Book 1 Chapter 765
765.
It was a temple built of ice.
The temple, as if made of crystal, exuded a cold chill.
A coldness so intense that an ordinary person might lose their life just by inhaling.
Inside that temple stood figures clad in pristine white robes.
All their faces were exquisitely beautiful.
However, their pale blue skin told them that they were not creatures of the earth, but demons.
These were the Saints and Saintesses, the closest retainers of Nyx, known as the Freezing of Death.
The Third Saintess, Phylegy, opened her mouth towards the First Saint, Acheron of Sorrow, who sat in the highest seat.
“Acheron. Has the Goddess fallen into a deep sleep again?”
Acheron nodded at Phylegy’s question.
The Third Saint, Phlegethon, slammed his hand down on the armrest of his chair.
Slam—!
“How can that be? Wasn’t the Flame of Disaster merely dormant?”
Then he wore an expression of incomprehension.
Ever since Nyx, the Freezing of Death, was resurrected as a malevolent god with her own will, rather than a fragment of Erebus, the Flame of Disaster.
The demons of Styx, who awakened from their long slumber upon realizing Nyx had awoken, immediately grasped one fact.
That the Flame of Disaster, Erebus, did not exist in this world right now.
Realizing this, the Saints and Saintesses of Styx rejoiced genuinely, convinced of Tartaros’s destruction.
Though they didn't know the reason, they knew that if Erebus, the malevolent god of Tartaros, was absent, there would be no one to stop Nyx.
Though called by the name "demon," Tartaros and Styx were sworn enemies, fighting to destroy each other from the moment of their creation.
The reason Tartaros and Styx hated each other was deeply connected to the aspirations of the malevolent gods they served.
Erebus, who wished to burn everything in the world and even disappear himself.
Nyx, who wished to freeze everything in the world, creating a permanently stopped world, and longed for death in an unchanging form herself.
The ideologies of the two malevolent gods could never coexist.
As such, Tartaros and Styx, the subordinate demons attempting to fulfill their malevolent gods' aspirations, could never intermingle either.
“I thought this time we could burn and purify all those abominations!”
The Third Saintess, Phylegy, cried out in an agitated voice.
Phylegy’s pale blue skin momentarily turned orange, and the surrounding temperature began to rise sharply.
The Saints and Saintesses of Styx are like the Legion Commanders of Tartaros.
There are four Saints and four Saintesses, each paired to lead four knightly orders.
One of them leads and commands the knightly order, while the other delivers death to enemies with overwhelming power.
Among them, the Third Saint and Saintess of Styx were a little special.
Phylegy, the Saintess of Fire, and Phlegethon, the Saint of Blood.
They led the Order of Purification, and the one who represented their martial prowess was none other than the Saintess of Fire.
Phylegy’s mission, possessing a power opposite to her master’s, was to burn and purify the abominable things of the world.
And Phlegethon, the Saint of Blood, had the mission to create a river of blood from the remaining ashes and wash them away with the Order of Purification.
Nyx, the Freezing of Death, desired a world of death frozen forever.
And she considered that unchanging world her masterpiece.
As such, before freezing the world, she wished to burn anything she deemed unaesthetic according to her standards.
And it was in accordance with this wish that the Third Saint and Saintess were born.
Consequently, the Order of Purification was the knightly order that most hated Tartaros, which was abomination itself.
Acheron of Sorrow replied to Phlegethon and Phylegy's anger.
“The Flame of Disaster has been sealed. But a certain Necromancer, a Legion Commander, wields his master’s power.”
“Ha. To be sealed and reduced to borrowing power from a mere creation.”
“Typical of a malevolent god who creates utterly hideous things. There’s no dignity at all.”
Phlegethon and Phylegy curled their lips into a sneer.
The Fourth Saint, Lethe of Oblivion, who had been watching them, opened his mouth.
“Acheron. Has the Second Saint… Cocytus of Lament, awoken?”
“He has not.”
The First and Fourth Saintesses had perished in the war against Tartaros before Styx fell into slumber underground.
As such, their positions were currently vacant.
In such a situation, even the Second Saintess had disappeared.
In particular, the Order of Repose, linked by the same fate as the Second Saintess, was utterly annihilated.
Lethe fell into thought.
“So? How great are these ‘Hero Records’ and ‘heroes’ you speak of?”
Phylegy asked in an unenthusiastic voice.
She burns hideous things.
As such, Phylegy among the Saints and Saintesses possessed the most destructive power.
She had burned countless enemies and, consequently, was a demon with absolute confidence in her own power.
Because of this, she did not heed the warning of Styx’s leader, Acheron.
‘They’re still just slave races, after all.’
It was when Phylegy revealed her sneer.
“Isn’t this ‘Hero Record’ thing just a record system that the Heavenly Gods used anyway? Why are you taking it so seriously?”
Phlegethon furrowed his brow.
