Chapter 224
Chapter 224
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: God of the Other World (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Yuri stood there for a while, arms spread wide, lost in the intoxicating thrill of becoming a living legend. In the meantime, his companions finished off the orcs.
"The Black Devil and his minions..."
This scene might one day be recorded in the orcs' history books.
Yuri picked up Guilty.
He felt no remorse for slaughtering the orcs who had come to worship him. As he had said, he wasn't a god—he was a devil. And those who worshipped a devil were villains just like him.
"If I spare one, ten people will die later."
If he stayed his blade out of personal sentiment, he'd bear responsibility for the future sacrifices.
Yuri raised Guilty once more.
Worshipped as a devil, it was time to act the part.
His sword sliced through the orcs' necks in perfect unison. The heads of those who had abandoned resistance flew into the sky, spinning as they arced, gazing down at Yuri from the peak of their trajectories.
The expressions on the orcs' faces—now visible as they bowed low—were all serene.
It was eerie.
Standing amid this bizarre scene, Yuri felt a strange disconnect, like some murderer harvesting heads.
It didn't feel real.
Yet his hands dutifully carried out the massacre.
This warped sensation might be the reality of the battles he had ahead.
His enemies weren't knights from other nations or soldiers following a king's orders. They were monsters that roamed the world, creating hellish realms feared by all.
The demon's grimoire.
This scene might even be something it had orchestrated.
As proof, the entity summoned from another world had been perched atop the orcs' altar.
As Yuri severed another orc's head, he looked up.
Blood sprayed in a mist. And through it, something flickered briefly.
Yuri smirked.
His eyes hadn't deceived him. Beyond, that being was staring right at him.
The unidentified tentacle monster that Sibyl had tried to create, the one these orcs worshipped.
It was watching Yuri.
An existence forbidden in this world.
But Yuri felt no fear. The moment their eyes met, an incomprehensible, profane language flowed from it—but Yuri didn't waver.
Because...
"I'm a devil too..."
He was no different from that monster—a black devil.
Yuri laughed as he hacked wildly at the orcs' necks. The tentacle monster watching him blurred, then vanished.
"Running away?"
Yuri muttered as he struck down another orc. This time, there was a reaction.
One orc that had been prostrated rose, blocking Yuri's sword with its weapon.
That sparked the rest. One by one, the orcs who had awaited death passively began to rise. They no longer accepted their end in silence.
The fight erupted.
Yuri felt a twinge of regret. Jared rushed over.
"Your Highness, these guys are suddenly getting up!"
"The trick didn't work."
"Pardon?"
"Since the mind games failed, they're thrashing around in desperation!"
Jared looked confused, but Yuri shrugged.
Too busy to explain now.
"I'll tell you later—just kill them all!"
"There are too many!"
"Then kill a lot!"
The otherworldly monster the orcs had revered as a god had tried something on Yuri.
Probably a mental assault.
The orcs worshipping that grotesque thing suddenly bow their heads. You cut them down like machines, but their dying faces are utterly serene.
The weirdness shakes a person's mind.
The moment you lose touch with reality and doubt yourself, the tentacle monster's illusion appears amid the spraying blood, chanting incomprehensible spells to ensnare your soul.
Any ordinary human might have snapped mentally.
But Yuri wasn't consumed by madness.
"Pathetic... you tentacle freak."
Yuri could vaguely guess what lay ahead—the beings that would try to block him.
Infusing humans with unbearable madness to drive them insane, then devouring their minds for sustenance.
An ugly tentacle monster.
He'd probably have to deal with it before destroying the demon's grimoire.
Yuri vented his frustration on the orc blocking his path.
"Hey, orc. Move!"
"Akuaktar!"
"Yeah, that's me."
The orc babbled something incomprehensible. Yuri suddenly missed Cory.
Wonder how that guy's doing.
Probably getting drilled by Cruar.
"Hey, you orc bastard. Between that tentacle monster and this Black Devil here, who do you believe? Pick one."
"Ummetun Akmetun!"
"You heretic scum!"
"Akuaktar!"
"Too late!"
Becoming the Black Devil who punished unbelievers, Yuri massacred the orcs.
Vortices swirled endlessly atop Guilty, shredding their flesh.
The repeated slaughter pooled blood on the ground like puddles, and chunks of meat clung to his body, reeking.
And it wasn't just Yuri.
"..."
The Balshard knights, who had been killing orcs, stared at Yuri in a daze where their paths crossed.
Their bodies were drenched in blood like his, meat stuck to their blades.
Yuri approached them.
"Hey."
"Uh..."
Their eyes were vacant.
Yuri slapped the cheek of the knight in front.
"Snap out of it."
"Uh-uh..."
"Tired from killing a bunch of orcs?"
