[Dimension Name: Deavor]
[Registration Number: A-034BM]
[Dimension Type: Fantasy Realm]
[Hazard Level: Extremely High, Survival First]
······
Hans slowly looked around, mentally sorting through the information from the Returnee Association that he had memorized before coming here, information that had completely stopped being updated years ago.
'So this is...'
The basement where he appeared was decorated in a typical occult style, the kind you'd see in an old horror movie. From the blood sigils drawn all over the room to the crushed, worn-down candles, the piles of bones and skulls that formed an altar, and a human forearm and eyeball sitting on top, still dripping with fresh blood.
'The dimension where that Executioner bastard came from.'
Standing on the altar, his gaze lingered on the body parts lying at his feet before moving forward, toward the young man who was now frothing at the mouth and unconscious, with one eye and one arm missing.
'The Eternal Archdemon, you said?'
As far as he knew, that was the alias the Executionerused in this world. It seemed this ritual was performed with the goal of summoning him. He glanced around again and shook his head slightly.
'All of it is a mess. How did he even dare try to summon a demon with preparations like this?'
No matter how different the specific rituals were, someone of his level could tell with a single look that there was no mystery contained in this one. If the young man had possessed innate talent, he might have been able to forcibly raise the abysmal chances, but by all accounts, he seemed to have no talent in that area whatsoever.
"Ugh... O, great demon... I offer my soul... Please, my bitter resentment...!"
As Hans was silently clicking his tongue, he suddenly heard a faint groan from below. The desperate voice was broken and gasping, as if he were about to die. Hans looked down at the young man, who had just regained consciousness, with surprise.
[Hoho? Not bad.]
Though he was suppressing it to some extent, the aura of fear emanating from his body right now was enough to make it impossible for an average person to even raise their head. It was, in essence, an intangible violence that brought despair just by his presence. Yet, this young man, in a poor physical state with one eye and one arm gouged out, was able to overcome that pressure?
'His willpower is decent.'
Hans slowly stroked his chin. It was a complete coincidence that he had appeared in the middle of the young man's ritual. Who would have known that such a ritual would be taking place at the very moment he was setting foot in this world?
'...No, maybe it's not just a coincidence.'
The Executioner was a being known in this world as the Eternal Archdemon. It was a perfectly natural choice for a prospective contractor, who wanted to summon such a being, to choose a place with a connection to him as the ritual site. And he must have been drawn here by that earnest plea.
'The bastard's rank was too high to extract his exact location. That's why I came over, accepting a slight margin of error...'
At this point, it had to be considered destiny, not coincidence. Hans lowered his fiery gaze and silently stared at the young man. He opened his mouth to speak to the man who was trembling like a leaf, but still trying desperately to stay conscious.
[Kh-kh-kh, good. You haven't lost your mind even in front of me. You seem to be quite useful.]
"A-Ah... Th-Thank you!"
Since he had come to a new dimension, securing a local informant was essential. The information he had gathered before arriving was long past its expiration date. In that sense, this young man was the most suitable person he could choose right now.
'I'll have to do something about him first. If I leave him like this, he won't last long and will die.'
Hans slightly extended his hand, and the eyeball and forearm lying on the altar flew to his palm. They were parts of the body that the young man seemed to have cut off himself as a price for the ritual. But they had already decayed to the point where their original shape had been lost.
'I can't help it, since they were so close to me.'
It didn't matter, though. He was a necromancer, not a priest. He had no intention of reattaching them as they were.
Hwa-reuk—
A black flame rose from his hand. It was a jet-black fire, ominous as if looking into the abyss at the end of the deep ground. But instead of being consumed by the flames, the eyeball and forearm absorbed them, gradually regaining their original forms. The only difference was that they had started to emit a jet-black luster, as if they had been carved from obsidian.
[Well then—]
And as soon as Hans opened his mouth again, the body parts in his hand shot across the air, enveloped in black flames, heading toward the places they originally belonged.
"Kuaaah—!"
A tearing scream, along with a sound like flesh being seared with a hot iron, echoed in the basement. The young man, who had a dramatic reunion with the body parts he had to cut off himself, writhed madly on the floor. It was a natural rejection reaction that occurred when a completely dead body and the power of death that rejected life were mixed with a living body.
[If you can't even overcome that much, you're no contractor of mine. Prove your worth. We'll talk about the real deal after that.]
Hans muttered coldly as he looked down at the young man whose eyes had rolled back from the extreme pain. Of course, he wasn't tormenting him out of spite.
