Chapter 122 - A Half-Baked Magus (1)

In the end, Seollang and Alon dealt with the monster together. Seollang's overwhelming power was certainly enough to make a pitiful plaything of it. But the Outer God's abnormally rapid regeneration sustained its tenacious life. As the battle dragged on, Alon finally identified its weakness using the Eye-Eater's Necklace and killed it for good by piercing the human-shaped weak point hidden beneath its mouth.

By the time the dark night had passed and dawn began to break, Alon was meeting a man inside the half-destroyed lord's castle.

"Thank you. Thank you so very much."

Count Lumiere's eldest son bowed his head deeply, almost dropping to his knees. No—with Count Lumiere having died at Duke Comalon's ball, the young man was effectively the count now. Alon looked away from him toward the area behind the ruined castle.

He saw residents who had lost their homes, soldiers groaning in pain, and a territory utterly devastated. Some places remained intact, but they were few and far between. Looking over the landscape, all but reduced to ruins, Alon sighed quietly.

Then the count gave him a detailed account of the situation in the Kingdom of Ashtalon.

"... Duke Comalon is traveling with the Outer Gods?"

"Yes."

"And the Outer God here was one of those Duke Comalon unleashed?"

"... That's correct."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know for certain, but judging by the direction he was traveling, I believe he was heading toward Duke Merkillan's territory."

The count looked grief-stricken. Alon nodded.

"Thank you for telling me."

"I swear I will repay this kindness...!"

Leaving Count Lumiere behind as he repeated his pledge, Alon turned to go.

"Oh! Mentor!"

He soon spotted Seollang, surrounded by awestruck knights.

There was just one odd detail.

"Let go! How am I supposed to maintain my royal dignity with you carrying me like this?!"

A man was dangling(?) from one of her hands...

Apparently mortified at being held by the scruff of his neck, the soot-faced man was struggling desperately to get upright. Alon looked at him and asked,

"... Who is that?"

"Oh, this?"

"Don't call me 'this'! I'm royalty! I am Karsem, a prince of Coloni!"

A prince of Coloni. Alon made a quiet sound of recognition, recalling what he knew.

'Karsem the Troublemaker—was that it?'

Karsem the Troublemaker, Coloni's second prince. That was more or less how Psychedelia introduced him, and naturally, he wasn't a major character. True to his nickname, his role in the game was to cause various mishaps that the protagonist's party had to clean up.

After a moment's thought, Alon looked at Karsem. He certainly didn't present himself particularly well for a prince, covered in soot from head to toe.

Alon had barely had time to look him over when Karsem snapped,

"You there! Show some respect!"

Perhaps he needed somewhere to vent the anger built up by Seollang's humiliating treatment. Watching him abruptly point an accusing finger, Alon wore a peculiar expression. Royalty certainly deserved the proper courtesies, but the man nicknamed the Troublemaker and frequently described as arrogant in the game really was quite an asshole in person.

Of course, Alon could understand it to an extent. Karsem wasn't yet twenty. He also recalled that, unlike other royal houses, Coloni had designated its first prince as the next king from childhood, leaving the second prince effectively neglected when it came to training a successor.

Still, Alon decided he should show the proper respect and started to bow.

"Mentor! Hold on a second!"

"Aaaagh—!"

Seollang suddenly dragged Karsem behind a ruined house by the scruff of his neck.

"...?"

Alon's puzzled look lasted only a moment.

"Sorry, Mentor! There was something I hadn't told him!"

Quite unlike before, Seollang walked back out alongside Karsem as though they were on perfectly friendly terms.

Then—

"H-hello, Marquis Pallatio. I—have been terribly rude... Ha... Hahaha."

"...??"

Alon briefly wondered at Karsem's abruptly, excessively meek behavior. Then he saw it: the faint fear lurking around Karsem's eyes.

"...."

Alon looked at Seollang. Her tail swished gently as she gazed at him with an almost impossibly sunny grin.

... Alon felt a strange flicker of fear.

####

"... You came to Ashtalon to rescue Karsem?"

"Hmm, partly?"

A little later, Alon learned why Seollang had come here.

"I already had something to do, and the King asked, so I agreed to rescue him while I was at it. But Mentor? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Seollang tilted her head inquisitively, and Alon answered,

"Nothing. I was just thinking how readily you obey the King."

Of course, obeying a king was common sense in this world. But given what he had witnessed last time, the words had slipped out before he knew it. Alon suddenly recalled the strength Seollang had displayed the night before.

'... With that much power, I suppose she could afford not to obey him.'

At that thought, he looked at her anew. He was well aware that Seollang was strong. Deus's recent feats had also made it clear just how extraordinary the Five Great Sins' talents were. Even so, Seollang's strength last night had plainly surpassed that of the Baba Yaga he knew.

