Chapter 2 - Number 3789028376

Belteruk could see the severed soul cord protruding from the virtual reality server-connection cap, swaying back and forth. Ordinarily, the soul itself would have emerged attached to that cord, but not this time.

That was because soul number 3789028376 was currently enjoying a game inside virtual reality. This was precisely how death gods could tell that souls were inside virtual reality without ever logging in themselves.

Virtual reality games were quite a nuisance to death gods in their work. Once people died, their souls ought to come straight out so they could be taken away... Yet humans who died while connected like this continued to run around inside the server, unaware that they were already dead. Like bugs with their heads still attached, twitching for hours despite having no consciousness.

In cases like these, death gods had no choice but to wait until the soul they were supposed to escort to the underworld logged out.

Of course, an eccentric death god like Belteruk had little complaint about that. Time was the one thing he had to spare, and all those hours were bound up with the horror called boredom.

Though he found virtual reality somewhat bothersome, in some ways he was actually grateful for it. It helped him kill at least a tiny fraction of the tedious, endlessly long hours allotted to him.

Belteruk slipped his death scythe back inside his robes and surveyed every inch of the room. While waiting for soul number 3789028376 to come out, he was taking a look at what sort of human its owner had been. He was not doing this out of any particular interest in the soul. It was merely a habit he had practiced for an incalculably long time. It meant nothing at all.

The room offered a clear glimpse of the personality of soul number 3789028376's owner.

A sparse assortment of basic furniture and electronics. A desk with a bookshelf on top. A few books on the shelf, and a bed. A small wastebasket beside it, and finally, the virtual reality capsule containing the body of soul number 3789028376. That was everything. It was all as clean as if it had just been purchased, without a single speck of dust.

An obsession with cleanliness.

Soul number 3789028376 seemed to be a perfectionist who would not permit even the tiniest speck in his space. Belteruk had seen plenty of people like that, but cases this severe were uncommon.

'Compulsive cleanliness? Or else...'

Belteruk's penetrating sight reached beyond the room into the living room and bathroom. Just as in this room, it was difficult to find even a speck of dirt. But that was not what he had been hoping for.

SNIFF, SNIFF.

It was his nose, not his eyes, that picked something up. Somewhere, he caught a familiar yet distinctive smell. A very acrid but unique fragrance that delighted the noses of death gods: the smell of blood and rotting corpses. It was so faint that even he, a death god, had difficulty detecting it. Only now, with his attention focused, could he properly make it out. That was probably why he had failed to notice it when he first entered the building.

Belteruk's nostrils flared as he traced the smell to its source. It was rising from below.

He lowered his head.

His gaze naturally followed, passing through the floors of the fifth, fourth, third, second, and first stories without finding the source. His pitch-black eyes turned white, a phenomenon that occurred when he pushed his penetrating sight to its limit.

He soon detected a secret chamber underground.

'Hmm!?'

There were no corpses there, either. His gaze descended farther. Only after passing through three more such secret chambers did he find the source of the smell.

This customer really was a meticulous one.

"Heh heh heh."

Belteruk rumbled under his breath. He had confirmed that the owner of soul number 3789028376 was a human who created work for death gods. Whatever the man's occupation might be, his 'hobby' appeared closely connected to their work.

In a cavern hidden deep underground, human corpses slept soundly inside an enormous freezer—dozens or hundreds, it was hard to tell at a glance. Judging by the fresh corpse that had yet to freeze solid, the owner of soul number 3789028376 had clearly indulged in his hobby just a few days ago. Perhaps even yesterday or today.

This planet called Earth in Dimensional Realm 111 had always been somewhat crueler than other places. It had grown a little more distant from death gods in recent times, but its essential nature would not change so easily. Before the discipline humans called science had developed this far, scenes like that could readily be found anywhere on the planet. Of course, when war broke out, far worse things often happened.

Thus, to the death god Belteruk, this was nothing remarkable. His amusement came from something else entirely.

A corpse bore traces of its killer's soul color and murderous intent, even after becoming an empty vessel devoid of a soul.

He sensed purity from the corpses in that underground freezer. There was not a trace of murderous intent to be found. How should he describe that purity?

Pure homicidal madness. Wouldn't that be about right?

