Necromancer’s Tower is too Easy - Chapter 299



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Episode 299

[……under.]

The Pope laughed.

As if to replace the answer with that, he hasn’t said anything since.

‘Do you want me to say it again, Pope?’

But Morse persisted.

When he asked her again, the Pope realized that this was no joke and asked again.

[Are you out of your mind?]

Despite the cold tone of voice that was different from his soft-spoken tone, Morse answered calmly.

‘So the answer is, no?’

[… … You must be getting old too, since your ears have finally gone deaf.]

Even as he answered like that, Deus Ex Machina’s attack pounded Morse mercilessly.

Doo doo doo doo!

A bullet loaded with conceptual attack cuts through death, stirs up the life contained within it, and presses Morse.

The blade that Death does not listen to strikes Morse’s body with countless trajectories, continuing its attack by cutting through the area.

Still, rather than focusing on the attack, Morse continued his conversation with the woman inside him.

‘I’ve already figured out what happened to you before, fighting you, Pope.’

A god who does not respond and believers who cry out to such a god continue to die.

Morse recalled the memory of slowly falling away, carrying the burden of responsibility for those believers.

[And I know you swore at me for that.]

‘Isn’t that obvious?’

Morse absentmindedly thought that if the Pope had been present, he might have laughed.

‘Don’t you think it’s a little too late to realize that crying out to God is ineffective when it gets to that point?’

[… … .]

The Pope, who was about to refute, kept his mouth shut.

Because it was right on the mark.

‘Your faith in the God of Birth didn’t collapse overnight, did it? The voices of those who listened to you for ten years piled up and shook you until they finally collapsed. The Pope?’

[So, what do you want to talk about, Morse?]

Kagakak.

As the Pope’s voice rang out, the blade of Deus Ex Machina cut deep into Mors’ body.

At the same time, Morse’s vision was shaken by the concept of death, but he continued the conversation.

[Are you here to convince me? Or are you here to pour salt on my wounds by saying that I was wrong? In my opinion, it seems closer to the latter… … .]

‘Do you still believe in the god of birth?’

Shudder.

Even though he was in the throes of death, Morse could clearly feel the Pope’s trembling.

‘I really hate to bring this up… but I have to admit it.’

Morse knew only too well where that trembling came from.

‘You and I are so alike, Pope.’

The disgust you feel when you face the truth, even though you want to deny it, you can’t deny it.

And the waves of complex emotions that come from that disgust.

‘And I have already… …finished my revenge on those betrayed guys, and now I am running to reach the destination of that revenge. But you, have you achieved your revenge now? The Pope?’

Knock, knock.

A black liquid dripped from Morse’s mouth.

The concept of death flowed from within his wounded inner self, but at the same time, red was shining within him.

‘Are you really satisfied with this being the end, Pope?’

[… … What are you trying to say?]

Morse rebuked the wavering Pope.

‘Your followers still remain in our world.’

[… … .]

‘Just as I could not abandon those who remained… … Weren’t you also unable to abandon the believers of your holy kingdom who remained outside? That’s why you somehow deceived the eyes of the tower and continued to bring them in as your believers.’

The disappearance of the inhabitants of the Holy Land, previously seen as hallucinations.

Morse knew that this was not a mere hallucination, but that it was actually happening in his own world outside the tower.

‘If I am destroyed like this, your followers will also be wiped out cleanly because of that strange god. Is that what you want?’

[… … .]

It seemed as if he was gritting his teeth.

If he had said yes just once, he could have refuted all of that, but when the Pope still could not refute it, Morse pushed him back.

‘Isn’t it just me that you hate?’

[What… what do you want, Morse.]

It seemed like tears were flowing.

The tears shed in death flowed red like blood and flowed out along with Morse’s death, so much so that Morse could see them with his eyes.

‘It’s simple. If you want revenge on the god who abandoned you, pray.’

[Prayer…?]

‘okay.’

Mors, panting and struggling for breath, swung Death in his hand for minimal defense.

Even as the machine-drawn trajectory is eaten away by death, Morse buys time by fighting against the concept that is poking at him as best he can.

‘If you somehow break the balance of one side of that guy who has the concept of a machine, whether it’s the god of life or the god of machinery, the concept of one side will devour the other and become disorganized.’

Morse, who had roughly anticipated how the two concepts could coexist in God, told her how to disrupt it.

‘Whether the God of Life dies, or the God of Machinery dies… …my death will be effective from then on.’

With those words, Morse squeezed as much death out of his body as possible.

“Eww!”

It’s like my mind becomes a blank sheet of paper, completely white.

