Chapter 247: A Performance For The Continent


    The tears I shed held many meanings for me. It was proof that the time to say farewell to them was now imminent. Ironically, seeing me like this, the two of them couldn’t help but smile instead.


    [Thank you.]


    [Kind person.]


    The Dark Spiritualist and Stella both knew the weight of a single tear of mine carried.


    At the same time, they also understood that those tears I shed were out of sadness over parting with them.


    So, they were happy to know that I did not wish to part with them—that If I acted on my desire, it would be possible to keep the Dark Spiritualist and Stella as souls, staying by my side till the day I closed my eyes.


    By doing so, I would also close my eyes and enter rest as a soul along with them. However...


    “Then.”


    Just as Findenai left me and returned to the Republic to fight a bloody battle while putting her life on the line,


    Just as Aria cast aside her fate as a hero and cut down God to walk her own true path,


    I, too.


    “Let’s go.”


    In order to remain as Deus Verdi, chose to part with them.


    [Yes, it’s our final battle!]


    [As the former Saintess, it’s time to face the gods.]


    The two followed behind me with lighter steps.


    * * *


    “Hooooo...”


    A slender man in a black robe rubbed his hands together. Before he knew it, he was already standing atop Graypond’s city walls, the fierce wind blowing against his face. He was Becklin, a Blightcaster under Dante.


    “Why did I come all the way here?”


    As he gazed down at Graypond, shrouded in clouds of Holy Power, with a white light pouring down, a certain sentiment welled up within him.


    Why was he doing this?


    It was true that he felt humiliated for fleeing from Griffin’s Royal Knight Commander, Gloria, without being able to do anything.


    However, as his feelings waned, he began to think rationally and began to wonder if there was really a need to go as far as terrorizing Graypond.


    Yet, ever since he saw that woman who descended from the sky along a path of light, he felt as if something had taken a strong hold of his mind.


    It was almost like whenever he fell into a dilemma, believing that he must help Luaneth and annihilate every soul on the continent at any cost, someone grabbed his jaw and forced him to turn his gaze to a particular direction.


    However, surprisingly, it didn’t feel that bad because he slowly began to accept that this was exactly what he was meant to do, his true purpose.


    “Well then, shall we get started?”


    The murky gray mana gathering in his hands transformed into magic.


    “It’s my special plague that starts with dizziness, nausea, and fever.”


    Hives would gradually appear on the skin, turning it as rough as stone. Then, eventually, the victims would bleed from every orifice of their body and die.


    The disease only required six hours to reach its final stage and claim a life.


    This was the Blightcaster Becklin’s masterpiece: a mass of pure evil, designed solely for mass slaughter.


    “Farewell, Graypond, today is your last day!”


    Today, no one would be leaving this land alive.


    Becklin believed he would go down in history as the perpetrator of a horrific genocide, following in the footsteps of Heralhazard. Or rather, he thought so.


    However, his gray magic failed to reach Graypond, condensing in place instead, as though something was actively repelling it.


    Becklin furrowed his brows.


    “Hoho.“


    A light, almost mocking laugh, but the voice carrying immense weight resounded.


    An old man, gripping a giant staff like an ancient tree, was actively suppressing Becklin’s magic as he looked down at him from the sky.


    The king’s right hand—Archmage Ropelican Linus.


    He was at an age where he should have long stepped away from official duties and been enjoying a luxurious retirement.


    In fact, he was the oldest member of the royal court, and he was even finding it difficult to move.


    It would make no sense for such an old man to set foot on a battlefield that would eventually turn brutal.


    However, that was only if he were not a Mage.


    A Mage was fundamentally different from a knight or other officials.


    For a Mage, old age wasn’t a disadvantage unless they suffered from dementia.


    Knights were often compared to flowers. They began as sprouts, grew stems, formed buds, and eventually bloomed in full splendor.


    But, like all flowers, they would inevitably wither with time.


    As knights aged and passed their prime, they, too, grew weaker, which was why they were eventually replaced by younger generations.


    Mages, on the other hand, could be compared to wine.


    They matured slowly over time, enriched by the years they lived. And after several decades, they became a captivating, finely aged drink.


    That was Archmage Ropelican Linus.


    An old man who was worthy of being ranked among the strongest Mages on the continent.


    “Were you attempting to perpetrate a massacre?”


    Compared to him, the still-young Blightcaster Becklin felt as though his entire body was bound tight.


    His magic was sealed, leaving him unable to move. Sweat trickled down his face, and he could barely speak.


    Ropelican scoffed as he gazed down at him.


    “Deus said something like this. The time ahead may be for the dead.”


