Damn Reincarnation

The Divine Sword that had been lifted high into the air fell forward. Agaroth’s holy ground also began to advance.

Agaroth wasn’t unaware of the terror that everyone was feeling. His current actions also weren’t done out of personal courage because Agaroth himself couldn’t muster up any courage in the face of this battle.

It was all forced. They were only doing this because the circumstances had forced them to do so.

Agaroth was much more vividly aware of one inevitable fact than anyone else here.

Today, I am going to die.

Agaroth had already accepted this fact.

If they wanted to avoid dying… then the only method seemed to be running away? But regardless of whether that was even possible, Agaroth had never even considered the idea of running away.

So, he completely disregarded the opinions of his believers in this matter. Once one agreed to take part in something like a war, there would be times when one would be forced to do something that one didn’t want to do. For Agaroth, now was just such a time.

“You,” Agaroth growled.

Roooaaarrr!

Space itself was split apart as the Divine Sword slashed towards the Demon King of Destruction. Although this was the Divine Sword that Agaroth had been confident could slice through anything in this world, it still couldn’t inflict even a single wound on the Demon King of Destruction. In the first place, it didn’t seem like the Demon King had anything resembling a body, so was it even possible for it to be injured?

Currently, Agaroth couldn’t sense the existence of anything like flesh, blood, or bones within the Demon King of Destruction. Though if that was the case, then what exactly was its existence even composed of? All that could be seen was the riot of all sorts of different colors caused by a spatial distortion and the black hole in the center of it all.

It was unnatural. Exceptionally unnatural. Agaroth had killed many Demon Kings until now, but he had never once seen a Demon King that looked like this. The other Demon Kings, even when they weren’t human-like in appearance, had at least resembled living beings.

However, what was going on with the Demon King of Destruction? It was clearly right in front of him, but he still couldn’t feel any sense of life coming from it….

The shudders coursing through him were causing Agaroth to breathe faster.

Wrestling back control of his breathing, Agaroth voicelessly demanded, “Just what on earth are you?”

However, there was no response. His attempts to converse with ‘this thing’ were met with failure.

Agaroth accepted this failure and used both hands to grip the Divine Sword.

Cracracrackle!

Agaroth mustered up all of his divine power. Even the dark red sun that was transforming this area into a holy ground drew closer to Agaroth.

“Aaaah!” his soldiers roared from behind him.

Despite being terrified and wanting to run away, his soldiers would obey the will of the god that they had sworn themselves to.

Their god refused to run away from this battle. Their god wanted to keep fighting this battle, even if it meant that all his believers would be dying here today. Not only that, but Agaroth had also resolved himself to die here alongside them.

Because of that, the believers could no longer remain frozen in fear. This was the battlefield, and the god that they had sworn themselves to was the God of War. If their God wanted them all to give their lives on this battlefield, then as his believers, they must offer their lives to him.

“Aaaaah!” the soldiers roared once more.

Agaroth’s Divine Army was made up of his most faithful followers, who would have gladly sacrificed their lives for him at any other time, but the presence of the Demon King of Destruction was stimulating the primal fear that all humans carried.

However, this was their chance for glorious martyrdom. Even in the midst of the terror provoked by the Demon King of Destruction, their faith in Agaroth could not be erased. So most of the Divine Army charged forward, holding their weapons aloft and spitting out curses.

The swirl of colors surrounding the Demon King of Destruction slowly began to spread out. The gradually expanding colors pushed back at Agaroth’s divine power. Eventually, these colors transformed into a wall that met the soldiers as they charged forward, holding their weapons aloft and letting out roars.

The wall of colors proved to be an attack for which there was no method to counter. The moment the soldiers reached those colors, which seemed to be eroding space itself, every attempt they made to break it failed.

The colors themselves were made up of the dark power of Destruction. The mana and divine power that was wrapped around the bodies of each of the Divine Army’s soldiers disappeared as soon as they touched the dark power of Destruction, and the armor they were wearing wasn’t able to resist such absolute power, even for a moment.

Was it truly possible that the lives of all of these men would continue to be wasted like this? This was Agaroth’s Divine Army, the army that had won countless wars at his side and even overwhelmed the armies of the Demon Kings. But this very Divine Army was rapidly being turned into corpses as they advanced.

