"I was waiti—"
"Heavenly Sword Qi."
*Slash.*
The Regressor did not wait for the dark sorcerer's words. With a body wreathed in lightning, he instantly sliced the dark sorcerer's neck. Slain in a flash by the strike that severed the moment, Mugul, the dark sorcerer, did not close his mouth even as his head tumbled down.
"...ing. One from beyond the prairie. You probably won't answer, but let me ask you one thing."
"Thunderbird."
*Craaaackle.* The lightning flashing from his scars incinerated the dark sorcerer's body entirely. Burns spread along his blood vessels, and Mugul's flesh crumbled like trash.
However, rather than relaxing, the Regressor spread his aura even more sharply. After all, this too was merely a puppet.
"How did you find this place? People from beyond the prairie shouldn't even care about this place."
"I heard you were trying to resurrect an evil god."
"Do you mean Lord Ankra? Certainly, He is a being that even the people beyond the prairie would fear, but... You shouldn't need to care, should you?"
The Regressor unleashed a sword wind toward the source of the voice. The mountain-like pile of bones was bisected in a single stroke, and bone dust scattered down like snow. Glaring at the crumbling bone pile, the Regressor furrowed his brow.
'He's hiding inside the bone altar. Tch, when piercing through a human with Green Eyes, they appear as bone shapes. The dark sorcerer probably didn't know this, but hiding among the bone pile makes it hard to see even with the Seven-Colored Eyes.'
"This is a barbaric land where people kill each other. A place where even the Martial Emperor met a gruesome death, filled with curses and superstitions. You lot have also come here time and time again, but in the end, you only left with pocket change."
The dark sorcerer's voice came through the bones. The countless bones in this bone altar served as his mouth and hands. The Regressor thought.
'Magic power is even imbued in the altar. Unless I destroy all these bones, it won't be easy to find and kill just the dark sorcerer.'
"I pride myself on having great ambitions, but I don't harbor the ambition to conquer the lands beyond the prairie. Regardless of whether it's possible or not, it's unrealistic. The Great Prairie is too vast, and beyond it is too far."
The Regressor thrust out a Heavenly Flash toward the direction of the voice, but it only pierced an empty pile of bones. The dark sorcerer's voice came from behind him, as if mocking the Regressor.
"The same is true in reverse. This land is too far for you as well. Whatever happens on this land shouldn't be your concern, should it?"
"Whether it's our concern or not doesn't matter. The attempt to awaken the evil god itself is the problem."
"Problem? You speak as if you've become the king of this land."
Mugul, hiding his presence in the darkness, only conveyed his voice.
"You don't care for the people of the jungle or feed them, yet you want to interfere with how they live? Do you know humans who harbor the souls of beasts? Do you know the horned sages? Do you know the witches who command dark and powerful magic?"
"I do."
"But it seems you have little interest in those who cannot survive without relying on that power?"
Dark sorcerers use humans as materials. Therefore, they are better than anyone at utilizing the human body and mind. Realizing that the Regressor was not moved by profit, Mugul instead provoked his sense of justice.
"This primordial land. In a land where powerful beasts and great spirits breathe, humans are nothing more than mere insects. There are only two ways to survive here. Either rely on that power, or overcome it with the power of humans alone."
"And so you use humans as sacrifices?"
"They are lives that will die like insects anyway. We take them and add them to the power of humanity. If you want to be technical, you could call it a sacrifice."
"Ah, is that so?"
However, the Regressor was not the kind of man to be swayed by trivial words. He scoffed and replied.
"Then you can be the sacrifice this time. Your life is no different from an insect's to me, so I'll take it instead."
"...All bark and no bite. You can't even find my presence."
"Presence? You're roughly somewhere around here, right? That's good enough."
The Regressor held Jizan in a reverse grip and struck the ground. Just that alone caused a small earthquake in the jungle covered in grass and dirt. Feeling the unusual tremor, Mugul cried out.
"What are you doing!"
"Earth Bone Style, Earth Resonance."
The Regressor pulled Jizan as if uprooting a stake driven deep into the ground.
Then, the ground rose up entirely. As if all the surrounding dirt and rocks were clinging to Jizan, the very earth veins were pulled out, heaving like a volcano.
