"Having built your hall, why face it south? Why face it north? If the millet cannot be harvested, on what shall the sovereign dine? Wishing to be a loyal minister, how can one succeed?"
On the battlefield, now scarred beyond recognition, the woman from Shenzhou who was the first to revive raised her voice, chanting the incantation.
And then—
As if the world itself had begun to mutate, a terrifying green hue washed over everything in sight.
Then—countless flowers and grasses burst into existence.
Fragrance of a Hundred Herbs, Dazzle of a Thousand Flowers.
This was the Authority the leader of the Demon Cult, Luo Hao, had usurped after defeating the God of Wood, Lord Tai Sui.
It was the power to cultivate plants and flowers regardless of the location. The vegetation produced could be imbued with various properties.
For example, by using "survival of the fittest" as the keyword, a dense jungle of ferocious flora, from poisonous weeds to carnivorous plants, would form, capable of dragging enemies into a demonic sea of trees to be assaulted. Even without a specific command, the flowers would continue to bloom.
Plants far more vicious and cruel than any demonic beast grew without limit, grinding their teeth and sucking blood, unleashing potent toxins and gaping maws upon everything around them.
The terrifying poison made Jibril, standing off to the side, feel extremely unwell, her thoughts growing muddled and heavy.
Even with a constitution as robust as a Flügel's, she was being severely corroded by the Authority that was being used with such reckless abandon.
Fortunately, the demonic forest's primary target was not Jibril.
Like a grotesque monster gnawing on the exhausted Wolf King, the divine power infused into the vines easily pierced the Wolf King's chest, tearing apart his magnificent, giant-like body.
Almost in the same instant Marquis Voban was killed, a silvery-white sword light streaked across heaven and earth. It cleaved the Demon Cult leader, who was still shrouded by her demonic forest, in two, and continued its path onward without limit.
The malice that roamed the world coalesced into shimmering blue fireflies as the spirits of the slain rose from the atmosphere, only to fall from the sky.
In that world, which seemed to shudder to a halt, the ravaged earth cried out in continuous lament.
It was as if the world was meeting its final moment.
Will my life also come to an end now?
Trapped by that man's spatial lockdown and completely unable to perform a long-distance Heaven's Shift, Jibril stared blankly at the demonic sword. It had likely been swung with too much force, and even after killing its intended target, it still possessed a sharpness capable of pulverizing all creation.
The demonic sword was not aimed at her, so it naturally would not harm her.
But what would happen next? The Black Prince, the Lord of the Underworld, and the others would soon revive and once again unleash their powers without restraint.
In such an environment, it was only a matter of time before a bystander like her was killed by the collateral damage.
So, was she going to die?
Not in the process of challenging a stronger being, nor killed for prying too deeply into the power of a god...
Was she to die at the hands of this superior race that looked like monkeys, yet were so incomparably cruel and tyrannical?
For the first time in a long while, a sense of bewilderment rose in Jibril's heart.
"Hoo~ It seems my brothers and sisters, who've shared in my killing impulse, are a little more irritable than I imagined."
As if a ghost had suddenly materialized, a young man's voice abruptly echoed.
Shared in his killing impulse?
As if encountering something utterly incomprehensible, Jibril, who had just now registered the descent of that god, seemed to realize something. Her eyes widened as she whipped her head to the side.
"Is it strange? Forcibly seizing the souls of others and turning them into firewood for your own soul's flame naturally comes with a price."
The young man, who had come here in large part to protect the Flügel from being wiped out by the aftershock, shrugged his shoulders.
"The resentment of the slain accumulates as killing intent within the slayer's soul, cursing them."
"I'm not particularly affected by the souls of those simpletons. Is it so strange that I would pass that killing impulse on to my compatriots?"
Eternal Destruction was, in essence, a demonic artifice. Its proper name was Mage Refinement.
The number of souls contained within Alucard's River of Death was three million, four hundred and twenty-four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven.
Without a doubt, this was a terrifying number.
The total number of souls devoured by the entire "Black Round Table" of the Thirteen Knights of the Holy Lance from the Shinza series was less than what Li Zihan had consumed in this single wave.
Using such a massive number of souls as fuel all at once had two effects. It made Li Zihan's Authority at the Creation Rank—the ability to lock onto a possibility—exceptionally vicious, but it also led to another consequence.
Due to devouring all those souls, the murderous impulse Li Zihan had accumulated had reached a level where it was nearly impossible to suppress.
The so-called "Eternal Destruction" was a system of magic founded by the "Serpent of Mercury" of Nazi Germany's Black Round Table. Its essence was a demonic artifice that combined a "Holy Relic" with human souls, using those souls as fuel for its activation.
Any magus who employed this artifice would fall into a state of chronic murderous impulse. The souls of those they killed would be devoured by the Holy Relic, and these consumed souls would then become power that coiled around the user.
In essence, it was a system of "the more you kill, the stronger you become; the stronger you become, the more you want to kill"—a technique perfectly suited for madmen, perverts, and those with shattered personalities.
Li Zihan was an anomaly.
This was obvious.
A normal person would have gone insane long ago after absorbing the accumulated killing intent of over three million souls at once.
But he was still alive and kicking, even having the time to go to the God-Slayer world to resurrect his "compatriots" and continue shearing the sheep.
...No, that wasn't right. Li Zihan had directly skinned the sheep.
Although he seemed fine, no one would believe that devouring three million souls had no effect on him.
But—
Li Zihan's current behavior was merely a desire to keep a few "plush balls" around and vent his frustrations through some... stimulating play when the mood struck.
Why was Li Zihan able to remain so calm?
The answer could be found by looking at Rama and Lakshmana.
Rama, who had descended as a Heretical God, was extremely rational. He even grew weary of his own mission and wished to stop fighting.
The reason he could remain so composed was that his younger brother, Lakshmana, bore the brunt of all his madness for him.
Among Li Zihan's own Authorities was one called Ama-no-Murakumo.
Its effect was grafting and fusion. Li Zihan had once used this Authority to graft Ling onto himself, allowing her to help him process the negative emotions that came with his Herrscher transformation.
Quite naturally, Li Zihan chose to graft the majority of his murderous impulse away, letting the other God-Slayers bear it in his stead.
"Seizing the souls of others, turning them into firewood to smelt your own soul... is that the reason for your power?"
Finally understanding a piece of the puzzle, Jibril slowly raised her head to look at the abnormally powerful young man.
"Who knows?"
The young man, who was preparing to offer the Flügel to the God of War, Artosh, as a gesture of goodwill, smiled. To the Flügel who now understood a truth she could never replicate, he said:
"Come with me. I will take you to your master."