“Aaaaaargh!” the divine army continued to roar.

Their comrades were dying right in front of them. Even so, they refused to back down. The soldiers of the Divine Army let out roars as they continued the attack. At the same time, Agaroth’s name was chanted, and a hymn was sung. At the moment of their deaths, instead of screaming, they each celebrated their martyrdom.

As for Agaroth….

He watched as the bodies of his believers were torn into pieces and scattered. He heard their cries. He felt it distinctly as each life was extinguished.

Yet he couldn’t allow himself to feel fear and despair. Those two types of emotions would just cause his body to freeze. What Agaroth needed right now was rage, hatred, and the fighting spirit that those emotions aroused.

With a curse, Agaroth sliced at the dark power. With that, he made an opening in the swirling, corrosive wall of colors. He swung his Divine Sword again and again. The sunlight shining from the sun that was made up of his divine power collided with the dark power of Destruction. Agaroth was trying to push the dark power back with his sunlight, but it wasn’t working. Instead, it was Agaroth’s own divine power that was getting erased each time the two touched.

Agaroth’s eyes shone with a red light. As a God of War who had won hundreds of thousands of battles, his eyes had already developed a special ability. Agaroth’s eyes could see through an opponent, even if this was their first meeting.

But he wasn’t able to see anything from the Demon King of Destruction. He could only see the unbelievably large, ominous, and terrifying mass of dark power in front of him.

And in the center of that chaos, where everything was mixing together….

Agaroth still couldn’t see anything, but it was obvious that something was there. So Agaroth decided to trust his intuition. Though, this was also because he was left with no other choice but to do so.

Boooom!

The Divine Army wasn't just dying pointlessly.

Agaroth’s second-in-command, the mighty warrior, a Chosen[1] of the God of War, looked to be in a state where it wouldn’t be strange if he died at any moment. When his god had ordered the army to march forward, the mighty warrior had led the charge despite his own feelings of fear. He swung the greatsword that his god had personally bestowed upon him, cutting through the dark power in front of him, and advanced forward.

His left arm had already disappeared during the charge. Blood and internal organs were flowing out from his torn-open side. Nevertheless, the mighty warrior continued to swing his greatsword as he let out a battle cry.

‘We’ve made it,’ Agaroth thought in relief.

Through their combined efforts, they had gotten past the swirling colors and had reached a place that could lead them to the center of the Demon King of Destruction.

The light of the Divine Sword suddenly dimmed. Would anything about their situation really change even if Agaroth did stab it?

Agaroth didn’t have even the slightest hope that he would truly be able to defeat the Demon King of Destruction with just his sword alone. Be that as it may, he still needed to thrust his sword forward. If he didn’t even dare to attack now, then everything would truly just end without him having accomplished anything.

The light of the Divine Sword intensified.

Then, from the center of the Demon King of Destruction, darkness unfolded.

***

Agaroth opened his eyes.

His ears didn’t seem to be working well. And it wasn’t just his hearing; Agaroth felt that most of his senses weren’t working correctly. Even though his eyes had opened, he couldn’t see anything clearly.

The sensations coming from his own body were faint. However, he could still feel something. Inside of Agaroth, the voices of his believers… could no longer be heard.

The mighty warrior had died. That guy had wandered through the same battlefields with him for decades. Theirs wasn’t a relationship like that of a captain and his subordinate or of a god and his follower, or at least, not just like those. For Agaroth, the mighty warrior had been his most trusted confidant and friend.

But… he hadn’t even been able to see how that guy had died. And it wasn’t just him either.

Agaroth coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Most of the soldiers who had charged while following his orders had died.

‘What just happened?’ Agaroth thought in confusion.

“The colors scattered apart,” a voice came from right beside him.

Agaroth blinked his still unseeing eyes.

The voice continued to report, “And then… the center of that thing, the hole, began to spew out something black. In the next moment, everything around it was covered by the blackness, and when that black cloud disappeared, only corpses remained.”

“...What… is my… condition?” Agaroth falteringly asked.