The Regressor stepped on the rising ground and pulled Jizan, and as Jizan was pulled, the ground was uprooted. A mystical manifestation that completely ignored action and reaction.
When the earth's labor ended, a 50-meter-tall stone mountain was born in the dark jungle. The newborn mountain trembled and cried like a child.
"Ugh...! What is this! Why is there such immense power...!"
Mugul finally felt the difference in their levels. Hiding somewhere in the bone altar, he belatedly drew up his magic power and cast a spell using the bones as a medium.
"O wandering souls, soothe your spirits with the blood of the living!"
Then, the piles of bones rose up all at once. Human hand bones jumped up on their own and flew toward the Regressor. Tens of thousands of the dead reached out their hands, craving the lives they had lost.
At that moment, the mountain flipped over.
A massive tsunami made of dirt and stone swept over the bone altar. A tsunami that would be a disaster even if it were made of water greedily swallowed the world with dirt and rocks. Where they met, the bones crumbled. Snapping branch by branch, shattering into fine pieces, they became part of the sandy soil.
The bones of beasts originally born from the earth returned to the earth. The altar of sin, built up over thousands of years with human corpses, was buried in the soil in an instant.
Having buried the traces of sin along with the dark sorcerer, the Regressor dusted off the dirt mixed with bone powder and spoke.
"Now. Come out if you don't want to die?"
"Cough! Cough, cough!"
Mugul, who had been hiding in the bone pile, headed for the secret passage before the earth tsunami swept him away.
'I can't go up! I'll die instantly. I have to dig down!'
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The secret passage had collapsed and twisted due to Jizan's power, but Mugul was also a foremost dark sorcerer. When he chanted a spell toward the spine and ribs next to him, the spine slithered into the passage like a snake. The ribs literally became the framework of the passage, and Mugul slid down the passage between the ribs.
"That...! I need the ritual of the mountain sacrifice. Unless I summon Lord Ankra directly, I won't be able to fight it!"
Muttering to himself as he walked desperately, Mugul suddenly stopped at a thought that crossed his mind.
'Could... Lord Ankra really defeat that monster...?'
In truth, Mugul didn't know exactly who Ankra was or what power he possessed. He only knew the story that in the distant past, before the Martial Emperor came, Ankra was an evil god who ruled this land, governing over a hundred tribes and eating a thousand people.
He wouldn't be weak since he was an ancient being, but... could he really win against that thing that cuts the wind and makes the earth cry out?
'No, he must win. Otherwise, everything I've done so far becomes meaningless. I can't just fail to defeat a single person from beyond the prairie! How could I reach the pinnacle of dark magic!'
Steadying his resolve, he reached the underground prison, flung the iron door open, and shouted.
"O sacrifices, listen! Offer your deaths to me! With your fleeting lives, I shall summon the evil god!"
'I haven't gathered a thousand yet, but! The number is merely a shamanistic meaning; five hundred should be enough! If I use all the remaining sacrifices' lives...!'
Mugul, who was about to use the freshly dead corpses for the final ritual, ran into me in the blood-stained prison. I waved at him with an exhausted face.
"Ah, you're here."
"So you were here."
"Yes. And this is where you end."
"Hmph. The one who ends is you. Did you think I cast the spell of berserking without any countermeasures?"
Mugul scanned the scattered sacrifices and smiled wickedly.
"It's to kill the sacrifices through someone else's hands and pass the resentment onto you. These corpses will become the evil god's flesh! Thank you for killing them for me. As a reward, I'll send you off without pain!"
He spread his palm and slammed it into the ground. The tattoo engraved on his arm writhed and connected with the floor, and the bloodstains surged toward his hand as the center. Centered around Mugul's arm, the sacrifices' blood drew a magic circle, circularly covering the prison.
"This place is the prison of sacrifices and the altar! On the boundary of life and death, I call upon the divine remains scattered across this jungle! O Ankra, descend upon this death...!"
*Hum.* Strange magical power flowed over the fallen sacrifices and through the corpses. As if trying to bind the corpses, the blood flowing from Mugul attempted to seep into the sacrifices.
Unfortunately, his magic power couldn't reach.
"They're not dead."
