Ch.122Truth, Not a Greater Cause (3)

I revised my hypothesis about Argyrion. Carisia told me about the Argyrion she met in Elysion.

‘At first, it seemed like he didn’t recognize Carisia herself, but the moment they properly faced each other, he recalled his memories.’

Originally, Corruptors have their minds absorbed by extra-dimensional magical power, blindly seeking to destroy the current world. Corruptors with rationality like Argyrion are extremely rare, and even that remaining ‘rationality’ is mostly limited to knowledge for destruction, such as strategy, tactics, or magical operation.

It’s not that there are no Corruptors who have completely preserved their memories and rationality beyond all these limitations, but if such Corruptors were common, would the Ten Towers be considering Argyrion so dangerous right now?

Because it was a case that should be described as not just rare but scarce, the Ten Towers set Argyrion’s potential danger at the maximum level. Rather than underestimating his abilities and suffering great damage from unexpected resilience, they intended to prevent unexpected situations even if it meant mobilizing excessive resources.

However, I had a somewhat different opinion from the mainstream view of the Ten Towers. It was a judgment based on my experience of seeing quite a number of Corruptors while practically living in extra-dimensional corruption zones.

There are types of corruption.

When one is corrupted by an extra-dimensional force while still alive, the original self resists the corruption, and the extra-dimensional force begins a chain reaction to dominate the self again. The end point of such a chain reaction is usually the collapse of the self.

This is what’s commonly known as a Corruptor as an indiscriminate weapon of destruction. With the foundation of the self collapsed, rational judgment becomes impossible, leaving only reflexive destructive actions.

Conversely, a dead body is relatively easier for extra-dimensional magical power to seep into because there is no self to resist corruption. The extra-dimensional magical power that seeps into the body in place of the departed soul forms a mental replica of the person when alive by piecing together memories from the not-yet-decayed brain. A counterfeit soul, you might say.

The counterfeit soul can reproduce most of the capabilities from when the person was alive, but it is not identical to the living person. The counterfeit soul always acts with the extra-dimensional will as its top priority.

It was natural that some memories would be lost, as they are formed using cells from a dead brain. However, if there are catalysts to remind of memories, and memories intense enough to be engraved in the flesh, some of them might return.

I speculated that Argyrion’s executives might be such ‘corpse Corruptors.’

The problem might be that during the Golden Desert operation, Carisia and I aimed to somehow neutralize them and drive them into the extra-dimensional storm rather than kill them.

‘What if someone else, not me—perhaps a hidden traitor among the pursuit team at that time—killed them after they were neutralized?’

In this case, I would have to add the assumption that there was an apocalyptist within Blasphemia. That apocalyptist would have had to possess knowledge about corpse Corruptors, which can only be seen occasionally when fresh corpses are left under appropriate conditions in extra-dimensional contamination zones.

But the situation was strange enough to formulate such hypotheses. Almost all of those many pursuers becoming Corruptors with consciousness? It was something impossible to explain with the magical knowledge I possessed.

Even with my eyes, it takes considerable effort to distinguish between a counterfeit soul and an original one. It requires careful observation that cannot be attempted in combat situations.

Sprigo assaulted my brain with the increased amount of information proportional to his enlarged mass. A pressure like directly stirring my brain. I maintain my smile.

The more consistent my smile, the more their anxiety rises on an upward curve.

Beyond the fragmented surface consciousness, I filter out the visual information that Sprigo sees with tens of thousands of eyes, and head deeper inward.

‘…No?’

My hypothesis was wrong.

A counterfeit soul crafted from extra-dimensional magical power inevitably creates a sense of heterogeneity compared to the original soul that grew with the body.

Should I say the colors of the body and soul become subtly different? To use an analogy of ‘information’ that the eye shows, even if the written content is similar, the handwriting was different.

However, although Sprigo’s soul was turbid with mixed magical power, its light was identical to his body. He was retaining his original spirit and flesh.

