Chapter 110: A God Created Through Receiving (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 110: A God Created Through Receiving (5)
Alon poured everything he had into a single strike against Receiver Basiliora.
With that, there was nothing more he could do.
He had exhausted every preparation, leaving his pitifully small mana hole completely hollow.
And yet.
[Humaaaaaaan—!!!!]
■■■■■■■■—!!!
Receiver Basiliora was still alive.
“…….”
Basiliora writhed atop the collapsed altar, letting out a grotesque shriek.
Watching him, Alon clicked his tongue inwardly behind a stoic expression.
Of course, he hadn't expected Basiliora to die so easily. The entity possessed the Status of a guardian deity, bolstered by the faith he had received from the Thunder Snake Tribe.
‘If I didn't possess a Divinity of my own, I wouldn't have even dreamed of trying this.’
From the beginning, Alon’s plan rested on a single premise: that he himself possessed ‘Status.’
He had judged that he could inflict meaningful damage on gods—beings whose damage taken is halved when struck by those without Status.
He still didn't know why he possessed Divinity, though.
Regardless, it meant he could deal significant damage to Basiliora. Alon had crafted his plan accordingly, and it had succeeded. Just as intended, Basiliora was suppressed but not dead.
‘The important part starts now.’
Thump—Rumble!
Watching the Receiver writhe frantically before him, Alon carefully pulled a ring from his breast pocket.
It was the red, glowing ring he had received from the Archmage Heinkel.
Sliding it onto his middle finger without hesitation, Alon addressed Basiliora.
“Receiver Basiliora, you have two choices.”
[I’ll kill you—I’ll kill you!!]
Basiliora thrashed wildly, causing debris to rain down around them. Alon continued, unfazed.
“The first is to become my servant. The second is to die here and now. Which will it be?”
It was a calm question.
In response, Basiliora convulsed violently.
[Ha! You think I would ever stoop to being your servant?! You seem emboldened by those protecting you, but I will never be the servant of a mere human!]
“Then the only choice left to you is death.”
[Then kill me! Do you think my honor will vanish just because I was defeated by a mere human? Don't make me laugh!!]
The negotiations broke down instantly, but it didn't matter. In fact, it was going exactly according to plan.
“I’ll tell you something interesting.”
[What?]
“Your opinion doesn't actually matter. Whether you refuse or accept, you will become my subordinate.”
As he spoke, Alon held out the red ring as if he had been waiting for this moment.
“By the Great Covenant of Cargunias—I shall enslave the loser of this duel.”
As the words left his lips, a fierce red light erupted from the ring on Alon’s finger.
[Wha—What is thiiiiis—!!!!]
Receiver Basiliora’s massive body began to be sucked into the ring.
Boom—Craaaack!
As the gargantuan form was slowly pulled in, the altar pinning him down collapsed even further.
Behind his indifferent mask, Alon allowed himself a satisfied smile.
‘I’m glad it went as expected.’
The reason Alon had bothered to offer choices wasn't to give Basiliora an actual say or to negotiate. It was to elicit a ‘declaration of defeat.’
The ‘Ring of Cargunias' Pact’ he had received from Heinkel allowed the wearer to subjugate those defeated in battle and use them as familiars.
‘...Actually, I was supposed to go to the region Heinkel mentioned and capture a dragon hatchling to use as a familiar.’
Since this wasn't a game, Alon had been searching for a suitable familiar to put in the Ring of Cargunias' Pact. Upon hearing that he possessed Divinity, he had ultimately settled on Basiliora.
“Whew.”
In less than a minute, the ring had completely absorbed Basiliora’s massive body.
The ring, which had previously been a plain, glowing red, now bore the engraving of a snake.
Looking at the pattern, Alon let out a tiny, imperceptible smile of satisfaction.
“Phew—”
Releasing all his tension, he let himself fall back.
The sky, which had been filled with nothing but ash, was now teeming with stars.
“A success.”
He celebrated the plan’s completion.
His entire body was more battered than ever before, but the feeling wasn't half bad.
* * *
Three days had passed since he absorbed Receiver Basiliora into the Ring of Cargunias' Pact and made him his familiar.
“I am truly, truly grateful.”
Alon gave a slight shake of his head as he accepted the deep bow of Wise Ashgul, the chieftain of the Thunder Snake Tribe.
“I had my own goals, so there’s no need for such gratitude.”
“No, we cannot allow that. Thanks to you, our Thunder Snake Tribe has been liberated from Basiliora and found our freedom.”
Ashgul’s wrinkled eyes crinkled with genuine joy. After a brief conversation, Alon spoke again.
“I’ll stay for just one more day.”
“Stay as long as you wish. We of the Thunder Snake Tribe will serve you with all our hearts. Do not worry.”
Alon stepped outside.
‘Honestly, I’d like to leave the jungle immediately.’
Having subjugated Basiliora, Alon had no more business here. The reason he was staying an extra day was because of Reinhardt and Deus.
