< 122. Gateway to the Soul Realm, Ptaha >
*
Gods are half-conceptual beings. The sun, war, the ocean, luck, commerce… The gods of the Temple of the Gods each embody their own concepts and exert influence over them.
Similarly, the Great Demons are also half-conceptual beings. Anger, corruption, nightmares, curses, and decay. They don’t embody specific concepts, but their actions are infused with these ideas.
‘Thus, the gateway to the Soul Realm is conceptual.’
There’s no way a physical gate could exist for something called a “gateway.” Fernandez, overlooking the advancing legion of wraiths, stretched out his arm.
‘Matter is an illusion.’
At least in this moment, in this place. The destruction caused by the Magic Cannon affects even the rifts between dimensions. Right now, this city is more unstable in the balance between dimensions than any other region.
‘To the point where it could reach even the halls of the Temple of the Gods.’
From the Temple of the Gods to the depths of hell below. If the Material World is a wedge between dimensions, then this space is like a punctured sponge, haphazardly absorbing the concepts and influences of other dimensions.
‘So…’
-Huu…
Fernandez exhaled deeply. This wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do. Even for someone as hardened as he was, accustomed to physical pain and mental torture, the horrifying sensation of having his soul split apart and reassembled was far from pleasant.
But it was necessary. Fernandez reached into his coat. Cold steel met his grasp.
-Ssshh…
A blade sharp enough to slice through the air emerged from within. The Dagger of the Necropolis. A weapon that had been exposed to sacred blood longer than any other material in this era.
To use magic? To carve through souls? There were certainly easier and less harmful methods. But the reason he had been using this dagger to carve souls and wound himself all this time…
‘Was for this very moment!’
He never makes a move without a plan. From the moment he obtained this dagger, he had been tempering its blade with his own blood to turn it into a key to the Necropolis.
The blood of a saint flows with divinity. And divinity is a force closer to concept than any material. Magic and physical strength, compared to divinity, are more tangible.
Gods are half-conceptual beings. And their constituent particles symbolize concepts. The divinity flowing in Fernandez’s blood represents Vaitas, the embodiment of ‘war,’ ‘victory,’ and ‘justice’!
-Crackkkk!
He thrust the dagger straight into the shimmering Barrier of the Soul Realm before him! A barrier that no physical force could ever breach. The dagger lodged itself perfectly, and the blade began to splinter.
The blade, tempered in sacred blood, began to shatter and crumble. Fernandez gritted his teeth against the violent recoil. His heart pounded wildly, and the hand gripping the dagger felt as if it were being crushed.
-Crunch.
His right wrist bent in an impossible direction. He supported it with his left hand, staring with bloodshot eyes at the crack forming.
-Thud, thud, thud!
His heart warned him of the state of his soul. Being drawn into the Soul Realm was, at best, an intrusion. But more accurately, it was akin to death.
The path to the afterlife always requires crossing the gate of death. The shimmering Barrier of the Soul Realm split open, and a dark green light began to pour out, engulfing Fernandez.
His body weakened as the light touched him. The Stigma of Immortality flickered madly. Going any further would be unwise. This was—
“Respect my choice, Vaitas!!”
Death? Fine, I’ll gladly die. Come! I’ll die with joy! Fernandez shouted toward the sky with a voice strained by blood. If a mortal body could kill a Great Demon, he would gladly stake his life on it!
If he succeeded, if he could kill that monster, he could teach that abomination, reborn as the God of Death, what true death really is.
‘I can come back.’
-In theory.
Even Faijashi spoke with a rare tension in his voice. Death was unfamiliar territory for both Fernandez and Faijashi. Faijashi had returned from the brink of death, and Fernandez had been blessed with rejection by death.
But now, in this moment, they had agreed to venture into the unknown.
-Sssshhhhhaaaakkk!!
The veil of the Soul Realm split in half. The terrace outside had become a bridge connecting the Soul Realm and the Material World. And as a result—
-Crrraaassshhh—
The city began to collapse. Everything that should have been in its rightful place crumbled into sand and dust, scattering into the void.
Everything that originated from Mumto’s domain was returning to him. As the Barrier of the Soul Realm crumbled, all the elements that had bound these things to the Material World began to dissolve into concepts.
-Kkkkkrrrrr!!
Buildings crumbled into the earth below. Streets, waterways, and even the massive city walls. A giant sinkhole began to swallow the city. The city cascaded into the abyss and over the cliffs.
Far below, in the distant underground, where sand crumbled and fell, a swirling dark green light consumed everything.
It was like an antlion’s pit. Everything spiraled down into the radial pit below.
At the edge of the fan-shaped area, the entrance to the Soul Realm, which devours all things, appeared.
[Is this our end?]
Behind him, Kaharefer’s voice echoed. Fernandez looked down at the city pouring toward the ground and said,
“It’s the end of the end, my friend. I will surely—”
-Kugugugugung!!
