Chapter 18

Chapter 18 :The Ego Sword Picked Me Up 

Baluka the Massacrer

―……Great power comes with a price. The Creator God made me and handed me to humans, but among weak humans, there was no one who could endure me. That is why the sacred objects made after me were made to pay the price in different ways.

At first, I too had recklessly used Flambeju and fainted. It seemed many masters had lost their lives that way.

“What is the price for other sacred objects? What kind of price do they have to pay?”

―I do not know. I have no interest either.

The blond young man firmly closed his mouth. He seemed to dislike the very fact that I was showing interest in other sacred objects.

While drinking stew made by thoroughly boiling water, salt, and jerky in a pot, I said,“Baluka, hunt later. For now, tell me your story.”

―My…… story?

―Why ask him something like that? I know that bastard’s life well! A murderer who massacred 10,000 innocent commoners!

When Flambeju snapped at him, Baluka lowered his head without saying anything.

Baluka could hear Flambeju’s voice, but he could not see the blond boy directly.

“I want to hear your real story, not rumors passed through someone else’s mouth. From when you were born until before you died. We have plenty of time, so tell it slowly.”

―I come from a rural village called Agri. Um…… I had 2 older brothers and 1 older sister. I also had 3 younger siblings.

Baluka had been a young man from the countryside who dreamed of becoming a hero and went up to the city.

Baluka, who arrived in the city with nothing but his body, was drafted as a soldier and took part in war. His ability was recognized, and he was appointed as a centurion.

―They said I was good at everything. They said I killed well too. On the day I killed around 100 people, they said I was a war hero, held a party for me, and promoted me.

Baluka had not awakened to the nature of a murderer from the beginning.

He had simply gone wilder because others said he had done well.

Then the war ended, and Baluka was appointed as the city guard captain.

It was from then on.

That Baluka became the massacrer who established the Achievement, Massacre of 10,000 Innocent Commoners.

―I was the same everywhere. On the battlefield and in the city, I killed one by one, steadily. I manipulated the traces of murder and blamed others. It was a kind of deception tactic. That was how you threw the enemy into confusion.

Baluka had been an excellent soldier.

And in a peaceful world, a soldier had to be “a weapon with the safety on.”

Baluka had no safety.

He killed innocent people, and was not satisfied with wiping out one small city.

Thus, Baluka passed through a great city and headed to the kingdom’s capital. His ability had been recognized, and he had been promoted. During that time, 10,000 innocent commoners lost their lives.

―Unfortunately, I ended up catching the eye of Sage Aristo. He suspected me. So I had to kill him. I should not have rushed, but I was too uneasy to endure it. He was openly watching me. After going several days without seeing blood, I felt like I would go insane. I woke up from sleep, and when I came to my senses, a maid was dead in front of me.

It felt like I was hearing the scenario of a feature-length thriller film.

Baluka was insane down to the bone.

Every time he smiled while recalling murder, goosebumps rose on my skin and my stomach churned.

“I know what you’re best at, but what was it that you wanted to do?”

―Pardon?

“Doesn’t everyone think about something like that at least once while living? If I had taken a different path back then, would I have been happier than I am now?”

―Happiness?

Baluka went beyond flustered and looked dumbfounded.

I understood Baluka’s state of mind.

When I was in school, there had been several people around me who talked about happiness. Unlike them, I had only run toward my goal. I had thought that if I deviated from the tracks given to me, my life would end too.

That was not a problem that could be fixed just because someone told you.

Only after deviating from the tracks could I face the wide world where one could live even outside them.

When Baluka hesitated, Flambeju cut in.

―Hah! This is the first time I have heard such an absurd story. Something you want to do? Happiness? Does that feed you? Humans should do what they are good at by nature! They must become the best and establish Achievements!

At one time, I had agreed with Flambeju’s opinion too.

I had lived diligently so as not to fall behind, and I had always tried to become the best. Because the moment I fell to second place, I would no longer be able to assist the vice chairman. For those from the same orphanage as me, there was only one highest position we could reach.

However, I had always been empty.

I became the best by trampling competitors, but that place was always beneath the vice chairman’s feet.

“You said you wanted to learn letters before you were drafted as a soldier in the city?”

―I did. But there was no way anyone would teach letters to a kid like me.

“I’ll teach you.”

―Pardon?

“I won’t just teach you for free. If you meet your quota every day, I’ll teach you. Today, 100.”

Baluka picked up Flambeju.

―Hey! He was just saying that! Do not get excited! Calm down!

While Baluka ran into the forest, I opened the Necronomicon.

“It seems it’s time to talk with you now, doesn’t it?”

The words I had written in Korean remained in the Necronomicon. And beneath them, I saw a familiar handwriting. It was the same handwriting as the one in Abdul Alhazard’s diary.

Under the third definition I had written, red letters appeared.

―Three. The Necronomicon has humanity’s first necromancer, “Abdul Alhazard,” sealed within it.

―Do not give up.

It was a request not to give up on the summoning ritual for Abdul Alhazard.