It was a perplexing result, but I couldn’t keep my eyes activated any longer. I might collapse from motion sickness before even fighting. I’ve seen what I needed to see, so I block my vision now.

***

‘We shall never meet again.’

No one present had a brain pure enough to take this as an ordinary farewell. It was a prediction of murder.

It was an incredibly arrogant declaration, but precisely because of that, Sprigo regained his rationality.

The one before him now is Argyrion’s nemesis. The one who single-handedly overthrew Blasphemia…

‘No.’

Sprigo recalled Haltos’s careful explanation about the nemesis.

‘There are two nemeses.’

One is the monster of white light, and one is that swindler.

Argyrion’s chairman Haltos had given the smiling man the elegant modifier of ‘swindler,’ but to Sprigo right now, he was just a son of a bitch.

The difference between the two nemeses, the ‘monster’ and the ‘swindler,’ was simple.

The monster was a monster in the literal sense. A magical power level that overwhelmed even Argyrion’s elite agents in direct confrontation. Magic that was nothing short of a pure crystallization of destruction.

The swindler didn’t use such methods. He hid himself with paranoid secrecy and toyed with Argyrion.

Originally, the monster, though powerful, shouldn’t have known how to hide itself. The monster was that kind of beast. A giant beast leaving enormous traces with every stride.

But everything changed when the swindler intervened. The monster hid in the darkness and tightened its grip on them. This was the most fatally divergent point from their expectations when they first received the ‘monster hunt’ commission from the White Light Magic Tower.

“Swindler. Where have you hidden the monster you raise?”

As the first person to face the nemesis since Argyrion’s formation, Sprigo had a duty to gather as much information as possible.

He didn’t expect that nameless swindler to answer easily, but if they conversed, clues would emerge.

‘Soon I’ll secure enough output to send a message to headquarters…’

“Raise? Me?”

***

I was dumbfounded. The monster he’s referring to must be Carisia, but how could I possibly raise her?

If anything, it’s the opposite. I’m the one receiving a salary from Carisia.

“This is absurd. You still don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That person you all call a monster. I don’t control that person.”

***

What is he talking about?

That was the question Gorgov was pondering, excluded from the conversation between the two. That nameless impostor, the one Sprigo called a swindler, was clearly entangled in a long-standing feud with Argyrion.

But how far back that ‘long-standing’ feud went was something even Gorgov couldn’t guess, despite being the first to grasp the cause at Amimone Magic Tower.

He had only heard about the existence of Argyrion’s nemesis today.

“I merely serve that person. That relationship has never changed from the beginning until now.”

“What…?”

“Haha. You called that person a monster, did you really think they were just a mere beast? That’s impossible.”

A sticky sneer hung on the swindler’s lips.

“That person is more just than your truth and more magnificent than your cause.”

“How dare you insult the cause!”

“Why should I fear an existence outside the wall that hasn’t even entered this world yet? There is only one I fear.”

Ortes shrugged and turned his gaze to Danao. From the rising and falling chest, he could guess that Danao was still alive.

He turns his head back toward Sprigo. During the process of dismantling consciousness piece by piece to look into Sprigo’s soul just now, Ortes had read Sprigo’s scheme.

To continuously expand his roots to penetrate the extra-dimensional storm and transmit information about him.

It was somewhat expected. Someone who had suffered enough to curse at the sight of him wouldn’t engage in conversation defenseless.

‘Haltos… did you remember me?’

It was surprising. Despite his trait of having a faint presence and memories that would have become dim upon becoming a Corruptor, Haltos retained his hostility. And Sprigo’s determination to collect information while taking risks in this situation.

Ortes read all of this and still engaged in the conversation. Sprigo wasn’t the only one who needed time.

The longer his eyes remained open, the more they could see.

Now Ortes could see all of Sprigo’s body that had taken root throughout Algot City.

And in Ortes’s possession was an extra-dimensional relic borrowed from a friend after making a special promise.