Chapter 814
Suppressing not just with public security forces, but even mobilizing tanks for the task.
They call it extermination, but at this level, it’s no different than urban warfare.
And not even in the enemy’s territory, but right in the heart of their own country.
All of this, to exterminate an ‘enemy’ whose existence is uncertain to anyone and unnoticed by all.
It was an overly excessive measure, an action that was hard to understand.
The people fled in terror, all the while thinking just that.
They couldn’t fathom why these people were doing this.
Why they were shooting down the poor, branded as reactionaries, why they were dropping shells on grotesque buildings, why they were turning the city into a sea of flames—just like what their former vassal state, North Korea, used to say.
But soon enough, their questions would be resolved.
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
A voice bursts forth, mechanically, as if testing the vocal cords of a newborn monster.
Those who had been shot and were supposed to remain silent began to emit bizarre sounds.
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
Emotions drained from their voices, it was as if a machine was doing the speaking.
With blood streaming down, you would expect to hear moans of pain or cries of dreadful terror before death—but nothing of the sort could be seen from those who sounded like instruments.
Yes.
Just like those who were born to be that way…
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”
The sound continues.
It overlaps, intertwines, and eventually transforms into a colossal sound as if it had been one from the beginning.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!”
A sound unbelievable to come from human vocal cords.
A massive sound like the roar of a crowd.
Crack.
Crack, crack.
With that sound, the corpses begin to contort.
Those who had fallen flat on the ground, somehow finding an energy surge, rise up, their bones snapping and muscles tearing apart as they twist and writhe. They expand and contract, moving as though swaying in the wind, akin to balloon figures promoting a restaurant.
Crack, crack, crack!
Those twisted forms gather together.
Some stretch out arms that are long like threads, some flap their thin bodies as they fly, some crawl like snakes, others twist their double-coiled bodies in every direction.
Thus, the fallen poor gather in one place.
Ah.
That horrendous shape.
A grotesque mass of flesh molded like clay, crudely slapped together with eyes, nose, and mouth hastily attached—the kind of horrific visage that says, “This is a person!”
The bizarre meat chunk born from sheer misunderstanding of humanity.
Ah, that bizarre meat chunk…
“Ah.”
“AAAHHHH-!!”
The meat chunk opens its mouth wide, a mere puckering of lips, resembling a sea creature so much you wouldn’t even call it a mouth.
“Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen—–!!!!!!!!!!!!”
With a voice that seems yanked from hell itself, it begins to sing.
“Tod und Verzweiflung flammet um mich her—–!!!!!!!!!!!”
This is a famous aria from an opera.
The aria “Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen,” known as the “Queen of the Night’s Aria.”
Originally meant to be sung by a soprano with great vocal prowess, it transforms into the screech of a sinner from hell scraping against metal, turning a melody that should enchant into one that seems to drag souls down to hell, filled with pure evil.
The endless malice pouring from the meat chunk.
And those who should be able to counter that malice must perform the actions they’re meant to do…
“What on earth is that?”
Is it a delusion to think disbelief and fear cloud their faces?
Perhaps they believed that, even while dispatched to the city, there were truly no “subversives” lurking here. Thus, even as they fired bullets without hesitation at the poor, they felt neither urgency nor fear, thinking it impossible for someone to threaten their lives.
Though they must perform the tasks required of them.
Yet is it a delusion to feel hesitation emanating from the barrels they point?
Could they be denying reality, momentarily soaking in fear and disgust, neglecting the actions they must take?
“The state of the city is ridiculous.”
As the sage once said, if people do not fulfill their duties, the world will devolve into chaos.
And indeed, that phrase proved true.
Inside the building reduced to ruins by cannon fire.
Amidst the dust that looked as if clouds from the sky had been cast down, a figure gradually emerged, accompanied by quiet footsteps.
A suit dirtied with broken concrete, sand, and dust.
Hair turned white by dust and a gas mask that strangely bore no dust at all.
Then, even in a place sullied by filth, one single briefcase remained untouched.
The man who stepped out of the ruined building sighed as he looked at the tank lying beyond a hole blown through by a shell.
“How did I find this and what’s that grotesque creature singing opera amidst the deafening noise…?”
Gently setting the briefcase down, he slowly raised his hand.
“…Honestly, I can’t comprehend any of it.”
-Things seem to get even more complicated after meeting that shaman.
The man muttered as he released the accumulated magical power.
* * *
A pale, azure dot.
The polluter’s magic starts there.
It is the first spark that jumps up before the flame truly ignites, the point where light bursts forth to illuminate the world.
The color of that barely noticeable dot, a pale blue, represents the point at which he dedicates his life for the environment—a testament to the purity he harbors in his heart.
But that azure dot becomes polluted.
Due to unfounded beliefs that it has nothing to do with him, selfishness that sprouts from the thought of “just this once should be fine,” laziness in not wanting to deal with immediate issues, and irresponsibility in wanting to leave serious consequences to future generations.
Thus, the pale blue dot becomes increasingly tainted.
Just like the color of his magical power.
Countless colors engulf the pale dot.
Like it dove into oil and emerged, the beautiful blue dot gleams with a rainbow sheen, then begins to expand.
The dot becomes a line.
A line with countless points stretches forth, forming angles, and the angles become surfaces.
The surfaces gather to create a three-dimensional shape, overlapping and repeating in formation…
A regular octahedron.
A shape made by the resonance of a three-dimensional cube.
Magical power unfolds, the magic is completed.
—!!!
The soundless wave of magical power spreads out.
The magical energy burst from the regular octahedron sweeps the surroundings like a shockwave, starting to smash all manner of objects barely maintaining their forms.
But that is merely a prelude.
To put it metaphorically, the previous shockwave was akin to marking territory.
A mere act, that’s no different than tapping your foot before taking a step. It was just that.
The true effect of the magic cast by the polluter is this.
Fwhoooo—!!!!
Turning the ground upside down and shooting everything in the area skywards.
KABOOM—!!!
A massive explosion.
Would this be what it’s like if a colossal amount of explosives were buried and set off underground?
What if a small volcano erupted?
The explosion, starting deep within the earth, breaks everything in its vicinity and sends them soaring upward. Buildings become separated into concrete and rebar, people are torn into pieces, stalls and furniture reduced to wood chips of no value, and even buried wires and pipes get crushed nearly beyond recognition.
And the guns, drones, and even tanks that people were holding.
As if a transparent giant were uprooting the ground and sending everything above it soaring, it lifted everything in range.
Except for two exceptions.
One is the magic caster, the polluter.
“Well, this simply isn’t enough.”
The other is the grotesque meat chunk, which firmly remains on the ground despite the magic’s full impact.
“Hört, hört, Rachegötter der Mutter Schwur!!!”
The polluter speaks to the meat chunk that continues to sing opera in a horrific voice.
“Whether you’re a victim of environmental contamination, something birthed from biological experiments, or something born from magic, or perhaps something beyond my imagination… it seems you’re stronger than I thought, so let’s not concern ourselves with one another and just do what we each must.”
He then lifted his gaze.
Fwhoooo—!
Fwhoooo—!
Fwhoooo—!!!
To the countless shells flying towards him.
