Chapter 156

“The mages of Orphiel have fled, and the once glorious territory has turned into a cesspool.”

On the blackened earth, in a world where only black and white remained, a man who still retained his original color let out a bitter laugh.

“So, this is how it ends, huh?”

In the dark forest, where no trees remained and only black thorny bushes filled the space, the man’s sword broke as he endlessly cut through the encroaching thorny vines. Like a tooth rotted from within, vulnerable to shock, the sword, tainted each time it came into contact with divine power, could no longer endure and finally shattered.

The famed sword, Caliburn. Crafted by the legendary swordsmith, Sir Urban, who once vied for the title of the continent’s greatest. Seeing this sword break so helplessly, Count Marcus Feltman burst into laughter. His maddened smile deepened as he watched the darkness seeping into his arm.

At the edge of the thorny bushes, a child calmly awaited its end. And behind it, the World Tree, now transformed into a thorny mass, visible even from afar. Count Marcus, glaring at them with hatred, weakly muttered,

“I never thought I, who once dominated the empire, would die in a place like this.”

He was a self-made man. Before he rose to the rank of Master and revived his family, many on the continent didn’t even know the Feltman family existed.

He had lived a hard youth. That’s why he adorned his territory as the most splendid in the empire. By creating the wealthiest territory in the world, he wanted to compensate for the bitterness of his impoverished past.

That glorious territory crumbled under the footsteps of the Death God. No, this being was beyond even being called a Death God. It felt as if it was on par with the continent’s Five Great Divine Gods.

It had reached the level of a major deity. Most importantly, this god had a physical body.

“A major deity with a physical body, fully capable of intervening in this world… Truly, a Demon King. To think they could create something like this now. If only I had known sooner…”

If only he had known sooner, what?

He questioned himself, then laughed bitterly. Even if he had known, what could he have done? It was the work of the Primal Demon King. Knowing wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“Won’t you surrender?”

The Death God, intrigued by Count Feltman, approached and asked. The Count silently glared at the god’s physical form. If only he could destroy that body, the danger would significantly decrease.

But it seemed he no longer had the strength for even that. He could manage one or two attacks, but it wouldn’t be enough to destroy the god’s physical form.

Cunning bastard. It only approached when he was too weak to attack.

The Three Divine Gods have no physical bodies. It’s not that they prefer to exist as spirits alone.

Their original bodies collapsed when they ascended to godhood, unable to withstand the immense transformation. How could a human body contain divinity?

Of course, if one trained their body to the extreme, they could preserve it even after condensing divinity. But who would have told the Three Divine Gods about that in their human days?

Becoming a god is a secretive challenge. Those who attempt it and leave records are rare.

Even if someone had told them, a human lifespan is too short to gather enough faith to condense divinity. Trying to train the body as well might lead to failing both and dying prematurely. Thus, the Three Divine Gods had no physical bodies. Neither did the Evil God Oberta.

The Heavenly Gods, born from the coalescence of desires, never had physical bodies to begin with.

The infant Death God born in Duke Vlad’s territory has a physical body, but its divine power is relatively low, making it possible. It’s still a minor deity, so its body can handle the divinity.

But the Corrupted God Modrig has a body. Using the Fruit of the World Tree as a foundation, it built its body, making it fundamentally different from other gods.

The difference between having only a spirit and having both spirit and body is something anyone can understand. With a body, one can do much more. And it can directly step into this reality to exert power.

Yet, the Death God was still thirsty.

“Surrender?”

“I need many strong subordinates. If you agree, I’ll make you my follower and baptize you.”

“Why? Isn’t your grotesque army enough?”

“It’s not enough.”

The Death God affirmed.

Its corrupted legion lacks intelligence. It’s no different from the corpse soldiers of the Underground Castle of Flesh. No matter how many there are, they’re just soldiers. They might be a threat to the continent, but they’re nothing to the Demon King Grimudo.

“I need strong individuals like you.”

“Go suck on your mother’s milk. Even in this state, I decide my own fate.”

