Chapter 561: A Tale of the Past, Humanity and Sin - 1
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 561: A Tale of the Past, Humanity and Sin - 1
In the distant past. On a day before the dawn of the First Year, when even facts and history had weathered away into nothing.
The world belonged to humanity.
In a world where all manner of beasts ran rampant, tearing each other apart with tooth and claw, humanity used its intellect and numbers to conquer all. The weak died miserably, but the strong survived, growing ever more powerful by devouring the scraps of the dead.
It was an age of burgeoning power, a time of casting spells, forging pacts with spirits, and taming beasts.
And ‘he’ was a god.
He reigned over a dense jungle where venomous snakes bit humans to death, where insects sucked the life from every beast as their sustenance, and where all manner of diseases festered in the damp and filth. It was a land of life and death, teeming and tangled with countless squirming creatures.
Yet even this place, where death was all the more common for its abundance of life, was a land humanity had overcome and conquered.
The chieftain of the most powerful of them, the Anka tribe, was the master of the Bone Altar. A great chief who had colonized ninety-two other tribes of the jungle.
The only human permitted to devour a thousand people a year, Ankra of the Thousand-Man Feast.
Today, as always, he was enjoying a delicacy in his palace.
“Agh, ah, ahhh.”
What must a water buffalo feel as its body is torn apart by a lion? If one were curious, one could surely find out by asking the person whose thigh was currently being ripped from their body by Ankra.
If they could still answer, that is.
Ankra’s delicacy was devouring a person alive and whole. He loved it when they were still living, their heart still beating, so that when he took a bite, hot blood would spurt forth and flood his mouth.
And so, Ankra’s meals always coincided with the death of a life.
“Gurgle, gaaack. Grrk.”
The human being eaten alive finally expired. Whether from shock, blood loss, or simply from having too much of their body devoured, Ankra did not know. But when the vibrant pulse of blood ceased, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and flung the ‘meat’ away.
The limp corpse flew out the window, spraying blood. Its mangled limbs, torn and broken, scattered in every direction. The lump of human flesh tumbled like trash through the air before rolling down the base of the Bone Altar, with meat still clinging to it.
The eyes of the starving masses turned to the ‘meat’. What were mere leftovers for Ankra was precious flesh to someone else. Humans, themselves missing an arm or a leg from being eaten by Ankra, desperately crawled up the bony slope. All to fill their bellies with meat.
The question of whether that meat had once been a person was meaningless. If they failed to digest it, they would suffer the same fate. Like parasites, fearing someone else would steal their prize, they began to tear at the corpse, still dripping with blood, atop the pile of bones.
The Bone Altar, a mountain of countless bones, was formed from the scraps Ankra left behind—a tower of sin built by his unique palate.
Some might look upon the scene with terror, others with disgust.
But to Ankra, human flesh was a staple, and the bones were just a nuisance. He commanded a patchwork soldier standing guard nearby.
“Bring me a fresh one.”
In this wild land, it was easy to lose an arm or a leg to injury, disease, or infection. But Ankra’s trusted retainers were different.
Even if their arms were severed, their legs broken, their bodies half-eaten, as long as they still drew breath, Ankra would take the flesh and bone of his ‘food’ and attach it to them.
This was why the Anka tribe was invincible, indomitable. They reigned as the rulers of this land, exploiting and making enemies of countless tribes. The patchwork soldiers of the Anka tribe were valiant warriors who felt no fear even when their own arms and legs were broken. The soldier presented a cage full of humans before their god.
Ankra pulled a fresh, living human from the cage. The human screamed and thrashed, mad with terror, but fell silent once Ankra tore out their tongue and shattered their bones. Chewing on a severed arm, Ankra fell back into thought.
Ankra, who was an object of fear but had never felt it himself, had been troubled by one thing lately.
“The King of Humans. The King of Humans…”
It was because of a prophet who had brought news of the King of Humans.
‘Ankra. God of the jungle. Most special of all humans. I have seen your future.’
The prophet, who had appeared one day out of nowhere, had whispered as if she had read his mind perfectly.
‘The King of Humans is the king of all. The lamentations of those you have killed and eaten have reached the heavens and seeped into the earth. Now, the King of Humans has heard, and will come for you.’
It wasn't that he felt any guilt for killing people. But the prophet’s words had stuck with him.
As she said, he devoured a thousand people a year. It was a means of spreading his authority and terror throughout the world, a policy to reduce the power of neighboring tribes and maintain a gap in strength, but it came with its own set of troubles. Humans had a tendency to flee and resist in groups.
‘No matter how special you may be, you are still human. To the King of Humans, there is no difference between the thousand who have died and the one that is you.’
Some of his prey, firmly believing the King of Humans would punish him, had cursed him until the very moment they were eaten. They screamed that the King of Humans would come, that their tribe would become the King’s warriors and take his head. They spat blood and shouted that even if he killed them all, their will would remain to ensnare his heart.
