Chapter 260

Chapter 260

“...”

Ather, having heard the whole story, groaned.

“...The evil god... might not even have been born...”

Because of a herbivore blinded by rage, the world became hell. It was the mistaken judgment of an immature sapient being.

Having finished its tale, the deer clamped its mouth shut as if it were an ordinary beast. Aram looked back and forth between the deer and the suffering Ather. After thinking about something, she asked Ather.

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

“...No. It’s something I’d been able to predict to some extent through the records.”

“That’s true.”

“I won’t lose my reason now.”

Ather, who had been trapped in the thorn prison for hundreds, or thousands of years, often became a madman. But it wasn’t now. It was foolish for past phantoms to fight over sin and responsibility.

“I can’t get any more foolish than this.”

That would be something more horrible than a calamity.

“But through this story, it’s become certain.”

“I think the same as you, Mr. Ather.”

They could be sure.

“Argio is unmistakably an evil god of rage.”

In the end, the time to open the coffin had come.

“...I’m ready.”

“I think we’ve done everything we can, too.”

“I truly hope our shallow trick works.”

“It will. The evil god looks down on us.”

“Even that is thrashing within what’s permitted... but it doesn’t feel bad.”

“Now I’ve prepared my heart too.”

The deer did not hide its body as it had before.

“...”

“Shall we open the coffin together?”

“...Piiik.”

“I see.”

Even though the deer could use language, it did not. Neither Aram nor Ather knew the exact reason. They simply headed for the underground tomb together with the deer, which intended to face its past sin.

The stairs were still dark, and yet there was no dust. Ather led the way, holding a torch. Even though it was an underground ruin built in a rainforest, it was dry rather than damp. A deep, soaked-in stench of blood lingered.

“...Have you ever come here alone?”

The deer shook its head.

“Why was that?”

The deer said it had no right.

“...Ah, did you just speak to me?”

“Piiik.”

“You have quite a talent.”

Aram admired it inwardly, yet lamented the tragedy. To the deer, each and every word of language was a sin, and so it closed its mouth. Because of that, it seemed the deer had learned how to communicate with humans through air rather than language.

“...You left records here as well. I’m deeply grateful for that. If not for your records, we wouldn’t have known what to do even more...”

Then Aram asked again.

“I heard that in the past, every beast in this world formed its own group and became a single race. The deerfolk certainly existed too, but I once saw a record saying they were almost wiped out early on—did you ever have any involvement in that?”

The deer answered that it had not.

“Then did they naturally die out?”

Among beast races, deer were the most similar to humans. Not only in intelligence, but in greed as well. Having lost the wisdom they had as beasts, they walked the path of extinction by their own hands.

That was not something the deer had interfered with.

“...That wasn’t a pleasant story. I’m sorry.”

After a short story and a long silence, the entrance to the tomb soon revealed itself. Ather stared fixedly at the enormous tomb, then turned to Aram and the deer. He gave a firm warning.

“Once we go in, you’ll see multiple coffins. If something inside a coffin speaks to you then, do not answer. We’re going to find the very last coffin.”

“I understand.”

“Then...”

As Ather stepped in, an unfamiliar voice echoed through the tomb.

“You’ve come again.”

It was the voice of someone unknown.

“The last family’s toy has come to the tomb once more.”

“What do you want, coming here?”

“Ah, the end is drawing near. Speak the end.”

“Have you finally decided to open the coffin?”

“It’s suffocating, stop already...”

Ather took Aram’s hand, which had hesitated, and pulled her along. The deer moved with its characteristically unhurried steps, staring at the coffins. There was nothing to be gained from responding to phantoms gone mad with hatred and rage.

And when they reached the last coffin, every voice fell silent.

“...”

Letting go of Aram’s hand, Ather asked the coffin.

“...It was the same before, too.”

“...”

“When I come before you, everyone falls silent, as if they were children being scolded.”

“They really were children.”

Kki-gi-gik—...

The coffin’s door opened a heavy crack.

“How old did they seem to you?”

“...Judging by their voices alone, they seemed quite young.”

“You guessed right. The oldest among them is me. The starting point that carved the name Argio into the world. Those little ones can’t beat me anymore.”

“Simply because you are older?”

“For now, yes. Those children have calmed down quite a bit now, and they realized I am an experienced, stronger one than they are, so they must have judged that following my words would not be a bad thing.”

“The Argio of life was a tyrant who freely controlled rage.”

He had read his past through the records.

“To you, rage was both sword and shield. You were angry because you wanted to be, unlike others who were simply swept up into rage. You did not rage because you were being wielded by it.”

“Do you know how immense the power vented by one filled with anger is? Do you know the limits of that emotion? Yes, rage is a fine weapon and a sturdy fortress. I raged when I wanted to.”

Aram cut in.