    “...”


    “However, that does not mean that harm should be brought upon the living.”


    Their top priority was not the rest of the deceased, but ensuring that no one else died in the process.


    Because Deus had declared so.


    The royal forces were not there to help Deus but, as always, to protect the citizens.


    “It’s truly regrettable, but there is no place for you on today’s stage.”


    Owen, who had already arrived, was busy preparing, and beside him stood King Orpheus, frowning as he gazed at the cloud.


    “Is it starting?”


    “Yes, Your Majesty.”


    As I bowed and paid my respects, he smiled bitterly.


    “I’m glad Eleanor isn’t here.”


    “...”


    “Are you aware of the expression you’re making right now?”


    Wondering what he meant, I checked my reflection on the piano. But all I saw was Deus’ usual expressionless face, not that different from usual.


    However, Owen, sitting at the piano, was fidgeting nervously.


    And to my confusion, King Orpheus didn’t bother to explain further. Instead, he patted my shoulder and gave me a firm hug.


    “Not as a king, nor considering your position as a Soul Whisperer.”


    “...”


    “But as your friend, Orpheus, I believe you’ll pull through this crisis brilliantly and survive.”


    It was an unexpected consolation.


    Both Findenai and King Orpheus were the same.


    Why were they saying this to me?


    Though I felt doubt...


    “There is no need to worry.”


    I replied calmly, turning my gaze to Luaneth’s Mana Stone, which the Archmage’s apprentices had brought up.


    The Mana Stone levitated and took its place beside the piano. The vast, seething mana within was still so immense, that it was hard to believe two-thirds of it had already been drained, leaving only a third.


    “Stella, what are your thoughts regarding those clouds?”


    Amidst this steadily progressing situation, I needed to verify the unsettling clouds of Holy Power.


    I was wondering if it contained the same power as during the Romuleus incident, the kind that could turn humans into tentacled beings or part of the gods.


    [It’s ordinary... Holy Power, similar to what Lucia and I wielded.]


    The Holy Power, falling like a drizzle over Graypond, was actually blessing the humans below.


    Unaware of the situation, the citizens flocked to the rooftops to receive it despite the knights’ best efforts to rein them in.


    Although the amount falling was too little to have any physical impact, it at least had a mood-lifting effect.


    [What could they be thinking?]


    To the Dark Spiritualist’s question, I voiced the one possibility that had occurred to me on my way up.


    “Holy Power is a blessing for humans. It heals wounds, clears the mind, and invigorates the body.”


    However, conversely...


    “It is extremely fatal for the soul.”


    For demons or spirits, it was a deadly poison.


    In fact, when Stella was dying at the Elia Convent, the Holy Power tried to burn her immediately.


    Even when dealing with the Demon Lords, I had to lend my mana to keep the Holy Power from touching her while she was using the Holy Grail.


    With that as their intention...


    “They intend to prevent me from gathering the souls.”


    To create the afterlife, the Land of Eternal Rest, souls had to eventually gather here.


    However, by exterminating all the souls approaching Graypond, they would achieve a result similar to Luaneth’s attempted annihilation.


    “Crude, but certainly effective.”


    Only after that cloud covered the entire sky over Graypond, would it stop moving.


    And then it would begin to mercilessly annihilate the souls gathering from all over the continent.


    A remarkable plan indeed.


    However, unfortunately, we also had women who were quite adept at handling Holy Power on our side.


    “Deus!”


    A voice called out to me from the rooftop entrance.


    Saintess Lucia, whom I had informed in advance to come if a situation arose, arrived to assist.


    “Stella will explain the situation.”


    There was no need to drive it away completely, but it would be good if possible.


    Yet, it wouldn’t be as easy as during the Romuleus incident, since the Holy Power itself was owned by the opposing side.


    “I am counting on you.”


    Nevertheless, I put my trust in the two women.


    “Understood, don’t worry.”


    [I’ll do my best.]


    Lucia and Stella immediately moved toward the railing beneath the cloud.


    Now then, what was left for us was...


    Vwoom!


    The rough mana within Luaneth’s Mana Stone began to resonate with me.


    As the vast mana poured out, there was an instant shock that made the blood vessels in my hand feel like they might burst.


    Gritting my teeth, I endured it and converted the mana into magic.


    A blue magic circle illuminated the entire rooftop. I turned toward the piano and the boy at its center.


    “Owen, I am counting on you.”


    Though it would take quite some time, Owen nodded resolutely.


    Thung!


    Then, like an omen of the long day that lay ahead and the perfect background music for a game, the performance for the entire continent /genesisforsaken