Though he had no need to consider the plight of his prey, their hateful glares as he tore away their flesh were so unpleasant they could ruin his appetite.
‘That is because the King of Humans still reigns. If you truly wish to become special, you must challenge the King of Humans.’
And then the ‘prophet’ had come, seeing through him completely and foretelling the future.
‘This time, when the King of Humans crosses the plains. That will be your only chance.’
A prophet who read the heavens and sang of the stars’ movements, who traced the flow of rain and clouds. A mysterious shaman who had accurately predicted the nine nights of torrential rain that would befall the jungle and had diverted the waters.
Having proven herself a prophet before tens of thousands, she had accurately ‘prophesized’ the King of Humans’ procession before departing.
Recalling her departing figure as she left so swiftly he hadn't even a moment to devour her, Ankra sucked the marrow from a bone and spoke.
“Yes. That’s right. What is a Beast King, anyway? I have devoured all who call themselves king. Even if it is a Beast King.”
Ankra clenched his fist. The muscles and bone of the right arm in his grasp were crushed by sheer force. Sucking on the human juices that seeped through his fingers, Ankra stood.
“Now, it is time to hunt. Rise, my soldiers.”
Behind him, a thousand patchwork soldiers rose to their feet. The most powerful, undying legion in the jungle, who would not stay dead, took up their weapons at Ankra’s command.
To devour the being known as the King of Humans.
…It was the most foolish decision of their lives.
Pant, pant, pant.
Ankra ran frantically through the vast jungle. His breath, which had never once grown ragged since he began his reign as the ruler of the jungle, now burned in his throat, choking him.
“Me! For me to be ‘hunted’!”
The thousand patchwork soldiers who had followed him had been turned into literal rags. They were now nothing more than chunks of meat that could not be revived, strung up in every direction. With no time to even feel rage, Ankra had to flee for his life.
There was no need for dignity or pride. His opponent was the King of Humans. The agent of all humankind.
Though Ankra was a cruel ruler, he too was human. Even his cruelty was but a part of her. The wicked power he’d gained from devouring thousands was but one of the hundreds of millions of powers wielded by the King of Humans.
“Prophet…! You deceived me! It was impossible to win from the start!”
Grinding his teeth, Ankra tore through the jungle. With each leap, his body shot forward like a leopard.
Ankra, the king of this jungle who had devoured thousands, could crush trees with his bare hands and leap across valleys in a single bound. Even this vast jungle, with its hundreds of millions of trees, felt small to him.
But Ankra, too, was human.
His strength was, in the end, the strength of a human.
“If I can just hide in the shade of the forest…!”
Just then, his survival instincts screamed violently. Ankra desperately twisted his body. A worn axe grazed past his eyes. A hint of blood appeared on the dull blade. A moment later, the axe flew past him at a dizzying speed.
The trees in the axe’s path split in unison, and the undergrowth was severed. Primeval trees that had survived for over a hundred years were turned to firewood, leaving only their stumps. The furiously spinning handaxe pulverized everything in its trajectory as it fell.
And then came the explosion.
Broken branches were swept up in a storm, and leaves and fruits flew in every direction. The axe blade, embedded in the ground, tore through roots and branches, leaving a great scar upon the earth.
The axe, wreathed in the storm, flew on for some time before converging on a single point. And then the ground shook. A tremendous shockwave washed over the forest, sending Ankra’s body flying.
“Keuk!”
To possess such power without even a direct hit. Gasping at the incredible force, Ankra quickly looked for a place to hide. But all around him, there was not a single shadow; he was completely exposed.
Amid a strange sense of unease, he found himself looking up at the sky.
The sun was shining down on him.
In the jungle, densely covered with trees, sunlight never touched the ground directly. The canopy of trees, grown in competition, and their lush leaves would break and filter the light, casting a gentle glow upon the forest. That was why the forest was bright, yet dark.
That was how it should have been.
The single blow from the King of Humans had turned the jungle into a meadow. It had felled every tree that had reigned as a master of this land and brought light back to the earth.
All from a single throw of a handaxe.
Standing dumbfounded, Ankra shuddered as a fear crept up from his toes. ‘It’ had found the exposed Ankra.
It was a girl wearing a wolf’s pelt over her head. Her large eyes were filled with curiosity for her prey, and her innocent smile held both cruelty and purity. Her tiny body was filled with a savagery of unknown origin, as if it could shatter the very world.
A woodsman and a hunter, a shepherd and a warrior.
She who was all these things was the most skilled of woodsmen, the most tenacious of hunters, the most savage of destroyers, and the most powerful of warriors.
The King of all humankind had come to hunt down and kill Ankra.
“Found you!”
In the sun-drenched clearing, the King of Humans, having spotted Ankra, let out a savage and pure laugh as she cried out.