He still couldn’t feel any signals from his body…. Such a state was truly unfamiliar to him. Unlike a human’s body, the body of a god couldn’t die from mortal wounds. Even if he lost his arms, legs, or even his head, as long as he had divine power remaining, he could still continue to fight.

“The body parts that are missing are more than the ones that still remain,” the voice, now recognized as the Saint’s, whispered.

At least there wasn’t any pain…. Agaroth smiled as he coughed up more blood.

“What about… the Demon King of Destruction?” Agaroth asked.

“He’s following us from a distance,” the Saint replied.

“From a… distance?” Agaroth questioned. “Was I thrown here? Or did you… carry me here?”

“The answer to that is both. My Lord, you were also swept up in that black hurricane, but you were thrown out without having been completely destroyed. At that moment, I threw myself in front of it for you,” the Saint whispered from an extremely close distance.

Agaroth could feel her breath. Although his regeneration was slow, it seemed like it hadn’t run out entirely.

After coughing up a few more mouthfuls of blood, Agaroth continued speaking, “You should run.”

His body slowly became able to move. Agaroth squinted his eyes, bleary sight having returned to them at last, and raised his left hand. Pulling off the ring on his right ring finger, he held it out towards the Saint.

Agaroth said, “This is my holy relic…. If you use this… at least one of us will have escaped.”

“To think that you would order me to escape at this point,” the Saint scoffed. “If you were going to do that anyway, wouldn’t it have been better if we had all escaped together right away?”

Agaroth shook his head, “Just you.”

The Saint let out a laugh at Agaroth’s words, “My Lord, I am overwhelmed by how much you treasure me. Do you truly want me to live that badly?”

“Mhm,” Agaroth grunted in confirmation.

This reply caused the Saint to stop laughing.

“So just run,” Agaroth ordered. “Join up with the Sage and the God of Giants who should be heading this way. Tell them how I died. And warn the world that Destruction is coming.”

“...,” the Saint stayed silent.

Agaroth continued, “And after that—”

“Shh,” the Saint suddenly shushed him while shaking her head. “My Lord, you have decided that you are going to die here today, in this spot, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right,” Agaroth nodded.

“In that case,” the Saint paused. “Please don’t worry about something righteous like, ‘What will happen to the world once I am dead?’. Something like that… should be taken care of by those who come after you.”

Agaroth didn’t say anything.

“And your ring,” the Saint laughed. “I didn’t want to receive it this way, in a place like this. In fact, I didn’t really expect to receive it all. However… fufu, I’m quite happy to take it. My Lord, I thank you for your favor.”

The Saint’s fingers gently traced the lines of Agaroth’s cheek.

“My Lord, since this will be our last time together, I won’t dawdle any longer and say one last thing. My Lord, it doesn’t matter to me what will happen to the world from now on,” the Saint admitted as her fingers trailed down his cheek and caressed Agaroth’s lips. “If I had to say why, it is because the world without you has no meaning to me. My Lord, the fact that you’re dying here today, for me, is the same thing as the world ending.”

Agaorth just listened quietly.

The Saint continued, “Also, my Lord, I never wanted you to die like this. If you truly were to die, then it should be—”

“You wanted it to be in your hands, right?” Agaroth finished for her.

The Saint laughed, still caressing Agaroth’s lips, “Yes. My Lord, in the past, you took everything from me. I, who was on the verge of attaining godhood, was instead destroyed by you.”

Before she had become the Saint, she was known as the Twilight Witch. She had usurped control of a country, invaded the surrounding countries, and sacrificed everyone that she could get her hands on in a bid to take her place as the God of Evil.

However, just when her goal was right in front of her, she had been overthrown by Agaroth.

The Saint confessed, “My Lord, I hated you. I wanted revenge on you. But you viewed my hatred and desire for revenge as a source of entertainment. You were looking forward to me attempting to take my revenge on you someday, eventually.”

Agaroth didn’t deny these words. Because they were the truth. The Twilight Witch had committed many evil deeds, but Agaroth didn’t really consider those to be character faults. In this current era, anyone was justified in doing anything they could to survive.

In any case, the Twilight Witch had failed, so Agaroth had taken her as his trophy.

So what if she would someday seek revenge. For Agaroth, keeping someone who was giving off such dangerous intentions by his side was quite an amusement.

