Chapter 58: Kingdom of Bers (35)

When I came to, I was in the collapsed colosseum.

Shattered and ruined. Torn scraps of dresses fluttered in the wind, and broken stones lay scattered haphazardly in lifeless fragments. Chunks of what had once been human flesh and splatters of blood dotted the area.

“…Damn it. So all of that was just a dream…”

Even now, the events in the “Elon Garden” felt like the true reality.

It was false. My victories, the happiness I had wished was real there, the very world surrounding me—all of it had been a lie.

Priest… Is this thanks to you?

Because Priest Moriah had defied the command of Elon—his own faith and belief—and struggled to send me back to the “real” reality, I had opened my eyes in my true world.

Yes, that must be it. A Demon King’s Army Heavenly King called “Hammer Surabar”? I had known from the start that was nonsense…

Slap!

“Gaaah! Paramir fully revived! Captain, it was only in the ‘illusion,’ but I’m still sorry for betraying you!”

I slapped my own cheek to shake off the lingering effects of the “Elon Garden.”

For a moment, I had considered trusting Elon a little, but I decided against it.

That damn fraudulent god. Acting all merciful to followers spread across the continent, yet blatantly deceiving people like this?

Even if it was impossible right now, I vowed someday to expose that thick-faced deer god’s true nature to everyone.

…Wait, why is my body in such perfect condition?

In the “Elon Garden,” it made sense—I could exist unscathed thanks to divine power. But not in “reality.”

I had clearly lost consciousness fighting Cedmos Jaeger, then been caught in the colosseum’s destruction caused by the sudden silver owl (probably Hokhma) and blacked out again.

Yet why was my body now so perfectly fine and brimming with vitality?

Who cares.

Maybe the deer god felt guilty about the harsh “future” awaiting me and did this as an apology.

It didn’t matter. As I descended from the heavens, I had glimpsed what that silver owl god, Hokhma, had done.

The moment of falling was far too brief, and distinguishing directions was nearly impossible, but I knew this much.

If we didn’t deal with Hokhma—the one now threatening Jasmine and the captain—a fate worse than staying in the “Elon Garden” awaited us.

Boom. Boom. Rumble…! The massive silver owl, impossible to hide, smashed through buildings and roads as it headed somewhere.

I grabbed the sword lying beside me and charged toward it. You fucking god-bird bastard. I’ll split your damn head in half!

Surabar was like an immortal.

Standing against a god, Surabar did not yield an inch. It was merely a figurative expression, yet it proved literally effective.

Red Stone, having claimed Hokhma’s power for himself, felt soul-rending hunger while struggling against Surabar, who had reached the realm of “swordmaster.”

…Struggling? Me? I, of all people?

Red-Hokhma thought amid the gnawing famine.

Hokhma’s divinity is mine. So why can I not finish off one dying tail-beast? I should have killed him several times over…!

No matter how much he pondered, it made no sense.

Surabar should have died dozens of times by now. Yet look at this tail-beast, more tenacious than a cockroach.

Blasphemously, he still breathed in the presence of one who had become a “god” on earth. Not only that—he protected Redron, Annabella, and the female tail-beast who had just given birth.

It was incomprehensible. Something that should never happen. Defying a god’s will—a gravely blasphemous mortal…

“You lowly tail-beast…!”

「Hoot hoot hoot hoot…!」

Red Stone’s voice and Hokhma’s owl cry rang out simultaneously. Red Stone. Hokhma. A bizarre entity fused from one mortal and one god. It was now neither.

No longer the mortal king of Bers, Red Stone, nor the silver owl Hokhma that wandered the Milky Way. The two had merged, ascended into something new.

Yet the ascension was imperfect. Ascension required immense energy. Hokhma-Red knew the hunger worse than death stemmed from insufficient energy.

And that energy came from mortal souls.

Even after devouring the souls of people and beastmen near the capital, it was far from enough.

Hokhma-Red greedily sucked the souls of hidden nearby mortals, but could no longer tolerate Surabar interfering with its “meal.”

“Hoo-oooot!!”

「Hoo-oooot!!」

“Guh…!”

No more endurance! Hokhma-Red unleashed a roar strong enough to collapse the earth, shaking off Surabar clinging to its wings, back, and head like a flea.

If I kill that lowly tail-beast, no one can stop me! With that thought, Hokhma-Red poured all its strength into pecking at the falling Surabar.

“Hoo…t?”

If it had hit, his torso should have split apart, shattered into fragments scattering everywhere.

But there was no sensation of piercing Surabar.

Only unnecessary structures crumbled like sandcastles.

Hokhma-Red tilted its head, scanning the surroundings.

Despite gaining omnipotent divine power, it still struggled to control it, repeating only grotesque movements.

How did he dodge? No—what happened?

