Ch.210The Sixth Entanglement – Bebop with the Sun God (8)

There was too much to think about. Had the driver called the Divine Security Bureau? And while Sol Invictus could kill the miner with one kick if he were right in front of him, the god before his eyes was the bigger problem right now.

Dr. Albert stepped forward with the confidence he prided himself on. He looked directly at the god wrapped in a red cloak, who emitted a dull metallic smell and blood mist seeping through the cracked parts of the marble statue where sunlight leaked through.

“How can threatening to kill me if I don’t give the answer you want be considered a question? Don’t you want to embrace a warrior, O Undefeated Sun!”

Dr. Albert’s heart was beating rapidly, putting strain on his old body. It wasn’t ecstasy. It was the belief that with every second he stalled here, the Divine Security Bureau would come a mile closer.

He fulfilled his duty as promised to the detective. He tried to buy as much time as possible with his knowledge of Sol Invictus. Meanwhile, he hoped this wounded young man would somehow figure out a solution.

Sol Invictus gladly laughed at the sight of Dr. Albert standing up to him. With his double-bladed sword planted in the ground, he displayed a smile across the marble statue’s face.

“Even killing is a god’s favor! Giving the opportunity to fight to one who willingly struggles against a war god is the greatest grace I can bestow. You know who I am, don’t you?”

The detective turned his gaze toward the miner. From here, it was a straight line. If he could get just one opening, he could shoot. The temperature around them was still normal. He wouldn’t need the doctor’s gun.

Could that one opening occur naturally? He had to leave it to the doctor. The detective hated gods and had never bothered to learn about them.

He didn’t deny that this was a mistake and a shortcoming. In the end, all stories come back to oneself. Having hatred is fine, but when it becomes excessive, it ruins the job.

“Of course I know you. Rather, haven’t you forgotten me? Don’t you remember coming to the university in New York? I’m Dr. Albert Pfeifer. You should remember me. You’re a cunning god, after all.”

Sol Invictus slowly examined the doctor’s face. He seemed to recall seeing him before embarking on his journey across America.

This barbaric god was still focused only on the doctor. Additionally, the miner was walking toward them. Though this was likely due to his trust in Sol Invictus, it made him an easier target.

“Ah, yes. I think I’ve seen you before. And did you not know that calling a war god ‘cunning’ is an insult?”

Dr. Albert knew Sol Invictus. There was no room for negotiation anyway. Sol Invictus only ever offered two choices: submission or death. So he spoke boldly.

“Did insults ever matter to you, Sol Invictus? Weren’t you a god who gladly accepted insults if the insulter offered worship in return?”

Intense sunlight creates intense shadows. Sol Invictus was making Dr. Albert feel intensely alive. Dr. Albert decided to savor that feeling.

He had taken interest in gods because of their power. But after developing that interest, all he saw were aspects that were too human. They were just ordinary men and women without their divinity.

Even the omniscient and omnipotent God-President felt responsibility for his choices, The Morrígan longed for the past, and the assassination attempt left a wound in Balder’s heart. He had willingly helped the gods with goodwill because they too were people.

But Sol Invictus was different. He was just a beast wearing a human mask. That beast grabbed Dr. Albert by the collar and lifted him up. He stared at him with blazing eyes.

The detective drew his gun. Regardless of how the situation unfolded, he wouldn’t just stand by and watch Sol Invictus kill Dr. Albert, so he prepared to pull the trigger.

Sol Invictus wouldn’t allow bullets to pierce his body twice. He lightly stomped the ground. From beneath the earth, flame-like solar flares began to surge up and wrap around the detective’s body.

With a body that could withstand twice the heat and was only half as susceptible to fire, he could have fought through one or two strands of flame, but dozens were too much to handle.

Though fire normally wouldn’t have physical force, he would have gladly broken through a wall of flames, but these flames had mass and form. More divine trickery. Sol Invictus laughed.

“Stay still, warrior. I can give you what you desire. I smell a curse on you. I’ll lift that curse! I’ll liberate you as I liberated myself. Wait!”