A pain so great that it could destroy even the transcendent spirit that seemed to contain everything from the beginning to the end of the vast universe, but the strength that was brought out after enduring the pain, if only for a moment, displayed a transcendent light.

[Output, abnormal-!?]

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Machine-made devices shatter under overwhelming force.

In the arms of machines that rust and crumble away before the overwhelming power and quantity that crushes Sangseong, Deus Ex Machina crouches.

[… …runaway, expected.]

Even though the outer layer of his body was crumbling, his voice was still flat, without any difference in pitch.

[However, the existence of a time limit has been confirmed. Activate in defense mode-]

That moment.

A voice came from someone connected to the God of Birth, the original Deus Ex Machina.

‘……under.’

Flat voice.

The god of birth knew who the owner was just by hearing the voice.

[… … the first believer.]

Ella, the being named that way.

At that moment, when she didn’t even understand why the being that should have already been eaten by death was calling her, she continued speaking.

‘Ella… … Ella.’

She, who had been mumbling her own name like that, laughed in vain.

‘It was a compliment to your beauty. Yes. That’s what it was… … Did you have to ignore even the people who said such things?’

[… … .]

The god of birth did not pay attention to the voice.

Because it was just one of the countless voices of his followers that he had heard over and over again.

That’s why I tried not to care.

‘Because you abandoned me first.’

Wiggle.

In that moment, with her faith breaking apart and the deep distrust blossoming from it, the God of Birth had no choice but to urgently call out to her.

[Wait a minute, right now… … !]

‘I will also abandon you… … No. That is not right.’

Now that the concept of the machine was in balance with her own, he spoke to her as if trying to persuade her, foreseeing the possibility that the concept of birth upon which her faith rested might be shaken.

[You will be reborn! All the beings around you will be reborn… …!]

‘I said from that day on, if you won’t save me, I will save everyone.’

I thought I heard laughter.

Perhaps it could be said to be a beautiful harmony that comes from the things one believed in being shattered, or the laughter of a madman who has gone mad.

[Stop! Stop that behavior right now… … !]

‘I have never served you before… … hahahaha… … !’

Ugh.

In the body of Deus Ex Machina, which was made of a machine, something suddenly began to rise.

The power of the God of Life vibrates greatly to suppress the momentary backlash, turning the concept of the machine upside down.

‘Ella… … Ella.’

From the body of that Deus Ex Machina, which was nothing more than a machine, human-like emotions surged forth and a voice poured out.

[Ella!]

‘Ella, ella, lama sabachthani! Hahahahahahaha!’

Oh my god, oh my god.

Why do you abandon us?

With the end of that faith, which contained the voice of lamentation and hatred toward its own god, a birth gradually took place that was overturned in that body where only metal and oil flowed.

What was once a mere machine begins to sprout and develop a sense of self, and it moves to make the emotions contained within it its own.

[ah……!]

The god of birth, Deus ex machina, realized what it brought.

Life blossomed in what was once nothing more than a machine.

It would be normal to be happy, as it was an act of rekindling a cycle that should have been broken within one’s own shackles.

[Not now… Not now!]

Deus ex machina couldn’t help but grimace.

[Just now! Please! I’m saying no… … !]

Swish, swish.

Death is in the metal.

Even though there was no pain, the sight of Deus Ex Machina, which continued to turn black and disappear as if blown away by the wind, gradually began to show the scenery beyond the black storm.

[ah……!]

zeolite.

The tombs that should have originally been filled with weapons and rough stones were all densely packed with tombstones, and under the tombstone in the center of them, a man was looking at him.

“God of Birth!”

But when he realized that it was Morse, the god of birth cried out in anguish.

[Phew, ceasefire! I propose a ceasefire!]

Yet Morse’s death continued to mercilessly carve away at the body of Deus Ex Machina.

[The cycle has already returned! The machines have also entered our domain! Morse! If this happens, these machines will also be placed under your death… … !]

“Ahhhhhhhh!”

Only then did the God of Birth realize that the God of Death in front of him was actually killing him with the power he had created by squeezing everything out of himself.

[Ah… … Ahh… … !]

Only then did he scream, realizing that there was no end to it other than the destruction of both himself and the god of death.

[Ahhhhhhhhhhhh-.]

Even that scream was engulfed in a black storm that swept in like a typhoon.

And at that moment.

Chuuk.

All the machines that were fighting the undead stopped.

Only then did the undead look up at the storm.

[……father……?]

Regina muttered, looking at the place enveloped in a black storm.

And the storm did not let up.

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