It had witnessed Surabar survive situations where he should have died multiple times.

But this time, he would not survive.

His war hammer was broken, one massive arm severed. He bled like a fountain.

Even watching quietly, death seemed certain for the lowly tail-beast—yet Hokhma-Red, cautious to the extreme, lifted him into the air so he could neither escape nor evade, then pecked with its beak.

Still, Surabar remained “alive.”

“Hey, birdbrain. You’re the one who did this to the captain?”

“…?!”

Startled by the voice from below, Hokhma-Red lowered its head.

Manipulating the silver owl’s body remained difficult. An unexpected voice from another mortal. Hoo…t? Forcing its head down, Hokhma-Red tumbled forward instead.

What an embarrassing display! Flapping its wings, Hokhma-Red tried to right itself.

“No need to ask. You disgusting owl bastard—I’ll make you regret descending to earth. I’ve always wanted to cut down a god. Know something called the ‘Elon Garden’? Doesn’t matter if you don’t. You die here today. God, demon—whatever you are!”

“…Elon!”

「Hoot!」

No mistake! Hokhma cried Elon’s name toward the young human casually resting a sword on his shoulder.

It sensed Elon’s power from the human before it. Not another holy knight of Elon, yet Elon’s divinity lingered nearby.

The guardian knight protecting Prince Garland…? The moment it realized, Hokhma-Red saw the sword cloaked in blue aura slashing down from above.

Truly a heroic battle.

Watching his bloodied, near-death back, Annabella thought for the first time that she envied Jasmine.

She knew the details of where Jasmine came from and who the destined partner she loved and waited for was—heard in depth when Redron and his attendants were absent.

Annabella too had believed without doubt that Surabar would come, planning to help and receive help from him to free Jasmine from this repulsive motherland.

Yet all those plans, strategies, and long-held resolve crumbled into dust.

Hokhma. Red Stone. Now a grotesque entity that was neither—Annabella despaired before it.

The shadow blessing granted by the goddess was powerless, torn away, and she slammed her head into the ground, losing consciousness.

She could consider herself lucky to be alive or thank the goddess, but Annabella could not easily escape her gloomy thoughts.

The fused Hokhma and Red was like an untouchable natural disaster. Sooner or later, she, Jasmine, and even her recently somewhat kinder brother would die.

No escape.

In deep despair, Annabella forced herself up.

Death was inevitable sooner or later, but she followed Nyx’s repeated shadowy whispers to wake up and move.

Since her mother and the Blackrose family died under the absurd false charge of treason, only the goddess Nyx had breathed life’s will and hope into Annabella.

Even facing death, moving as the goddess commanded—she let out a hollow laugh at herself, but what could she do? Nyx. She was the only one Annabella could call “family”—person or goddess…

“Annabella! Look at Jasmine! She’s lost too much blood! Both the child and she are in danger! You’re the only one who can help her now! I have to drive the carriage!”

At Redron’s desperate shout, Annabella clutched her blood-matted head and forced herself upright.

As her brother said, Jasmine was enduring dangerously repeated moments of labor, on the verge of death.

In exhausted screams that seemed beyond endurance, the rattling carriage kept moving.

Each time, Jasmine cried “Ah— Ah—!” clenching her legs, then spreading them wide again.

Blood soaked the carriage floor and dripped through the cracks. Only then did Annabella snap to her senses.

“Good heavens, gods… Jasmine!”

“Ah, aaah…”

She hurried to help Jasmine, but Annabella knew nothing about this.

Everyone descends from a mother’s womb to taste the world’s air, yet childbirth is a sacred experience only select women undergo.

Annabella had never taken a man, nor imagined for a moment that she would assist another woman’s birth.

Seeing her panic, the shadow whispered.

Annabella! Calm yourself! The mother’s condition is dire. The child is stuck midway, blocked… We have no proper tools, and the situation is poor. Battle is impossible, but I can help with this.

“Yes, yeees…!”

Trust this goddess and stay calm! Good. I will instruct you. Follow my words exactly. We will get the child out somehow. If left like this, both mother and child will surely die… Do your best, Annabella!

Nyx commanded. Annabella nodded frantically like a madwoman and moved as the goddess directed.

The shadow silently entered along Jasmine’s legs.

“Aaaagh!”

Jasmine screamed in agony as if facing death. Annabella and the goddess touched the unmoving child in her womb and understood why things had gone wrong.

This, this…

Terror and fear made the goddess stammer and gasp. Using the shadow, Nyx and Annabella extracted the child as gently as possible without worsening the mother’s state.

Annabella received the blood- and mucus-covered infant. And then, she could no longer hold back.

Ah, aaah…

Jasmine’s child. Surabar’s child was already.

“Aaaagh!”

Dead.