'Of course, Deus has surpassed what I knew of him, too.'

As Alon recalled Deus's performance when they had subjugated Basiliora—

"He promised me something good!"

Seollang's answer pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Really...?"

"Yep! I had something to do anyway, so I agreed!"

Her face all but said, Aren't I good?! Alon stroked her head.

"Eep!"

Her tail swished, as though she were delighted.

As he continued stroking her head, an odd noise came from beside him. He turned to find Karsem, who had been scowling fiercely until moments ago, staring in horror—as though he had witnessed something that should never exist.

Alon wondered briefly what was wrong with him before asking,

"So you've finished what you needed to do?"

"Hmm, I guess? Oh—that reminds me, Mentor. Why did you come?"

Seollang sounded so content that she was even purring as she asked.

"I came to stop Duke Comalon."

"Duke Comalon?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, we'll have to part—"

"I see! Then let's go together!"

Seollang answered brightly before Alon could finish.

"... You want to come with me?"

"Yep!"

"I hate to say this, but it'll be quite dangerous there."

"I know! That's why I'm going!"

"... That's why?"

"Yep! Because I have to protect you, Mentor!"

"..."

"I'll keep you safe, Mentor!"

Seollang clenched her fists and even puffed out her cheeks. Her eyes met his with unwavering sincerity, as though personal gain had never crossed her mind. Despite himself, Alon felt a pang in his chest.

'... Is this why he insisted a daughter was the only way to go?'

He suddenly recalled the eighteen advantages of having a daughter that his friend, who had married at twenty after getting his girlfriend pregnant, had argued so passionately for.

... Of course, that friend's daughter was still too young even to start elementary school, but Alon thought he understood what his friend had meant. Simply hearing Seollang's words had already warmed his heart.

Without realizing it, Alon stroked Seollang's head with both hands.

"!"

She seemed unsure why, but grew even happier and nuzzled her head into his hands.

... His heart felt warm.

"...."

Unlike Alon, basking in that warmth, Karsem looked increasingly distressed. But that lasted only a moment.

"But will that be all right?"

"Hmm? What do you mean, Mentor?"

"... Shouldn't you finish your original task first?"

When Alon motioned toward Karsem with his chin, the previously silent prince hurriedly spoke up.

"Er, I agree. Surely taking me back to Coloni ought to come first."

He had dropped the formal politeness, but his earlier confidence had vanished, leaving him thoroughly timid. Alon wondered just what Seollang had done to him.

"We can just make a quick stop along the way, can't we?"

"... However you look at it, it's dangerous there."

"As long as you don't die, it's fine, right?"

"... Well, yes. But that's a bit—"

Karsem looked deeply uncomfortable. Seollang turned her back to Alon for a moment and stared at him.

"... Ahem. Ahem, very well. Let's do that."

Karsem promptly changed his tune.

"He says it's fine, Mentor!"

... Once again, Seollang had made the impossible possible.

At any rate, about an hour later, Alon set out with Seollang for House Merkillan, where Duke Comalan was said to be heading.

Meanwhile—

"My lord."

"What is it?"

"Earlier, you said you wondered what Seollang did when she had her back to you, didn't you?"

"I did. Why?"

"I actually saw it."

"... When?"

"I happened to be heading that way just then."

"Well? What was it?"

"... She wasn't making a particularly frightening face or anything. She was whispering something."

"What?"

"... Honestly, I was watching from a distance, so I couldn't make it out very well, but, well—"

Evan thought for a moment before saying,

"... Looks like this bastard's forgotten what I'm like...?"

"... Seollang said that?"

"Uh—I only saw it from a distance, so I might have misread it, but it was something along those lines."

Alon stared blankly at him.

... Frankly, he couldn't believe it. Yet Karsem's reaction made it seem plausible, and Alon's peculiar expression lingered for quite some time.

####

Philian Merkillan was undeniably a genius. As Ashtalon's youngest Swordmaster, he was effectively one of the kingdom's three strongest fighters despite his youth.

Of course, he had recently met Deus Makalian, someone in an entirely different league, but even that hadn't broken him. On the contrary, using the memory of that crushing defeat as a stepping stone, Merkillan had been growing even faster over the past few months. His talent made that possible.

Yet Philian, who had never even considered giving up after facing such an overwhelming opponent, was now learning for the first time what emptiness and surrender felt like.

"... Ha."

With his territory behind him, a gruesome scene stretched out before his eyes.

All he could see were corpses.

Corpses missing their upper bodies. Corpses split in half. Corpses slashed all over. Corpses reduced to torsos, their limbs torn apart.

Corpses. Corpses. Corpses.

Wherever he looked, there were only corpses. Knights, soldiers, mages—it made no difference. All that lay before him were corpses.

