Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint - Chapter 555



Offerings and Wealth

In the lands of all nations, there are bone altars.

A horrific sin committed by barbaric humans long ago. The traces of everyday, chronic slaughter that are hard to dismiss as mere massacres. A dreadful altar built from the bones left behind after devouring humans, stacked neatly.

Though most of the traces of that atrocity have been erased from the lands, a few remain, unable to be wiped away, often used like graves. The dark sorcerer and priest of the evil god, Mughal, was among those at the bone altar.

The sound of drums made of leather echoed, and the mindless offerings walked slowly. Mughal, commanding his minions and dolls, prepared the forbidden ritual.

Even while preparing for the long-awaited ceremony, Mughal’s heart was uneasy. Leaning on a staff adorned with skulls, he muttered discontentedly.

“…A ritual performed in exile is bound to fail.”

But there was no choice. Someone from beyond the plains was coming to find Mughal.

Civilized people fear the savages beyond the plains, but the savages hold a deep reverence for those who come from beyond the plains. The civilized, bearing weapons and tools unheard of, along with shocking concepts and ideologies, arrive in this land and transform it in ways that are jarring. It reconstructs life in a manner that is too rapid, irreversible, and impossible to resist.

Among them, the most powerful and shocking presence was none other than the great Muhoo Agartha. A woman who united countless tribes that could never be woven together into one, creating a nation called the United Lands.

Though her lineage may have been severed by some event, the mysterious reverence for her still lurks in the dark corners of the jungle.

Even the Mughal, who encompasses the jungles of the United Lands, could not dispel that unease.

“There was an omen. The crow circling the sky, the crescent moon, the rising blood—all foretold the success of consciousness. It would be foolish not to heed them.”

Mughal, muttering to himself, grasped his staff and steeled his resolve. If that were the case, then even this obstacle that had appeared now must be an omen. If he could overcome this trial, the desired outcome would surely follow.

“It was something that had to be done anyway. The timing was just moved up a bit.”

Mughal shook his staff. At that moment, something massive stirred on the bone altar.

“Come at any time. I shall face you myself.”

However, at that very moment, I and the Regressor had already infiltrated the prison of the sacrifice.

A path leading to the bone altar lay ahead. The Regressor suggested infiltration instead of attacking the dark sorcerer immediately, claiming that there were people held captive somewhere nearby.

The easiest way to confront a dark sorcerer is through ambush. Like all sorcerers, an unprepared dark sorcerer is particularly weak.

However, the wisest course of action is to free the sacrifices before launching an attack.

“This is why I dislike dark sorcerers. I didn’t come here specifically to save them, but it seems I will end up doing so.”

The Regressor grumbled as he lightly sliced through the bars with a celestial blade.

Just as a wealthy man stacks cash in his vault, a dark sorcerer always prepares sacrifices for immediate use. Though the dark sorcerer hides his assets and weaknesses, the Regressor’s seven-colored gaze revealed them instantly.

If one is not a cruel person who doesn’t care whether innocent lives perish, they must prioritize freeing the sacrifices. It’s not solely out of a sense of justice.

“It’s a rational decision. The power of a dark sorcerer depends on the number of sacrifices. The more sacrifices we rescue, the more we can diminish the sorcerer’s strength.”

“I dislike being forced into such a situation. The dark sorcerer will surely have countermeasures in place.”

Grumbling, the Regressor shouted towards the people who remained inside.

“Everyone, come out. If you don’t want to die.”

However, the people trapped in the prison hesitated for a long time. The unexpected salvation felt too foreign to them.

“I’m alive!”

Amidst the chaos, there was indeed someone still conscious. A frail barbarian woman in tattered leather clothing approached.

“We are finally alive! Oh, Muhoo, great spirit, mother of all trees! You have sent an avatar to save us from that wicked sorcerer!”

With a voice filled with emotion, she called out, looking back.

“Everyone, come out! If you don’t, your blood and flesh will quench the sorcerer’s thirst!”

At her words, the people who had been listless began to move unsteadily. As if she were the leader of this place, the candidates for sacrifice followed her words and stepped out of the prison.

The Regressor, having cut through all the ropes and chains, pointed with his finger towards the back.

“Now. Go hide somewhere, whether outside or anywhere else. If you stay here, you’ll get caught up in the fight and die.”

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Understood. Everyone, stay strong. Even if it’s hard, we have to keep moving….”

A woman leading the sacrifices who had lost their will. Truly a brave and courageous sight.

It was hard to believe they were sacrifices waiting for death.

‘Just as my master said. They came looking for sacrifices.’

The dark sorceress Ramnu concealed her true intentions as she moved the sacrifices.

To the dark sorceress, sacrifices were both assets and risks. Unlike money, they had legs and could run away at will, and in severe cases, they might even attack her with weapons.

Thus, when storing sacrifices, she would break their will with fear and dread, clouding their senses with drugs and incense. That way, they would willingly offer their lives on the altar when the time came.

