Chapter 135: Proxy War (3)
Halto was a highly cautious individual. While he could no longer be called “human” in the biological sense, now that he had become an agent of the extradimensional realm.
In his judgment, the best course of action was to deploy immediately upon detecting the adversary in Algoth City. To destroy his opponent, he needed to create a decisive situation where the adversary couldn’t intervene or prepare any tricks—a surprise attack of overwhelming force.
Halto reminded himself that it was precisely this kind of decisive situation that the Golden Desert operation had aimed to create. Indeed, during that operation, the two adversaries had been cornered more than ever before. The monstrous enemy, which had previously lurked unseen, had to confront them directly in battle.
However, the operation couldn’t be completed as planned due to an unforeseen natural disaster. That storm that revealed the larger cause.
Halto harbored no regrets for being swept away in the storm; it had allowed him to abandon earthly glory and grasp the divine treasure and a true purpose. Yet, if he had one lingering regret, it was the “what if” of whether the storm had only arrived a little later—just enough time to finish off the adversary.
However, the battles against the adversary at both the Golden Desert and Algoth City remained unfinished. Instead, his enemies were brazenly making their presence known.
They were like bullfighters, waving a red flag and provoking him, trying to goad him into a frenzied charge.
But Halto had no intention of rising to that provocation.
He needed a single, definitive strike.
A very definitive strike.
As Orthes had anticipated, Argyrion had already covertly influenced several factions within the Amimone Tower. Some of them were following the cause with genuine conviction, while others remained unaware that their true backer was Argyrion.
The dividing line between the two groups was in their integrity. Those unfit to accept the cause, those morally degraded, would serve as sacrifices to cleanse their sins.
Halto’s division of these recruits was purely a precaution against the adversary. He suspected his enemy might be able to see directly into the hearts and minds of others, as easily as if they were in the palm of his hand.
The trap prepared to eliminate the adversary made use of both groups.
This trap targeted the final trial that would culminate the competition to determine the Tower Lord. According to the critical information Argyrion had painstakingly uncovered, the final trial would take place within a barrier specially set up by the Ten Towers.
The mages, aware of their role as Argyrion’s collaborators in setting the trap, would actively showcase their skills in the competition.
The adversary would undoubtedly take a keen interest in this competition to select the Tower Lord, carefully observing the most prominent candidates.
Eventually, they would probe into these candidates’ minds and detect the “places where traps are set.” Then, naturally, they would choose to avoid the trapped areas, seeking to mock Argyrion.
But in that place where they would go to taunt Argyrion, unaware of the dangers, a line of living bombs would await them.
And even if the adversary were to walk into the trap, that would be fine as well. They would only need to trigger the trap at that moment.
However, the message delivered to Argyrion was that a chain of sabotage explosions had already started from the eve of the competition.
Due to concerns about interception, the report had been sent via spatial magic rather than Ether Space communication, and the final paragraph contained a strange message:
“‘We share the same enemy’….”
The ink of the letters, slowly hardening to a brown color, was clearly blood. Analysis confirmed it matched the blood of one of the Argyrion members dispatched, but the magical residue within the blood was somewhat unusual.
Halto glanced back. A black form seethed and rose from within the shadows—Nastion.
“Do you have any idea who it could be?”
“……”
Though Nastion had worked for many years to bring the cause to this world, some things remained mysterious even to him. For example, the Argyrion leaders’ near-mad obsession with their so-called “enemy.”
But this particular mystery was simpler than such obsessions.
Nastion had ancient experience, and the tactics used by the one who had proposed joining forces to confront the “Great Enemy” were quite familiar to him.
The unique magical energy typical of “those who failed to fully manifest” was also familiar to Nastion.
“The biological composition of the blood is identical, but the difference in magical traces indicates that this member has undergone a transformation of consciousness due to possession or something similar.”
“Surely, they wouldn’t be weak enough to be overtaken by something like a ghost.”
“This is beyond a mere ghost. The ones who wrote this message are like me.”
“Like you?”
Halto looked Nastion over. This ancient being, who had long served the whole of Argyrion, possessed a history so strange that it was hard to classify him as either mage or monster.
Halto respected him for his deep commitment to the cause, but many of Nastion’s secrets were still hidden from Argyrion.
“One of the servants of the Higher Cause, spread into the world to carry out His will. I never imagined any would remain in this age.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll go myself. I may be weak, but I have experience, so I’m best suited to handle this.”
And so, Nastion headed toward Algoth City.
***
As expected, the one in charge of the mental parasite control team sent by the Divine Cult was Demus.
They had likely sent someone familiar to me to make things easier.
“It’s good to see you in person, but I’m afraid there’s no time for casual talk. Did you bring the documents I requested?”
Demus pulled out a heavy envelope. The crucial information was concisely organized for easy reading.
“Once you’re finished, please dispose of it appropriately. It’s classified.”
“Of course.”
I had requested records on the subjugation of those whom the Divine Cult considered heretics—specifically, methods for dealing with mental parasites.
I would do my utmost to deal with them before they could fully manifest, but if one did manage to succeed, the Divine Cult’s experience dealing with false gods could prove invaluable.
“Binding them to Aegio’s Scale using clever words, then killing them when they break the oath… I can’t do this.”
The art of deceiving a creature that’s lived for centuries. I don’t have that kind of skill.
“If they manifest within a relic, they develop a core, making it possible to target and destroy it… Damn. Most of these methods involve dealing with fully manifested parasites.”
Once a mental parasite fully manifests, its vast consciousness condenses around a single “focal point.” The Divine Cult’s method of dealing with false gods typically involved destroying this focal point.
On the other hand, mental parasites in their earlier stages have no core. The most reliable solution is to crudely destroy all the bodies they’ve occupied.
Not that it’s particularly feasible.
To truly destroy them, one would need abilities that affect the spirit or mind directly, like Aegio’s Scale—a method that’s “most effective” if it actually works.
“Oh.”
There was indeed an incantation that met my requirements: the power of Pluto, the god who governs souls.
Come to think of it, I had met a priest of Pluto at the Temple of Pluto before.
“Did any priests of Pluto come along by chance?”
Demus shook his head with a grim expression.
“There aren’t any priests.”
The answer took me aback. Sensing my confusion, Demus slowly explained further.
“There’s only one active priest of Pluto, and due to circumstances, he cannot leave the temple.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.”
It was truly disappointing. If I could exorcise them with Pluto’s incantation like a lowly ghost, it would make things much simpler. I looked around, hoping that perhaps the priest who had once secretly followed me from the temple might be nearby again. But, as expected, the shadows in the alley were just dark and empty.
“If we can’t use Pluto’s incantation…”
I quickly read through the documents, focusing on methods from the early days of the heretical cult.
Demus suddenly interjected.
“It will be hard to awaken the minds of those captivated by heretical faith. The Estia Cult, which once handled spiritual recovery, weakened and was removed from the Twelve Cults long ago. And as you know, Bacchus’ Cult took their place.”
“What?”
“If the heretical faith is in its early stages, awakening confused minds to prevent further corruption is possible. Isn’t that the section you’re reading?”
Demus shook his head with a regretful expression.
“You were protecting the last survivor of Bacchus’ Cult, right?”
“Yes, her name is Kine. You saw her in Elysion?”
“At her age, she might have divine powers, but she hasn’t been fully bestowed with an incantation. The ability to handle the mind would require at least a bishop-level skill.”
I recalled Kine grumbling to herself the night before.
She’d said something about using curses to “massage” the mages’ brains and mesmerize them with incantations.
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