Published at 21st of August 2024 9:00 am

Chapter 541: Divine Ascension (2)

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

Three hundred years ago, after Hamel had died in the Demon King of Incarceration’s Castle, Babel, Vermouth was the one who had arranged his reincarnation into Eugene.

However, Vermouth didn’t have anything to do with how Agaroth had been reincarnated as Hamel.

“It was because Agaroth was the only choice,” Eugene softly muttered while looking out into the distant sea. “He may not have defeated the Demon King of Destruction, but he at least left his mark on the Demon King’s core. And unlike the other gods, he was able to hold the Demon King of Destruction back for several days.”

Though there weren’t that many gods who had taken on the challenge of trying to stop the Demon King of Destruction, among the gods who had accepted that task, only Agaroth had managed to accomplish it.

Was it because Agaroth was just that strong? Eugene was the first to deny that possibility. It was true that Agaroth was one of the strongest gods around. It was also a fact that he was one of the few gods who had managed to slay multiple Demon Kings by himself.

However, among all of the gods who had been alive during the Age of Myth, Agaroth hadn’t been the strongest. Of the Ancient Gods who hadn’t taken part in the war between the gods and the Demon Kings, there were several gods who possessed greater divine power than Agaroth. What made Agaroth so special was that, as befitting of his name as the God of War, Agaroth was unstoppable when it came to warfare.

‘Eugene suddenly recalled, ‘Just now, Gavid Lindman said that he had managed to cut down Agaroth, didn’t he?’

Eugene didn’t believe that Gavid Lindman was lying about that, but he did feel that there were certain other factors at play to have made such a thing even possible. No matter what methods the Demon King of Incarceration may have used to recreate him, the Agaroth that Gavid had fought wasn’t the real thing. It was probably an illusion created by the Demon King of Incarceration based on what he had seen and remembered. If all of the God of War’s murderous intent and spite was removed from him, leaving him with only his skill in combat, it was inevitable for there to be differences from the real Agaroth.

Agaroth was able to hold back the Demon King of Destruction for so long because of the said spite and murderous intent. In the first place, the strength and depth of his divine power hadn’t been of any use when facing the Demon King of Destruction.

Before that final battle, Agaroth had heard the voices of his believers. He watched as everyone in his Divine Army died in front of his eyes. Then, to satisfy the last wishes of his Saintess Aria, he had broken her neck himself.

That was why Agaroth had been able to block the Demon King of Destruction. His spite and murderous intent had fueled his desire to kill the Demon King of Destruction by whatever means possible and had allowed him to endure those five days spent within the core of Destruction.

“In the opinion of the Ancient Gods, it would be a far too risky and baseless venture to place their trust in the people of the next era,” Eugene snorted. “That’s right. Rather than expecting the birth of someone in the next era who could perfectly control the Holy Sword, was strong enough to be an equal of the god, and was skilled enough to not only defeat the Demon King of Incarceration but also reach the Demon King of Destruction who lay beyond, they decided that it would be better to just reincarnate the reliable choice — Agaroth.”

His friends listened in silence.

“But it didn’t go as well as they hoped,” Eugene muttered with a wry grin.

The Ancient Gods’ arrangements were only half successful.

Eventually, the Demon King of Incarceration did launch an invasion of the continent just like he had during the Age of Myth. The exact reason for the invasion was unknown, but the fact that the Demon King of Incarceration, who had remained silent for so long, would suddenly start a war seemed to be a clear signal that the end was approaching.

“Sienna, Anise, Molon. Three hundred years ago, would any of you have ever imagined that I might be something so grandiose as the reincarnation of the Ancient God of War from the previous era?” Eugene asked his three listeners.

Instead of replying immediately, all three first glanced at each other. They carefully thought back to when they had first met Hamel. They recalled the way he seemed to have a dirty rag for a tongue, how he kept clicking his tongue at them like he was trying to pick a fight, all of the unsavory rumors surrounding him, and how Hamel would constantly challenge Vermouth to a spar whenever he got the chance....

“I don’t know about a God of War, but I did think you were a true idiot,” Anise admitted honestly.

“You didn’t seem quite strong enough to be accepted as a comrade, but I still felt that you weren’t truly a villain at heart,” Molon also gave his honest opinion.

“I... um... well... I did think that you were a bit of an idiot, but still, um, that didn’t stretch to the point where I couldn’t accept it,” Sienna stammered out her answer in a small voice, recalling how she felt after hearing Hamel call her “pretty” during their first meeting.

