There were also things like Mechagodzilla and MOGUERA with completely wrong vibes, which made it even less likely. The only ones that seemed remotely possible were the kind people in that strange space he once fell into, and the early encounter with Rodan. At least those came with proper scenes and maps.
To put it another way, the style was all wrong. There was no way the back of Otherworld had Toho written on it. Honestly, every time a boss popped out and looked ninety percent like an old acquaintance, he could barely hold it together.
What kind of god was just a whole series of Godzilla monsters. He called the thought ridiculous and admitted it was a leap, especially since plenty of smaller beings could use this kind of power too. Looking back now, Mephist realized that all those scattered Shard inheritances he had picked up were not simple either, and probably counted as big shots in their own right.
He had no idea how their strength compared to his current self, but they were probably not far behind, the kind that could shake the world with a stomp. Even so, those big shots had still died for unknown reasons, and not just one of them. Many seemed to have died while hammering away at something.
It looked like the waters here were deep. Comparing what he saw now to those first person memories, even having grown this far, Belial could only sigh. Although he had not run into many of the other strange figures from those memories, it did not stop him from pressing on.
Along the way, Belial had been flying for several days. Just that single stretch of flight had brought him plenty of gains. Taking over someone else's account had unexpectedly unlocked King Ghidorah and given him the translation space, and with just those two, he already felt it was a huge profit.
Then he suddenly remembered the little girl he had saved while subbing in. He did not know how she was doing now, since he had been short on power and time back then and could only rush out a heart for her. He had made it in a hurry, and without fully understanding things, he had just shaped it based on intuition and stuffed it in, but it should be fine and there should be no rejection.
After all, his own adaptability was there. If there was any mismatch, it would adjust automatically and bring the body and heart to the same level. He could not guarantee there were zero changes in appearance, but she was alive, and if it came to it, he could fix things later with particle control.
In theory, having a heart formed from part of his Clone tissue meant the connection should be quite close. Maybe one day she would pick up one of the message bottles he tossed out at random. That meant she could barely count as part of his growing network, and considering his current need for faith power, he might even need her help someday.
Realizing he was starting to think like a pyramid scheme boss, Belial shook his head and dropped the thought. He then flew straight ahead. The red dot on the map was now very close, and along the way he had seen large scale troop movements and quite a few human cities.
It seemed he had flown into the interior of some human nation. Because of that, he had long since restrained his flight disturbances, since if he swept over things openly, the result below would not be any better than when Rodan passed by. As for the target he was here to kill, he already had a vague guess, judging by that smug, golden glow and the air of someone who thought heaven was first and he was second.
It was probably one of the top figures of this human nation, maybe a general, a minister, or even the emperor himself, but Belial did not care. First, they were already enemies, the kind where killing was on the table, and even if he spared them, he never expected them to back down quietly. Even if he himself was not afraid, his companions were, and their homes had been attacked enough times already, so he needed to clear out these problems.
Second, the other side was not a good person. Just the countless vengeful souls wrapped around that earlier Gigan said enough, along with their association with another old bastard and that whole rotten race. Thanks to the God of Destruction interface, and perhaps because these people were rotten enough that the souls clinging to them had not dissipated, every single wraith was clear proof.
What evidence was more convincing than the dead reviving on the spot to point out their killer. Earlier, when Belial had slaughtered his way through, he had used the same wraith filtering function of the God of Destruction interface. It might not perfectly separate good from evil, but it could always identify war criminals.
As he drew closer, what reflected in Belial's eyes became very clear. It was a golden palace sitting atop a mountain range. On the highest throne sat a noble figure, wrapped in overwhelming kingly presence, a belief in trampling everything within reach, and an ambition to replace the world with his own will.
But looking deeper, beneath the gold and splendor were piles of corpses. There were countless wailing shadows of souls burned by raging fire, and mountains formed from the bodies of the suffering. At the center of that mountain lay a rotting corpse that had long been dead, with only a black, beating ambition remaining, blood pooled past its knees.
That ugliness and greed, along with the crimson soul that wanted to seize everything in the world, could not be shaken. After confirming things at close range, Belial was certain. This man should have died long ago, and he had to die now.
If he were classified as a war criminal, then even third class was not enough for the countless evils he had committed. He was the emperor who had ruled the Empire until now, bearing the name Augustus, the ruler of Faris Empire. He bore no other surname, only Augustus.
He was the sole emperor of the strongest the Empire, and also one of the most deserving of death. A man who had walked a crimson path and could not be forgiven. At this moment, the emperor raised his head slightly and looked at the blackened sky rolling in from afar, then lowered his gaze to the dozens of uninvited guests before him.
Their ages and identities differed, as did their expressions, calm, angry, despairing, or resolved to die. Some were ancient nobles or generals not yet killed by Augustus, along with other powerful figures, and even people from other the Empire. There had once been tens of thousands, but after carving through puppet guards, only the strongest or luckiest few dozen remained here.
Yet facing a group that included nearly ten Ascendant Hall level experts, Augustus merely glanced at them twice. He called it boring and meaningless. That judgment applied not only to these people, but also to the loyalists who had died outside the palace trying to stop them, and even to himself, since time was almost up.
One bloodied Ascendant Hall level figure stepped forward and spoke, his body trembling under Augustus's unconscious pressure. He said their demand was simple, just to retract the domain. Swallowing blood, he accused Augustus of using a domain powered by the authority of the entire nation to swallow all citizens and even Faris Empire itself, erasing it from history and dooming all life.
Such a vast domain, sustained without stopping, combined with the emperor's actions, made the truth obvious to any strong person. The only possibility was that the emperor had gone mad, seeking a godhood realm in The Realm that might not even exist. He intended to sacrifice his entire the Empire, trading countless lives and the nation itself for his own ascension.
Some would have stood by or hesitated, but these people refused to accept that. In response, Augustus showed the same expression and raised his head, gazing at the approaching death before finally speaking for the first time. He said their thinking was not wrong and was reasonable.
Those words made many faces sink, as the worst fear seemed confirmed, though some still clung to the hope that there was another purpose. He then declared that while he sought godhood, he would not gain it by discarding what he owned as the Empire. Instead, the entire world would become his the Empire.
He proclaimed his name as Augustus, emperor, plunderer, conqueror, the eternal and ever victorious king. He rose from the Throne, raised his sword, and golden light burst forth with the sound of countless hooves like a roaring tide. A pillar of light pierced the sky above the palace, and the ancient capital trembled as if awakening.
Across the Empire, every city that sang Augustus's name or held his statue also lit up with gold. The troops he had gathered earlier fused into a single force, forming a vast army formation. Land and people alike converged on him, offering everything as subjects under his name.
At this moment, Augustus was Faris Empire. The cities and roads became his body, each citizen his cells, and the armies his claws and fangs. The decayed palace atop the mountains became a spine bearing all of the Empire, gathering endless light.