“But it wouldn’t have been like that when you died as the last saint and all the phantoms gathered to become the Demon King. You had to continue rage you did not want—because the ‘evil god Argio’ was not made from you alone.”

“...Aha...”

Through the gap in the coffin, a large ringed finger appeared.

“This small, youthful voice is quite sweet.”

Clatter.

A thick ring struck the coffin.

“Say, little friend. Child of an unfamiliar god. Where did you come from?”

“...I came from the embrace of my teacher, the Moon.”

“The Moon, the Moon... moon... Not a being I know.”

“Are you still angry?”

“If I want to be, I am.”

“Then, right now. Answer my question.”

“How insolent and bold—yet adorable...”

Tap.

The finger’s movement stopped.

“I’m very angry.”

And then the hand stretched out from the coffin.

“...Ah, my friend...”

“...”

“My one noble and innocent family.”

That hand stopped before the deer.

“How could you do that?”

The large hand bloomed open like a flower.

“Why did you do that?”

Drip, drip.

An eye dyed entirely in gold, embedded in the palm, shed tears of blood.

“If you had merely wanted to kill me, would I have been this angry? If you had merely wanted to steal the saint’s authority and spread the right to language among beasts, I would not have been angry. You dared to judge my rage, twist its direction, and imprison me in this eternal pain.”

The hand stretched further, stroking the deer’s cheek.

“My friend, my family, my lovely little brother...”

He smeared the deer’s cheek with golden blood, then returned into the coffin.

“It hurt.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“Your teeth were truly dull, unlike now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is your rage finished?”

“It ended when the humans who sinned that day, and all humans who sinned again, died.”

“That’s unfair. I am still raging like this, so why didn’t you wait for this brother? You should have raged together with me, hmm? Shouldn’t you?”

“All that remains is my insignificant flesh and vile existence. I have no strength left to contend with you, and neither the will nor the rage for it remains.”

“Is that so...?”

The direction of the whispering voice turned to Ather.

“Why did you show me that child?”

“There was something I wanted to see from you.”

“Then what about now.”

“...I have seen what I wanted.”

“I do not know why you thought so, but I understand.”

Then the voice turned to Aram.

“Did you assume I would forgive all of this?”

“Yes. That is what I thought, and only now have I seen that fragment.”

“You say you saw mercy in me that even I did not see.”

“A saint is an insolent breed. Their very existence is born through arrogance.”

“I understand your intent. But I will not answer.”

Druruk—...

The coffin closed, and the phantom said,

“You have received a gift, so you have reached the time to open this door.”

It was permission.

“...”

“...”

“Now.”

The voice whispered.

“Open it.”

Ather reached out his hand.

* * *

Blood flowed.

“...”

It was the deer’s.

Ather pushed the saintess behind him and drew his sword. Aram bit her lips at the tragedy she had expected arriving, but she was not surprised.

The deer’s blood, spurting like a single painting, spread as if to cover the vast floor of the tomb.

“...”

At that absurd amount, Ather frowned.

‘...Even if you killed a single deer, it makes no sense for this much blood to come out.’

Slosh...

Fresh red blood pooled around his shoes. It was shallow and calm, like when rain has poured and collected on the ground.

Strangeness invaded the air from natural judgment. A dreadful miasma spread out from the space that one could breathe in and out of. Like a curse breeding, it swelled in size.

‘A sensation I truly never wanted to feel again.’

A scene as if all the rules of the world had broken. Incomprehension born from abnormality and absurdity. That tremendous fear was far too familiar to Ather.

“...”

“...Ah, yes...”

Beside the hand that had torn out the deer’s heart, another long hand stretched out from the darkness. Like a dried dead tree, it extended and stroked the deer dying after its heart was ripped out.

“I had a family like this...”

And then another hand stretched out.

“My family.”

“Family?”

“Did I have family?”

And another, and one more on top of that, and again, and again, and again, hands reached out.

“Well, perhaps you misunderstood.”

“If I had family, why would such a thing have happened?”

“No, no. It happened because I had family.”

“Ah, this. It hurts. I can’t breathe. It’s suffocating. This place was too narrow.”

“There is no sky, there is no sky, there is no sky. The hands that once stroked little ones abandoned their child and left, and only I remain—how lonely and sad is this. He abandoned me. Only I remain. Heartless one, take me gently.”

“Why did I have to go through all that? You molded me, yet you never once gave me a voice, a touch. Even when your pathetic little children tore out that heart and cut off arms and displayed a neck, you only made a spectacle of yourself and ran away...”