Soul number 3789028376 possessed a sensibility that was difficult to encounter anymore in Dimensional Realm 111, with its modern emphasis on human rights, civilization, and the like. Such souls were not entirely nonexistent, but they were rare.

Belteruk was smiling because it had been a long time since he had encountered one.

"A pure, bloodthirsty killer. What do they call it here on Earth—a psychopath?"

That was Belteruk's assessment of soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 111. At that level, wouldn't it be difficult for him to get out of the Eight Hells until he had been thoroughly purified? Perhaps he would rot there for some ten million years. If he was unlucky, his soul might be annihilated before those ten million years were up...

Not that it was any concern of his.

Having confirmed that much, Belteruk lost all interest in soul number 3789028376. Whether or not the man was the worst murderer in the history of the universe had nothing to do with him. His duty as a death god ended once he escorted the man's soul to the underworld. Whether the death god Yeomra shredded that soul or annihilated it was outside his jurisdiction.

Just as Belteruk was about to scratch his eye with his scythe out of boredom again, his death-god terminal let out a clear series of beeps. It was a warning: the appointed time to collect the soul had arrived, and he needed to get to work.

Since Belteruk had already done his work and was merely waiting, he thought little of it. Still, he took out his death register and opened it to check once more. Yawning as he had earlier, he checked the number of the soul marked for collection.

3789028376.

It matched.

"No problems here."

Just as he was putting his mind at ease—

"Hmm!? What's this...?"

He had found a problem! A fatal one, at that!

The dimensional realm number written beneath the soul number was not 111, but 112! This customer was not soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 111, but soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 112.

The unthinkable had happened.

It was a simple mistake, but among death gods, mistakes all too often led straight to annihilation. If the death god Yeomra learned of this, he was finished. With bad luck, the one suffering ten million years of torment in the Eight Hells he had mentioned earlier might be him, not this soul. Naturally, that would almost certainly end in annihilation.

Belteruk's mind raced. He had performed his duties as a death god for tens of millions of years without making a single mistake. His excessive faith in that record had finally brought disaster today.

'I can't lose everything I've worked for over tens of millions of years because of this one mistake! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it...! Ah!'

At some point amid the countless curses he hurled inwardly, he remembered 'that incident' which had shaken the underworld hundreds of millions of years ago.

'Soul grafting.'

A grotesque incident perpetrated by a mad death god who had tried to artificially create conjoined twin souls.

That death god had experimented to see whether it was possible to put two souls into one body. The method was exceedingly simple: attach a severed soul cord to another, living soul's cord and patch them together. It was a grave crime, an outright violation of the death gods' service regulations.

Every single action a death god took affected the order of the dimensional realms. Having done such a thing to a soul that was meant to remain alive, his fate was obvious. In the end, his actions were discovered, and he was annihilated.

Nothing whatsoever was known about whether the experiment had succeeded or failed, or what its effects on the dimensional realm had been. The death god Yeomra had ordered everyone involved to remain silent.

However, most death gods had leaned toward believing it might be possible. Even now, some would bring up the story whenever they were bored.

Indeed...

'Could it work?'

What if he tried it now? What would happen?

He saw the soul cord dangling outside the virtual reality capsule. There was still time. Number 3789028376 had not logged out yet.

What if that soul logged out under these circumstances?

Belteruk would be annihilated. But if he attempted soul grafting, he might have a chance to cover up his mistake. He could graft soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 111 into the body of soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 112, the one who was actually supposed to die. Then, if he severed only the cord belonging to soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 112 and escorted that soul to the underworld, every dimensional realm would proceed as originally planned! If he could just pull that off, no one would ever learn of his mistake!

Although a soul from Dimensional Realm 111 would end up in Dimensional Realm 112, the total number of souls in the underworld would, at least, be preserved. That would be enough to give Belteruk peace of mind for now.

It did not take him long to decide. Belteruk seized the very end of the cord belonging to soul number 3789028376 from Dimensional Realm 111. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he took out his death-god terminal.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.

The number 112 appeared on the terminal in death-god numerals. With a faint vibration, Belteruk vanished from the spot.

For the first time in hundreds of millions of years, soul grafting was about to become a reality.