Chapter 23: The God-Slayer

I looked toward Mask, who shouted, "Impossible! There is no way there would be a coffin among the goods I purchased!"

I turned my gaze to Zhanlisi, who said, "It is true. We were the ones who loaded it onto the vehicle. We suddenly received orders from our superiors to transport these two dignitaries."

I asked, "Two dignitaries?"

The two figures emerged from the doorway. Lamia’s eyes widened as she said, "Is that Lady Typhon?"

The other person was Nana Christian, a diplomat from the Sword and Shield Society.

I was completely bewildered and asked, "Two Duchesses, why? Are you also heading to the Charon Heavy Industries headquarters?"

Typhon likely wanted to supervise me. Did Michael send her? Or was this her own decision? How was I supposed to activate those robots without her knowing?

Typhon shook her head and replied, "We are merely hitching a ride. We have slightly modified the mission for this trip; we will be traveling a bit further to investigate some matters."

I said, "But we will be staying at Charon Heavy Industries for a long time to construct defensive measures."

Typhon replied, "That goes without saying, but the location we are investigating is not far from Charon Heavy Industries. It will not interfere with your plans."

Their strength was far beyond Bella's, even surpassing Legan. Perhaps they were slightly inferior to Vasilisa, but they still filled me with awe. I did not need to worry about them; instead, they could help us deal with the Epoch Empire should it appear, as we were currently short on troops.

Chris suddenly asked, "Who is that?"

She was pointing at Mask. Why would she take notice of such an unremarkable fellow?

I said, "He is my partner, the private investigator Mask. He is a very reliable companion." In truth, he was not reliable at all—he had once made a living through fraud—but now that he was on my side, he was reliable indeed.

Mask looked back and replied, "My ladies, I greet you. Please forgive me for not being able to stand to pay my respects."

Chris paused for about ten seconds before saying, "Private investigator Mask? That is certainly an interesting profession and an interesting name."

Typhon said, "It is truly no small feat that you can drive this big guy."

Mask sighed, "We live a hard life and must be capable of everything. I guarantee my driving skills are exceptional and will surely satisfy you both."

This fellow’s double entendre was truly masterful; I was the only one who could grasp the underlying meaning.

I couldn't help but smile.

Chris walked over to Mask and looked at the night scenery outside the front window. Yune’s headlights seemed to briefly summon daylight into the deep night; it was bright and abrupt, like an island of light in a sea of darkness.

She said, "In this desolate world, driving alone, wandering aimlessly, with no destination and no end—it is, in its own way, a form of romance."

Mask replied, "What makes you think of such things?"

Chris said, "I do not know, but this journey, these sights, and these people make me think of drifting."

Mask said, "Yet, we are far from lonely."

I interjected with a smile, "Indeed, and this cabin is already far too crowded."

Chris asked, "Mr. Mask, do you have any other names?"

Mask said, "Other names? Those are unimportant. I have forgotten them, and all my relatives have forgotten them as well. For some, a past name is like an ominous curse; it is better to forget."

Typhon also sat beside Mask. She said, "This night view is truly worth admiring. It has been many years since I last stepped foot into this world."

Huh? Why do I feel like Mask is receiving the treatment of a protagonist? Isn’t being surrounded by beauties the privilege of the protagonist—myself? Looking at this posture, who is actually the protagonist here?

Mask fell into silence. The kid should be a lecher, but with two beautiful ladies sitting beside him, he seemed to have withered away. Perhaps happiness had come too suddenly.

Traveling by Yune significantly reduced the probability of being attacked by demons. Unless there was one of those extremely rare lava demons backing them, small demons would not dare approach Yune. Even to demons, Yune was like a giant not to be trifled with, walking through the night like an earthquake, making them shy away.

It took two days to reach Charon Heavy Industries. It was just dawn when, crossing over a hill onto the plains, I saw several makeshift tents.

Tents? Why would there be tents there?

There must be people inside, most likely from the Epoch Empire. It was Zoti; he had tipped them off after all.

I shouted, "Yune, drive over! Just flatten the tents!"

As Yune drew closer, people emerged from the tents. It was a bald, burly man with skin the color of egg yolks. He was about seven feet tall, clutching Weilin by the throat and glaring at us with wolf-like eyes. I soon realized that Weilin was not the only one captured; other young people from Wailing Village were also held captive, the egg-yolk-colored bald men hoisting them up like chickens.

In front of the bald men stood their leader—an egg-yolk-colored bald man with an Elvis-style pompadour. No, he wasn't bald, but he was of the same race as the others. The leader sneered. There were ten of them in total, holding hostages and waiting for us.

I shouted, "Stop."

Mask stopped the vehicle. The egg-yolk-colored leader gave a thumbs up, made a throat-slitting gesture, picked up a megaphone, and shouted, "Send your leader over! If you don’t want them to die!"

Sokan lived within the extra-dimensional space of Charon Heavy Industries; why didn't he save them? No, even if he had already taken his revenge, he would never save Wailing Village. Even I could not order him to do so.

Lamia said, "He didn't say to come alone. Let's go down together!"