“The Second Saintess was killed by a human.”
“The Second Saintess was tragically weak. It’s surprising she fell to a slave race, but… isn’t it possible for such a thing to happen?”
“The Second Saintess had received the Goddess’s grace before she fell into slumber.”
At Acheron’s words, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.
“She was granted permission to exist as an ‘immortal’ being, even if for a short time. Yet she was annihilated.”
“Is that even possible?”
Lethe looked incredulous.
“Mere humans defeating one who possessed the power of immortality. I cannot believe it.”
Ultimately, Nyx, having been swallowed by Erebus, was resurrected after a long passage of time.
That alone showed how potent the power of immortality was.
“I couldn’t believe it either. So I looked into the history of this era.”
The other Saints and Saintesses wore expressions of incomprehension.
What meaning could the history of an inferior race possibly hold?
“The Flame of Disaster, which devoured all malevolent gods, and Tartaros, attempted to burn this world down 5000 years ago.”
“That abomination finally committed such blasphemy?!”
Phlegethon displayed immense anger.
Lethe gripped Phlegethon’s shoulder.
The anger vanished instantly.
He had forgotten his rage.
“So? If it had devoured six malevolent gods, it should have been perfectly capable. Why does this world still exist? Did it self-destruct by failing to control its power?”
Acheron spoke, observing Lethe’s calm question.
“No, the world ultimately went to the brink of destruction. In that situation, beings called Great Heroes reportedly appeared.”
“Great Heroes?”
“It refers to those who represent the five races of the earth.”
“So? What did these ‘Great Heroes’ do? You’re not trying to tell a boring joke about five of them defeating the Flame of Disaster, are you?”
“Acheron. I thought you had no talent for jokes, but it seems I was mistaken.”
Phylegy and Phlegethon burst into laughter.
“Do I seem to have gathered you merely to tell jokes?”
At Acheron's chilling words, Phylegy and Phlegethon’s eyes widened.
Lethe also stared at Acheron with an unbelieving face.
“Is that even possible? The races of the earth are blessed with oblivion. Might they not have fabricated such fanciful tales?”
In response to Lethe’s question, Acheron held up a fragment of the Hero Record and said.
“The deeds of those called Great Heroes are recorded in the Hero Record.
The beings of the earth may have forgotten. But the Record System is truth.”
Those words were shocking to the demons of Styx.
For them, who had existed long before the Age of Gods, it was unimaginable that the earthly races could obtain the power to defeat malevolent gods.
As everyone was in shock.
“There’s no need to be surprised. Those Great Heroes disappeared 5000 years ago.”
Acheron, who had spoken indifferently, curled up the corners of his mouth.
“And even the gods completely vanished, leaving behind this ‘Hero Record’ after pouring out all their power.”
“What exactly is that object?”
“It’s a kind of hero cultivation system, it seems. A power to inherit the strength and experience of predecessors recorded in the record. And a system maintained by achieving great deeds and recording one’s name again in the Hero Record. It seems broken now… but it appears the functionality itself is fine.”
Acheron placed the Hero Record on the table.
“Perhaps there’s someone among the humans living in this era who inherited the abilities of the human who defeated Erebus 5000 years ago. The Second Saintess’s annihilation must be because she fell to that human.”
“Inheriting abilities, you say.”
“So it seems this era is called the Age of Heroes.”
“Age of Heroes?”
“Yes. The era after we fell asleep is the Age of Gods. The era when the Flame of Disaster drove the world to the brink of destruction is the Age of Disaster, and starting from after the Flame of Disaster was vanquished 5000 years ago until now, it seems to be called the Age of Heroes, where heroes lead the world.”
“Ha! Ignorant mortals leading the world? That’s absurd.”
Phylegy wore an expression of dumbfoundment.
“I cannot understand the thoughts of the gods.”
As Lethe also looked flabbergasted, Phlegethon snorted.
“Aren’t the Heavenly beings mere ignoramuses who don’t even fulfill their duties for their own pleasure?”
At those words, Acheron opened his mouth.
“For us, this is good news.”
The Saints and Saintesses looked at Acheron.
“We simply need to inform the earthly races. That their true master has returned.”
Unlike Erebus, who burned everything, Nyx was a malevolent god who once reigned as a goddess.
She promised unchanging eternity and tempted the earthly races.
As a result, in the era before the Age of Gods, when Styx wielded immense power, there was a time when all humans worshipped Nyx.
“How would you suggest we inform them? They must have forgotten our existence.”
Acheron replied to Lethe’s words.
“No matter how much they babble about an Age of Heroes or whatever, they are ultimately just fake heroes selected by the Heavenly Gods.”
Acheron looked towards the interior of the temple.
“Don’t we have the true heroes selected by the Goddess in the past?”
“Ah.”
Lethe exclaimed.
“To defeat heroes with heroes. A wise judgment.”