Chapter 363: The Rotting Nation

It did not give Muen any further chance to pause and observe. After a brief regrouping, the twisted monster once more barreled in on a reeking, icy wind.

More limbs extended from its quivering fat and flesh, thrashing even more wildly; on the newborn limbs clung white fat and red fascia.

That pallid face, satisfied to the point of derangement, opened and closed its lips to mumble indistinctly. Joy and fury tangled in its eyes, radiating a different breed of ferocity.

Muen reflexively wanted to take a deep breath, but the rot-stench that tore at his olfactory nerves every instant made him give up on that thought at once.

Finish it quickly.

Muen’s gaze grew even colder.

He let Liya hide behind him for the moment, stepped forward, and met the monster head-on.

He did not swing a blade.

Instead, he stretched out his hand. Five long fingers opened, curled—an odd motion, like... the claws of a beast.

A long-missed Thunderclap 1.0!

Thunder roared!

Violent shockwaves all but warped the air as he collided head-on with the charging, chariot-like mass of meat!

Puyoh.

A strange sound like some packed thing being bounced. A dozen or so limbs before Muen were forced back into the rolling bulk; the fat-stuffed body concaved, and the fascia-sheathed skin rippled like surf, pressing out fold after fold.

Muen’s brows knit. Contesting with brute force had never been his specialty, and that frontal impact churned his blood and breath.

But his brows quickly eased.

Because he felt two warm, soft little hands bracing firmly against his back.

The corner of his mouth curved gently. Without the slightest hesitation, his other hand drew a blade—slash!

A razor arc of steel split the night, dropping from above—not cleaving the monster frontally, but carving a smooth opening at its oblique flank.

Pff.

Under enormous pressure, like a pricked ball, torrents of fatty flesh sprayed from that cut.

Like a fountain—spectacular, in a nauseating way.

Midair, the spewed fat and flesh froze, then—as if summoned—rolled back of their own accord, in blatant defiance of common sense, trying to return to the main body.

Muen, naturally, would not allow it.

“Liya.”

At that soft call—or rather, before that soft call even sounded—holy Holy Light had already flared.

A barrier woven of Holy Light rose precisely in the path of the returning fat and flesh.

Shhh, shhh.

The hiss of burning.

Perhaps because they’d lost the support of the main body, those scraps of flesh and fat burned under Holy Light far faster than earlier; the acrid char reek briefly overwhelmed even the stench of rot.

“Rooaaar—”

Rapidly losing its fleshy reinforcement, the monster finally ceased its inexplicable muttering and shrieked in frenzy.

That pallid face still wore that hair-raising bliss and satisfaction, yet its features twisted, as if something were about to—

Shk—

A pure white blade pierced the center of its face.

The contorted visage froze—only for an instant. Pain quickly curdled back into feral savagery as newborn limbs clawed toward Muen—

Shk—

A second blade drove in.

Studying that twisted face, Muen said nothing, only a flash of disdain sweeping through his eyes.

What are you screaming for.

You dare call this Evil God corruption when you’re this weak?

Aren’t you ashamed?

On the white blade, pale golden tracery suddenly lit.

Holy Light—no weaker than Liya’s, perhaps even purer—poured through the edge.

“Aaah—”

Its roar turned into a wretched wail. Every inch of the monster’s skin writhed fiercely; its oddly-shaped limbs clawed madly toward Muen—only to suddenly retract before reaching him, diving back at high speed into a body that was growing visibly scant.

Like a ship at sea that’s run out of fuel, forced to keep dismantling its own hull to go on moving.

“Muen.”

Muen shifted his gaze slightly.

Not far off, those lumps of fat and flesh that had been ramming the Holy Light barrier twitched a few times; stubby limbs sprouted beneath their fascia and tried to flee.

They didn’t get far. Separated from the main body, those chunks of fat and flesh rotted and sloughed at a speed visible to the naked eye—until they lost all trace of life.

It rotted... on its own?

Muen didn’t dwell on it.

It felt about time. His eyes flickered; he snapped back around, tightened his grip on the blades, and cut again.

The monster’s skin parted easily beneath the edge. This time, however, no disgusting fat and flesh poured out.

At the gaping wound, a pelt of tiny flesh-buds writhed, urging the skin to knit—but after only sticking a little, the whole thing seized up.

“So hungry...”

Blood-tears streamed.

The monster collapsed limply to the ground.

All that remained was a single wrinkled sheet of hide.

...

“Is... is it over?”

Cautiously peeking from behind Muen, Liya—prepared as she was—still almost jumped at the sight of that revolting skin.