Michael barely held onto his sanity. This god was boldly exposing his weakness and knowing about it was starting to cause an allergic reaction of horrific proportions.

With one swing of his body, several flame strands broke, leaving faint soot marks on the detective’s forearm. But each time, dozens more emerged to grab him. Smoke rose from the ground.

Where were these flames coming from? There was a coal mine in this town, and the burial site was probably beneath the city. If it was coming from deep underground… the entire city would become a hell of fire.

Dr. Albert, caught by Sol Invictus, managed to wave his hand at the detective as if to say not to worry about him. The young man’s survival was more important to him than his own fate.

“You were originally a sun god, then became a war god, then stole the power of a healing god, and now you want to become a purification god, Sol? Were you that hungry for worship?”

Dr. Albert boldly exposed the god’s weakness. He had stalled for over a minute. Could he create an opening? Even if there was one, could this young man move?

No, that’s not right. If an old man can’t trust the young, all that’s left is to wish for immortality. I just saw him break several flame strands when he struggled. The doctor steeled himself.

Sol Invictus picked up his double-bladed sword planted in the ground and held it to the doctor’s neck. Though he was an angry god, he hadn’t been particularly gentle to begin with, so the difference wasn’t that stark.

“I said I would gladly spare your life if you offered worship, yet you seek death. Do you not feel glory upon seeing my power and light? Why won’t you serve me? Why is the fortune of having such followers only for Knowledge and Action? Answer me. Or I’ll burn you in my grasp.”

Even if Sol Invictus hadn’t urged him to answer, Dr. Albert was going to shout. It was rather amusing that Sol Invictus was practically begging him for an answer.

Dr. Albert raised one corner of his wrinkled mouth in a sneer. Despite the sneer, he shouted with sincerity.

“Because people cannot serve slaves, Sol Invictus! Slaves produce and people enjoy. Gods create grace and people enjoy! Then what’s the difference between gods and slaves?”

Sol Invictus barely restrained his desire to burn this human in his grasp. He seemed like a devout one. Like a devout person, he wanted to defile and kill that god to satisfy his anger.

That barbaric god used a barbaric method. Sneering like the detective, he turned Dr. Albert’s words back on him.

“Are you saying that Knowledge and Action whom you serve are also slaves? You’re insulting your own gods…”

It was a method used about two thousand years ago, and Dr. Albert was a modern man. Knowing that Sol Invictus wouldn’t kill him until he insulted the God-President, he pressed on with words.

“They can enjoy and delight in what they’ve created on the Sabbath. Have you ever rested once on your way here? Have you ever had any purpose other than obtaining worship, you machine?”

Though Sol Invictus had regained his divinity, he couldn’t let go of his primitive barbarism and arrogance. There was no way to win this verbal battle. He spoke through gritted teeth.

“San Francisco was quite nice for resting. So will you serve me now? If you defame Knowledge and Action with your words…”

“You went to meet the Emperor.”

Dr. Albert burst into laughter. He mocked Sol Invictus, who couldn’t even kill him to recover a bit of his pride, and continued speaking.

The detective, bound by flame strands, knew an opening would come. His gun had fallen in front, and the miner was now watching them from a distance where he could hit him with his eyes closed.

There would be one chance. Just one. He endured being bound by the flames with mass. The burning sensation was halved. Even the pain he felt was halved. If the strands weren’t replenished, he could break free and rush forward.

As his sanity felt like it was about to snap, he clung to it even more. Killing that follower right here would cause Sol Invictus greater pain. The detective could wait until he could gladly inflict that pain.

“You went to see what the Emperor gives in return for being worshipped, didn’t you? Can you understand someone who provides vision, Sol Invictus? When Romans glorified war, you became a war god to be worshipped by them, and when the wounded sought healing grace, you became a healing god to be worshipped by them—do you know what vision is? You’re ultimately just a slave and servant to all!”

This is the end, thought Dr. Albert, his legs trembling with fear. He didn’t want to die either. But if death had come this close… he had to love it a little too.

