Ch.138138. Azukalan (2)

After that, the subjugation team moved without hesitation.

With the help of professional hunters hired from the Dwarf Kingdom, they easily found the lair and immediately invaded to eliminate any future threats.

They mercilessly killed everything—from the adult Molics guarding the nest to the sub-adults foraging for food, even pregnant females and their young.

At first glance, this might seem excessively cruel, but it was the right course of action.

The Molic swarm had invaded the underground city first, and Molics are naturally ferocious, fond of human flesh, and quite powerful.

It was fortunate that they faced a Veteran Squad; in fact, Molics had once completely annihilated a hundred-strong subjugation team from the Dwarf Kingdom in a counterattack.

Anyway, after the subjugation was completely finished.

They gathered plenty of excellent spoils and began returning to their base.

Though tough and reeking strongly of iron, the massive amount of meat obtained from butchering the Molics—nearly the size of large wolves—was a precious commodity in this era.

The tough Molic hides with strength rivaling metal, and bones containing iron.

The Molics’ distinctive metal-coated carapace-shells, refined within their bodies and perfect for processing.

And most importantly, fresh Molic blood to offer to the deity.

They were able to quickly return to their base by train, carrying spoils from a total of 412 Molics…

“…??”

The moment they arrived at the base, he sensed something strange about the atmosphere.

His keen senses detected that distinctive air—a mixture of tension and subtle excitement that typically precedes a major battle—wafting from the entrance of the base.

“…Handle the accounting of the spoils yourselves.”

“Yes, Commander Azkallan!”

So he left the processing of the Molic remains to his subordinates and made his way toward the bulletin board where an unusual number of legion members had gathered.

And as he got closer, Azkallan could infer that something significant had happened here.

“Is it time…”

“So that’s it…”

“…What is it?”

“…See for yourself. Then you’ll understand.”

From groups announcing that something had happened in extremely irritated tones, to legion members speaking with quite serious voices.

“Is it… time for… martyrdom…?”

“Martyrdom? Martyrdom?”

And decisively, there were even groups of fanatical zealots calling for martyrdom.

So Azkallan, sensing that something ominous was happening, approached the bulletin board.

“Are you… Azkallan?”

“…Damian? It’s been a long time!”

He coincidentally ran into his old legion comrade and close friend, Damian, whom he hadn’t seen in ages.

“Yes, it’s been a while. Have you been well?”

“Of course I’ve been well. You haven’t changed a bit either!”

They briefly exchanged smiles and conversation, having not met for nearly three years since they were commanders of units with different objectives.

“Damian, do you happen to know why people are gathering here?”

After catching up and reminiscing for quite some time, Azkallan remembered his purpose and questioned Damian.

“Well… rather than explaining it verbally, I think it would be easier for you to understand if you see it yourself.”

Instead of explaining, Damian led him to the front of the bulletin board.

And thanks to the “voluntary” consideration of other soldiers who saw the two commanders approaching, Azkallan finally understood the reason for the atmosphere in the base.

[-Summons-

All forces of the Avenger Legion, except for the following exceptions, are to assemble at the newly established underground church beneath the Holy City.

The exceptions are as follows:

1. Those dispatched to outposts in units of 10 or fewer.

2. Key stronghold defense units.

3. Training units and all instructors, trainees, and apprentices assigned there.]

There were detailed instructions about the assembly listed below, but strangely, only the purpose was missing from the poster.

The veteran commander Azkallan felt his intuition, honed through years of service, warning him that something ominous was about to happen.

‘…Is the end approaching?’

He acknowledged that this intuitive warning was by no means mistaken.

※ ※ ※

《The end begins tomorrow. Be prepared.》

One day, while Bjorn was preparing for a large-scale gladiatorial match scheduled for the next day, a voice that seemed to be engraved on his soul suddenly reached his ears.

‘O Bleeding One! O Avenging King!’

