Chapter 37: The Monstrous Man [1]

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The Spiral of Desecrated Soul.

A Spiral born from the sacrifice of one’s own dear family member to attain greater power—a Spiral that only the maddest of monsters would ever pursue, for it demands the slaughter of your own blood.

Zorba was its wielder, a deranged man who had killed his brother out of jealousy and madness.

This Spiral specialized in the enslavement of souls belonging to those the Spiralwalker murdered.

It stood as the complete opposite of the Spiral of Compassion, which liberates the target from pain and seeks to free them entirely.

This was a Spiral that enslaved the soul and forced eternal torment upon a person’s very existence.

Such a terrifying power could destroy souls as sacrifices to conjure devastating Spells—ones capable of explosive destruction or curses that ravaged the opponent’s soul forever.

The complete opposite of the Spiral of Compassion, which sacrificed the user to grant happiness and healing to the target.

Thus, after witnessing Zorba unleash the full extent of his Necromancy—controlling every corpse of those who had fallen fighting him, stuffing his enslaved souls inside them to birth grotesque abominations—Soma felt fury unlike anything before.

More furious than he had ever been in his life…

That rage created an opening. He directed all of his anger toward Zorba, whose creations were destroyed again and again.

Yet Zorba, whose mind was so twisted and bizarre, resisted Soma’s Mind Corruption to an astonishing degree—even as blood poured from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

He was not yet Tier 8, still firmly at Tier 9, but in this moment, when he unleashed everything he had, his power rivaled that of a Peak Tier 8.

For Necromancers, nothing mattered more than corpses. And in this place filled with the bodies of dozens who had died in battle, every single one was precious material to him.

Their torn-apart remains swiftly fused into giants of flesh, instilling shock and terror in the souls of the surviving knights and Espers still struggling to fight.

Helena burned with the desire to kill him, but Gustaf remained pragmatic. He understood that those who had charged forward to stall Soma and buy time had sacrificed themselves willingly for their country—they were prepared to give everything.

“Hahahaha! What’s wrong?! Aren’t you Tier 4 or something?! Or was it Tier 5? Regardless, you’re so weak!”

Zorba laughed maniacally as a titan formed from over twenty corpses rose from the massive crater. Stone and debris from ruined houses merged into its body, granting it even greater strength.

His masterful creation, Hecatoncheires—or what remained of it—served as its head.

“Go! Hekaton! Thousand Fists!!!”

Zorba cackled as Hekaton surged with massive quantities of Fantasium and Ghostly Flames, pummeling Soma with titanic blows.

“Tsk!”

Soma clicked his tongue and defended with countless Abyssal Hands—each one a mass of materialized Dark Emotions drawn from suffering souls.

Soma drew the source of his endless power not only from those he had “liberated,” but from his constant connection to the Weeping Nest—an endless realm of Dark Emotions, Pain, Suffering, Agony, and Despair turned into tangible essence, vast seas of bottomless darkness.

Gustaf had already realized that this boundless strength stemmed not just from Soma’s own immense power as a Tier 4 Spiralwalker, but also from that cursed Grimoire.

It was a special Soul Gear bound to his soul and linked to his Goddess, allowing him to channel her power as her Saint through the Spiral of Compassion’s Tier 4 Ability.

“You aberrant thing! How long do you plan to fight back? Judgment comes to all, and you—the most sinful—shall face ultimate judgment! Purgatory will be the only thing awaiting you in death! To burn endlessly in agony and despair!”

“Haha, did I strike a nerve, priest?! I wonder how amazing you would be if I remodeled you into a beautiful zombie!”

“Tsk! Begone!”

Soma roared. Countless Abyssal Hands blossomed like lotus petals from his Aura, spreading in every direction. Wherever they touched, black ichor poured down. Buildings they contacted immediately dissolved into the viscous black liquid—highly concentrated Dark Emotions.

Dozens of Abyssal Hands pressed against Zorba’s creations, but the Necromancer smiled. His hands conjured purple death flames as he began absorbing the surrounding miasma. His Fantasium grew rapidly.

“I think you and I are complete opposites—and it turns out I might be your worst nemesis too! I was made to kill you, priest Soma!”

“Nngh! You abhorrent Sinner! What are you doing?!”

“Didn’t you know? Necromancers are highly compatible with Miasma. It still affects humans and can kill them… but I am not human, as you said—I am an ’Abhorrent Sinner’! My mother was a Demon from Spiritias! Demons are naturally immune to miasma and feed on it the same way they devour souls!”

This was one reason Zorba was so perfectly suited to the Desecrated Soul Spiral—it was practically made for him. With his Affinity for Death and Darkness Elements, he could conjure Spells to absorb Miasma and Souls, reaping immense benefits without perishing as normal humans would. As a Sinner carrying the bloodline of Demons from Purgatory, Zorba was indeed a sinful demon—an abhorrent existence Soma despised simply for breathing.

Even more dangerously, because Zorba used zombies to inflict damage, he dealt indirect harm—bypassing Soma’s Damage Transfer that had plagued everyone else fighting him…

They had finally realized the key.

“I think I’ve begun to realize what we can do.”

“Yeah? Me too.”

Gustaf and Helena rushed downward together. Their Psychic Auras flared as they concentrated their power and lifted massive chunks of the land itself.

RUMBLE!