The leather of the Necronomicon, which had swallowed the blood of the enormous bear, had grown swollen, and it gleamed with luster.

With my hand on the Necronomicon, I slowly recited the incantation.

“O dead spirit who has crossed the threshold of death, O vengeful soul who yearns for life. O Viceroy lurking at the boundary. Here, I command you: become the shadow of a world filled with light.”

It certainly felt different from before. The resonance in my chest also grew deeper.

However, I felt certain that the secret art would not succeed like this.

‘Do I need more blood?’

I had ended up learning necromantic secret arts by chance, but that did not mean I had enough expertise to be called a necromancer.

However, I trusted my intuition. I felt certain that if a little blood was added, spirit invocation would succeed.

―Yog-Sothoth.

I had one experience.

It was when I crossed dimensions and faced a cosmic existence at the boundary of dimensions.

Because of that, I established an Achievement and gained a mind that would not collapse.

And I came to glimpse the cosmic knowledge contained in the Akashic Records.

―Necromantic Secret Art: Blood

You have seen through the root of necromantic secret arts. Blood is not merely a remnant of the flesh, but the afterglow of soul and will, and a concentration steeped in memory. The more abundant and dense the blood, the firmer the connection with the dead spirit becomes. In particular, the blood of one connected to Yog-Sothoth causes strange and extraordinary reactions in necromantic secret arts. That blood shall raise the dead again, open forbidden doors, and act as a link that binds one deeply to Yog-Sothoth’s regulation.

The words that appeared before my eyes were openly tempting me.

It was a clear demand to offer my blood.

I did not refuse that request. It was because I felt certain I would obtain powerful strength.

Crunch!

I bit my left index finger and drew blood.

Before the drops of blood trickling down could even touch the Necronomicon, tentacles extending from the book tried to bite off my finger like ravenous maws.

However, they could not harm me. Just before touching my hand, they shrank back as far as they could.

Instead, they opened their maws wide and struggled not to miss a single drop of blood I let fall.

The Necronomicon that held my blood began turning reddish. Its energy also seemed to change slightly.

“Necromantic secret art, Spirit Invocation!”

At last, the incantation was completed.

As when I had summoned Baluka, a single existence appeared before my eyes.

―Haaaaaaah!

The one who drew a rough breath was an old man so thin he looked as if he would break if tapped.

He wore a single black robe, and he barely stood while leaning on a staff larger than his own height.

“Abdul Alhazard?”

What flowed from my mouth was probably an ancient Middle Eastern language. The old man understood those words, raised his head, and looked up at me from between the hood pulled low over his face.

His gaze was as barren as his emaciated body.

A single streak of light settled in those empty eyes that had lost the will to live.

―H-Have I…… been released from my bindings?

I had summoned Abdul Alhazard through spirit invocation. Fortunately, he also seemed to be under “Yog-Sothoth’s” jurisdiction.

‘The fact that I summoned the necromancer sealed inside the Necronomicon must mean the Necronomicon is also deeply connected to Yog-Sothoth.’

The old man looked up at me. His eyes were filled with deep reverence and gratitude.

“You can’t be said to have been completely released from your bindings. At least while I maintain your summoning, you should be able to maintain your current form.”

―……I understand. I will do my utmost to serve you, Master, so that my summoning may be maintained.

“I like that you’re clear. Should I interpret that as meaning you want more blood?”

―Not necessarily. The Necronomicon is an altar that offers sacrifices to the One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken. Anything that satisfies that being is acceptable, but few sacrifices are as excellent as blood containing the memories of life.

“That being…… means Yog-Sothoth?”

The old man flinched, but soon looked relieved.

―That is correct. He may be called that. However, if you use the accurate pronunciation with the precise meaning contained within it, that being may reveal himself to you, Master. Therefore, I recommend avoiding that name as much as possible.

“Can a summoning happen so easily without any particular ritual?”

―If that being wishes it.

As expected of a necromancer, Abdul Alhazard knew many things. He explained the exact principles of the Necronomicon and appealed to me with his abilities.

―……With the “Rite of the Great Wraith,” I can create a massive collective dead-spirit body. It is a powerful ritual capable of hastening the end of the world.

“How many sacrifices would be needed to produce something of that scale?”

―At minimum, more than 500 corpses and souls are required. If you gather the living, I can separate their spirits and flesh.

If Flambeju had heard this, he would have raged and demanded I seal that Necronomicon at once. However, I had no intention of blindly following the standards of good and evil drawn by others.

‘I could use it after subjugating a monster tribe. They said the Poison Goblins were estimated at up to around 300, so would they be insufficient?’

When I pondered for a moment, Abdul Alhazard quickly added,―If secret arts of that kind burden you, there is also necromancy befitting your noble character, Master. “Bloodline Reversal” is a secret art that temporarily manifests the memories and abilities of an ancestor.

“Side effects?”

Abdul Alhazard’s tightly closed lips trembled. He tried to remain silent, but he could not.

A dead spirit subordinated to its master could neither tell a lie nor refuse an order.