Despite being held by Sol Invictus’s mighty hand with a blade at his throat, the doctor was acting according to his own will. Hoping his voice wouldn’t tremble, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“So kill me! Obey like a proper god! Just as you’ve always obeyed worship and people, this time too…”

Sol Invictus decided not to hold back any longer. Or perhaps he had to act that way to maintain worship and continue being served. He obeyed. Once again, he contorted himself to fit the image that matched worship.

He focused all his attention on the doctor, delighting in cutting off his head and burning him. He lapped up the byproducts of worship like a dog. He momentarily forgot about the detective. After all, humans couldn’t withstand the burning pain.

That wasn’t true. Even a war god couldn’t prepare for the Argonne Invincibles if he didn’t know about them. The detective willingly endured several burn marks on his wrists and forearms. He broke free from the flame strands.

As his body fell forward from struggling, he ran while supporting himself with his hands on the ground. Sol Invictus saw the detective escape from the flame strands, but he had already picked up the gun.

Sol Invictus knew he was a warrior, but he didn’t know what kind. He didn’t know he was a warrior who would charge into enemy lines while friendly artillery was still falling, firing guns and swinging clubs amidst the thunderous sounds and trembling earth.

To begin with, he didn’t understand modern warfare. The battlefield he knew was where heroes and legends were born. Where people could change their fate.

Kill the miner first, then shoot and kill Sol Invictus who had lost his divinity. He pulled back the fixed bolt to extract the cartridge. Five bullets remained. He pushed another round into the chamber as he advanced.

All he had to do was pull the trigger. He had done his best. However, this time, the detective himself felt the irrationality he often made others feel. Gods could respond without preparation.

Without warning, Sol Invictus exploded with divine power. He was desperate too. Fearing he would return to that weak and powerless form if his only follower died, he unleashed a solar wind with his barely filled divinity.

The detective’s body was greatly shaken by the flow of heat and energy that burst from the Undefeated Sun’s body in a ring shape.

Current flowed through the gun barrel, and the instantly heated chamber exploded, rendering the trigger pull useless. It was fortunate that all ten fingers remained intact.

He picked up the gun again, ignoring the burn marks along his side and waist, but the smell of burning lubricant wafted through the air, and once again the chamber exploded before he could pull the trigger.

He had to prepare somehow. As he reached for the open duffel bag, a force that even twice his strength and vitality couldn’t resist grabbed the detective by the neck.

Sol Invictus rushed at the detective and grabbed him without even pulling out his sword planted in the ground. The corners of the distorted marble statue’s eyes flickered anxiously. An opening had appeared, but he was still a god.

The wooden buildings around them were burning. Everything except his followers was burning in the spreading flames. The entire city was engulfed in fire, and smoke leaked from beneath the ground.

Sol Invictus poured out a voice filled with resentment to the detective who couldn’t regain his senses due to the heat that seemed to cook his brain. He made the sound of someone who had been insulted and defeated.

“You smell of the Great War! Why can’t someone who fought in that great furnace that creates heroes understand me? Why can’t you understand the world of those who struggle and conquer! After borrowing the help of a curse to win, why do you refuse this victory now! I will purify you! I will purify you and give you power greater than that curse!”

Another firestorm began to rage. As if to flaunt his might, or to reveal that he possessed only the strength received as the price for obeying worship with no other choice, he unleashed flames. Fire began to rage enough to engulf the entire city. The smoke leaking from underground only worsened.

He wasn’t gripping his neck tightly enough to crush it. Had the driver called the Divine Security Bureau? His ears were ringing. He seemed to have headed to the gas station, but was he alright? Even the detective couldn’t tell at this moment.

The one thing he knew right now was just one thing. This god didn’t understand modern warfare. Like us before 1914, he didn’t know at all what the Great War was.

A furnace that creates heroes? A world of people who conquer? Michael gathered all his malice in his lungs. As he took a deep breath, he began to gather mana on the tip of his tongue. Let me show you what the Great War was like. Let me show you and drive you mad.

Michael looked at Sol Invictus, who had shouted that he had received a curse for power. He glanced to the side. The gun that Dr. Albert had commissioned from a craftsman was still intact inside the burning duffel bag.