And the moment Bjorn immediately knelt down, recognizing it as the voice of his god, a dignified, deep voice spoke again into his ears.

《The Emperor will personally attend tomorrow’s gladiatorial match. You must take his life.》

‘…The Emperor?’

Emperor.

As the supreme leader of the Rom Empire, the current Emperor is the third Emperor of the empire.

Having sat on the throne for over 200 years, rumors easily spread that he isn’t human… but he is indeed human. No, it’s because he’s human that he sits on the Emperor’s throne.

The Emperor of the Rom Empire is the chosen apostle of the supreme god Jupiterius, appointed as an apostle the moment they are chosen, regardless of lineage or bloodline.

Naturally, the current Emperor has cultivated his power for over 200 years and is treated as the Rom Empire’s last bastion and secret weapon.

Moreover, he always travels with at least twelve direct Guard soldiers, who, though mid-tier, are powerful enough to bring meaningful changes to high-tier battles.

Therefore, knowing his strength all too well, Bjorn hesitated slightly… but this hesitation was quickly erased by vengeance and anger.

Revenge, revenge, the time for revenge is approaching.

The endgame of the Age of Imperium is approaching—when he will burn the Rom Empire, burn the Holy City, and completely destroy their holy reign.

Those who defiled his family will die like dog food, and those who trampled his tribe will be shattered into pieces.

The followers of false gods, hypocrite gods, those who are not gods—those who call themselves apostles—will all be annihilated by the demon sword of the chosen one that Bjorn wields.

So while maintaining an expressionless face, he knelt with reverence to his god who, though invisible, exists, while burning with fierce flames inside.

《The Emperor is powerful, but you are the sword made to break him.》

The response was enough to fill Bjorn’s heart with exhilaration.

《You are my chosen one, the executor of doom born with the destiny to burn the world. Bjorn ‘Chosen’ Wolfson, the chosen Bjorn, the end approaches.》

His voice was resolute, instilling confidence and trust in Bjorn.

The uncertainty of the future—what humans fear most. That answer, which seemed to know the solution to this uncertainty, dispelled even the small amount of anxiety that remained in Bjorn.

He was now ready.

Ready to bring down the world, the Age of Imperium.

※ ※ ※

And at the same time, preparations were underway in the camps of other evil gods.

“Squeak! The Rat-God has spoken! The time of glory comes to us tomorrow!”

“””””Squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak!!!”””””

The Rat-Beastmen and followers of plague who had settled in the sewers—apostles of the plague god, rat god, mosquito lord, evil god of plague Marus Area.

They were in a state of frenzy, shouting at each other in ecstasy after hearing from the Great Evangelist that the time of glory was approaching.

”””’············.”””’

The followers of Magica, the evil god of conspiracy, were quietly and secretly preparing for tomorrow’s uprising in their respective domains.

They checked magic circles, divined the future using magic, and wove plans with secret and clandestine threads of conspiracy.

All for achieving their goals amidst the chaos that would unfold tomorrow.

And the most important evil god’s forces.

In the pleasure cult of Sodomia Gomorio Blutas, the evil god of pleasure set to be born tomorrow, a feast of “pleasure” that pushed the boundaries of all manner of debauchery and grotesqueness was being held.

“He is being born! The time of beginning comes! The beginning comes!”

“Ohhh!! Pleasure, pleasure! Pleasure that caresses and fondles our bodies!!!”

“Aggressive” sexual acts accompanied by various drugs were the norm.

They tore at each other’s wounds, experiencing pain and pleasure simultaneously, screaming moans mixed with screams, using these as songs for a feast that truly embodied the word “frenzy.”

If described in detail, it would be rated adult not for sexual content but for cruelty—a splendid feast of those whose nervous systems had been altered by the blessing of pleasure.

In the midst of it all, “Pleasure,” the melting evil god of pleasure.

Sodomia Gomorio Blutas was simply welcoming the souls of followers with lascivious gestures, instigating frenzy while eagerly awaiting his own birth.