Enormous sections of pavement, sewers, and dozens of houses each began rotating in the sky, rapidly coalescing into a gigantic sphere of rubble.

“Oh, that’s nasty…”

Soma looked up with a smile, understanding their intent. He swiftly conjured masses of pulsating darkness, forming a gigantic hand composed of countless Abyssal Hands fused together, and redirected it toward the sky.

“Abyssal Mother’s Hand!”

The heavens darkened as the colossal hand surged toward the Espers assembling their attack. Soma began moving, riding atop a gigantic black hand and escaping the massive crater he had been pinned in.

“Where are you going, Soma?!”

A voice echoed from above. Soma found himself surrounded by dozens of Knights and Espers—Elises, Fernand, Catrise, Belladine, Rashid, and many more.

And from higher still came the source of that voice…

A descending draconic prince with skeletal wings, metallic claws, and pale gray skin covered in crumbling ashen scales. His eyes glowed with red and golden light. Ghostly flames wreathed half his body while armor of Ashen Frost covered the rest.

Beside him flew a young demonic woman with bright red skin, black horns, and blazing hair. Her demonic wings burned with immense quantities of demonic soul flames.

Their Fantasy Auras overlapped and seemed to shift the color of the night sky, startling Soma.

But the surprises were far from over.

“B-Bastard! How many people have you killed already?!” Elises screamed, hands trembling.

“Elises, calm down! The Captain is here!” Fernand urged.

“The prince and… who is that girl?” Soma wondered. “And there’s this group of… very, very afraid people. Do you really want to fight? I won’t harm you, you know? Haha, why don’t we get along and—”

“Oi.”

A figure stepped toward Soma, surprising him with her resemblance to Ice Giants—though far smaller.

“Hm? Oh, would you like to—”

“Ice Dragon Blade Art.”

“First Form.”

“Freezing Fang!”

“…!”

An immense freezing shockwave erupted, clashing against Soma in an instant! He shielded with his barrier of pain and agony, only for the shockwave to reshape into a slicing blade, cutting straight through and reaching him.

Abyssal Hands blossomed from his Aura to halt the slash—only to be frozen, split apart, and shattered into countless fragments.

“Ah, I remember that nasty attack. You were among those who reached salvation—did you survive the first ascension process?”

“Ascension Process? I saw you slaughter everyone, you monster.”

The woman who had struck him was unlike the rest—the Frostbane Kingdom’s Knight Captain and strongest Sword Master. She had been occupied these past two weeks and had only arrived this morning.

The strict mother of the lazy maid Anastasia, a tall Ice Elf born in Yggdrasil, wielding a greatsword forged from the Dragon King’s Divine Ice. A direct subordinate of the Ruler of Yggdrasil, tasked with protecting Benladra and her family after they moved here.

Knight Captain Tisha, the Eternal Frost Blade.

Among all Ice Elves, she was the oldest and strongest. Tall, muscular yet slender, clad in divine ice armor and bearing her divine ice blade, her aura surged in the shape of a colossal ice dragon.

She was the only Knight whose Swordsmanship had reached the level of Yggdrasil’s Gods, wielding power equal to Gustaf and Helena—yet in an entirely different way.

While the Espers relied on Psychic Power for everything, Tisha was pure Swordsmanship.

“What’s wrong? Surprised I didn’t recoil in agony after striking you?” Tisha smiled. Her beautiful face, marked by a scar across it, lit up as her long white hair, tied in a ponytail, whipped in the fierce wind. “I am not like the rest.”

FLUOSH!

Within her, the Evolution of Mana Aura surged—Divine Mana Aura—a potent force that placed her on equal footing with the strongest Espers, despite not being a Spiralwalker or Esper herself.

Her Mana Core had evolved into a Divine Mana Core—an incredible achievement only a handful in Yggdrasil had ever accomplished.

“Hoho, it seems the surprises never end. So many great people to bring to salvation…!”

Soma laughed merrily as he faced the powerful Knight Captain. With a flick of his fingers, nearly a hundred Abyssal Hands rose from the pools of black ichor scattered across the ruined town.

“Let’s see if your little team of knights and agents can withstand all of my goddess’ kindness!”

The Abyssal Hands attacked relentlessly, slamming into the ground, shaking the earth. Some caught knights and crushed them flat. Agents and Knights fought back in unison. Elises and Fernand merged their Auras to face the terrifying onslaught, not even permitted to reach the true threat amid so many distractions.

Belladine’s Spiritual Swordsmanship pushed back the Abyssal Hands she engaged, while her Spirits spread healing light. Catrise, accompanied by several War Priests and Healers from the church, worked tirelessly to save as many as possible and minimize losses.

“The woman you follow is no goddess; she’s a starving monster!”

Tisha glanced at Louis, Mirai, and Catrise, nodding as she charged forward. They had Soma surrounded. From above, Louis and Mirai searched for an opening. Behind him, a mysterious figure and Catrise conjured magic together to strike his back. In front, Tisha confronted the Tier 4 monster alone.

Tisha’s true goal was not to defeat him outright but to create an opening. Everyone here shared the same purpose: to hold Soma in place so Helena and Gustaf could unleash their strongest psychic attack—the gigantic sphere of energy and rubble rapidly growing in the sky.

“Ice Dragon Blade Art.”

“Second Form.”

“Tearing Winter Claw!”

SLAAASH!

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