Ch.1289Those Who Have Lost Everything

“My actions are… somewhat mixed up. Doing things that aren’t like me.”

After hurling Bishaf and embedding him into Agnita Fortress, Vanirgand briefly reflected on his own words and actions.

He vaguely sensed something subtly off about the words and actions he had just performed.

At his core, he wasn’t much different from his former self… but perhaps his outward behavior and thoughts had become somewhat childish.

The ferocity that had earned him the title of Malevolent God had clearly diminished, and in its place was a more impulsive and mischievous frivolity mixed with malice.

By Vanirgand’s own assessment, he had essentially fallen from being an evil spirit to merely a troublemaker.

Though from Bishaf’s perspective, he was just as much of an evil spirit now as he had been before.

In any case, Vanirgand realized that even by his own standards, he had become quite childish and foolish, and the moment he became aware of it, he immediately understood why.

‘The cause is… I see, the increased synchronization rate with this body.’

Mind and body exist in an inseparable relationship; when one changes, the other is inevitably affected and gradually transforms as well.

The reason Vanirgand’s behavior had become somewhat childish and frivolous was because the influence of the possessed body—particularly the brain—had grown stronger.

The smooth, unwrinkled brain of the “vessel” was resonating deeply with Vanirgand’s mind, dragging his cognitive abilities down to the same level.

‘Using a vessel that has attained divinity creates such problems.’

Originally—that is, in the past when he had descended into what was called a “hero-class” vessel—this sort of thing didn’t happen.

The soul and body influencing each other only occurred when the two were somewhat equal in status. If one side was overwhelmingly dominant, the other would simply be crushed and devoured.

This was why most recorded legends of gods descending into human bodies ended in death.

A mortal body couldn’t withstand a soul that was too powerful and of too high a rank, causing the body to die before the god could leave it.

And it wasn’t just any death—typically, the entire body would shatter into particles of light and scatter.

While priests might package such a sight as “shedding the mortal coil and ascending as a holy spirit” or some other sacred miracle, the reality was quite the opposite.

It was a horrific end where not only the possessed human’s body but also their soul was pulverized, completely annihilated without any chance of revival.

For this reason, the celestial gods were extremely reluctant to descend into the bodies of their followers unless absolutely necessary.

Such was the nature of a god descending into the body of a created being.

However, the rank Haschal had built had long transcended the limitations of the human species.

Though there were still several areas for improvement, her body was, in essence, no longer human but divine.

Therefore, it was natural that the influence would flow in both directions.

This time, it wasn’t like descending into a human body—even one at the highest hero level—but more like intruding into another god’s body.

‘…How unpleasant.’

Naturally, Vanirgand found this distasteful.

For someone with such strong pride and sense of self, being changed by another’s influence was nothing short of humiliation.

‘Still, it’s ultimately just a temporary distortion… probably not worth worrying about too much.’

Fortunately, such changes weren’t permanent.

His unusual behavior was due to using Haschal’s brain. Once he left this vessel and returned to his own body, he would return to normal as if nothing had happened.

It was just a matter of enduring for now, just a little longer—until Haschal and “Haschal’s” soul achieved victory in the Underworld and returned to the mortal realm.

It probably wouldn’t take long. A woman who clearly knew that prolonged combat would be disadvantageous wouldn’t risk a drawn-out battle with the undead.

‘In that case…’

How should he spend what little time remained?

The answer was already decided.

—-

Though Agnita Fortress had been devastated by Vanirgand’s assault and Bishaf’s crash, the battlefield below remained fierce and desperate.

The tide of battle, which had been flowing in favor of the undead as time passed, twisted once again starting with the fortress being half-destroyed in a single blow.

– KWAAAAAAANG!

A thunderous roar that momentarily drowned out even the noise of giants rampaging across the battlefield.

The soldiers who reflexively looked up in surprise saw the massive floating fortress crumbling, raining down fragments of rock.

“Good heavens, Agnita…!”

For the intelligent undead—especially those from the Church of Bellona who had been under the Undead Duke’s command from the beginning—this sight was nothing short of the end of the world.

They momentarily lost their rational judgment and fell into a half-crazed state.

“No!! Protect the fortress—no, the Grand Temple!!”

A cry that was more of a scream than an order. Yet none of Bellona’s knights voiced any objection.

That fortress was their sanctuary, their home, their temple, and also an absolutely crucial military stronghold that could not be lost in this war.

The forced undead conversion ritual they had deployed on the battlefield was the result of Gareumelig’s authority combined with various enhancement facilities inside the fortress.

If Agnita Fortress fell and support from there was cut off, they would lose their greatest advantage that had established their superiority.

Psychological reasons overlapped with religious and strategic ones. How could there be any objection?

“Return to the fortress! Cover me!”

“The Dragon Battalion—damn it, all wiped out? Then use levitation magic! Maximum output!”

Bellona’s knights chose to return to the fortress without hesitation, ordering mages to cast levitation spells on them as they took flight.