“You three really are a bunch of bastards,” Eugene growled.

It seemed like they had initially looked down on him even more than he had first thought.

Trying to calm the anger boiling inside of him, Eugene spat out, “In any case, well, that was where the problem lay. The Ancient Gods had been hoping that the reincarnation of Agaroth would result in someone who could pacify the battle in the human world as soon as he was reincarnated and proceed to harvest the heads of all of the high-ranking demonfolk and Demon Kings like they were weeds. But in reality, I, as the reincarnation, wasn’t quite as impressive as they were expecting.”

Sienna awkwardly tried to comfort him, “...But even so... well... Hamel, you were strong enough, weren’t you?”

“Being strong enough wasn’t good enough.” Eugene shook his head with another click of his tongue. “The thing that caused half of the plan to fall into ruins was time. Too much time had passed between the beginning of the current era and the reincarnation of Agaroth.”

The Holy Sword Altair had been forged for Agaroth’s sake. The Ancient Gods had hoped that Agaroth’s reincarnation would work with Altair to stop the Demon King of Destruction before the Demon King managed to end the world once more. They judged that, even if Agaroth’s own strength proved insufficient, as long as he could use Altair as a medium to draw on the source of divine power that had been distilled from the faith of the entire continent, he should be able to reach the same level as the Demon King of Destruction.

However, too much time had passed, causing Agaroth’s godhood to fade into obscurity. Although Hamel was strong for a human, he still fell far short of the strength that the Ancient Gods had been expecting. Even if Hamel had become the master of the Holy Sword, without his godhood, it would have been impossible for him to draw on Altair’s full power.

An opportunity was needed to reawaken his faded divinity. He needed to spend time wandering the battlefields, repeatedly fighting in battles, killing demonfolk, and slaying Demon Kings....

But would the Demon King of Destruction really wait around for him to finish all that? No, it wouldn’t, and it wasn’t just the Demon King of Destruction that Hamel needed to worry about.

The Demon King of Incarceration had already announced the start of the war but had retreated into silence within Babel after doing so. However, the other Demon Kings and demonfolk refused to stay similarly silent. Instead, they were given free rein to leave the Devildom and rampage across the continent, leaving a trail of massacres behind them. If things had continued like this, humanity would have been destroyed at the hands of the demonfolk and Demon Kings before the Demon King of Destruction had even made an appearance.

Someone.

They needed someone. Someone who could buy time until Agaroth could reawaken his forgotten godhood. Someone who could stop the other Demon Kings and demonfolk from destroying humanity. Someone who could provide hope instead of allowing resignation and despair to permeate the world.

The Ancient Gods knew what method they needed to use. Things would turn out fine if they could just find a Hero. Someone who could become the focal point of humanity, ignite the hope for victory, and inspire humanity to follow him onto the battlefield by serving as the foundation of their newfound hope.

Only a Hero could do such a thing.

So should they bestow a revelation and manufacture a Hero? But who on earth should they choose? Within the Light, that divine mass of Selflessness, a faint ego was formed in order to make this decision. If things kept going like this, then everything that they had done would be rendered utterly meaningless. Someone needed to buy time until Agaroth could be reawakened, but who on earth should they choose? Just who would be able to act as the Hero to end this era of despair?

They had the Saints. Putting aside the fact whether these poor women could even be called true Saints, the Light, at the very least, did not reject the existence of these Saints. This was because they felt that such beings were necessary for their plans.

However, the Light ultimately decided not to bestow the fate of a Hero onto these Saints. It wasn’t because they felt pity for these artificially created Saints; it was simply a problem of it being inefficient to do so.

In that case, should they just choose one of the church’s Holy Knights? But there weren’t any holy knights who really caught their eye. Once they had made their choice of Hero, they couldn’t allow that Hero to be defeated.

The Hero must serve as a symbol of hope. He needed to be someone who could inspire hope in others and create a desire for victory.

What if they made the wrong choice and their Chosen Hero was defeated and slain by a Demon King, one who wasn’t even the Demon King of Incarceration at that? Or maybe, just maybe, the absolute worst thing could happen, and their Hero could end up being killed by a common demonfolk rather than a Demon King.

If something like that were to happen, it would only result in an irreversible trend of humanity falling into despair. Despite possessing countless names, the Light was the sole deity in charge of the current world. If its Chosen Hero were defeated, then people would no longer be able to believe in their gods. So even if they successfully managed to reawaken Agaroth’s godhood, if the world had already drowned itself in despair, then... Altair would no longer be able to serve as an equalizer for Agaroth.

