Shepherd Wizard-Chapter 228

Translator: Pai_

Turan did not know much about the Night Hunter Otas.

At most, he was known to be one of the strongest among the former players, having shot and killed hundreds of giants, and that he did not have a good relationship with Monarch.

At one point, Haroon and a few other gods had considered him to be the reincarnation of Otas, but as it became clear that no divine spirit remained in the Sea of Spirit Forms, that hypothesis was half-abandoned.

And yet, that very Otas suddenly appeared from the severed arm?

'No way, was that the one who left the message to check out the library back then?'

The tone felt a little different, but given the circumstances, there was no one else who could have been inside him.

As Turan was thinking about that, Otas spoke while stroking his own face.

“Hmm, now that I think about it, this is actually the first time we’ve met face-to-face. But you remember the voice, right? We talked over voice chat before.”

[That was thousands of years ago, there’s no way I’d remember……]

Otas spoke comfortably, as if talking to a close younger sibling, while striding toward the massive deer.

Surprisingly, Monarch stepped back a few steps on the spot.

A submissive posture hard to believe from a monster that currently overwhelmed even Turan.

Perhaps realizing this, Monarch spoke in a voice that sounded agitated.

[Get lost, you’re just a wraith that’s already dead!]

Just like before, as it swung its massive antlers, blades of light rose and slashed its opponent.

However, Otas merely wrapped his body in pitch-black shadow to block it, standing there with an indifferent expression.

“Hey now, if you want to drive out a wraith, you need to be a bit more serious.”

[Don’t tell me that bastard was really was something like your reincarnation?]

“Close. Hmm, calling it reincarnation might be a stretch. I’m the largest shareholder, but it’s not like I hold an overwhelming stake.”

Otas looked at Turan with a slightly sheepish expression and said,

“Maybe he resembles me so much because of the Zahar bloodline and similar background? Like being born between two countries that don’t get along.”

Before Turan could ask what that meant, Otas looked at him and spoke as if calling out to someone.

“It’s kind of awkward if I keep talking alone, so how about the other friends come out too? At your age, there’s no need to be shy!”

At that moment, Turan could feel something fiercely surging from within himself.

Deeper than what he thought was his spirit form and essence, from the unreachable abyss of his soul.

Something squirmed and leapt out from there, riding the blood flowing from his severed arm, and like Otas, began transforming into human shapes.

A dozen or so people instantly appeared next to him.

“Ah.”

“It’s been a while since I saw the outside.”

“It’s not just outside, it’s the outside of the world.”

“Nice to see you, Monarch!”

“That scammer bastard.”

“Seok-hoon’s all grown up, huh? Used to post groveling photos on the board asking for help after getting blacklisted.”

“Don’t bring that up. He’ll cry.”

Turan could understand what these people were.

The dozen or so voices that always came out of his throat whenever he entered this space...

“Ah, ah.”

Naturally, Turan’s voice had returned to his original one.

Seeing this, Monarch looked visibly flustered, even with a deer’s face.

[No, crazy… as if Otas wasn’t enough?]

“That Nazi bitch caught a rat even when stepping, that’s all. The idea of expanding the vessel of the spirit form and sucking in residual spirit forms was decent enough. Just… she let in way too many.”

“And after all that, she got completely torn apart and vanished.”

"Don't talk about that since it makes Uncle Otas sad."

Six men who looked in their thirties to forties.

Three men who appeared older than that.

One woman in her late twenties and another in her forties.

Most appeared to be of the same race as Otas, but a few had rather foreign features.

Some had unusually deep-set eyes and large noses, or black skin with tightly curled hair.

“It’s been a while since I came here too.”

“There was a time we used to just float around here.”

“Honestly, it was pretty peaceful. Of course, getting into that guy’s body and seeing the world was fun too.”

The way these people, assumed to be gods who died with the fall of the Old Empire, chatted among themselves seemed quite frivolous.

