[Dead City of Flowers] Area 5 — Rot King Palace
"Shit♪ Shit♪ Shit, shit♪ Shit-shit-shiiiii-TH!"
Dreaming of the splendidly rotted body awaiting him and a world decayed to perfection, the Rot King hummed a tune as he rolled around in the middle of his rotting bed.
To the Rot King, the only being worthy of caution was the Holy God of War Ares—the sole deity who practically managed this world. If he destroyed him—no, even if he merely kept him from acting freely within this world—no one would be left to stand against the Rot King.
The Four Great Demon Kings? The dragon species? The phantom beast species? How could such trivial creatures, lacking even divine status, possibly stop this Rot King? This was an age-old war between evil and good. There was no place for such worthless weeds to meddle.
He had already received word from Maru that the vessel destined to become the Rot King's supreme physical form had been secured. All that remained was to wait right here, and the thoroughly rotted world he desired would come to pass.
"It is nearly snack time, I am CERTAIN of DEATH! Bring them to me, I de-MAND to the DEATH!!"
Waking after a thousand years had left him ravenous. He might as well indulge in a little appetizer before the main course.
"Right away, sire!"
Clad in butler attire, a zombie bowed deferentially and left the room.
"Shit♪ Shit♪ Shit, shit♪"
Humming his melody, he floated up from the bed and settled into a chair before a lavish circular table, where a zombie maid fastened a napkin over his chest.
"Thank you for waiting, sire."
A few minutes later, the butler and a chef-like zombie carried in two large platters. Bell-shaped cloches covered the dishes, rattling and shaking erratically.
"Today, we would like to prepare freshly caught humans on the spot for your enjoyment."
The chef placed his right hand over his chest with a bow.
"Fresh meat, you SAY to the DEATH? Splendid, to the DEATH! That is precisely what I am in the mood for, to the DEATH!"
Fork in his right hand and knife in his left, he clattered the utensils against the metal cloches.
With another bow, the chef lifted the covers to reveal two individuals, a man and a woman, bound to the platters in metal restraints.
One was a petite young man with a bowl cut, and the other a meek-looking woman with long blonde braids. Both were weeping openly, straining to scream through the gags locked in their mouths. A crimson, blood-like liquid coated their bodies from head to toe.
"And these livestock ARE?"
"The scouting party captured them, sire. After washing them so they may be eaten live and writhing, we marinated them in our secret sauce, confident they would please Lord Rot King."
The Rot King's balloon-like face stretched into a hideous, slack-jawed grin.
"Capital, to the DEATH! Tearing into screaming, weeping livestock with my FANGS! That texture steeped in despair is supremely chewy, and oh so rotted and delicious, to the DEATH!"
He cackled with relish.
As the muffled, frantic cries of the two prisoners grew louder,
"Then without further ado, let us begin with the tastiest part—the head—"
The Rot King opened his massive maw. His mouth distended unnaturally to several times the size of his torso, bristling with razor-sharp fangs. Just as they were about to sink into the braided blonde woman—
"Beelzebub-de-boo♪ Beelzebub-de-boo♪"
A bizarrely pitched humming drifted down from above.
Snapping out of his frenzy, the Rot King closed his gaping, deformed mouth back to its original shape and stood up.
"Who goes THERE, to the DEATH!?"
He demanded, casting a sharp, wary gaze across the room. And naturally so. This was the protective territory forged by the Rot King himself—a divine sanctuary created by a god. There was no way any being from this world could breach it. The only ones capable of such a feat would be fellow divine entities.
If so, was it an apostle of Ares? No, he had kept a particularly sharp eye out for Ares's subordinates; he would have noticed any intrusion. Besides, he had built this place as an exceptionally secure, concealed territory. No apostle, regardless of strength, could slip in so effortlessly. The only explanations were that Ares himself had invaded, or perhaps another god's—
The Rot King's train of thought shattered.
"Supreme Master-chama. Found 'em for you, I dids."
A bipedal fly appeared out of thin air.
"—!!?"
A single glance at the fly sent a surge of unprecedented dread coursing through the Rot King's entire body. He immediately leaped backward, dropping into a combat stance.
"Wh-What in the world is THAAAT?!"
It was different! It was entirely, impossibly different! The sheer caliber of this entity was on a level completely beyond the Rot King! Facing it directly made the truth undeniably clear. That was a god! And one powerful enough to reign at the apex of a mythological pantheon!
(Do not mock MEEE! Why would such a monstrosity appear in an obscure world like this, to the DEATH?!)
By unspoken cosmic law, immense restrictions bound the chief gods who ruled the pinnacles of mythological systems. They shouldn't even be capable of manifesting in the mortal realm.
"C-C-C-Could it, could it beeee...?"
He let out a despairing groan. If that great war had already begun, using this world as its miniature battleground, then everything made sense. Horrifyingly, perfectly so!
(Th-This is no laughing matter, to the DEATH!)
If the Rot King's deduction held true, it meant he had been caught in the crossfire of an ancient conflict between the chief gods of good and evil. A true death match of the gods. If a mere evil god like the Rot King got dragged into such a war, he would be obliterated in an instant.
His sole sliver of hope lay in the fact that this fly god did not appear to align with good. If it stood on the side of evil, the Rot King might still have a way out.
"Are you—"
Just as the Rot King began to speak, the fly god turned in a single direction and dropped to one knee. In that instant, an ominous black light engulfed their surroundings. A dark shockwave tore across the Rot King Palace at blistering speed, reducing the entire structure to fine dust.
"—!?"
Panic seized him, and he scrambled into the air.
"Just what on EARTH GA?!"
A frantic glance around revealed nothing but a vast, barren wasteland. The Rot King Palace, the legions of kin inside, and the ancient ruins serving as its foundation had all been cleanly wiped from existence. All that remained were the table holding the two platters of livestock and the kneeling chief fly god.
"Eeek?!"
Then he saw them. Hundreds of divine entities completely encircled the Rot King. From every single one of them radiated an overwhelming divine presence that made the Rot King's own power look utterly laughable.
"Im-POSSIBLE... This makes no sense, to the DEATH!"
Marshalling a roster of this magnitude solely to eliminate a single Rot King was pure madness. Under ordinary circumstances, that fly god alone would have been more than enough. If so, then something the Rot King had done must have deeply offended these supreme beings.
Clutching his balloon-like cheeks with both hands, the Rot King let out a pathetic shriek. The surrounding gods paid him no heed, instead dropping to their knees in perfect unison.
And at the center of their reverence, standing quietly with a longsword in hand, was a boy who looked like an ordinary human—possessing not the slightest outward hint of strength.