Once, this man dreamed of making his grandson the next emperor. Now, his ambition has fallen to the abyss before the majesty of a god. But Count Marcus remained true to himself.

Silently, he picked up the broken sword fragment and slit his own throat. A gray light exploded, obliterating his body entirely. Rather than becoming a corrupted servant, he chose to leave without even a corpse.

“……”

The Death God reached out toward the Count, who had been reduced to dust. Even it couldn’t restore something so thoroughly destroyed. It was impossible.

“I wish I had a subordinate like that.”

Looking at the scattered pieces of its “butterflies,” the Death God muttered, sitting on the thorny bushes. This man alone had cut down all its servants.

Against a Master, sheer numbers were ineffective.

It didn’t work against Count Marcus, forcing it to act personally. Against the Demon King, it would be utterly futile. The Death God was still afraid of him. The power he had shown was vivid in its mind.

Kania, a High Elf and a Master-level powerhouse, was instantly corrupted. But that was because she was an Elf heavily reliant on the World Tree.

Before this god, who shared the World Tree’s attributes, her vulnerabilities were like a sieve. In contrast, a human Master was like a fortress to the Death God.

Corruption was possible, but not easy. If the corruption was light, they could dilute or expel it with their own magical power.

Now, having truly faced a Master, the Death God fell into deep thought.

Meanwhile, a messenger on a blood horse raced to the capital without rest, delivering urgent news. The situation was too dire to delay.

The soldiers of Count Feltman’s territory and those of the Solzent Kingdom were entirely corrupted. The two factions, once facing each other across the border, were effortlessly crushed by the fundamental enemy, the Death God.

The corrupted zone was expanding rapidly. The speed was unbelievable.

The Death God, born at the right time, was already powerful. It grew by devouring the vast faith accumulated in the World Tree, immediately asserting its dominance without the need to hide and accumulate strength. It grew stronger with each passing day.

“Now is not the time.”

Even the infant Death God born in Duke Vlad’s territory acknowledged its power and chose to avoid confrontation, hiding away. It was a god directly created by the Demon King. Compared to Modrig, it was born with nothing.

“But as long as there is filth in the hearts of humans, no matter how much time passes…”

It hid, dreaming of the next opportunity. It hoped there would be a next time.

Those with corrupted bodies cannot have corrupted hearts. Their hearts already belong entirely to Modrig.

Thus, to the infant god that devours the filth in human hearts, Modrig, who corrupts humans themselves to turn them into servants, is an antithesis. It didn’t want to confront Modrig head-on in this era.

Divinity is closer to eternity than humanity, so it merely hoped for an opportunity when it next awoke.

“Then, it’s not yet my time to disappear.”

The Death God muttered and closed its eyes. Even gods had to entrust their fate to the heavens in this era.

In such a world, the fate of humans was like leaves caught in a storm.

*****

Good news and bad news arrived in quick succession. The emperor finally received the message sent by Count Marcus Feltman. The blood horse, exhausted, collapsed after delivering the message halfway, and the Death God itself had to deliver the rest. People around helped the fainted messenger.

“The Death God.”

Only then did the emperor understand the strange reactions from the temple. The worst being had appeared at the worst time. Even the Magic Tower chose to flee rather than fight.

*Bang!*

Without realizing, the emperor slammed his fist on the throne. The throne, sturdy as it was, didn’t even crack. Instead, his hand hurt.

The ministers urged him to preserve his health, but the emperor wasn’t concerned about his hand. His heart ached.

“Bad things keep coming. And they’re very bad.”

The ministers, after reading the message, turned pale as well. The Prime Minister, Duke Brandon, tried to speak but closed his mouth.

This was no longer a problem solvable by administration. The bureaucrats whispered among themselves.

“It seems… Count Marcus is probably…”

“Probably didn’t survive. According to the message, he stayed in his territory to resist until the end.”

They knew Count Marcus well. He was proud and strong-willed. Not the type to play games. The message was likely true.