14 - The Fourteenth "Death"

Helian leaves the throne room and steps out of the castle, this time through the gates.

As the soldiers salute him with their heels together, Helian looks around the city.

As expected, there is hardly a soul on the streets.

The residents have all retreated indoors because of the rebellion, albeit a very small one.

The absence of people in the usually bustling market was a new sight, but at the same time, it was terribly eerie. It made me feel somewhat sad.

Helian guesses that the scene is somewhere around here.

Turning the corner, Helian and the others came out onto the main street. The avenue, which boasts an area large enough for at least twenty people to walk side by side, fills the entire field of vision.

--The street was full of red.

There were no ordinary people on the avenue, which is usually full of shoppers, and a large human-shaped object with horns was lying in pieces.

Red liquid was splattered around it, as if it had been sprayed with paint.

It was so inorganic that I could not understand what it was at first.

When he got close enough to touch it with his hand, Helian finally understood what it was.

"This is ......."

An ogre.

A dead ogre.

Although his right hand was torn off roughly at the root, and his legs were pointing in the wrong direction, this was not a doll, but a corpse of an ogre.

Looking down at the street, I see that there are more than one or two dead ogres scattered all over the street.

There was no sign of the usual sight on the southern boulevard, where many of the local specialties are sold.

A bloody weapon that must have been used for subduing the ogre was lying carelessly on the shelf of an apothecary, and a bizarre ogre's lump of flesh, which one might ask what kind of avant-garde art it is, was hanging from the eaves of a store that usually sells fresh food, instead of its merchandise. The abdomen was twisted and a white bone protruded from its back, as if it had been hit by a strong force.

Charred and decapitated corpses are just the beginning. There are even bodies that look like hamburgers, with chunks of flesh exploding in pieces and several orgasms mangled together.

They stimulated Hellian's senses with an overwhelming sense of reality. The wind of blood caressed his skin, and the smell of rusty death tickled his nostrils.

"............!"

He almost swallows what is about to go up to his throat.

Stomach acid irritates my tongue, but I can't vomit in front of Lieve and Ertina's eyes. Fighting nausea with all her strength, Hélian scolds herself for almost stepping back.

......I was naive.

That's all I can say.

I realized to my disgust how much the restrictions on expression by the code of ethics, which had been so much criticized for being tactless, had protected the player's psyche.

If ordinary gamers in Japan were to experience this kind of thing on a daily basis, they would soon go insane.

When I saw a news report about gamers who have lost the borderline between reality and fiction and are now brandishing knives on the streets, I thought to myself, "Of course. It's no wonder.

That's how shocking the scene in front of him was to Helian, Tsukasa Misaki, who is just an ordinary Japanese.

"So this is that main street. ......"

South Boulevard, usually teeming with foreign visitors.

The remains of dead ogres are strewn all over the place.

Why?

Because Hellian wanted it that way.

Because the king, Herian, wanted to maintain order, to put down the rebellion.

That's why the strike force led by the commander of the 5th Corps did what it did.

They did their part as they were ordered to do.

The result is this.

"...... Fifth Corps Commander is over there..."

As if running away from something, Helian walked to the end of the main street.

In front of the corpse of a huge ogre is a large man with messy dark brown hair, wearing a fancy shoulder coat. He is Gardi, the leader of the Fifth Legion, whose core consists of ogres and giants.

"Oh, General! As you can see, we've subdued them.

With that, Galdi turned to Hellian, smiling a smile that was as badass as a mafioso's face but just as endearing.

He is dressed in a jacket armor made of magical beast material and a fur-covered cloak around his neck, which makes one wonder what kind of barbarian he is, but he is a legionnaire after all.

He is a vanguard character who specializes in melee combat in a different direction from Levee.

He is currently in human form, although he is quite large, standing over two meters, but his true identity is that of an Auldgermeister - in short, a Titan.

Although his abilities and personality are sometimes too rough, Gardi, with his intimidating presence and unique charisma that emanates from his physique, boasts a high aptitude for maintaining public order and suppressing crime, although he is not as strong as Balan.

And the result of his high ability to suppress the situation is what you see here.

As the king (Helian) wished, his men (Galdi) carried out their duties, and thus the suppression was completed.

