Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Exiled Soul Shamans
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Soul shamans are rarer than mages but less rare than saintesses.
Long ago in ancient times, priests who claimed they could communicate with the gods held a monopoly on all power.
But when the empire and the emperor emerged, their power was divided.
The priests installed a pope and saintesses to protect themselves.
Their strategy succeeded, but they had to make sacrifices in return.
In systematically reestablishing the doctrines and scriptures of the faith, they had to exclude elements that would be hard for the empire's people to accept.
The imperial citizens, worn down by the rise of demon kings and the burdens of life, found the idea of paradise a sweet temptation.
Believe in God, and after death, everyone goes to heaven.
That drug-like doctrine drew the imperial citizens in.
The people's support empowered the pope and granted him the authority to challenge the emperor.
In other words, everyone had to go to heaven upon death.
There could be no souls wandering the world without passing on.
To that end, the pope of the time hid away all references to souls found in the original doctrines and scriptures, burying them in darkness.
Of course, they say he couldn't dare delete the scriptures, which were considered the words of God himself.
He simply sealed them away as forbidden texts, never to be shared with the public.
"That's how the soul shamans were driven out by the Papal Court. Some took payouts and vanished, others were executed. It took nearly a century of purges before finding soul shamans in the open became next to impossible."
The saintess, who turned exceptionally cynical whenever the pope was the topic, continued with a cold expression.
"Of course, the survivors... well, the ones who made it settled in remote areas where central power has less reach. You could call it folk religion."
"The pope didn't touch them there?"
"They're not a threat anymore, and he's too busy clashing with the emperor these days."
"..."
"Plus, with the demon kings around, they've grown more lenient toward soul shamans."
The demon kings were playing an unexpectedly positive role in one regard.
Excluding traitors who collaborated with them, they had united all of humanity.
Discrimination and contempt hadn't vanished, of course, but at least people stopped openly antagonizing or pointing fingers at each other.
That didn't mean anyone planned to stop hunting demon kings, though.
Rennel spoke up.
"Especially here, where the pope's gaze hasn't reached for 300 years. Even if soul shamans took over again, it wouldn't be strange."
"Hm."
"I've read about soul shamans in ancient texts too. They don't use mana like mages; they manipulate or communicate with souls directly."
"They can do even more than that."
Artisha's exploits before my regression had been far beyond that level.
This time, Chris opened his mouth.
"But why's that old guy acting like that?"
It was an out-of-place comment.
Chris was pointing behind us.
Turning around, I saw the kindly innkeeper from before—the one who'd given us plenty of change—standing there in a crooked posture.
His facial muscles were twisted, and only the whites of his eyes were visible.
He let out gurgling noises, then suddenly bent backward at a 90-degree angle.
Crack.
A pose that would kill anyone.
In that grotesque stance, he shuffled backward toward us.
"Eek."
"D-Demon beast?"
"Calm down. He's human."
"No way. That's a shrimp, not a human."
"Probably the Immortal Demon King's doing."
The Immortal Demon King's authority controlled human bodies.
At my words, everyone snapped to attention.
We jumped up from our seats, drew our weapons, and assumed combat stances.
Rennel said cautiously,
"Lady Arwen. Can't you use your blessing to dispel the authority on him? It's... really hard to watch."
"I could, but if I do it now, he'll drop dead right away."
By then, the innkeeper had reached us and spoke.
"Is this how it works?"
"..."
"Can you hear my voice?"
Foam bubbled from his mouth as he spoke in a grating metallic tone.
I didn't hide my disgust in my reply.
"What do you want?"
"You can hear me."
"If you had a message, you could've sent a letter or shown up yourself. Why resort to something so undignified?"
"It wasn't intentional. Sorry if it bothered you. It's been ages since I tried fine control like this; I couldn't gauge the force properly."
"..."
"You were just talking with Artisha, weren't you?"
It was a question he already knew the answer to.
I nodded silently.
The Immortal Demon King continued.
"You seemed to be spouting nonsense..."
"About the recruitment offer?"
"I know you're all quite strong. Especially that saintess there—she might even block my authority."
"..."
"But I can't allow you to take Artisha. Get up and leave my territory now. Do that, and I'll let you go quietly without harm."
For a demon king, his tone was remarkably polite.
Rennel must have thought the same.
"That's awfully polite for a demon king."
"No need to be rude."
"That was muttering. Don't reply."
"..."
Good growth, Rennel.
It felt like just yesterday she was acting like it was the end of the world at the thought of facing a mere lesser demon king.
Chris asked,
"Do you know him?"
"How could I not know the only being in my territory who roams freely?"
"Why'd you leave just that old guy alone? Why's only she fine?"
"No need to answer that."
I cut into their conversation.
"Then we have no need to listen to you either."
"..."
"We refuse. We'll stay here until we take Artisha with us. I don't know your reasons, but you seem to treat her special. I'm the type who actively does what demon kings hate."
"Aren't you over-relying on that saintess's blessings?"
"Borrowing her words, she's a once-in-history saintess. She can grant infinite blessings once a day. Your authority will never work on us."
"No, that's not what I mean..."
The demon king continued leisurely.