And beyond those corpses stretched a monstrous hellscape.

A gigantic patchwork thing stitched from human skin, its entire body made of flayed faces, chewed people up with hideous teeth. An insect with an enormous carapace spread its gigantic wings and slaughtered soldiers.

Off to one side, a turtle-shaped thing carrying an enormous plant on its back, arranged with human arms and legs like a floral display, sucked red blood into its mouth.

Other unidentified Outer Gods, unlike anything he had seen in his life, reaped everyone's lives as though firing volleys of incomprehensible death.

In that ash-gray world, sinister, unnatural red mana spread.

"...."

Philian unconsciously lowered his gaze. He saw his mangled armor, his broken sword, and his right arm twisted at an unbelievable angle.

He gave another quiet, hollow laugh and looked up again.

"... That's just cheating..."

Duke Comalon stood at the end of his gaze. The only one with a human appearance among the Outer Gods of that monstrous hellscape, he watched impassively, as though the scene stirred no emotion in him.

... The man who was presumably responsible for all of this.

■■■■■■■■■■—!

At the savage noise, Philian turned to look ahead. The turtle that formed flowers from human limbs was approaching to take his life.

THUD! THUD!

Slowly, but surely. All Philian could muster was a hollow laugh.

Then—

"Brother! Run!"

At the sudden voice, he looked up at the ramparts. Soldiers were guarding the walls. Every one of them was terrified, barely managing to stay on their feet—a pitiful sight. His younger brother, who had rushed out with him to stop the Outer Gods, had despair in his eyes as well.

Yet even so, his brother, Merkillan Gillan, spoke.

"Hurry! Run! You can still make it! We'll buy you a little time, so if you move now, you can survive! Please! Hurry!"

Philian stared blankly at that desperate cry, then let out a faint chuckle. He rose. His body wouldn't move properly, but he stood nonetheless, took his broken sword in his left hand, and shouted with all his strength,

"Everyone—retreat!!!!!!!! Throw down your weapons! Escape through the north gate!!!"

"Brother!!!!"

Gillan called again, but Philian didn't answer. He charged forward. His clever younger brother would understand his intentions better than anyone.

"Hup!"

Philian squeezed out every last bit of his remaining mana to summon his aura. It was pitifully weak—so weak he doubted it could even scratch an Outer God's skin. But for now, it was enough.

Running forward, Philian looked at the Outer God with a smile returning to his otherwise gloomy face. His chance of winning was 0%. He knew that perfectly well. But at this point, the odds no longer mattered.

His aim had never been to defeat them.

'Just... a little more—!'

It was to buy even a few more seconds.

SHAAAK!

Displaying unbelievable skill, Philian sliced apart the petals made of arms and legs that shot toward him. Then he slashed the Outer God's leg.

■■■■■■■■■■—!!!

The Outer God screamed. For a while, he darted beneath it in every direction, inflicting wounds.

"!"

But his limit arrived sooner than he expected.

He looked at his now utterly shattered sword and his legs, which no longer moved, then raised his gaze. Hundreds of arms and legs filled his vision, shooting toward him to take his life. Anyone could see that death was certain.

Yet even then, Philian didn't lose his smile. He showed no despair. He simply smiled. He believed he had done the right thing. He believed he hadn't given up.

And so, just as he was about to calmly accept death—

CRACKLE!

—a flash appeared.

"?"

By the time he realized what had happened, Philian was back in front of the wall he had charged away from earlier.

At the same time, he saw it.

■■■■■—!!!!

A red mist of blood rose from the body of the enormous Outer God that had tried to attack him.

And—

CRACKLE!

"Ah..."

A girl stood before him, her golden hair streaming. The moment he realized who she was, a name slipped from his lips.

"Seol... lang?"

Philian looked beside her. A man stood alongside Seollang, who was radiating golden flashes.

Black mana scattered in every direction from the gray coat wrapped around him, like dispersing sand. The man—no, Marquis Pallatio—looked down impassively at Philian.

"Well done."

Leaving him with those quiet words, he walked forward.

■■■■■■—!!!

As though answering that small step, the Outer Gods scattered across the battlefield surged toward him. Yet the marquis never stopped walking.

One step. Then another. He advanced steadily.

And—

"By the contract of Calgunias, I command you."

Philian saw it clearly.

"My sworn ally, manifest."

ROOOOOM!!!!

At the marquis's murmured words, a serpent appeared amid an enormous cloud of dust and a thunderous roar—a serpent larger than any of the artificial Outer Gods.

■■■■■■■■■■■■—!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The only being here that had not been artificially created, one endowed with divine stature through genuine faith, gazed down upon every artificial Outer God.

Basiliora the Receiver had descended.