“The problem is that monster, what should we do about it…!”

“We have no choice but to accept the risk! If we lose Agnita, everything is over!”

They abandoned the orc female warrior—Arkhala—who had been single-handedly withstanding their concentrated assault and maintaining the front line despite the unfavorable situation.

“Where are you going in the middle of a fight, you crazy bastards! Not coming back down?!”

Seeing her opponents suddenly soaring into the air like hummingbirds when she was in the middle of an enjoyable battle, Arkhala couldn’t help but shout in disbelief.

But even though she was a demigod, she had no flight-related abilities, so all she could do was glare at them with the frustration of a dog that had been chasing chickens.

“Damn it, don’t we have anything?! Mage! Sorcerer! Someone get me airborne!”

The problem could be solved if someone cast a levitation spell on her like the enemies had done, but unfortunately, the mages and sorcerers around her had already retreated or fallen in battle.

She could jump as high as possible to catch up initially, but a simple leap against multiple flying enemies would be nothing short of suicide.

The flight method someone had used in the past—punching the air to fly—was such an insane idea that she didn’t even consider it.

In fact, that method wasn’t just about having high strength; it was something she couldn’t imitate from the beginning.

The core principle of that reckless flight technique was to strike the air with hands and feet while simultaneously causing an explosion of force at the point of impact to propel the body.

Without the heroic narrative of Unyielding Flesh that enhanced physical durability to transcendent levels, even its creator Orhan would have blown off his limbs attempting it.

In the end, Arkhala could only watch as the undead knights returned to their fortress.

‘…I see. So you would inflict the humiliation of being relegated to second priority on me, Arkhala?’

Of course, if asked whether this was beneficial for the undead forces, one honestly couldn’t say it was.

‘Then I have no choice. This humiliation—’

No, in fact, it was closer to the opposite.

“—I’ll wash it away with your blood!”

The undead knights abandoning their battle with Arkhala and heading for the fortress meant that an enraged orc demigod had been unleashed in the middle of the battlefield.

Though she was somewhat tired from the fierce battle that could be called a blood struggle, she was still a demigod.

The presence of an orc demigod free to rampage as she pleased was nothing short of a disaster for the undead forces left on the ground.

– KWADUDUDUK!!

Every time her beloved weapon—the Dragon Bone Crusher—cut through the air, waves of blood sprayed forth, and every time her fierce roar erupted, lightning swept across the battlefield.

Her divine authority was fierce and violent. The allied forces, which had been clearly outmatched in terms of stamina and numbers, regained their balance of power with just her addition.

…In other words, for the undead forces’ new recruits who had been fighting well, it was as if their allies had thrown them a massive burden.

“What is this…! Have you gone mad, Arthur!”

For instance, those like Hrungir, who was simultaneously facing the were-beast chieftain Caliburn and Bergelmir who had suddenly emerged from the ground.

“You’re pulling out core forces in this situation?! Are you pushing us as sacrificial lambs?!”

With the Church of Bellona’s core forces flying away into the sky, only the undead giants like himself remained to fill the gap with their abilities.

From the perspective of the giants who had chosen to become undead despite having not a shred of faith, it was as if the crazy zealots had thrown them away as stepping stones.

“How pitiful. The consequences of wrong choices are often like this.”

“Shut your mouth, Bergelmir!!”

Bergelmir felt a little sympathy for his kinsmen, and that sympathy filled Hrungir with unbearable anger and humiliation.

“You remain foolish. Becoming undead… you say it was a choice to avoid extinction, but… looking like that, even if you live, can it really be called living?”

“Where do you get off saying such—! You degenerate who mated with beasts—!!”

Bergelmir the Exile.

To other races, he was merely the culprit who created the troll and ogre races, but to giants, his name represented a truly disgusting and hateful existence.

The reason Bergelmir created trolls and ogres was to present a new breakthrough for his kinsmen who could no longer have descendants due to a divine curse.

The purpose itself seemed reasonable, so why did he receive such contempt from his own kind?

Put yourself in their position.

Imagine if all humans were cursed with infertility and in the midst of their despair, some scientist brought in chimpanzees with two heads, declaring that these would be our wives and children from now on.

Wouldn’t it be natural to consider such a person an unparalleled lunatic?

Moreover, the scientist didn’t just talk about it but experimented with the possibility of breeding with chimpanzees himself, bringing forth many half-human, half-chimp children.

Thinking of it that way, the giants’ view of Bergelmir as a disgrace to their race and their contempt for him might actually seem extremely generous.

It meant they still considered him one of their own.

That’s what Bergelmir was to the giants. A degenerate too contemptible to even mention, the absolute worst of their kind.

With such a person sympathizing with him while subtly mocking him to his face, Hrungir’s sense of humiliation was truly immense.

Yet having no proper rebuttal only added anger to that humiliation.

As Bergelmir had said, it was truly a pitiful sight.