Because all the sacrifices were alive.
If they were dead, they couldn't resist the magic power. Conversely, if they are alive, they resist at least to some degree. Enduring all kinds of external interference and attacks to protect oneself is the basis of life. The dark sorcerer's magic power was potent, but to dominate the sacrifices' bodies, he had to kill them first.
And I didn't kill them.
"What?!"
Mugul belatedly grasped the condition of the sacrifices. The sacrifices were either unconscious or groaning in pain. Poisoned by drugs and medicine, and afflicted by the curse of berserking, their bodies and minds had suffered severe damage. To the extent that it wouldn't be strange if they died at any moment.
"Ugh..."
"M-My head feels like it's going to split open..."
"Save me, save me! Aaaargh!"
But they weren't dead yet. Mugul realized the faint but lingering vitality and was horrified.
"H-How? How are they alive?"
"They're alive because they didn't die."
"The curse of berserking is a curse that makes one run mad and attack everything around them until they die! I stripped them of their reason with drugs and medicine, made them half-corpses, and encroached on them with dark magic! They shouldn't be alive!"
"Are you the only one who can use dark magic?"
"What?!"
"I used it too. Using my blood as a medium, I infused magic power and controlled these people's bodies... to act according to their own will."
It didn't require a lot of magic power. Since Mugul had already processed them with his magic power. I merely changed their purpose slightly.
Instead of dying and becoming sacrifices, they desperately survived and moved according to their own will.
"Im-Impossible!"
"What is?"
"Dark magic is the suppression and control of human will! I have broken and bent their wills once. You cannot reverse that!"
"Why not? If you can suppress and control, you can also suppress and control them 'to regain their own will.'"
"That's a contradiction! Even if you reattach a broken branch, it is merely a branch you attached; it is completely different from the original branch! The moment your will intervenes, their will has essentially disappeared. Regaining their own will is impossible!"
So he's a magician after all. It seems resolving his curiosity is more important even in this crisis. Explaining isn't difficult, but I wonder if he can accept it.
"It is possible. For me."
Because this is something I can do as the King of Humanity.
I am not another person. I am the King of Humanity and the Spokesman of the Species; with telepathy, I can read their wills and desires exactly as they are.
That is why I can return their lost sanity exactly as it was.
"Because their desires are my desires. The dark magic I use produces the exact opposite effect of normal dark magic. It makes humans act according to their own desires... You could call it the normalization of the abnormal, perhaps."
"That's ridiculous...!"
"There is nothing as meaningless as discussing possibilities about something that has already happened. More importantly, are you sure you're okay?"
Faint shadows appeared around Mugul. Before he could even exclaim, a spearhead made of bone pierced Mugul's body. Taken by surprise, Mugul vomited blood.
"Cough...!"
"This is revenge, sorcerer!"
Taking advantage of the moment Mugul's attention was captivated by me, the barbarians held as sacrifices fulfilled their desires. The barbarian warriors tore Mugul's body apart with bloodshot eyes and screamed.
"You said you'd spare my family if I obediently became a sacrifice!"
"To move my body as you please and blaspheme against the spirits...! I curse you! May you become leopard shit!"
"Kikiki! This is revenge for turning us into puppets!"
Deep hatred sliced Mugul's body to ribbons. Mugul, who appeared in his true body rather than a puppet, fell onto the cold floor with fatal wounds.
Stepping over the gradually flowing blood, I approached Mugul and spoke.
"Now it's time to fulfill your desire, Mugul."
I didn't particularly remember hearing his self-introduction, but I called his name as if it were natural. Mugul, with his dying body trembling, looked up at me.
"A pathetic body with insignificant power. You, who were much weaker than others, craved power and wanted to become an evil god, didn't you? But even if you summon one using sacrifices, it won't become yours."
Sacrifices are merely the idea of a coward devised to pass on the price of dark magic. A gamble that doesn't bear any risk won't yield a great return.
"The essence of dark magic is using your own body. Causing a miracle with yourself as the price is true dark magic. Now, the conditions are met. The altar, the sacrifice, and death."
This place was the altar prepared in advance.
The sacrifice is Mugul himself.
