[The First Day of Destruction, 2:00 PM]
[Torantell — Southern Border City of the Slane Theocracy]
The city was named in honor of High Priest Torantell. It is said that over a century ago, this man made significant contributions to fostering friendship between the Theocracy and the elves of the Great Forest, facilitating numerous mutual aid projects that benefited both races.
However, once the two nations turned to war, his deeds were swiftly swept into the dustbin of history. Now, even among the elite members of the Black Scripture, few knew that such a person had ever existed. Unlike the long-lived elves, humans were a species that quickly forgot their history.
That being said, hatred was a different matter; it had a way of lingering long after the cause was forgotten. Now, a century into the war, Torantell had transformed. It was no longer a symbol of peace, but a festering wound in the world, known as the "Marketplace of Elven Slaves."
Looking down from the vantage point of the mountain, one could see the magnificent, boundless Sea of Trees stretching to the horizon. From those green depths, elven slaves and plundered goods were continuously funnelled into the city. Merchants from every corner of the Slane Theocracy flocked here, driven by greed and lust, gradually transforming Torantell into a prosperous, if morally bankrupt, metropolis.
It was here that the members of the Black Scripture arrived.
The 9th Seat, "Divine Chain," Beaumarchais Lex Vincit, 10th Seat, "Strongest Human" Gorgas Mendel Varkas. The 11th Seat, "Infinite Magic,"Sofina Nora Folio.
They had come to this border city in search of "living sacrifices."
In order to divine the whereabouts of the Extra Seat, "Certain Death"—Zesshi Zetsumei—the Cardinals of the Theocracy, after a heated and desperate debate, had authorized a grand ritual magic listed among the darkest of forbidden arts.
The ritual was potent. The Cardinals believed that even if their ultimate weapon had been cloaked by the Sorcerer King's magic, this ritual could pierce the veil and determine her approximate location. However, power came at a price. Such grand magic required the sacrifice of a considerable number of living souls.
To maximize the efficacy of the spell, one hundred female forest elves had already been purchased from slave traders in the Capital Holy City. Their age, height, and build were selected to mirror Zesshi Zetsumei as closely as possible. The principle of contagion magic dictated that the offering must be sympathetic to the target.
But this alone was insufficient to ignite the catalyst for the grand ceremony. They required a sacrifice that was identical to the target's unique "race."
Zesshi Zetsumei was a half-elf, a being born of the blood of a human and the Elf King. Thus, it was imperative to find half-forest elves. The more, the better.
However, such hybrids were exceptionally rare. Biologically, the conception rate between humans and elves was abysmal. Politically, the Theocracy explicitly forbade its citizens from engaging in sexual relations with the "lower races." A powerful swordsman named "Erya Uzruth"—a former Scripture Member—had once been effectively exiled for publicly and flagrantly violating this prohibition.
{AN} *"In Overlord Volume 7, 'The Invaders of the Great Tomb,' Erya Uzruth, the arrogant leader of the Worker group Tenmu, leads an investigation into the mysterious Great Tomb of Nazarick. Accompanied by his three elven slaves, Erya's intrusion ends abruptly when he is confronted and killed by Hamsuke, the Wise King of the Forest." 🐹
To quickly secure these specific sacrifices, the higher-ups had pinned their hopes on the dark underbelly of Torantell.
This city boasted the largest slave population and auction market in the nation. It was statistically impossible that every lecherous man lucky enough to purchase a beautiful female elf would faithfully abide by the law.
Beautiful slaves fetched astronomical prices, making their sales records relatively easy to track. By applying pressure to the slave traders, the Black Scripture could pinpoint potential buyers and conduct "door-to-door investigations." The mission parameters were simple: secure at least one half-forest elf child.
"... I didn't expect to find four of them in a single sweep. Truly, the amount of scum in our country is disappointing. Tch."
Sofina stared incredulously at the four half-elf children before her.
They were all girls, none of whom looked older than ten. What was truly repulsive was that three of them were clearly no longer virgins. When discovered, they had been painted in glamorous, garish makeup, like dolls meant for a twisted play.
They observed the three members of the Black Scripture with trembling silence, their eyes betraying a deep-seated terror of humanity.
"What hopeless beasts. Hey, can't we just kill those buyers? It would be a service to the gods."
"Sofina, calm yourself. Punishing those who break civil laws is not within our jurisdiction."
Beaumarchais sighed, stepping between them. "You need to cool your head too, Gorgas... You've been gripping that axe of yours tight enough to crush it. You've nearly unleashed the full weight of your killing intent several times now."
Hearing this, Gorgas's lips curled into a smile reminiscent of a carnivore baring its fangs. "Hah. Perhaps. I once had a daughter, you see... Well, what now? There are still several noteworthy buyers on the list who purchased multiple female elves. Should we continue the investigation? We might find more."
"I've had enough." Sofina frowned, her face twisted in genuine revulsion. "Four sacrifices are sufficient, aren't they? Let's leave. I refuse to step into another brothel."
"Hey! Watch your language..."
Beaumarchais chided her lightly, then looked with a trace of pity at the half-elf girls. Predictably, they had reacted to the word "sacrifice," their trembling intensifying as they huddled closer together.
The only one who hadn't been painted in makeup—the youngest-looking girl—spoke up, her voice barely a whisper. "Then... um... will we die?"
Sofina glared at her, her eyes cold. "Shut up. I didn't give you permission to speak."
"Y-Yes! I'm so sorry...!"