Then again, considering their true identities, it wasn’t all that surprising.

The essence of the Preah God Tribe, after all, was just like Suho, whom they had met on Earth, ordinary, thoroughly ordinary human beings.

At that moment, an older man with a rough beard stroked his chin and spoke to Monarch in a reproachful tone.

“Anyway, seeing it from inside, the fight looked pretty unfair.”

“Yeah. Is it fun to come first, take all the resources, and beat up a clueless kid?”

“At the very least, you should fight on the same ring.”

[Shut up!]

Perhaps sensing danger in their words, Monarch quickly aimed his antlers at Turan.

What was fired was a flash of light, so fast it was nearly impossible to dodge.

However, the man who had just spoken about unfairness reached out his hand, and the lightning was sucked into his palm.

“This is my specialty. How dare you.”

[Meb, you old bastard……]

"You've aged ten times more than me here, you punk. Show a little dignity, for god’s sake.”

Grumbling from behind, Otas shot a pitch-black shadow arrow that struck the deer.

Perhaps it was laced with deadly poison, as the hit part on its haunch melted away, and Monarch screamed, but the wound quickly healed.

Seeing this, Otas clicked his tongue and said,

“Tch, looks like he’s already taken too much control.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we all combined forces and took him down?”

“No chance. The power we use through this body is consumable. We have no choice but to trust and leave it to him.”

“Then we’ll hold him off. Get him merged quickly.”

“You think he won’t blow up?”

“Maybe when he was a kid, but now his vessel has become wide and solid. He’ll hold out just fine.”

While the gods bickered among themselves and fought Monarch, Turan set the Mimic Sacred Relic to the Lavitas bloodline and healed his wounds.

Fortunately, for regenerating an entire severed arm, it didn’t consume as much magic power as expected.

Perhaps it was because this space was somewhere between the physical and the non-physical?

As he checked his recovered arm for any dysfunction, a man with fine features and delicate lines approached him.

Perhaps not confident in combat, unlike the others, he didn’t seem interested in suppressing Monarch.

“Hello, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“……The Lame Goddess?”

“Hearing you call me goddess in this form feels kind of weird. Though I did hope for it. Anyway, I’m going to enter you again now. So you can fight that guy.”

“I don’t intend to delay the fight, but I don’t think your involvement is necessary.”

These beings, assumed to be former gods, were thoroughly beating down Monarch one-sidedly.

In terms of power as an individual entity, he didn’t seem to be lagging, but the overwhelming difference in numbers made it inevitable.

However, Monarch regenerated relentlessly as if he were immortal, even after being slashed to pieces, burned, and frozen.

Seeing this, the Lame Goddess sighed and said,

“This is just a temporary fix. Monarch has already seized about half the control... and almost none of our names remain.”

“What should I do?”

Turan said this and felt he had experienced such a conversation before.

Just recently, during the time he had spoken with Keorn.

However, unlike back then, Turan now truly had an important role.

“We’ll be absorbed into you again, so all you need to do is fight and win. Since you have a physical body, you’ll be able to gain control.”

“What exactly is this control?”

“It’s complicated to explain... but once we’re absorbed, you’ll understand naturally.”

At the urging tone, Turan didn’t decide right away but asked again.

No matter how urgent the situation, this wasn’t something he could decide on without understanding it first.

“If I absorb you all, can I still remain myself?”

If he were to become a monster with all the gods' personalities chaotically mixed together, how would that be any different from dying?

To that question, filled with such meaning, the Lame Goddess widened her eyes slightly, then let out a small laugh.

“Even in an emergency, you know how to look out for yourself? Smart boy. There’s nothing to worry about. It won’t have any special effect on your personality. You know I’m telling the truth, right?”

The attitude that there was no need to confirm the truth likely stemmed from her knowledge of the Eye of Truth.

After about three seconds of consideration, Turan nodded.

Even if that statement turned out to be a wordplay and not entirely true, he had no choice but to accept the offer for now.