“You three already know what happened next,” Eugene said while lifting the flask to his lips. “Someone suddenly appeared, claimed the Holy Sword, and became the Hero.”

He had first appeared in the northern snowfields among a group of prisoners being transported to the Devildom. If things had gone as they were originally meant to, all of those prisoners would have died after being used up as sacrifices by a black wizard or being turned into a demonfolk’s playthings. At least, that is what would have happened if something miraculous hadn’t occurred.

One of the prisoners, a young boy who hadn’t been seen as any threat before this, suddenly snatched a sword from one of the guards and slaughtered all of the demonfolk and black wizards who had been part of the caravan.

“Vermouth,” Molon said in a reflective murmur.

This was Vermouth Lionheart.

Molon still couldn’t forget the moment when he had first met Vermouth.

On one of the snowfields that the Bayar Tribe had roamed, Vermouth, whom Molon had encountered on that day, hadn’t given him the impression of a lion as the Hero’s name might suggest. With his matted gray hair and golden eyes that had shone with a ghostly light amidst the snowstorm, the first impression that Molon had gotten from Vermouth was that of a starving snow wolf.

Vermouth wasn’t able to just go and grab the Holy Sword right from the very beginning. Vermouth’s journey first began with making his name widely known. For that purpose, he rampaged across the snowfields along with Molon and the Bayar Tribe. Together, they destroyed demonfolk fortresses, collapsed black wizard dungeons, and liberated the prisoners that were being transported across the snowfields.

As they traveled across the vast and desolate snowfields, they found many people who had been forced into hiding to escape the demonfolk. Vermouth gathered all these people together and protected them as he led them to safety.

After doing all this, rumors about his actions were bound to spread without any further involvement from Vermouth, quickly generating rumors about the young hero who had appeared in the snowfields. A few of the hastier rumor spreaders even claimed that this young hero was the Hero that the Light had sent down to save the world.

“I remember that,” Anise absently muttered. “At that time, Yuras was making all sorts of attempts to somehow draw the Holy Sword. I also attempted to draw the Holy Sword, but as expected, I too failed, and there were countless other holy knights and priests ordered to make an attempt alongside me. Among the ordinary believers, all those known to have a strong faith in the Light also got a chance to stand in front of the Holy Sword.”

However, no one had been able to draw the Holy sword. Under those circumstances, the rumors regarding Vermouth began to reach the church’s ears.

It didn’t matter whether he actually had any faith in the Light. The Church decided that the world needed a Hero like Vermouth to give it hope.

“In the end, the Pope of that era personally stood up to make a declaration, and soon, Sir Vermouth and Molon came to Yuras,” Anise recalled.

Just like Molon, Anise could clearly recall Vermouth’s appearance at the moment that she first met him, when he confidently strode into the Holy See. His neatly combed gray hair and the pure white cloak that he wore around his shoulders had made for quite a sight, along with his golden eyes that had emitted a soft glow of light.

During that time, Anise had been filled with resentment and skepticism toward the Light, but the moment she saw Vermouth, she couldn’t help but have some instinctive thoughts about him. She instantly felt that this man truly was the Incarnation sent down by the Light to save this world, and he could be no one else other than the fabled Hero.

That was just how sacred and holy Vermouth’s appearance had been at that moment. The golden light flickering in his eyes had felt just like the dawning rays of hope.

“The Light had something else to say,” Eugene added before pouring the rest of the liquor down his throat. “At first, he had no intention of actually appointing Vermouth as the Hero. After all, from the moment he first saw Vermouth, he got the feeling that Vermouth definitely wasn’t human.”

The others silently processed this information.

Eugene shrugged. “However, the Light wasn’t able to prevent what happened next. Vermouth took hold of the Holy Sword and forcibly pulled it out.”

Eugene was aware of the truth behind this. The Holy Sword had never once actually accepted Vermouth as its master. Yet even so, Vermouth had been able to wield the Holy Sword. In order to wield it, Vermouth had sealed away the Holy Sword’s Light. The light that was emitted by the Holy Sword after Vermouth had drawn it was nothing more than the faint afterglow left over by the sword’s Light leaking through the seal. Only after the blade was broken in Eugene’s battle against the specter that the Holy Sword managed to regain its original brilliant glow.