'I can't easily trust a guy who tried to make a pact with a demon in a world like this.'
This was a shackle and a surveillance device to ensure he could never be betrayed. In other words, it was just the necessary terms and conditions to sign before the official contract.
Of course, accepting this didn't only have disadvantages.
Not only had he regained his lost eye and arm, but by embracing a part of death in his body, he would now have some resistance to the aura of death that Hans exuded. This would prevent him from frothing at the mouth and passing out just from facing him as before.
'He's also gained a body optimized for necromancy.'
From now on, through the eye of the dead, he would be able to see things that were originally invisible, and with the arm of the dead, he would be able to handle things that shouldn't be handled.
Necromancy was an ability that shined brighter in a world where death was rampant, so it was no exaggeration to say it was the greatest ability in this kind of world.
[Hmm, so he finally passed out. But even this much is admirable. I can look forward to what he can do in the future.]
Hans slowly nodded as he looked at the young man squirming on the floor, who had finally fainted from the shock of the new body taking root. He left him there and slowly walked outside.
'I don't know when he'll wake up, so should I at least get a general sense of the situation?'
A world that had long since been destroyed and become a closed dimension, Deavor.
A foreigner had set foot in that place.
A great first step that would shake the entire foundation of the stagnant world.
***
McCarthy was a slightly special young man.
From a young age, he had done everything he could to survive, and that included murder. Just like everyone else in this world.
'If I don't kill first, I will be killed.'
That was the truth of life he had learned from a young age. Because he realized it early on, he was able to tenaciously survive into adulthood, even as his birth parents and the gangs he hung out with died off one by one.
It was around that time that he realized his specialness.
'This place is dangerous. I need to flee somewhere else.'
His survival instinct was truly astounding. He could sense an approaching crisis with great sensitivity, even when there was no precursor. He couldn't predict exactly when or what kind of situation would occur, but for immediate survival, that was enough.
The solution was simply to get as far away from the location as possible without a second thought the moment he sensed danger.
He then became a wanderer and began to roam from place to place.
From a cave village that rejected outsiders, to a gorge filled with plunderers, a ruined underground city, and a castle on the surface ruled by a demon contractor.
He was naturally stronger than others, and even when facing life-threatening accidents, he managed to stubbornly survive.
In the process, he was able to witness many sights in this world.
A sky that was always dark, as the sun never rose.
Barren lands where only bizarre plants, no different from monsters, remained.
A small number of survivors barely living in the ruins of a destroyed civilization. And the demon contractors who clung to demons and reigned over those few survivors.
There was no land in this world where farming could be done normally. The groups that formed were all military forces that plundered and hunted, and if a group was a bit large, they were nothing more than slaves gathered around a demon contractor.
And McCarthy, who had thought he would wander his entire life and die on the streets, met the woman of his destiny in a ruined village he happened to visit.
'Delia...'
She was a savior who had offered a helping hand when a minor injury worsened and his life was in danger. In a world where you couldn't survive without killing others, an altruistic act was enough to shine on its own.
'If it had been me, I definitely would have killed her and taken her spoils first.'
Her kindness wasn't just directed at him. She was barely able to survive on her own, yet she was taking in orphans with nowhere to go, even as she sold her body.
She was a single ray of light in a world full of darkness. It was a completely natural progression for him to fall for her.
He, a wanderer, settled down in the village that day and helped her with her work for over a year, gradually developing their relationship. He had never been more grateful for his own strength.
And the poison called love, which had seeped into his heart that had lived alone his entire life, truly addicted him and plunged him into despair.
Hwa-reuk—
Fiercely burning flames and black smoke. The acrid smell of burning corpses, all too familiar now. A collapsed residence and a lifeless village. The space that had once felt warm was now stained with blood and death, but he couldn't do anything.
'Why?'
He had warned her of the danger, but she hadn't listened. Or to be more precise, she understood what he said but couldn't follow his advice. She couldn't. She had too many things she was responsible for to abandon everything and flee with just him.
And McCarthy... just like he had always done... He ran away.
'······.'
...He only returned to the village much later and regretted it belatedly.
He should have kidnapped her and run away.
He should have stayed with her until the end and died there.
He thought it would be fine since it was a familiar situation that had happened countless times, but the sense of loss, as if a hole had been punched in his heart, didn't get better no matter how much time passed.
'Who was it?'