Refusing and holding out would only guarantee a future where Monarch killed him, given the circumstances.

Besides, how much longer could Meisa, Solif, and the others fighting in the real world endure?

“All right, then...”

“Before that, thank you.”

“Hm? For what?”

“The library.”

He had first assumed it was Otas, but thinking back, the one who could have alerted him to the problem there was obvious.

If she was the creator, it was likely that some kind of connection remained even after only her soul was left.

At his unexpected words, the Lame Goddess widened her eyes, then gave a flirtatious, feminine smile.

“Smart too. Meisa must be jealous. If you’re grateful, treat my son well. He’s a poor child who lost his parents the moment he was born.”

She was probably referring to the Librarian when she said “son”.

The moment she disappeared after those final words, Turan felt one soul, instead of sinking deep inside like before, blend into the surface.

It was a completely different sensation from when he had devoured a fragment of Cadrum’s soul form in the past.

Back then, he had been completely submerged in the other’s personality, experiencing life as if they were the same person, but now Turan could view the other’s memories objectively, like reading a book.

Seeing this, the gods paused in their beating of Monarch and approached Turan.

“Has it started? Then me too.”

“Me too!”

As an immense amount of information brushed past his mind in what was nearly an instant, another god likewise merged into Turan.

And then another one.

“Ugh...”

It hadn’t been noticeable with just one, but when two, then three entered one after another, his spirit form began to feel bloated.

As though he had exceeded the capacity he could process at once.

But Turan clenched his teeth and digested their memories.

Brief flashes of decades lived on Earth, hundreds of years lived here as gods, and thousands of years drifting in the Sea of Spirit Forms...

Thanks to that, he came to fully understand the identities of those who had been sleeping within him.

The Thunder Lord.

The Earth Mother Goddess.

The Silver Sun.

The Crimson Prince.

The Lame Goddess.

The Messenger of the Gods.

The King of Calamities.

The Eternal Flame.

The Weaver of Space.

From the distant ancient times, among the transcendent beings worshipped by the weak humans, these were considered the strongest of the strong, the gods among gods.

Because they possessed the most powerful spirit forms, they had not completely disappeared even in the Sea of Spirit Forms. One by one, they merged with Turan and became wholly one with him.

As Haroon once said, Turan’s spirit form now possessed a scale and level dozens of times greater than before.

This was likely the perfected product she had originally intended to create.

By then, the battle had reversed, turning in Monarch’s favor.

It was only natural. As the gods who had been pummeling and suppressing him were absorbed one by one into Turan, their power diminished.

Only Otas and the old man, presumably the Thunder Lord called “Meb” remained, taking turns struggling to hold back the rampaging foe.

Sensing that it was now his turn to fight, Turan slowly rose to his feet.

Unlike just a moment ago, he no longer felt any pressure weighing down his body.

It was because a new law had been inscribed here, one that directly clashed with the Lawmaker’s laws already carved into this space.

‘So that was the law he imposed.’

[All living creatures in this place must walk on four legs.]

Monarch, in the form of a deer, had cleverly passed it off as natural, imposing a restriction only on him as a human.

The fact that, unless one knew the truth, it would simply feel like some technique that suppressed the body, made it all the more malicious.

Perhaps divine spirits hadn’t been caught in the rule because they weren’t considered living creatures.

But now Turan could overcome such a law.

Because he had gained the ability to inscribe laws upon space, just like a Lawmaker.

As Monarch turned his gaze upon the now-standing Turan, Otas, who had stepped back to catch his breath during the brief opening, asked,

“How is it? Starting to understand a few things?”

“At the very least, I think I can fight.”

“Then we’d better get going. Let’s start with old Meb first.”

“I’ll go even if you don’t rush me.”

Saying so, the old man stepped back and seeped into Turan’s inner self.

Perhaps because he had already absorbed over a dozen others, Turan, though strained, managed to accept him, even though his soul was larger and stronger than the others.