I said, "I am enough on my own."

Solace said, "Take the Water of Amon and let the Dead Bell distract them."

I shook my head and said, "This bunch of freaks should recognize me. Better not play any tricks."

Typhon and Christina were fast asleep in the cargo hold. If they were here, this wouldn't be an issue at all, but it was just so inconvenient every time. Perhaps it was time to disable the cheat codes...

I walked toward them empty-handed. The egg-yolk Elvis-head smiled and signaled his men to toss Weilin and the others down. I could see that Weilin was badly hurt; I feared these giants had beaten her severely, and the others were no better off.

Weilin cried out, "I didn't know they were such monsters! Mr. Longinus, they had always been traveling merchants doing business with us, but this time, this time they became like this and tricked us into opening the door!" As she spoke, she spat out a tooth.

No wonder they were able to break in and capture Weilin and the others.

The egg-yolk Elvis kicked Weilin, and she vomited blood from the pain. The monster hadn't used his full strength, or she would have been killed by the kick. He held a Gatling rotary gun in one hand, and his subordinates were also armed with heavy weaponry—rocket launchers, flamethrowers, and grenade launchers. They were a group of burly strongmen, wielding these heavy weapons with ease.

The egg-yolk Elvis said, "You dare run wild on land coveted by the Epoch Empire? None of these rebels will live, and you will die too. Your vehicle now belongs to us, including the cargo inside."

I looked at their tents; there were no signs of the Epoch Empire on them.

I asked, "Have you always been demons like this, or were you recently transformed by the Epoch Empire?"

The leader lifted his chin at me and grinned, saying, "We have always belonged to the Epoch Empire. The Empire sends numerous merchants and priests to scout this land, which is about to be conquered, to see how many subjects it has. We are not demons, but masterpieces of magic, capable of changing into this divine form at any time!"

I said, "You encounter these underground villages, use the pretense of being merchants to slowly win their trust, and then find ways to occupy and enslave them!"

The egg-yolk Elvis said, "Enough talk!" He pointed his gun at the group of captives and said, "Drop all your weapons and do as I say, quickly!"

Weilin cried out, "Sir, we would rather die than betray you. Please, don't worry about us!"

I shouted, "Stop talking, Weilin. With me here, you will be fine."

The egg-yolk Elvis tore off Weilin's clothes. I saw the deep knife scars on her dark skin. She stared at me, her eyes still full of devotion.

For some reason, she truly believed in me, believing me to be their god.

The egg-yolk Elvis said, "You're angry, aren't you, Longinus? Look, this is the method of our Epoch Empire. We preach to those who are submissive, but for those lowly people who refuse to drink a toast and insist on a penalty, we show them what we are capable of."

He caressed Weilin’s body with his thick fingers and then sucked his fingers, saying, "What a beautiful young body, yet because she put her faith in the wrong person, she has ended up in such a miserable state..."

Before he could finish, my thunder sword had pierced his eye. The god of torrents ensured he didn't have time to finish his last words—which was a good thing, as his last words were disgusting. Electric currents burned his internal organs, and he trembled like a fish out of water.

The egg-yolk bald men let out gasps and roars. At this moment, their heavy weapons became a burden. They dropped their weapons, spread their arms, and lunged at me. I pushed Weilin aside and turned around, slashing four times at them. Their skin was as thick as rock, and the thunder sword had no effect. This group of slow-moving brutes had bodies as hard as fortresses.

I unleashed the Dark Cloud, instantly plunging them into a mist. They cursed, "What the hell is this?" and flailed their arms, trying to disperse the fog.

They were mistaken; this mist was like a swamp, making their movements even slower—slow as snails. Mjölnir leisurely searched for their eyes, pierced into their brains, and roasted their internal organs.

This thought-blade was born to be compatible with me. In the mist, I was like a fish in water; I felt reborn. These mists were like followers who had always been with me, invisible, waiting for my call.

This thought terrified me.

I realized the fish had never left.

The more terrified they became, the more they roared, their bodies trembling, causing their rock-like muscles to rumble. Did they think there were man-eating fish in the black mist, searching for their vitals, tearing, boring in, and destroying their flesh? They guessed right; I was here, right in the black mist, with them, letting them experience the terror and cold I had once felt.

I was the fish bone, the remains of the fish, the phantom of the fish. Their rock armor could not protect them because the fish was outside of them, and the fish was also within them.

Each one of them died under the thunder blade of Mjölnir.

The black mist dissipated, and the fish vanished. I emerged from the mist and covered Weilin with a cloth.

Weilin knelt on the ground, weeping, "Sir, I knew I would never believe in the wrong person. Thank you, thank you for the faith you have granted me, thank you for the salvation you have bestowed upon me."

Every captive knelt, reaching out to touch the hem of my trousers, yet fearing to touch my body and offend me.

I helped her up and said, "You only need to do one thing now: rest and recover. I am here now, and everything will be alright."

Weilin asked, "Are you our god?"

I shook my head and smiled, "Quite the opposite, I am Longinus. If you knew the meaning of this name, you wouldn't think so."