"No, sir."
"Think of each orc as ten people."
Yuri grabbed his nape and pulled his face close.
"If you hesitate over the slaughter and let one go, ten humans die because of it. And they don't die easy. Do you know what happens to human captives?"
"..."
"You're a knight."
Yuri thumped his chest.
"A knight has a knight's duty. Bear the weight of blood. Fulfill your obligation."
Resolve returned to his hazy eyes. He nodded, meeting Yuri's gaze.
"Understood."
"Good."
The Balshard knights moved again.
The orcs' renewed resistance slowed things, but Yuri had already eliminated the tough ones, so no major issues.
In the end, the entire encampment was wiped out.
The enclosure filled with orc corpses.
"Hoo..."
Yuri wiped his sweat. So many—it was work just killing them.
At Yuri's command, the knights methodically set fire. Soon the camp blazed, orc bodies burning away.
"One more down."
"Good work."
"Rewarding labor."
"Isn't it."
Hands on hips, watching the blaze, Yuri spotted something on the ground and bent down.
Jared tilted his head at what he picked up.
"That's the..."
"Tentacle monster."
A statue of the thing the orcs worshipped.
Well-crafted for orcs—small, but its grotesque form vividly detailed.
Yuri tossed the statue into the air.
"Nicely made. Never even seen the real thing."
"Does this mean the orcs are still under the demon grimoire's influence?"
"Maybe."
Yuri gripped the statue.
"Orcs were born from black magic to begin with, so maybe this monster lingers in their subconscious. Either way, feels like we'll run into the ugly bastard someday. Right?"
"Yeah."
"Don't run scared then."
"Not scared—grossed out."
"Gotta fight even if it's gross."
"Ugh..."
Jared shuddered, and Yuri chuckled, tossing the statue into the flames.
It burned away in seconds.
"Gross, sure, but I'd like to see whose kid it is up close. Think it'd whine if I slashed it?"
While Yuri's group exterminated the remaining orc bands on the plains, various events unfolded across the continent.
Luther, now king of the Holy Kingdom, forged a truce with the king of Burthen and met him personally, sharing drinks to restore their alliance.
Liberta, having driven out Donchichi, strengthened its knights under Moyong Chan's tutelage.
Brioll's king Joshua, leveraging the strong royal authority built by his predecessors, pushed bold reforms. He repaired roads, bolstered commerce, and introduced systematic training for soldiers.
In contrast, the Empire showed no movement.
After striking Yoheim and marching on Brioll, it had seemed poised to conquer the continent—yet now it did nothing, catching its breath.
"Hmm..."
Reading the compiled newspaper, Cory tilted his head.
He turned to Rolang sitting across from him.
"What do you think, Rolang?"
"..."
The masked swordsman Cory had sensed familiarity with before was indeed Rolang, as expected. His face was horribly disfigured from whatever had happened, but it was Rolang Flandre.
Rolang spoke.
"Shut up. You're annoying."
"Yes, sir..."
Cory recalled the past.
When he was with the circus troupe, they offended a noble. The noble offered to spare them if they dodged Rolang's sword.
A mere circus had no right to refuse.
Cory was among those who had to dodge. Rolang swung at him, and Cory reflexively evaded. Even he could hardly believe he'd dodged Rolang's strike.
In the chaos, the troupe members fled.
Pandemonium everywhere—Cory slipped away in the confusion.
Rolang pursued.
But Rolang was different now. No longer kind, he was cold, even mocking Cory.
When Cory desperately tried to persuade him, Rolang swung instead.
Cory fled to survive.
Then it happened.
Other knights chasing the circus turned on Rolang, hating his looks—a very knightly reason.
Rolang became a fugitive too.
Cory started following him.
Rolang wasn't friendly. Whatever happened, he was a completely different person.
"Prince Yuri's a king now, they say. Should call him Your Majesty..."
Especially when Yuri came up, he bristled.
"Keep talking, and you die."
"Yes, sir..."
He used to trail Yuri swearing loyalty—now the name sparked rage.
Cory blew his nose, pretending to reread the paper.
"Cold..."
He reminisced about old times. Traveling together. Tough spots, but bearable with comrades.
Cory glanced at Rolang.
"..."
They camped outside a village, fleeing. Crackling campfire from gathered branches.
Flames cast shifting shadows on Rolang's face.
Once refined and noble—now worse than half-orc Cory's, hard to look at long. He'd asked what happened, but no answer.
Cory lowered his eyes.
"Where to now?"
"Quiet."
"Any destination?"
Rolang didn't reply.
Cory pondered his coldness, then looked up. Rolang's ruined face burned into his mind.
Cory examined his heart.
And realized.
Gazing at Rolang's marred face, he felt deep relief.