It wasn't that difficult to figure out who was responsible. The enemy had no need to hide the fact that they had done this. The great lord who ruled the largest castle among all the existing castles on the surface. Rapua, the contractor of the greatest archdemon, who stood at the top of the demons roaming this world. The "Harvest festival" he held for his master was the root cause of this tragedy.
'The Infinite Archdemon. AndRapua.'
Revenge wasn't possible. The right choice was to just forget everything and leave to survive. Just as he had always done. Just as he had done not long ago.
But having given up on everything, he did not give up on this.
By making the most of his abilities,
he relentlessly searched for a way,
and finally—
...he got his hands on one record.
'The Eternal Archdemon.'
A being who was even called the strongest in the world before the Infinite Archdemon.
One of the key culprits who suddenly disappeared from the world about a hundred years ago after slaughtering countless heroes and ultimately ruining the world.
'Ifonly I could make a pact with him...!'
He didn't care that the target of his revenge was the same as a demon. In this world, it wasn't uncommon for demon contractors and demons to kill each other. He even heard that the archdemons, who were like the lords of demons, didn't get along, so they might even welcome his offer.
Thus, with the goal of summoning the Eternal Archdemon, he crossed all sorts of dangerous lines and prepared the ritual.
[The Eternal Archdemon...? Why do you utter such a lowly name?]
In the end, he failed to achieve his goal.
[Kh-kh-kh, I am the King of all the Dead and the Ruler of Death]
[I am Hannibal Strauss.]
But he didn't give up.
If a being could diminish the Eternal Archdemon, who had been called the strongest for a hundred years, with the word "lowly."
If a being who calls himself the "Ruler of Death,"
'Even if it's just a demon's lie.'
he thought there might still be a chance.
And as a result of using his last bit of strength to cling to the other...
Whoooosh—
At a dizzying height in the sky, far above the ground.
"Ugh...!"
McCarthy gritted his teeth as he recalled the past, feeling the burning pain in his left eye and left arm, which were irritated by the biting wind. He took a deep breath as he looked at his "master," who was also high in the sky and impassively looking down at the ground.
[Hmm, so you're saying the demons, including that Infinite Archdemon, are the culprits who made the world this way?]
"You could... say that. To be honest, it happened so long ago, and as you can see, we're not in a position to leave proper records, so only the demons involved know the exact truth. Including the contractors who heard the stories from those demons."
He answered the questions faithfully, just as he had done so far.
Fortunately, thanks to his experience of roaming around and encountering various rumors, he could answer most of the questions without difficulty.
[I see, I see.]
A short, eerie murmur.
Whoooosh—!
The moment he finished speaking, their bodies, which had been floating in the air, descended rapidly to the ground. The pain from McCarthy's arm and eye grew even greater, but he gritted his teeth and somehow swallowed his scream.
[Well, the detailed circumstances don't matter.]
Hans, who landed lightly on the ground, muttered in a low voice without even looking at the staggering McCarthy. With the explanations he had heard so far, he knew exactly what he needed to do.
[In any case, isn't the fundamental root cause the demons? Then it's just a matter of cleaning all of them up. Hehehe!]
A low laugh escaped him as he nonchalantly spouted nonsense. But McCarthy couldn't argue against it. Because of the subordination through his arm and eye, he could instinctively feel that this was not an empty boast, but a statement based on pure confidence.
'No way, is he really...?'
The moment he unconsciously gulped, the change had already begun.
Kii-yaa-aaak—
Woo-woo-woo—
U-heu-heu-heuk—
Startled by the ghostly wails coming from all directions, he looked up at the sky. Through his left eye, the eye of the dead carved from obsidian, he could clearly see what was happening.
"Ah."
Innumerable ghosts, who had gathered he didn't know when, now covered the entire gloomy sky. There were well over tens of thousands of them, and they were undulating like a wave, pouring down toward this place. And a ghost, leading the group and wearing a dress like funeral attire with a black veil, knelt before the king as if representing them all.
[Olivia.]
[Command me... My King... This girl... has arrived at your command...]
Banshee Queen Olivia, the intelligence director of the Undying Legion. She had been gathering all the ghosts on this land since McCarthy had lost consciousness at the king's command, and she bowed her head respectfully.
[Find them.]
To her great master who had crossed one world and was finally extending his hand into another dimension.
[Find those who rule at the top of this world.]
[Your wish is my command...!]
It was the moment his notoriety, which had transcended the limits of the dimension Auterica,
—took root in the Deavor.