If he failed, he could try again. He could create another opening. If he could cause another explosion like before, he would probably die, but he couldn’t die now. He loved life too much.

He had no choice but to love life. If he couldn’t love a life barely maintained by someone’s altruism and goodwill, it would be like throwing that goodwill on the ground and trampling it.

“You’ll purify me? Can you purify the sin of selling one’s soul for power? Can you really purify this curse?”

It was entirely thanks to his doubled vitality that he had survived what would have killed an ordinary person. It was still because of the comrade bound to his body. While pretending to be persuaded, mana was gathering on the tip of his tongue.

Sol Invictus saw a naive hope. Michael was enduring with all his malice. He was enduring somehow to show this god the image of the Great War and see him suffer.

“Yes, I’ll absolve you. Not just remission, but complete absolution. I’ll baptize you with fire! So serve me. Become my great warrior. Power and glory await you…”

One follower wasn’t enough in this situation. He needed at least one more. A warrior who would offer him great worship would be an ideal follower.

Among them, a warrior filled with guilt would offer worship to him just by pretending to purify them! The slave of worship once again begged his master for charity and mercy.

But Michael already knew how far an excessive obsession with cleanliness could bring a person down. He knew the Rat-Catcher who had abandoned even his own family and became the Hanger of New York. He couldn’t become like that.

For the first time, he spoke aloud the words he had habitually repeated in his mind. He directly declared his acceptance of filth, wounds, scars, pus, and even the decay where maggots breed.

“Sticking my head in flames and being baptized again won’t change what I’ve done… This curse is me, Sol Invictus.”

Now all the mana had gathered. Michael grabbed Sol Invictus’s head. He realized why the God-President had waited for him until the massacre in that cabin. It wasn’t because of the massacre.

He recalled the Argonne Forest again. He recalled the seemingly endless Great War. He remembered comrades with dead eyes in trenches filled with blood, and nameless soldiers whose minds had shattered in field hospitals. He remembered that French veteran who had gone completely mad as his unhealed wounds festered beneath the surface.

With the Great War—not a furnace that creates heroes but a massive slaughterhouse—in his mind, he spat out as if chewing his words. As always, he shattered naive hope.

“Look at the Argonne Forest. Remember the Argonne Forest! See with your own eyes whose blood baptized us…”

By the time Sol Invictus smelled ozone, he was already seeing the Argonne Forest. He saw trees with leaves yellowing from gunpowder and a forest where corpses lay instead of soil. It wasn’t the battlefield he had imagined.

There, he saw soldiers trembling with their heads in their hands in trenches. He saw officers’ cries failing to reach them as they tried to rally them somehow. Sol Invictus reached out to raise them.

Not realizing it wasn’t reality, he became completely absorbed in a war he had never seen. He even let go of the hand that had been holding Michael’s neck. His teeth chattered as they clashed together.

“This, th-this isn’t war. War is where one grows! War is where one displays ability and achieves victory, but, but what is this! What kind of vision are you showing me!”

Michael, thrown to the ground, took off his already burned gloves. While Sol Invictus was still waving his arms in the vision, he pulled out the rifle the doctor had prepared. The chamber was intact. He could still shoot.

Let’s save the triumphant words for Sol Invictus for later. He aimed the gun at the miner who had been watching them from not far away. Gritting his teeth, he endured the pain of his burns.

He squeezed the trigger. He felt the very light trigger made of mythril steel having a brake once to prevent it from being pulled too easily. He felt he could even sense the gap between the sound of the trigger being pulled and the gunshot.

This time, he didn’t miss. The miner’s head, who was turning to flee with his child, was cleanly penetrated from the side. His body fell onto the burning road. He needed to confirm the kill.

If Michael felt any guilt at this moment, it was only that he was killing a father in front of his child.

However, he wasn’t someone who would let guilt ruin his work. He threw off his burning outer clothes, rushed in, and drew a dagger from his waist. He confirmed the kill so that not even Sol Invictus could heal him.

All the believers had perished in the flames. Ironically, only one non-believer, a child too young to know about faith and religion, and a heretical god who had lost his light remained in this city that was burning like hell.