“Right until the very end, the Light still refused to acknowledge Vermouth as the Hero, but they were left with no other choice but to compromise with Vermouth’s actions. Even though Vermouth wasn’t human, at the very least, he didn’t seem to be an enemy either. So holding the Holy Sword, Vermouth began acting as the Hero, then, after finding me, he moved on to the goal of slaying the Demon Kings,” Eugene calmly recounted.

But what on earth had driven him to do such a thing? Just what exactly had Vermouth known that led him to discover Hamel?

“The Light couldn’t tell what Vermouth’s true identity was, but they felt that he shared the same desires as them. So, they allowed Vermouth to keep doing what he was doing. While hoping that someday, eventually... I would reawaken my divinity,” Eugene said with a sigh.

However, until his last moments, Hamel was still unable to reawaken his divinity. He never got the opportunity to possess Agaroth’s Ring, and he didn’t manage to survive their climb up Babel.

But why was that?

What was so different between the lives that he had lived as Eugene Lionheart and as Hamel Dynas?

Eugene knew the answer to those questions. Agaroth’s Ring had always been fated to end up in Eugene’s hands somehow. As Agaroth’s reincarnation, Eugene was always meant to be reunited with Agaroth’s Ring through one means or another, even if his godhood had already faded away.

However, Hamel never once crossed paths with Agaroth’s Ring during his lifetime.

“The Light had an idea on why that was,” Eugene said with a chuckle as he set down the now empty liquor flask. “He said that my destined fate as Agaroth’s reincarnation may have been altered because I had met Vermouth.”

The Light had never arranged for the existence known as Vermouth in its plans. It might even be that Vermouth Lionheart wasn’t an entity that was ever meant to be a part of this world’s destiny. Even though this meant that the world itself had to have been set off-course by Vermouth, Vermouth was ultimately someone whose very existence went against all reason.

“Why didn’t the Light reveal the truth to you in advance?” Molon asked with a hard expression. “Ultimately, the Light was the one who knew the most about you. Even with their Godhood of Selflessness keeping them from being active, you said that they could still muster up a slight trace of ego during moments of need. In that case, wouldn’t it have been possible for them to tell you and Anise the truth?”

“Idiot,” Eugene scolded with a chuckle. “If that bastard called the Light were to suddenly come and tell me, ‘You’re actually the reincarnation of the ancient God of War,’ do you think I would just go, ‘Oh my, so I’m actually a god!’ and believe them?”

“Um...,” Molon paused, uncertain of what to say.

“I would have naturally dismissed it as total bullshit. And fine, say that I did give them a lot of leeway and chose to believe their claim; what could I do even if I did believe it?” Eugene posed rhetorically.

Even if Eugene had known the truth in advance, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Without Agaroth’s Ring or having traveled to the abyss deep within the Southern Seas, Hamel still wouldn’t have been able to reawaken his lost divinity.

“That’s why they couldn’t say anything. And by that, I mean both Vermouth and the Light. Neither of them could tell me anything until I managed to reawaken my godhood on my own,” Eugene admitted.

However, three hundred years ago, Hamel couldn't realize his divinity until the very end because his fate had already been drastically altered.

Vermouth must also have known that. But had Hamel managed to survive and reach the top floor of Babel, would things have somehow been different?

“So, in the end...” Anise muttered quietly before letting out a long sigh.

She looked down at her empty flask with disappointed eyes. Her heart was filled with a sense of depression and wistfulness, leaving her in desperate need of a drink.

“...does that mean even the Light doesn’t know anything about Sir Vermouth?” Anise sought to confirm.

“They said that if anyone in this world knows who or what Vermouth exactly is, it would only be the Demon King of Incarceration,” Eugene grumbled as he clicked his tongue once more. “But even with that being the case, they seemed to have a vague guess about the truth.”

“Couldn’t you get them to tell you what their guess was?” Anise asked.

Eugene shook his head, “I felt like they would have told me if I had asked, but I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Why not?” Anise frowned.

Eugene sighed, “Because they weren’t certain about it.”

The same thing also applied to Eugene. He had his own vague guess as to Vermouth’s true identity, but too much was uncertain.

Vermouth had been able to use the Moonlight Sword. He had discovered several weapons that hadn’t been made in this current world of theirs. He had also been able to use the various weapons belonging to the other Demon Kings. Finally, from the very beginning, Vermouth had known that Hamel was the reincarnation of Agaroth and invited him to become his companion because of that.

“I’ll get the full answer from the Demon King of Incarceration,” Eugene vowed.