And the bounce of her chest as she breathed made Muen’s heart—just calmed—thump wildly again.

“It should be fine.”

Forcing his impolite line of sight not to be noticed, Muen smiled.

“Not even a corruption source—just a creature simply polluted and corrupted. Nothing to make a fuss about.”

“Really? Then—”

Liya was about to let out a long breath when her pretty face suddenly froze.

She tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something.

“What is it?”

“Shh, listen—”

“Listen?”

Muen cocked an ear.

“I don’t hear anything.”

Other than the wind—and the sounds of fighting from far away.

But those shouldn’t make Liya suddenly go like this.

“Crying. You don’t hear it?”

Urgency edged Liya’s voice as her eyes swept the surroundings.

Muen was about to speak when her movements suddenly halted. Her gaze fixed on a spot.

Muen, too, paused. Because at that moment, he heard it as well.

Crying.

“Uu...”

So wretched, so sorrowful, it felt like it bored into the soul.

Muen’s hairs stood on end. He tightened his grip on the hilt and followed Liya’s eyes.

Just ahead.

Right beside the freshly dead monster.

A blurry shadow knelt, endlessly clawing and gnawing at something.

Sensing their gaze, the shadow lifted its head blankly—to reveal a face... exactly the same as the monster’s.

“It’s not dead yet?”

Muen’s scalp prickled. He raised his blade to strike—

“W—wait!”

Liya suddenly stopped him. “He seems... not a monster anymore.”

“Hm?”

Liya didn’t explain further. She walked toward the shadow.

Muen frowned, but did not stop her—only raised his guard in silence.

He trusted Liya.

...

Liya came before the shadow and slowly crouched.

The figure before her was small—only up to Liya’s waist, and kneeling, not even to her knee.

He didn’t run, didn’t make any extra move. He only lifted his head and watched Liya approach in a daze.

On that pallid face identical to before, there was no longer bliss or satisfaction.

But... pain and sorrow.

Suffocating pain and sorrow.

Just by approaching him, Liya seemed to feel the same unspeakable torments inflicted upon him.

As if a hand had clenched her heart as well.

“You...”

Compassion softened Liya’s features. Gently, she asked,

“What... happened to you... and to this nation? Can you tell me?”

“...”

The figure stared straight at Liya. He opened his mouth; blood-red tears slid again from the corners of his eyes.

“Help me...”

A parched, drifting voice rasped from his throat.

It felt familiar to Liya, as if... she’d heard it before. “Help me...”

“Please... help me.”

The shadow murmured numbly like that—neither fleeing nor reaching out a hand.

“...”

Liya bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t save you.”

“Because...”

“You’re already dead.”

Moonlight fell thin and cold like mist—passing straight through him, casting no shadow on the ground.

Yes, he was already dead.

What stood before Liya was only a soul.

A damaged soul.

For some reason, though his flesh had utterly perished, this soul still wandered here.

“Though I can’t save you... according to what a future Saintess should do...”

Liya suddenly reached out her hand. In her palm, Holy Light—most pure, after careful condensation—shone.

She placed her hands together, closed her eyes, and prayed devoutly:

“Merciful Goddess, please forgive his sins and grant him... rest.”

【Holy Prayer: Purification】

Countless motes of light drifted from the girl, like a myriad tiny fireflies, settling upon that broken, bewildered soul.

The soul stiffened slightly. Its unconscious muttering and swallowing ceased; the pain and sorrow on its face slowly quieted.

Tears still flowed—but now they were clear and crystalline.

“Thank you.”

When Liya opened her eyes, all she could see was a vanishing silhouette—only a contour left—disappearing completely within that sacred, faint glow.

Its final expression was a tearful smile.

“Rest in peace.”

Liya prayed softly once more.

...

“That was purification?”

“More or less. About the same as purifying filth, just a bit more advanced.”

Tucking a wisp of hair the night wind had blown loose back behind her ear, Liya said softly,

“A purification rite that targets only the soul—it works wonders on most spiritual entities in this world.”

“What happens after they’re purified? Reincarnation?”

Muen asked, curious.

“I don’t know.”

Liya shook her head. “Reincarnation can’t be proven, and there’s no record of it in the Church of Life’s canon.”

There’s one who reincarnated standing right in front of you—and from another world at that.

No—that’s more accurately called transmigration in my case.

Muen tugged at the corner of his mouth and went on:

“So the Church set the place for the Muen-Sanctification Ritual here to have you Saintess candidates help purify those monsters?”

