Kingdom, the Clock Republic was naturally prepared against black magic.
They had erected massive barriers to block black magic entirely or conjured white flames to keep spirits at bay.
They had tried every measure.
"Ah...."
But all of it was futile.
The weight of death the Republic bore was truly immense.
It was impossible to handle the sheer volume of souls pouring in.
"Is this... the end of the castle we built?"
Oskov sought an answer in a hollow voice. Baxter, who had been watching him intently, burst into roaring laughter.
"Hah hah hah heh! You're trying to make me die laughing! Heh heh!"
Laughing louder than at any point today, Baxter pounded the ground with his staff even as he cackled.
The bugs around him hopped in response to his laughter.
"Who? Us? Are you saying you or I had a hand in building this Republic?"
"Th-That's..."
Of course not.
Oskov was a soldier.
One of only three superhumans in the entire Republic, no less.
And wasn't Baxter one of the primary architects who turned the Republic into a technological powerhouse?
The Unbreakable Armors worn by the Extermination Squad were a prime example—his masterpiece.
But Baxter wiped tears from his eyes and sneered.
"This Republic was built by one person from the start. What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Pardon?"
"Or rather, one non-person?"
The moment Baxter shrugged...
Vrooooom!
A harsh roar spread out.
Far beyond any Griffin Kingdom carriage in speed. With a mana engine mounted inside, the single vehicle shot forward like a bullet, and all the soldiers immediately halted their tasks, standing ramrod straight to salute.
Baxter, slightly hunched, merely raised a hand but sensed the presence behind the black-tinted windows watching him.
"Heh heh! You've arrived."
The Republic's sole black vehicle—a pinnacle of Republic technology, impervious to bullets or magic, boasting speeds several times that of ordinary carriages.
The one heading toward the vortex in such a precious machine could only be one.
"The master of the Republic has come!"
The lord of this land advanced fearlessly toward the oncoming disaster.
* * *
It was killing intent pressing down on my skin.
But crucially, it wasn't focused solely on me.
It was more accurate to say I had coincidentally brushed against the killing intent being emanated.
It simply existed there.
Vrooom.
Beyond the vortex, a faint white light approached.
Then, a bizarre phenomenon began to unfold.
The souls, swirling and spewing their grudges, started fleeing in terror from it.
I had long since recognized the prickling sensation enveloping my skin as fear.
My trembling hands.
But I realized it wasn't my body shaking—it was the Remegaton I held.
It repelled the vortex itself, and even Horua's blaze couldn't block it.
By the time it reached me...
It resembled a sedan from Earth.
A round, black body.
Eight wheels.
Much larger, but the overall form evoked a luxury sedan.
Because of that, a slight disturbance had already stirred in my mind.
Click.
The door opened, and a man emerged from the back seat.
A balloon-like round belly and broad build.
Even without lowering his head, layers of chins stacked up, with a shaved pate.
No matter how kindly I put it, he looked like someone who'd never ridden in anything fancy his whole life.
But in stark contrast...
A nauseating aura that made me want to vomit. Something inhuman dwelled within the man.
And with that realization, the answer finally clicked.
"Ha."
It was so absurd that a hollow laugh escaped me.
The Clock Republic rarely appeared even in the game.
Thus, information on the President was extremely scarce—practically nonexistent.
"I am President Magan of the Republic. Necromancer Dayus Verdi."
In contrast to his outward appearance, his eyes gleamed with sharp intellect and wisdom.
But that didn't mean it was benevolent.
It was profoundly evil.
Just meeting his gaze sent chills, as if my heart were corrupting.
"Impressive."
That only solidified my certainty.
"To think the President himself is an archdemon."
Even as I struck at the heart of the matter, Magan's expression didn't change in the slightest.
As if it were of no consequence.
"Shall we call it here? You've smashed three of our five camps and crushed a brigade. For raiding a county, that's quite the haul."
He showed no intent to negotiate, yet brought it up anyway.
I responded probing lightly.
"I'm simply releasing the grudges of the dead."
His reaction was violently dismissive.
"You're not leading them? It's just an automatic ritual? Then these—all of them—I can just eat without issue?"
Snap.
Magan pointed a pudgy finger at the vortex. The souls fled in perfect unison, even terrified of being pointed at.
The vortex was gradually losing its form, and Horua's blaze inflicted no damage on him whatsoever.
"If they come to my table in such a luscious state, it'll be troublesome. I might eat them without thinking."
"...."
Table.
The man—no, the archdemon—referred to the Republic itself as a mere table.
"The guardian deity of Marias Great Forest, two black mages from Dante, a great warrior... and."
Gulp.
How could the sound of swallowing saliva be so spine-chilling?
In an instant, I felt the illusion of his massive maw and teeth tearing into my nape.
"The saintess of starlight and the Archdemon of Mutation. Ah, so delectable. Truly delicious."
"...."
Unable to hold back his drool any longer, Magan's upper body leaned forward.
In this hair-trigger moment where any lapse in tension could prove fatal, the driver's door of the sedan opened.
It was a woman.
With emerald hair and a gaunt frame, she carried a long case—as if it held a sword—and presented it to Magan.
"Ah, right. I must hold back. Not ripe yet."
The glance she shot me brimmed with anticipation. Magan swallowed his saliva, broke the seal on the case, and plunged his hand inside.
What would emerge?
The scene that unfolded was shockingly absurd, making such worries seem foolish.
It was an 'arm.'
Slender and pure white.
An exquisitely beautiful left arm.
Magan began licking it all over, like a child with a candy.
As if it were utterly delicious.
As if it were the most tantalizing thing imaginable.
And at the same time...
A sharp pang twisted in my chest.
A scream-like wail erupted from within, violently overtaking my entire body.
"Ah."
Now I realized.
Whose arm that was.
The one whose eyes had been gouged out.
Whose legs had rotted to ruin.
Whose left hand had been severed.
"Stella."
The name slipped out unbidden, and Magan's lips split into a long grin.
"Even the hand of the woman chosen by the gods is exceptionally special."
No sigh would come amid the absurdity.
Emotions that had chilled in inexplicable terror heated up in an instant.
"Fine."
The Remegaton and Horua in my hands thrummed in unison. Power surged through my body unthinkingly, all my mana pouring out like vomit.
Reacting to me, the nearby wraiths spewed hatred once more, reforming the vortex.
"I'll tear you apart."
Negotiations had broken down.