He would get the truth about Vermouth and about the Oath as well. Also, he would find out what they needed to do to save Vermouth. Eugene even planned to put a knife to the Demon King of Incarceration’s throat while asking these questions.

“Hamel, I have.... This is just a personal question, but....” Anise’s uncertain voice trailed off in a questioning tone as she glanced at Eugene with a cautious look.

“It’s over there,” Eugene raised his finger and pointed towards the distant sea. “If any place can be called heaven, that place is the closest to it.”

“...Huh?” Anise gaped in confusion.

“All souls sworn to one god or another eventually end up flowing to that place,” Eugene revealed.

All the way towards that distant sea.

Eugene sighed, “The alternate dimension connected to that place is the tomb of the Ancient Gods, the Holy Land of the current God, and the closest thing this world has to heaven.”

Reincarnation was an indisputable fact. Even the Demon King of Destruction hadn’t been able to break the cycle of reincarnation. Only the Demon Kings could pluck a soul from the cycle of reincarnation and keep it from returning to the cycle. And among all of the Demon Kings, the most unique and special example was the Demon King of Incarceration. Unlike the others, who needed to bind their victims with contracts, the Demon King of Incarceration could wrap his chains around those souls and imprison them even when they hadn’t made a contract with him.

“It’s nothing too impressive,” Eugene described. “After all, it’s just a temporary transit area where the souls are made to wait before being reincarnated. However, it wouldn’t be wrong to call it heaven. Souls that have been polluted or damaged during their time in this world are purified by the Light during their stay in heaven and are then sent off to be reincarnated.”

You could even describe it as a type of virtuous cycle. The ultimate goal of the Light, with its countless different names, was to expand its divine power by increasingly growing the faith it harvested from the world. Through these arrangements, the Ancient Gods had planned to bring down the Demon King of Destruction by granting Agaroth the use of all the divine power they cultivated during these countless, long cycles.

It was a known fact that, for the few moments following someone’s death, their souls would still possess some form of consciousness. After all, if people were transformed into unthinking beings at the exact moment of their death, there wouldn’t be such things as ghosts or the undead. Because of this phenomenon, the Light had created all of its stories regarding heaven. He had wanted to extract every last drop of faith from the souls that came pouring into the afterlife, attracted by the concept of heaven.

Anise couldn’t help but allow her jaw to drop soundlessly.

So heaven wasn’t actually created out of the Light’s pure love for humanity?

“Haaaah....” Eugene let out another long sigh.

But could you really say that the Light didn’t have any love for humanity? The Light’s ultimate desire was to prevent the Destruction of the world. This deception was done in order to save the world and the people living in it. That was the Light’s sole motivation. Yet even so, the Light still allowed its Church to inflict all sorts of bullshit onto this world, turning a blind eye as their followers conducted human experiments, harassed other religions, and even hunted down those whose only crime was to belong to other faiths.

Because some of the church’s crimes could prove necessary to save the world, the Light allowed them to continue. As such, the Light could even be described as a monster devoted to protecting humanity.

“If there really is a heaven, then that’s enough,” Anise closed her eyes and softly whispered.

Eugene’s explanation just now had granted Anise relief from all of the anxiety and doubts that she had harbored over the past hundreds of years. In this world, there really was such a thing as heaven. The Light that she had once devoted herself to, and that even now was being worshiped by countless others, was truly, in some way or form, still a god.

“Well... the next time I go there, I’ll have to redo the place,” Eugene muttered as he got up onto his feet. “Make it actually look like the heaven that it’s meant to be.”

“Hamel, can you really do something like that?” Anise asked in surprise.

“If it doesn’t work, then I’ll just beg them to do it for me,” Eugene grumpily snorted. “There’s no way that they would ever say no, right? After all, they’re the ones who went and reincarnated me without permission and handed me the arduous fate of slaying Incarceration and Destruction to save the world.”

That was why Eugene felt like he couldn’t let go of his past connections. There were countless people who had sacrificed themselves to ensure that he managed to reach the present day. They had entrusted Agaroth, Hamel, and Eugene with a flickering spark of hope that had kept burning all the way until now.

“Well then, shall we get started?” Eugene turned to Molon and asked as he pulled Levantein out of his cloak. “To begin, why don’t you get down on one knee.”

“Do I really need to kneel?” Molon asked with a grim expression on his face.

To think that Molon would actually show such stubborn pride.

“No... I guess there’s no real need for you to kneel,” Eugene conceded as he chose to respect Molon’s pride.

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