"Blessings disappear when the saintess dies."
That was when it happened.
Suddenly, the innkeeper leaped into the air.
Maybe because of Rennel's comment, it looked just like a shrimp flopping its last gasp out of water.
"Gasp."
"Dodge!"
"No..."
The innkeeper's speed was astonishing.
None of us could react in time—not even Rennel or Arwen, let alone Chris, who'd shown overwhelming growth in agility lately.
Clang.
But I could.
By the time the others blinked, I'd parried his kitchen knife with my sword.
"D-Dai-il."
"Fall back. Everyone behind me."
How could a mere innkeeper move like that?
Simple: he wasn't the innkeeper anymore.
I was facing an arch demon king himself.
Whoosh. Thud.
The innkeeper landed on an empty table, still bent backward.
That metallic voice emanated from his throat again.
"Do you know why humans are slower than sound?"
"..."
"Muscles, heart, bones, nerves—everything is made so they 'cannot exceed sound speed.' The body can't handle the strain."
"So?"
"But I can make them move faster than sound anytime. And they won't die from it."
Because he was the Immortal Demon King.
The innkeeper kicked off the table and flew at me again.
This time, far faster than before.
I swung my sword carefully.
Whoosh. Slash!
My blade sliced his throat clean before his knife could reach me.
Blood sprayed up to the ceiling.
His head hit the floor with a thunk.
"...!"
The real surprise came next.
His headless body groped the floor with its hands.
Soon, it found the head and picked it up.
Pressing it to the neck, it reattached like sewn cloth.
But it was off now—tilted about 15 degrees to the right.
"Vision's a bit off. Must've attached it wrong."
"..."
"Eh, whatever. Shall we continue?"
I sighed and said to Arwen behind me,
"Bless him."
"Pardon? Dispel the authority?"
"Yes."
"The innkeeper will die instantly."
"Does he look alive to you?"
Arwen bit her lip for a moment.
Then she began praying without another word.
"O Almighty God in the heavens..."
"That won't work!"
The innkeeper lunged again.
As I moved to counter, a needle flew from behind and stabbed him.
Boom!
Chris had pierced a vital point perfectly.
The momentum slammed the innkeeper into the wall.
"That should do it. He can't move now."
As he finished speaking, the innkeeper kicked off and stood.
I glanced at Chris, who excused himself.
"Under normal circumstances..."
"Both of you, move! Wind Cutter!"
Rennel activated her spell.
A sharp blade of wind tore toward him.
It didn't just sever his head—it shredded his limbs completely.
Boom!
The wall and pillar crumbled; the inn shook.
Dust and noise filled the air for a while.
But soon, we were left stunned.
"...Never thought I'd see the day."
His right hand crawled across the floor.
His left arm gripped a severed leg, struggling to reattach it.
Body parts worthy of being called rags were trying to recombine.
From the half-remaining head on the floor, the demon king spoke.
"This won't do..."
Step, step.
I approached the head and placed my foot on it.
"Looks like even you have limits on human regeneration."
"Less my limits, more a lack of time."
"That's what a limit is."
"Is it?"
"Begone."
I was about to press down.
But Arwen's voice came first.
"Wait. The prayer's done."
"Huh?"
"If it's the end either way, better he goes peacefully than crushed underfoot."
I lifted my foot.
Arwen extended both hands.
Golden light descended on the innkeeper's remains.
Within that glow, the Immortal Demon King uttered one last line.
"No choice, then. Time for a more violent approach."
With that, his authority severed.
And the innkeeper died.
The irony of divine blessing leading straight to death.
But at least I believe he felt immense relief in his final moments.
As the commotion settled, Rennel sighed.
"I'm no warrior, so I can't compare precisely, but... he was insanely fast. And strong."
"Probably S-rank."
"Haha, good one."
"..."
"...For real? He turned a normal innkeeper into an S-rank in one go?"
There were only ten S-rank adventurers on the continent.
The pinnacle that natural talents spent lifetimes honing—the Immortal Demon King achieved it with a mere gesture.
'Now I really feel what arch demon king class means.'
It wasn't that shocking to me, though.
Having slain four—no, five—arch demon kings, I already knew they were beings beyond the heavens.
But the others' faces were pale as ghosts.
"We really have to fight things like this?"
"If rank 20 is this strong, what about rank 9, the Demon King of Despair?"
"Today's the first time in ages I've wanted to pray to God."
"A saintess wanting to pray to God for once? That's not right."
"That's how shocking it was."
"That's exactly why you shouldn't."
That was when it happened.
My heightened senses caught a sound.
Thud, thud.
A massive march. At least a hundred—no, two hundred strong.
I let out a hollow chuckle and approached the window.
Swish.
I drew back the curtain.
"...!"
The others' eyes went wide.
"No way."
An uncountable horde was swarming in.
All drooling at the mouth, eyes rolled back white—just like the innkeeper moments ago.
I shrugged and asked,
"Rennel. How many people lived in this territory 300 years ago? The number probably hasn't changed since."
Rennel swallowed hard before answering.
"About... 75,000."
75,000 S-ranks.
Not the Sloth Demon King, but imitating his line for once:
"What a hassle."