...More specifically, because of Reinhardt.
‘It’s only natural, considering she took Basiliora’s attack head-on.’
Deus seemed to be struggling, but he was still mobile. Reinhardt, however, had been in a complete state of collapse since yesterday.
‘...She said she overused her ability.’
Just as Alon was beginning to worry, a voice from ahead broke his train of thought.
“H-Hello!”
He looked up to see a young girl bowing deeply to him.
“Um, I am—”
The girl tried to introduce herself awkwardly, but Alon recognized her almost immediately.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes...!?”
“You were out in the heavy rain for a long time.”
At Alon’s question, she stammered, unable to find an answer.
“My sister is fine.”
The one who answered was Swift Sirkal, who stepped out from behind the girl, Jenira.
She looked at her younger sister with a smile that would have been unimaginable when they first met, then bowed deeply toward Alon.
“Thank you so much.”
“Didn't you already bow to me yesterday?”
Alon recalled how she had bowed repeatedly on the way back to the tribe.
However.
“Considering what you’ve done for us, I know that bowing a thousand times wouldn't be enough. Truly, thank you.”
She bowed deeply once more. As Alon stood there awkwardly, she continued.
“If you are ever in trouble, please, seek me out. No matter what happens, I will come to your aid.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Ah, and there will be a banquet tonight, so please attend. It is, in essence, a feast in your honor.”
After delivering the message, Swift Sirkal took her still-dazed sister by the hand and departed.
Even from behind, it was clear. The sisters were looking at each other with expressions of pure happiness.
Alon smiled inwardly. He felt a profound sense of accomplishment.
‘...And since I’ve earned the trust of the Thunder Snake chieftain... I might be able to ask for that favor later.’
With those thoughts, Alon returned to his quarters.
The sky, which had been overcast since his arrival, finally allowed the sun to peek through today.
* * *
The experimental subjects created by Duke Comallon were each powerful individuals in their own right.
This was only natural.
The numerous subjects the Duke had created for his research into Abyss Bodies... those things—or rather, those people—were all former powerhouses who had once made a name for themselves in the United Kingdoms, with the exception of Carmine.
Furthermore, only those who had successfully endured the Abyss Body infusion were granted the title of ‘Experimental Subject’ by the Duke.
In other words, as warriors who had fully integrated with the Abyss Body, the subjects were confident in their own strength.
But arrogance was a forbidden luxury.
Upon receiving the order to ‘assassinate Marquis Palatio’ and arriving in the jungle, they had located the Marquis in the Thunder Snake Tribe’s territory, but they did not attack recklessly.
Instead, they hid themselves thoroughly, coldly waiting for the perfect moment.
Waiting for the perfect moment to assassinate Marquis Palatio, as Duke Comallon had commanded.
At least, that was the plan until tonight.
“Gah—!”
Experimental Subject No. 1 spat out blood and stared ahead.
His face was twisted in an expression of utter disbelief.
The sight before him was overwhelming.
The corpses of over fifteen other subjects, just like him, had been brutally torn apart.
‘Wha—What...’
Even as blood poured from his abdomen, Subject No. 1 tried to process the situation.
However, his mind failed to provide any useful information.
No matter how many times he replayed his memories, only two scenes remained.
The first was the head of Subject No. 3, who had been discussing the assassination plan for tonight, suddenly exploding without warning.
The second was the ‘despair’ he was witnessing now—the sight of every single subject dead.
As he sat there coughing up blood, he saw a girl walking calmly through the sea of blood.
A long horn protruded from her forehead, and a confident smirk played on her lips.
...The girl, having finished off all the subjects, glanced at the dazed man as if he were a curiosity, then kicked him square in the face with total indifference.
Splatter! With a sudden fountain of blood, his head was crushed and sent flying.
The girl turned and began to walk away, as if her work here was done.
A man appeared at her side.
“Boss, why did you bother stepping in personally? The underlings could have easily slaughtered them all.”
The man, who had blue skin like the moon and stood twice as tall as the girl, asked his question. The black-haired girl replied curtly as she walked.
“Just because.”
“...Just because?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm—”
The blue-skinned man turned his gaze toward the Thunder Snake Tribe.
More specifically, he stared intently at the man sitting among the tribesmen enjoying the banquet.
“Boss.”
“What.”
“Can I ask you one thing?”
“Go ahead.”
“...Just what is that human, that you would go so far as to get your own hands dirty for him?”
When he asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
The girl hummed as she thought. It was as if she were choosing her words carefully.
After a moment, she let out an exclamation, her expression relaxed despite the thick blood staining her hands and feet.
“Ah.”
She spoke, her voice trailing off slightly.
“That’s it. That.”
“That...?”
“Yeah, that.”
“...What is it?”
“Legitimacy.”
“...Pardon?”
And she—no, the King of the Hundred Ghosts—smiled broadly.
“He is my one and only ‘Legitimacy.’”
With those words, her sinister purple eyes glowed faintly.
As if she found the whole situation delightful.