The Church couldn’t possibly be unaware of these creatures. And given that this was Muen’s first time cutting down this sort of Evil God-corrupted monster only to trigger a follow-up event, this was the only guess he could make.

“I’m not sure either...”

Liya had just started to shake her head when she suddenly paused. Lifting a hand, the crystal that symbolized her identity as a Saintess candidate appeared in her palm.

The crystal, once perfectly clear, now held a filament-fine gleam drifting within—exquisitely beautiful.

It looked like if such micro-lights kept accumulating, they would fill the entire crystal.

Liya glanced at the spot where the soul had vanished, then at the crystal—finally meeting Muen’s eyes.

“I... it does seem to be like that.”

“...fuck.”

Holding it in for a long time, Muen still couldn’t stop the curse:

“The Church has some nerve. This is Evil God corruption—they’re actually using it as a trial? Aren’t they afraid of it going completely off the rails?”

So far, Muen hadn’t found the vector or the source of the corruption. But anything tied to Evil God meant extreme danger and extreme uncontrollability.

This wasn’t raising gu at all; it was like herding a bunch of chicks into Jurassic Park, then making the poor helpless chicks sing and dance rup and dribble basketballs past the eyelids of all sorts of prehistoric monsters.

“The Church did give us spatial Magic Scrolls to withdraw at critical moments. It shouldn’t be as dangerous as you think, Muen.”

Liya blinked and spoke.

After all, she was the Church’s Saintess candidate; her heart leaned toward the Church. She didn’t believe they’d send them to die on purpose; there must be a reason.

Of course, Muen also made a lot of sense!

“Let’s go with that, then.”

Muen lifted his eyes to the moon and sighed.

“I’ve dealt with Evil Gods more than a few times. Honestly, that monster just now was way weaker than I expected. It looks scary, sure, but to me it was just a ball of meat with great regeneration...”

Died after only a few cuts—pathetic. Look at your life-maxed seniors: which of them didn’t keep chatting and joking with you after losing their head and guts like a bunch of ironclad heroes?

“Thinking of it that way, maybe all of this is still under the Church’s control. The big threats here have already been culled, and what’s left are just scraps suitable for our trial.”

Muen rubbed his chin.

Granted, that guess completely contradicted the intel that the Church had only recently opened the entrance to this ruin.

But for now, it was the only assumption they could make. And they’d move one step at a time. Muen didn’t think the Church had gone so mad as to send the prized geniuses of every faction into a sure-death trap.

“Mm-hmm, it must be like that.”

Liya nodded hard. She, too, didn’t believe the Church had ill intent.

She rose, meaning to walk to Muen—only to stumble after just a few steps, nearly falling.

“What’s wrong? Legs went numb from squatting?”

Muen teased with a smile.

“No, they didn’t.”

Liya’s cheeks flushed.

“It’s just—the ground’s kind of soft. I almost missed my step.”

“Careful.”

Muen reached out a hand to steady her.

But after two steps, his own pace faltered. He looked down, a faint crease of doubt on his face.

“Liya.”

“Mm?”

“Did you notice something?”

“What?”

“That around us... it’s still this smelly?”

Liya blinked, then swiftly covered her delicate nose.

She wouldn’t have noticed if Muen hadn’t said it. The monster was clearly dead—yet the stench like rotting corpses hadn’t lessened in the slightest.

Moreover, it didn’t seem to come from any one direction, but from all sides—spreading with the night wind to shroud everything.

Silently, Liya raised Holy Light to cleanse filth and odor, then met Muen’s eyes—his expression growing steadily grim.

Light began gathering in Muen’s hand.

“I’m going to take a look,” Muen said.

“Mm.”

“Go ahead,” Liya answered.

So Muen raised his hand. Different from the serene moonlight and the indifferent Holy Light, a simple, bright radiance rose—illumining the surroundings completely.

The ground was sandy soil, very soft, with black, viscous liquid flowing across it—like blood.

On the house walls, those plants «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» that had been lush by day had shriveled into clumps. Stems and leaves were black, and the same black, viscous liquid oozed from them.

The flowers by the road had long since withered. The fruits on those strange plants had fallen to the ground—half solid, the other half long congealed into some state between solid and liquid, with white bone exposed from within.

A little farther away ran the milk river that cut through the town.

It was still milk.

But now it was pale yellow, and as it rolled, one seemed to see countless maggots within.

“Motherf—”

Muen’s face darkened.

Liya crouched, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from disgracing herself.

Yes—the Church might truly have hidden many things.

But on one point, they had not lied.

This ancient ruin, called the Lost Land, was already at the brink of collapse.

Because this was a nation... steadily rotting.