And right now, if he doesn't summon the evil god, Mugul is finished. Regardless of the end of the world, to avoid his own end, he has no choice but to summon the evil god into his body.
"I'm also curious about the evil god, you see."
I'm curious about the true identity of the evil god, after all.
Impressed by my words, Mugul clenched his fists desperately. Grabbing a handful of the blood flowing from his own body, he smeared it long across the stone floor and chanted a spell.
"De shola alhanan tam. Ankra, Ankra. The filled vessel has been emptied, so enter the empty vessel!"
The final stage of dark magic is offering oneself as a sacrifice. That is far more powerful and profound than going through sacrifices. Mugul used his flowing blood, his life, and the death he faced to summon the shadow of the evil god spread throughout the jungle.
"Ugh?!"
"Such an ominous aura...!"
As the people retreated from the powerful magic power gushing out, I observed Mugul closely. I didn't know what the evil god was, but was resurrection truly possible? Was it truly a being no different from a god?
I read what kind of change was occurring in Mugul, and tilted my head at the bizarre feeling.
"Kaha, hahaha!"
Vitality returned to Mugul's dying body. The suicide attempt called the offering ritual usually has far more failures than successes. If such power were truly granted, dark magic would not have remained a minority.
But for some reason, Mugul managed to succeed.
"It's a success...! Thank you, I don't know who you are. It seems it was the right answer! Great power cannot be obtained unless you discard yourself!"
Even though blood had already flowed out, there was no problem with his body. It seemed his body was moving on a completely different principle.
Mugul grabbed the bone spear stuck in his body and crushed it. It was monstrous strength hard to believe came from his skeletal arm. Feeling the overflowing vitality, Mugul laughed maniacally in ecstasy.
"Thank you! You were an auspicious omen! I have finally gained the power to become a god!"
"Are you satisfied now?"
"Of course! I'm completely satisfied! Now, with this power, I will strike down those haughty druids and filthy beasts, and reign as the true god of this land...!"
Strange. Is power given simply by having faith? Is it truly a god similar to the Celestial Gods?
But even so, there is too little understanding of the power. If power were born from such vague faith, every nation would have become a land of monsters.
Are there any other examples? I think I need to watch a bit more.
"First, I'll kill you humans from beyond the prairie!"
Mugul broke the iron bars as if showing off his overflowing power and approached me. Terrified by his dreadful aura, the sacrifices backed away. Mugul shouted as if satisfied with their reaction.
"Become the sacrifice of the evil god...!"
"Ah, there you are."
Above him, the Regressor crashed through the ceiling and made a grand entrance. Jizan fell down right above Mugul's head.
If you crush a bug between two large rocks, the bug disappears without even leaving a trace. As if it fled somewhere.
A similar thing happened to Mugul. Mugul's body, caught between Jizan and the stone floor, burst from his back and was mercilessly crushed. The evil god's power was also helpless before the severe weight of the earth. Without even having time to flaunt that immense power, Mugul turned into a handful of blood.
It was a somewhat anticlimactic end. Well, if the evil god had been that powerful, it wouldn't have disappeared and would still be strutting around.
Blood splattered in all directions. Chunks of flesh scattered like dust. Even amidst the gruesome death, the Regressor, who had flicked away the blood with qi, approached looking spotless.
"I didn't expect you to escape underground in the middle of that chaos. Anyway, I felt a strange presence. What happened?"
"Nothing particularly special happened."
"Really? Then alright... Huh? What? Everyone is alive and well? Weren't they berserk?"
"I used a bit of my power."
"You can calm berserk humans too?"
"Dark magic is also a human technique."
"Even so, to calm a berserk human... Well, whatever. A good result is a good result."
The Regressor, brushing it off heartily, looked around widely once and tilted his head.
"Is this it?"
'Is this the ancient evil? No matter how blessed I am, it's too easy. The trials have never been this easy before...?'
I'm not sure either if this is the ancient evil the Saint spoke of. But there is still work left to do.
"Mr. Shea. It's not over yet."
"I figured as much. What's left?"
I pointed at the barbarians still collapsed all over the underground prison and spoke.
"We have to send these people back."
"Ah."
Facing a cleanup job even bigger than the main task, the Regressor let out a heavy sigh.