Ch.149149. The Blacksmith (2)

Bjorn did not stop.

BANG! CRASH!! BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG—!!!

He grabbed his head as if to crush it and slammed it against the floor several times, then quickly changed his position, grabbed Vulcanus by the leg, and swung him around wildly like a weapon.

Absurdly, since Vulcanus was harder than the surrounding objects, Vulcanus himself didn’t even get scratched from colliding with the floor.

Nevertheless, the impact from Bjorn’s monstrous strength was real, so Vulcanus, with bruises on his ankles, was left dazed from the shock transmitted to his head.

And it was around this time.

“…It’s execution time, god.”

That Bjorn pulled out the “tool” he had been carrying, requested from his master.

However, it wasn’t yet time to use the “tool.”

First, he needed to cut off the breath of this persistent being before he woke up again.

So Bjorn, like an executioner, forced Vulcanus to kneel, raised his greatsword high above his head, and then brought it down with tremendous force.

—SLASH!!

Even Vulcanus’s sturdy skin ultimately split open easily.

Anyway, immediately after Vulcanus became Vul/canus.

Bjorn quickly separated the “Vul” part from Vul/canus, then drove the “tool” directly into canus—the body whose head had been severed.

In appearance, if one had to describe it, it was a sphere roughly the size of a small watermelon, smaller than a head but sufficient to cover the cross-section of the severed neck.

Its color was blood-red like a clot of blood with the texture of flesh, yet when touched, it felt hardened—a red sphere.

The moment it was inserted into the severed surface of Vulcanus’s neck, the red sphere began to pulsate and fuse like a living organism.

The seams of the skin disappeared, red blood vessels writhed and burrowed in, and bone hooks growing from within firmly anchored the flesh.

In an instant, something like a lump of flesh grew in place of the head—a grotesque sight, but Bjorn, knowing what it truly was, couldn’t hide his excitement.

And for good reason—that flesh was a tool that would usurp a god’s body—from Bjorn’s perspective, a tool that would bring him immense happiness.

Now Vulcanus’s body, with its head replaced by that thing, would become a kind of specimen blacksmith and bio-machine, a tool for the underground city.

Although the soul had perished, it was still the body of a blacksmith god. The residual thoughts dwelling within would surely be among the world’s finest blacksmithing skills.

In this world where faith and devotion could take actual form, it was standard for objects long inhabited by a soul to retain “traces” of that soul as residual thoughts.

Furthermore, since residual thoughts were traces of the soul, they could—while not developing further—maintain the skills from when the being was alive.

Of course, residual thoughts would fade over time, and spiritual concepts like divinity or godhood would no longer exist…

But the problem of thought degradation would be solved by that red spherical form, and in truth, Bjorn didn’t care either way.

He was simply satisfied as long as the hateful gods suffered.

※ ※ ※

……..

After watching Vulcanus’s corpse disappear somewhere beyond, Bjorn soon began moving toward his next destination.

The next destination was none other than the commercial district, right next to the production district.

A region characterized by roofs painted in a yellow color that evoked gold, but which to Bjorn’s eyes looked merely vulgar and frivolous.

As Bjorn slowly walked toward what could be called the heart of all finance, derivatives, and other economic activities of the Rom Empire, suddenly.

“….??”

He momentarily wondered about sensing a divine presence from underground in the commercial district, not from above ground, but quickly reached a conclusion.

No doubt, Hermecus, the guardian deity of this place, had fled and hidden underground in some facility built beneath the commercial district.

Having never had any positive feelings toward him to begin with, Bjorn made no attempt to hide his blatant contempt for Hermecus.

A fool who, far from taking responsibility for his actions, simply ran away to save himself.

That was roughly how Bjorn felt about Hermecus.

And peculiarly, besides Hermecus’s presence, the commercial district still had quite a few signs of life remaining.

Bjorn guessed that survivors from the imperial legion, along with the wealthy’s private soldiers or hired high-ranking mercenaries, had joined forces to hold out.

Seeing the corpses that appeared more frequently as he moved toward the stronger life responses, Bjorn became convinced of this and began moving to deal with them first.

And in the midst of this.

‘……..?!!’

By chance, he could see the barricade they had set up and the crowd beyond it, and the moment he saw them, Bjorn felt an emotion that nearly made his consciousness and reason fly away.

The legion standard of the Imperial Legion, prominently stuck at the highest point of the barricade, fluttering high in the sky.

The emblem stamped on that legion standard was something Bjorn could never forget.

‘……..!?’

The legion standard with the double-headed eagle sculpture attached, signifying an elite imperial legion, which had stood out among the legions that invaded when his tribe was destroyed in the past.

That was the military flag of the very legion that had fought at the forefront of the Rom Imperial Army that destroyed his tribe, massacred his people, and defiled his family.

In that moment, Bjorn’s reason evaporated completely.

[….Kill, kill, kill, kill……KILL!!!]

Unlike his usual bloodlust, this was filled with aura, adding magical terror induction that could even stop hearts if done well.

Exuding such dense bloodlust, Bjorn swung his sword toward the commotion beyond the barricade—

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

The next moment, a massive aura slash that ground everything in sight erupted from Bjorn’s greatsword like black mist.

However, its destructive power was so overwhelming that the term “mist” seemed inadequate—it was so horrific that one would doubt whether this was truly human power.

The pitch-black aura, imbued with chaotic power and gleaming ominously, literally ground everything in its path to fine powder.

The makeshift barricades built from mattresses and furniture, humans protected by metal and aura or magical power.

And beyond that, buildings constructed with stone and concrete—all were equally ground away before the wave of aura, regardless of material.

There were no exceptions.

The legion standard preserved with pride for generations within the legion, warriors who had awakened their aura through self-discipline—all the same.

Only a very few, those who were outside the range of the torrent of aura being released, could survive in this suffocatingly dense energy—aura density.

“Ah, hahaha…haha…..”

Most reactions were simply being dumbfounded or laughing as if insane, while some rejoiced at having survived such a catastrophic attack.

Countless people had been annihilated without even leaving corpses, but the thrilling adrenaline of surviving in this situation was pumping.

But there was one thing these people didn’t know—

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

From the beginning, this wasn’t some grand final strike or anything so magnificent—it was just a “strong normal attack” delivered with a bit of force.

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

In other words, he could fire them continuously without limit.

—KWAAAAAAANG!!!

With each explosion, black aura swept away dozens or hundreds of people.

The mere speed of his sword swings created sonic booms, and even before the slash and aura, the shockwave, though limited in range, was extremely destructive.

A torn-off forearm—or more precisely, a forearm whose remaining body had evaporated—flew through the air, only to be swept away and annihilated by the incoming torrent of black aura.

The legion standard, a sacred object blessed in the pantheon to provide wide-area buffs, and buildings constructed with money poured in by wealthy businessmen and merchants—all annihilated.

This act, more like the movement of pure destruction than of an intelligent being, driven solely by anger and vengeance, beyond one-sided and truly devastating, finally came to an end.

“……..”

All that remained was nothing but ruins.

Buildings that were once decorated with intricately crafted marble walls and delicate ebony columns.

The imperial legion that had united as one even in crisis, and the mercenaries and private soldiers who willingly joined forces in extreme circumstances.

All had been swept away by the aura, beyond mere collapse, turned into fine, unidentifiable black powder covering the ground.

After briefly observing this black desert he had created, Bjorn hardened his expression and stomped on the floor.

KWAAAANG!!!

With a thunderous sound, the floor collapsed like a crumbling cookie, allowing Bjorn to easily reach the underground where Hermecus was likely to be.