Chapter 108: Waking the Sleeping God
"Let the world feel pain."
If it were merely pure [Faith Energy], it would never have achieved such staggering destructive power. However, Hachiman had infused it with high-concentration cursed energy designed to react violently with the Faith.
These two forces merged to trigger a process similar to atomic fission. This "Faith Fission" generated a reaction far more terrifying than a nuclear bomb, releasing radioactive materials and toxins that were specifically lethal to the followers of an Evil God.
Hachiman named this mass-destruction technique "Glory."
Had he unleashed this move in the human world, Hachiman would have become the enemy of mankind—or at the very least, a source of universal terror.
Ordinary people do not desire the existence of a human capable of such horror. But here, in the Divine Realm of the Evil God, he could act without restraint.
This realm was a pocket dimension, entirely severed from the ordinary world.
As the terrifying "sun" descended, the hedonistic followers below remained immersed in their shameless games, oblivious to the impending doom. This was no longer just an attack; it was Divine Retribution for their indulgence in depravity.
Even before the sun struck the ground, the sheer heat and "holy radiation"—poisonous to creatures of the Evil God—caused chaos. Followers coughed up fountains of blood; those with weaker constitutions died instantly, their consciousnesses fading while still trapped in their beautiful hallucinations.
When someone finally looked up and saw the horror descending upon their paradise, it was too late. Centuries of self-indulgence had dulled their senses and slowed their reactions. Even as their kin died in droves, many simply stood frozen.
Then, the sun touched the earth.
An unimaginable heat filled the void. The grand golden sphere of light slammed into the world, marking the beginning of true terror. All sound was swallowed by the roar of the explosion. The only thing left was a flame that consumed everything it touched—a power entirely incompatible with the physics of this dark realm.
"This is justice," Hachiman muttered, watching coldly. The Palace of Pleasure had become a living hell filled with violent, righteous flames.
The [Ring of Indulgence], the primary target, fractured upon contact. Massive cracks spider-webbed across the floating continent, swallowing thousands of followers into the crumbling earth before they could even scream. From below, the sight was even more jarring: the golden fire had punched through the very crust of the ring, dissolving the land from top to bottom.
Hachiman strained to maintain the stability of the sphere, suppressing the fission reaction within until it was deep enough into the ground to maximize the lethality. Once the sun was fully submerged in the terrain, he released his grip.
The high-concentration fission energy, now a wild horse off its tether, exploded. The "Glory" could no longer maintain its spherical shape and expanded in a violent, irregular burst. A blinding golden flash followed, making it impossible to see.
Eight thousand meters above, Hachiman felt the heat hit him like a physical wall. Even at this altitude, he was barely at a safe distance.
The explosion expanded greedily. No matter how powerful a follower of the [Master of Lust] might be, they were small and powerless before this "equality of all living things." Many were vaporized before they could utter a cry.
For the most devout, the hardest thing to accept was not death, but that their god remained silent.
"God, have you abandoned your children?" they wailed. But no answer came.
Hachiman's technique was designed to prevent revival. Under the "Imperial Glory," souls could not be reclaimed or reincarnated. The followers who died in the initial blast were the lucky ones; those further away, or on the connected rings, faced a far more agonizing end. The shockwaves shattered the structural stability of the entire realm.
The air was thick with sanctified Faith Energy. Those not killed by the blast found their flesh rejecting the holy power, causing them to mutate into hideous, deformed monsters. They believed an Evil God from another realm had come to corrupt them.
In truth, Hachiman had unleashed a "merciful" version of a Cyclonic Torpedo—the Imperial weapon used for Exterminatus. It was a racial purge, intended to burn away every gas in the atmosphere and every drop of water in the sea.
In the wake of this destruction, barely one-tenth of the Pleasure Realm remained. The core of the realm—the area where the three rings met—had been severely impacted. This was the heart of the Divine Realm, and likely where the deity slept.
A magnificent pink dream-castle stood at the center, an architectural testament to fallen grace. However, as the protective shell of the realm shattered, the castle was exposed to Hachiman's "Imperial Radiance."
The blood of the cultists didn't just flow; it was scorched dry.
Yet, the "Master of Lust" remained silent. Hachiman had slaughtered her followers and desecrated her home, but the deity did not emerge.
Without these followers releasing their desires day and night, the deity would never have gathered enough power to re-emerge in the human world after a thousand years. By killing the cultists, Hachiman was cutting off the deity's life support.
The deity was "playing dead."
She was being a coward.
From the deity's perspective, Hachiman was a "short-lived" human.
To a god, a thousand years is but a blink.
Her plan was simple: stay hidden, endure the humiliation, and wait for this monster to die of old age. Then, she would return to rule.
In the face of certain death, even a god becomes "virtuous" in their cowardice.
Humiliation is temporary; the one smiling in the river of time a millennium from now would be her. Or so she thought.
Hachiman, standing amidst the purifying light, quickly located the deity's actual resting place. He pried open the hidden space, intending to offer a "greeting" to the god who had slept for centuries.
He raised his greatsword of flame, using it like a heavy club, and slammed it down with a thunderous strike.
He was going to beat that "sleeping soul" wide awake.
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