“But now, all that was in vain,” the Saint sighed, her finger, which had been caressing Agaroth’s lips, falling away.

As Agaroth’s vision restored itself, he was able to see the Saint’s current visage.

She — she looked a right mess. Diving in to carry away Agaroth, who had been swept away by the dark power of Destruction, was no different than immersing your entire body in a river of death. Agaroth was left staring into the half-dissolved face of the Saint.

Still, Agaroth wasn’t surprised. This was because he had already guessed it. At this close distance, there was no way that he could miss the smell of blood coming from her.

“With my face like this, I am embarrassed to show you such an ugly sight,” the Saint whispered, her lips having been torn into pieces.

Agaroth scoffed, “What do you mean? You’re just as beautiful as you always are.”

If she had truly wanted to betray him, she could have done so at any time. Her title as the Saint had been prepared for when she eventually fell into corruption. If a Saint was to betray the god whom she had sworn to while killing countless of his believers, she could have easily become an Evil God, obtaining the power that she had pursued for so long.

But she hadn’t done so.

“My Lord,” the Saint whispered. “In these last moments of ours… I will have to deny your will. I won’t run from here. My Lord, I won’t see you die before me.”

“...Alright,” Agaroth agreed with a wry smile as he reached out his hand.

Agaroth’s hand gently caressed the Saint’s cheek, and the Saint tilted her head up towards him with a weak smile.

“If you have any last wishes, I will hear them,” Agaroth offered.

“Haha, my Lord is so merciful,” the Saint chuckled as she held Agaroth’s face between both her hands.

“A kiss.”

The Saint’s breath drew closer to his skin.

“And also… my death.”

Their lips touched. Agaroth’s hands wrapped around the Saint’s neck. A smile was drawn across the Saint’s blood-stained lips.

Crack.

Agaroth immediately laid down the deceased Saint. Even though she had died when her neck was broken, there was still a smile on her face, and the blood from where her lips had touched Agaroth’s own remained stained in place like lipstick.

Agaroth placed the ring that he was holding on top of the Saint’s chest.

You will all be dying here today. There are no other options. All of you will definitely perish here.

“I guess that was a divine prophecy,” Agaroth chuckled as he turned his head.

And I’ll be dead along with you.

The colors had slowly been creeping towards him. The Demon King of Destruction was now right in front of him. The corpses of his deceased believers also covered the plain before him.

Agaroth created a new Divine Sword in his hands as he stared at the Demon King of Destruction. He held the Divine Sword aloft, and then he poured all of his remaining divine power into it. Apart from that, he didn’t perform any other miracles. Against that thing, a god’s miracles were meaningless. Facing it like this, standing on his own two feet, and being able to point his sword at it was a miracle in its own right.

Agaroth was silent as light shone from him.

He was aware of all the corpses in front of him.

Inside his body, he felt a void where their voices could no longer be heard.

But at this moment, his heart was calm.

That thing... didn’t possess any rage, hatred, or other such emotions. It operated more like a natural disaster than anything else. It didn’t move with any malice or murderous intent.

Agaroth ground his teeth.

Grk.

So what if it wasn’t moving with malice or murderous intent? Did that mean there was no need for him to feel rage or hatred? There was nothing in this world that said that he shouldn’t. Rage and hatred were both a matter of personal feelings. In front of this Destruction that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and sought to end everything, what reason was there not to feel rage and hatred toward it?

Agaroth might be a god, but he had once been a human, and his lifetime spent as a human was longer than his lifetime spent as a god.

Because of that, in front of this Destruction that could not be resisted by human efforts and could only be described as a calamity, Agaroth felt the most human rage and hatred towards it.

Agaroth raised his Divine Sword and stepped forward.

Just like when the Demon King of Destruction first appeared, he continued to advance towards it without stopping.

Agaroth met the Demon King of Destruction, and the swirling, expanding wall of colors engulfed Agaroth.

After that, the Demon King of Destruction finally came to a halt.

It didn’t move from that spot for several days.

1. The original word used here is literally translated as Incarnation. It’s used to describe the mighty warrior as the embodiment of all that the God of War stands for. However, considering that Agaroth is right there, it felt wrong to use Incarnation here, so I went with Chosen instead. ☜