Divine Punishment
The Caelon Empire. Above all, the Ruasta Church nested within it deserved divine punishment. One look at Plimia standing before me, and at the saintesses being sold like merchandise in the buildings next door, left no room for argument. But the one who had been ground down and discarded by this world wasn't me — it was holly trust. Plimia.
"Plimia. What do you want?"
"I want to tear the Ruasta Church's corruption out by the roots, and stop the wars the Caelon Empire is waging."
Her wish was clear. Even now, she wanted peace. But as everyone knows, peace is not something born of dialogue or harmony.
"Plimia. I can do both of those things for you. But I'll say this plainly. A great many people are going to die. More people than you can even imagine."
"..."
She gave no answer, but the resolve in her eyes was unmistakable. To drive that conviction home, I pointed at Elcardo's corpse lying beside me.
"You don't need to feel guilty. If I had tried to persuade this bastard with peaceful conversation, do you think he would have helped free the saintesses in the market? There are people who never change until the moment they die. People who only surrender what they have when death takes it from them. Unfortunately, the ones who hold power almost always fall into that category. What we are about to do is put everything back the way it should be."
They were short words, but for Plimia they would have struck harder than anything else I could have said.
"Just say the word — ask me for help — and I'll take care of everything. I'm no damned god, so I can't work miracles. But I do have the power to drag peace back by force."
Plimia bowed her head toward the ground. Her devout posture was so beautiful it nearly drew a sigh from me.
"Please help us. Give freedom to the saintesses oppressed by the church. Give peace back to the people of other nations who suffer under the Caelon Empire's invasions. Even if countless lives are lost in the process — if that is the only way to break this hellish cycle, then please. Do it."
The girl's prayer moved me, and I set to work at once. I opened the door and stepped outside.
Choi Yebin immediately moved forward to prepare for combat, but I waved her back behind me.
"There's no need for you to step in here."
I stretched a hand toward the sky, and power began to pour out of Elcardo's corpse. His blood gathered, and in an instant a crimson mass rose into the air.
"What the hell are you doing?! Stop right now! Magic is forbidden in this zone!"
One of the men stationed near the saintess market as security shouted at the sight of me. At his cry, figures who looked like knights drew their swords and charged. But blood-forged needles burst from the red sphere and shot straight for them.
"Guh—!"
One of the charging men collapsed. His blood never even reached the ground — it was pulled straight into the sphere. His body, drained dry, crumpled to the dirt. The scarlet orb grew a little larger.
"A mage—! It's a mage! Everyone, rush him at once!"
Knights scattered around the area came at me from every direction at once. Apparently they believed that if even one blind swing connected, they still had a chance.
A foolish thought. The only way any of them could have lived was by abandoning their comrades and running.
"Kill them."
At that short command, grotesque creatures of blood screamed as they burst from the red sphere. Nearly ten of them, wolf-like things, slammed into the men and tore into them without mercy.
With every death, the blood they spilled flowed into the sphere, building a larger, more beautiful circle.
Before long, the battlefield fell silent.
Not a single living soul remained on his feet. Every corpse lay withered and dry upon the ground. I left the vivid red sphere floating in the air and began to walk.
Creeeak.
The saintesses locked in the market. I opened the doors of their rooms one by one. By my standards the locks were crude; I smashed every one I saw and went inside.
"Come out."
House after house, I met the eyes of girls drowned in despair. They watched me with wary fear. I paid it no mind and brought every saintess outside.
There were about fifty of them. The girls were already terrified, tears running down their faces. It was an easy misunderstanding. Corpses lay everywhere, and the man who looked responsible for them had just called them out — of course they thought they were next to die.
I cleared that up at once.
"Leave."
The girls froze where they stood, as if they hadn't properly heard me.
"I killed everyone who was watching you. So leave this place. You're free."
Only then did the saintesses fall to their knees as one, weeping, and pray. Some cried out as if their prayers had finally been answered; others revered me.
In a matter of moments I had killed some twenty people — and because of it, countless others had regained their freedom. Ironically, someone's death was the key that returned the freedom another soul had so desperately longed for.
After a long while of thanking me, the girls departed. A few said that even if they ran they might still be caught by the church, and asked to follow me. I refused. There was no need.
"The church will fall. So don't worry — go find a way to live. I promise you. They will never come after you."
Only then did the saintesses leave, each seeking her own path to survival. What remained were dozens of open, empty houses and the knights' corpses sprawled across the ground. For a moment I stared blankly at the blood-red sphere I had made.
It hung there like a living organism, hungrier still for the blood of the dead.
More death...
Give me the eternal suffering of the living...
A hallucination whispering in my ear. One of the side effects of massacre magic.
This much was fine.
"Are you... really a god...?"
Plimia stared at me, dazed. She had just watched the hell that seemed destined to bind her forever shatter in a single moment. Of course she would look at me that way. I answered her briefly.
"I'm no god. It's just that every magic I possess is specialized in killing people."
Ignoring the voice, I walked forward and spoke to Plimia.
"Plimia. Take me to the battlefield where the fighting is fiercest."
"Not to the church or the imperial palace? To a battlefield?"
"For now, the meaningless fighting has to stop first."
Plimia nodded and led the way, taking me with her.
The imperial palace of the Caelon Empire.
A man sat in a chair there. Expensive liquors lay scattered around him at a glance, and lovely young women twisted their bodies beside him, casting coquettish looks his way.
Someone approached that man and spoke.
"Your Majesty. I have something to report."
The emperor of the Caelon Empire answered with the exaggerated reaction of a man thoroughly drunk.
"Oh, well if it isn't Priest Ryanson! As you can see, I'm making very satisfactory use of that saintess you sent me."
Then the emperor leaned in as if to whisper in the man's ear.
"By the way — if you've got any other saintesses, why not send a few more my way? I'm getting bored of the ones I've got. Preferably ones with excellent holy power. Those ones tend to have better stamina, you know. Hahahaha!"
Even as the emperor laughed loud enough to split eardrums, Priest Ryanson could not manage a smile. He glanced cautiously at the saintesses nearby, then spoke to the emperor in a low voice.
"Your Majesty. The saintesses confined in the market have escaped."
"What do you mean?"
"The forces stationed around the area were wiped out by someone. Judging by the traces, we estimate dozens of mages were involved in the attack. It appears to be the work of an enemy nation."
"Hmm..."
The emperor of the Caelon Empire rested his chin in his hand as if considering the matter, then clapped the priest on the shoulder and laughed heartily.
"If an enemy nation has kindly disposed of all our defective goods for us, isn't that something to be grateful for?"
He laughed again and drained his cup.
"A shame we couldn't sell the defective stock, but that much can't be helped. We'd already sold off every piece with any real market value. What was left were girls with defects so obvious no one would buy them for months. And the knights guarding the place were nothing special either, so don't give it another thought. I won't hold you responsible. If you have the leisure to waste time fretting over something that worthless and reporting it to me, go secure more saintesses and resupply me."
An emperor of absolute power. Even as he waged wars of plunder in the empire's name, he himself drank himself senseless with saintesses at his side like lovers, reveling in wine and song. The saintesses who should have been healing people on the battlefield poured his drinks and sang for him.
The emperor of the Caelon Empire. He had nothing to fear, and nothing that frightened him.
It was that evening when the emperor finally received tragic news from the battlefield, delivered by his knight commander.
"Your Majesty... something... terrible has... On the battlefield... a mon...ster..."
The knight commander of the Caelon Empire never finished delivering the report. He died choking on his own blood.