Of course, if they were damaged too severely, they would lose their value as sacrifices, so she had to manage them appropriately. But perhaps catering to human whims was quite bothersome. So, for a dark sorceress, such menial tasks were usually delegated to her disciples under the pretext of training.

‘I’ve hidden my true feelings from my wicked master and acted as a diligent and devoted disciple, completely infatuated with her. Deceiving these fools who came to rescue the sacrifices is much easier.’

Unaware that her thoughts were being read, Ramnu chuckled.

‘My master ordered me to inform her immediately, but… there’s no need for that. With sacrifices like these, I can conduct the ritual myself. While they fight against my master, I’ll steal the ritual for myself. I will be the one to become the avatar of Ankhra!’

The plan was indeed grand, but there was one unfortunate aspect for Ramnu.

Was it that I possess telepathy? Of course not.

It was the suspicion of the regressor.

“Hm. People seem to listen to you well…”

The regressor’s eyes sparkled briefly in seven colors. The penetrating green gaze pierced through grass and rock, finding the steel key hidden in Ramnu’s bosom.

A prison key made of steel. A sacrifice should not possess it. If she had the key, she should have escaped long ago.

“What?”

“For now.”

“Ahhh!”

Ramnu bled as she was struck by the regressor’s swift blade. It would be a bit unfair to say Ramnu was careless. Who would have thought someone with the ability to see through would find the key?

“It’s filled with an unpleasant scent. Drugs? Anesthesia? Something like that. The effect isn’t very strong.”

“Yes. Perhaps that’s why people don’t move much even when we speak to them.”

“For now, I’ll send the direction away with the wind, so you take the people somewhere. A dark sorceress is nothing without sacrifices.”

“Ha ha ha. Nothing at all?”

It was then. Ramnu, who had been bleeding out, slowly rose from the position she had fallen in. Without touching the ground or tending to the blood she was spilling. Rising as if rewinding, Ramnu spoke with a face devoid of vitality.

“You are all in the palm of my hand. Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared for this much?”

“What? Is it puppetry?”

“Ha ha. Of course. It’s a doll that swallowed my finger. If I’m not going to use it as a doll, there’s no need to take on a disciple.”

A puppet technique that implants a part of my body and seizes control through some kind of sorcery. An extra life obtained in exchange for a sacrifice and a piece of flesh.

The dark sorcerer Mughal must have been watching us from the very beginning, turning my disciple into a puppet.

“So what?”

The ambush was exposed, but the regressor paid it no mind and severed the puppet’s limbs. No matter how powerful the original body was, a puppet is still a puppet. Just break it.

The body of Ramnu, with its limbs torn off, quickly became useless. However, the dark sorcerer beyond seemed unconcerned about the damage to the puppet. To him, it was merely a puppet.

“Unwavering, huh… But how about this!”

The dark sorcerer sprinkled more of his blood and began to chant a spell. The incantation, more akin to a primal howl than language, transformed the spilled blood into a red mist.

The red mist surged in. The regressor lightly cut through the air with a fan to block the fog.

“Is this all you’ve got?”

“I’m not targeting you!”

And at that moment, the sacrifices began to scream, their eyes bloodshot. The spell of frenzy. The sacrifices, lost in their senses and drugged, could no longer distinguish one another and began to thrash about.

The regressor clicked his tongue.

“Tch. Should I have struck the dark sorcerer directly? He’s quicker on the uptake than I thought.”

“It seems he knew we were coming and prepared for it. What should we do? Kill them?”

“Killing them will only make them the dark sorcerer’s sacrifices. I’m going to go kill the dark sorcerer’s original body! You handle this place!”

“What? You’re leaving me alone among all these berserk warriors?”

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“You can do it, right? You won’t die.”

“That’s separate from whether I should!”

“There’s no time!”

The regressor dismissed my words and immediately raised his jizan. The blade of the jizan split the ceiling in half, allowing starlight to seep into the dim underground prison.

“Do it!”

The regressor soared, leaving me alone among the countless berserk warriors. The sacrifices, caught in a frenzy, approached me, staring blankly at the sky.

“Haah. Why are they all like this…?”

They drooled, filled with thoughts of tearing me apart with their teeth and claws. No, the malice that hadn’t developed into thought surged within them like a storm.

“Dealing with them isn’t a problem.”

The problem is that I can’t kill these berserk warriors, and if I let them live, they’ll attack me. What am I supposed to do about this?

“…I guess I have to, right?”

One berserk warrior bared its teeth at me. Snap, snap. The clashing teeth aimed to tear into my flesh. My body was scratched and clawed. The berserk warriors, driven mad, rushed at me to drink my blood and devour my flesh.

Instead of pushing them away, I let the blood flow from my body.

Life inherently resists external interference, yet dark magic blurs those boundaries, intruding upon the bodies and minds of other humans. Broadly speaking, it bears a resemblance to vampires. Perhaps one could call it a vampire of another’s making.

In any case, dark magic is also a human craft. I allowed the paladins to drink blood. With their regenerative abilities, they had the luxury of being used.

The blood I shed slowly flowed into the bodies of the paladins.