Before he could finish, the terrace and the palace where he stood collapsed and crumbled underground. Fernandez’s eyes widened as he stared at the rapidly approaching gate of the Soul Realm.
‘Wait, Mumto.’
He wasn’t one to enjoy gambling, but this was a kind of dice game where he was betting himself and all his possibilities.
However, the odds were quite high.
*
“Hold the rear! Protect the back! Don’t scatter!!”
Kirhas split the skull of an approaching skeleton and deflected a spear thrusting toward her. The spearhead shattered and flew off.
“Gather! Gather around me! If you scatter, you die!”
She was like a personification of battle, as if born for war. She swung her sword, raised her shield, and broke spears as she swept through the battlefield like a whirlwind.
The retreat was in full swing. The most important point of a retreat is not to break formation. The difference between a retreating army and a collapsing army lies in whether they maintain their formation or not.
At this moment, if the main force collapses, recovery would be impossible. For her and the Federation of Beastmen Nobles, defeat was synonymous with failure.
The Federation of Nobles was maintained based on legitimacy. The thin thread of legitimacy that the Chieftain, chosen by the God, commanded.
For them, there was no room for excuses after defeat. Victory. Their legitimacy could only be proven through victory.
-Kadududuk!
Shattering swords, Kirhas’s turquoise eyes flashed fiercely. She fought using her arms, legs, and even her tail if necessary.
The most crucial moment in a retreat is to buy time so that the rear isn’t caught by the enemy’s vanguard. No matter how many wraiths there were, the battle couldn’t last forever. They too were beings that moved by consuming their own bodies.
‘If we can just hold out for that time, we have a chance!’
The battlefield that all the elders called the ‘place of death.’ The rearguard protecting the very back of the retreating camp. Kirhas volunteered for that position herself.
It was like performing a tightrope act. A high-wire act where you had to balance life and victory on either side. A situation where you could either gain everything or lose everything!
In such moments, legitimacy and qualification were bestowed upon her.
“Do not retreat!”
“Chieftain! We must retreat! We’re surrounded by skeletons!”
“No.”
Kirhas’s blue eyes stared straight ahead. A blue path. A deep blue… A path resembling Fernandez’s eyes unfolded before her.
The path leading to her lord. No—
“Victory lies ahead.”
The path to victory.
“Are you mad? That’s the heart of the enemy camp! We must retreat to the main force!”
“If we retreat here, can we achieve victory?”
“We can survive.”
“Would you live a year as a slave? Or would you live a day as a free beastman with me?”
Kirhas’s eyes burned like a lion’s. The small cat-girl she once was no longer existed. The beastmen fighting around her felt an unprecedented presence at that moment.
A brilliant light descended upon her head. Under the blazing sun of the wilderness, the dazzling Mask of the Ancient God shone brightly.
-Click.
Kirhas slowly pressed Kadán’s mask onto her face. Hoo, hot breath swirled beneath the mask. The smell of her breath, sweat, and blood was suppressed within it.
It was the scent of the hunt. The scent of blood, victory, and revenge. The instinct of the Ancient God, who had sworn to hunt evil beings for eternity, slowly awakened.
-Thump.
The heartbeat resembled the cry of a god. She could feel her heart growling. Along with it, a fierce energy surged through her veins.
[Serve me.]
‘No.’
-Swish.
Discarding the broken sword, she drew the next one. Beneath the mask, Kirhas’s turquoise eyes blazed.
‘You serve me.’
And her body shot forward.
*
“Did we win…?”
“Say it again. The enemies are starting to retreat…?”
The elders leading the refugees at the front muttered in confusion as they looked at the soldier who had run from the rear. The soldier was drenched in blood and sweat, panting heavily.
“The Chieftain killed all the priests and generals in the heart of the enemy camp. The enemy formation is collapsing, and they are retreating to their main force.”
“…Huh.”
The elders were speechless as they stared at the soldier’s face. Batras, walking beside them, chuckled and slapped their shoulders.
“Well, it seems a hero has appeared in our time.”
“That’s not entirely a welcome story, Chieftain.”
Partak frowned as he responded.
“Why? Are you afraid the elders’ position will shrink further? Huh? High Priest of the Hunting God. Shouldn’t this be a joyous occasion?”
“…Sharp words often hit a stone. The opposing Chieftain’s council will now bare their fangs.”
This victory was for survival. Of course, it was a welcome event, but… Partak clicked his tongue as he looked at the long line of refugees.
“The war will become even more complicated.”
The opposing Chieftain. The rebel forces formed by tribes that do not recognize the current Chieftain, Kirhas. They had been deliberately ignoring the Federation of Nobles, which had been wandering aimlessly in retreat, but now that the news of victory has spread across the wilderness, they will launch a full-scale offensive.
If we defeat them, yes. The Federation of Beastmen Nobles can finally rise as a single nation. But what comes after? Partak sighed deeply.
“It will just be war.”
Three Pharaohs and five nations. In the chaos of this Great Wilderness. Without clear meaning or purpose. Only war will continue.
*
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