Rather than attacking Turan immediately, Monarch took a cautious stance, as if wary of just how much power he might now possess after absorbing all those gods.

Perhaps because this spared him unnecessary effort, Otas let out a small sigh of relief as he looked at Turan.

“There’s a lot I want to say, but not enough time. What a shame.”

“Once I absorb you, is that the end?”

“That’s how it’ll be. Well, you’ve done well so far. Just keep doing that. You’ve got some flaws, sure, but you’ll probably grow out of them with age. Unlike that bastard over there.”

Without even giving Turan a chance to reply, Otas vanished like a phantom, seeping into Turan’s inner self.

Because his spirit form had been exceptionally large even among the powerful gods, a stabbing pain like a stake being driven through his heart surged through Turan.

As he exhaled deeply to overcome it, Turan saw Monarch seize the moment to unleash a massive wave of light blades once again.

Not just slicing off an arm like before, but a flood of light that would leave nothing behind, no piece larger than a finger remaining.

But as Turan raised his hand, a mass of purple shadow rose from the ground and nullified the attack.

The fuel to exercise this power was not Turan’s own magic power.

It was the white substance overflowing in this space.

That substance had transformed into power under his will.

“To think you’d try to hoard all of this for yourself and become a true god... the scale of your ambition is so enormous I don’t even know what to say.”

Just crossing over to Earth in a powerful wizard’s body and ruling there, thinking back now, that had been a laughably naïve and modest plan.

Who could have imagined that the real goal was to take control of the Sea of Spirit Forms, seize the source of power that covered the world, and truly become something godlike?

Now he understood why Monarch’s loyal servant hadn’t broken under even the harshest torture.

If his master and friend really became a great god being, then no pain would be too great to be worth enduring.

He had been able to endure it all, knowing such a reward was promised.

[Just die already!]

With Monarch’s shout, hundreds of fireballs rained down, but Turan instantly summoned massive amounts of water to block them.

Normally, even with magic, it would be impossible to create matter that didn’t exist, but in this space, it was possible.

Because the source that filled this place could be transformed into any substance.

Thanks to absorbing the gods’ memories, Turan now knew what that white substance truly was.

The Key of Omnipotence.

The source that created and sustains this world, and the most perfect existence that can become anything, depending on its master’s will.

A portion of it had flowed down to the surface, granting the ability to manipulate natural phenomena, and people came to call it magic power.

From the moment one obtained control over this Source, things like bloodline and all the rest ceased to have meaning.

Because all power originated from this.

It was only natural that Turan had been completely unable to resist Monarch’s attack just moments ago.

No matter how powerful his strength was, as long as it was composed of magic power, it was nothing more than a subpar version of the power that governed the Source.

[Kugh……]

Monarch groaned at his enemy’s skillful counter.

To him, Turan spoke mockingly.

“You’re really hopeless at combat magic. Well, I suppose you’re not used to it. You probably never had a reason to use it.”

In truth, this was also the first time Turan had used the Shadow bloodline’s abilities, but the memories of Otas, residing within him, supported him.

Even Turan’s own transcendental talent was rooted in the souls of those gods.

It was only natural for someone bearing the soul of the Thunder Lord to wield wind and lightning magic with ease, or for someone bearing the soul of the Silver Sun to easily manipulate fire and light.

Of course, that didn’t mean the difference in skill between Turan and Monarch was purely due to talent.

Though he had lived a life hundreds of times shorter than his opponent, Turan had spent each and every day diligently training in all kinds of magic.

Unlike Monarch, who had been buried in research.

The results of that effort had simply revealed themselves just now.

[Enjoy it while you can. That doesn’t mean you’re going to win.]

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

With a growl-like tone, Monarch and Turan drew power from the Source at the edge of the world and shaped it to strike at each other.

An avatar of the great gods, and a beast once called a god.

The battle of transcendent beings who stood at the very pinnacle of this world had begun.

*****

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