“It hurts, it hurts, O god, look after this pain. If not, cast down hell. The calamity you created waits for you here. Open the door, you. Open the door and show me your face. Show me that face. I have waited for you.” “It was so dark here, I could not see before my nose, and I wandered the empty air countless times. Whisper to me why I could not light the world even holding a torch—you, my creator. Your greed molded me. I am still here, and where did you run?” “Ah, come back, Father. Call my name and look at me. If you molded this dreadful beast, then give me a name as well. Where did you go? Where did you go? Yes, yes, yes, I know what you are. More arrogant and ignorant of your place than the being you created. I understand.” “Where is the end of this rage? How long must I only be angry? No one can steal my rage. Only this heat that burns my insides and melts my brain makes me exist. So whisper more, drape more evil karma over me and sing. Make my name into an insult, make me be pointed at by every object seated in the world.”

Countless mouths whispered in all directions, within the air and darkness. It was language too long to read through.

Countless hands crawled out from the coffin, and after them flowed an uncountable number of shadows.

Like water in a stagnant, rotted lake, or a swamp in a black forest, they oozed out through the crack of the coffin and gradually lifted their bodies.

“Grant me mercy, you—when you see me, how can you not pity me?” “While you scream, I will laugh.” “Swing your sword at me, you! Scold me as the worst and the lowest!” “Here gathers the rage of all things in the world—blame me and beg me for mercy. I will not give even a scrap, so shout vainly and waste your noble life.”

“God, my father! Look upon me! If not, then offer your neck! How must I die in this dark forest! I was lonely, I wailed dreadfully, and my eyeballs melted first in the miasma!”

“You told me to protect the world, so I followed that will, but if there is no one to recite that will with me, what meaning does any of this have? Take me, take me, take me. You should have taken my breath and left me to rot, so know your sin!!”

“Why? Ah, why? Why, why, why, why did you forget me. You forgot me. Do not forget. I will plunge a blade into you. I will drive a sharp dagger into that heart and decorate it with all manner of poisonous weeds, so offer your neck. I have waited a very long time, so give it to me as a gift. Father, ah! My father...!!”

After that, a vivid red torso crawled out.

It was far longer than a snake’s, and it had countless feathers, as if it had torn off and pasted on the wings of innumerable birds.

Between the long torso, enormous feet and heavy claws stretched out, pressing down the floor of the tomb.

“I had wings, but now I cannot fly.” “Humans snapped their tips and affixed immeasurable pain to my back.” “Wicked ones, dreadful ones, my lovely betrayers. Worshipers of nature who mocked me and imprisoned me in this blood-stinking stone tomb.”

“If I had not been greedy, I could have flown. But with these filthy wings, I cannot fly at all—how can I not fly even with wings? The sky was up there, yet I could not flee anywhere.”

“Do you see what remains of me now? Only screaming flesh, feathers that reek of iron and blood, and huge feet that will trample your bodies remain. With these grafted fingers I cannot count your number, with these stitched eyeballs I cannot look upon the world, and with these arms that have strayed from providence I cannot hold you.”

“You made it all like this. You molded me anew like this—are you satisfied? You must be satisfied, yes? You will be satisfied, won’t you? Then yes, that is only right. Did I not become like this for you? Did you not break me and stitch me together!!”

“Then what can you call me now.”

“Me, I... my name...”

“...What did you call me...”

“I...”

At the sight of it whispering like a madman, screaming and shouting, then drooping, Aram hid even more behind Ather’s back.

While gathering holy power so she could flee at any moment, she unconsciously murmured.

“...A dragon.”

It had been ruined by overlapping humans, phantoms, and rage, yet its essence was a dragon.

“...You were right.”

“...It is a far more horrific state than what I remember, though.”

“You said the mages who imprisoned Mr. Ather tried to kill this world’s creator, and that they borrowed that evil god’s power?”

“Yes, so...”

Ather forced down a sigh.

“It’s even more ruined.”

“...To think a god’s messenger became like that.”

“Human greed was great.”

Humans ruined the dragon.

“So they must take responsibility.”

Ather left the tomb together with Aram.

‘Argio,’ writhing in pain as countless personalities and rage merged, did not even realize that. Only after quite a long time—after a fairly long while—did he finally take in the deer’s body collapsed at his feet.

Only the golden eye did.

“...”

A long, stiff hand stretched out and held it like a baby.

“...Ah, you still have good fur.”

‘Argio’ smiled like a child.

“Are you sleeping?”

“...”

“I’ll protect you...”

It stretched out its arm, lifted the deer’s heart, and swallowed it as is.

Lips drenched in the deer’s blood formed a long, huge smile, making the previous blankness seem ridiculous.

And then, jjeojeojeok—...!

“...”

The man’s head split in half, leaving only the lips. The shattered pieces turned to dust in the air and vanished.

With a grotesquely bent hand, he groped for the shape of his own head. It was like a half-cut piece of pottery. From within it, dazzling golden blood welled up richly and streamed down.

Soon the lips took on the shape of a cruel crescent moon.

“...Ahahaha!”

It was delightful.

(Continued in the next part)