The girl apologised with a tearful expression, shrinking back as the other three instinctively adopted protective postures around her. It was a heartbreaking display that suggested they had been thoroughly "disciplined" during their short, miserable lives.
Gorgas took a deep breath and looked away, his expression unreadable.
Beaumarchais cleared his throat. "... Ideally, we should continue. The more catalysts we have, the more potent the ritual, and the higher the probability of locating the Extra Seat..."
"The Cardinals said to find at least one, and we have four! Ugh, I'm done with this! Besides, I still can't believe it. That absolute monster... that Lady Zesshi, actually captured? Impossible. I bet she just got bored, killed her handlers, and wandered off on her own!"
"I already told you the probability of betrayal is low... Sigh. Fine. Let's leave it at this. Sofina, prepare the teleportation magic. Take us back to the Holy Capital."
"Let's go to the local temple first and report the buyers for violating the Code. We can afford to waste a few minutes to ensure they suffer—"
Gorgas stopped abruptly mid-sentence.
Having surpassed the limits of humanity and stepped into the realm of heroes, his rock-like muscles suddenly twitched. It was a sixth sense honed by strong individuals—specifically, warriors who had survived countless brushes with death.
It was the sensation of an overwhelming predator.
(What is this?)
Instinctively, Gorgas gripped the handle of his giant axe, lowering his centre of gravity into a combat stance. The sheer pressure of his battle aura washed over the room, causing the half-elf girls to gasp, unable to breathe.
"Gorgas?"
"Something's coming! Watch out!"
After barking the warning to his colleagues, Gorgas turned his gaze toward the source of the dread.
The Great Forest.
They were standing on the roof of a high-rise, affording them a clear view of the distant Sea of Trees. But the clear, cloudless sky was suddenly marred. A massive "dark cloud" was drifting in from the forest, moving against the wind.
"Dark clouds?" Beaumarchais squinted, focusing his mana-enhanced vision. His eyes widened in shock. "No... not clouds. That is a living mass. Animals?"
"What? Birds? A migration? That many?!"
"Not birds!" Beaumarchais shouted, his composure cracking. "Larger... Beasts? No, insects! Giant insects!"
"G-Giant insects?" Sofina grimaced, disgust warring with confusion. "Did the forest druids enlarge a swarm? Don't be ridiculous!"
Then, Gorgas saw it clearly.
"It is indeed some unique types of insect... monsters I've never seen before. This isn't just gigantism. This aura..."
The distinctive, acrid stench of chitin and pheromones, mixed with the metallic tang of fresh blood, drifted in on the howling wind.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
The sound of thousands of wings beating in unison was deafening. The swarm blotted out the sun, sweeping toward the city with the force of a tsunami. Panic erupted in Torantell instantly. Magical bells, enchanted to warn of catastrophe, began to peal, their shrieking tones echoing throughout the streets.
As expected of a border city of the Theocracy, despite its moral decay, its martial readiness was high. The defence forces reacted instantly; warriors and magic chanters spilled into the streets, taking up positions on the walls.
"Why has a swarm of this magnitude appeared now?!"
"It's hard not to think of the Sorcerous Kingdom... Wait! What happened to our forward scouts in that direction?!"
"Silence! We must prepare for the worst. An undeclared war by the Sorcerer King...!"
"Despicable undead! Scum! Absolute trash!" Sofina roared in anger, sparks of magical energy dancing around her fingers as the insect tide pressed closer.
"What do we do? Assist in the defence?"
"Don't be a fool, Beaumarchais! Have you forgotten our mission? Besides, look at that number. Even if we stayed..." Gorgas gritted his teeth. "Torantell is lost. Sofina! Get us out of here! That swarm might just be the vanguard!"
"I know... damn it! Come to me, we're teleporting!"
At that precise moment, the youngest half-elf girl—the one who had asked if they would die—suddenly bolted.
"Huh? Hey! You damn brat—"
Beaumarchais, whose attention had been fixed on the encroaching horror, reached out a split second too late. His fingers grasped only air.
Gorgas, with his heroic reflexes, should have been able to snatch the girl's thin arm with ease. But in the microsecond he reached out, a phantom overlaid his vision.
He saw the back of another girl—his own daughter.
If we take her, she is a sacrifice. She dies.If she stays in this city, she will likely die.But...
Staying in the city offered a sliver of chaos, a fraction of a percentage of hope that she might slip away in the confusion. Going with them was a death sentence engraved in stone.
It was a brave choice. Her fear of the humans who had bought her, and the humans who had "rescued" her, outweighed her fear of the incoming monsters.
That hesitation cost Gorgas his grip.
"Stop right there!"
"Leave her, Gorgas! " Sofina screamed, the magic circle expanding beneath their feet. "No time! Beaumarchais, secure the others! We're leaving!"
It seemed unnecessary. The other three girls watched the youngest flee, their eyes wide with longing, but their feet remained rooted to the spot. Years of torture had broken their wills; the concept of defiance had been beaten out of them.
"They're gone! — [ Teleportation ]!"
The world began to warp. As the scenery of Torantell twisted away, Gorgas cast one last look at the fleeing child. She was clumsy, malnourished; she tripped over her own feet near the stairwell, scrambling desperately on hands and knees.
(Since you have the courage to grasp for your own life... then struggle. Struggle and survive, little one.)
The Black Scripture vanished.
And a heartbeat later, the buzzing sound became a roar. The insect swarm descended, a black blanket suffocating the city. The warning bells were silenced, replaced immediately by the wet tearing of flesh and the unified scream of a dying city.