"...... Well done, Fifth Legion Commander Gardi!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. First of all, we couldn't have prevented the rebellion. This is my fault and Balan's fault. I'm prepared for some punishment.

"No, the groundwork and conditions were too good for an uprising by the Ogre faction. This is the inevitable result. You cannot be blamed for this.

I wave my hand in exultation.

He is also trying to show that he is capable of forgiving the faults of his subordinates, but in fact, this rebellion would have been inevitable. In fact, this rebellion would have been inevitable.

If they had been able to hold at least a national celebration, it is highly possible that the rebellion could have been prevented, but who could have predicted such a ridiculous "event" as the transfer of an entire city?

Where is the leader of the rebellion?

"Yeah, that's what's lying in front of the arms store there."

Gardi pointed to a red-skinned ogre.

A mutant ogre.

Although it retains its original form, it is now lying as a lump of flesh that no longer speaks.

......I don't want to see it if I can help it.

But in a way, this is what I wanted.

Then we have a duty to see it through.

I made up my mind and approached the corpse of Red Ogre, and found a fist-sized windpipe in its abdomen. I look up and see its face. His eyes were cloudy white, like those of a washed-up fish. I try to hold back the nausea that rises up in me, but I cannot help but take in the sight of the man.

"...... Hey, Gardi. If you've been listening quietly for a while now, you're not using the right words to address Mr. Helian.

"You're talking about that again, Levee. I never get tired of you and Balan. First of all, the general has already forgiven you for your language.　It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"There are limits. Especially in front of the soldiers. At least keep up appearances.

"Heh heh heh. Ah, General. I've got some dead bodies to dispose of and clean up, so I'm going to have to leave now.

"Hey, wait, Gardi. I'm not finished with you yet!

"Oh, dear. You two shouldn't fight.

Galdi runs away from the trouble and tries to leave.

The complaining Levee tries to reach for his shoulder to keep him from running away.

Ertina watches him and wonders when to stop him.

--So no one could stop him in time.

"Fang... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... mute... methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A) methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)methen(A)--!

A bellowing sound.

The corpse of a red-skinned ogre leaps up as if in some kind of joke.

"Where's --------?"

Galdi turns away to leave.

Levee is in a position to reach for his back.

Eltina turns to face them.

And Helian is standing right next to the Red Ogre.

So the corpse of the Red Ogre was still clutching his mace.

He unleashes his mace, which the corpse of Red Ogre had been holding in his hand, at Helian, who was closest to the corpse.

+ + + +

--Oh, this one's dead.

I recognized this fact as if I were a stranger in front of the blunt weapon that loomed in front of me.

The mace, which in reality should be being wielded with tremendous force, is slowly closing in on my senses. This must be that thing, where everything seems to be in slow motion when you are about to die. In principle, the defense instinct super-compresses the sensory speed in order to avoid death by moving the body somehow, right?

But it is pointless. In the first place, I have no great physical ability. No matter how much it looks like slow motion, my body does not move, and there is no way for me to resist the death in front of me.

Suddenly, several images flashed through my mind.

I am reminded of the many events that have occurred in the past day.

They are too ridiculous, yet too realistic.

I guess this is what is called "running lights". In the shadow of the mace approaching in slow motion, various images are flowing at a furious pace.

Unfortunately, the memories of my childhood, when I was loved by my parents, and the memories of playing with my few friends were not included in them.

I have a heart that regrets this. Is it a luxury to wish to die with beautiful memories at least at the end?

I ramble on and on, but still the mace has not arrived.

I am still on the verge of death.

What torture is this?

I am honestly terrified.

If I could move, I'm sure I would be crying out in agony.

If I had to beg for my life to be saved, I would have given up my pride and crawled on the ground.

No.

I don't want to die.

If I'm going to die, at least I want to die at home.

I don't want to die in this world.

My mind refuses death.

But reality brings death without mercy.

It's not even a matter of seconds.

The mace is literally right under your nose.

First, the wind pressure reaches my face.

Then the mace touches your forelock.

I could see reddish-black rust floating on the surface of the mace.

I wonder if it is hardened blood. Some poor victim has gone before us.

I wonder how many more will become rust on this mace.

Oh, no, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying, I don't want to die, someone help me--

"----"

A strange noise.

Even his thoughts came to an end there.

His head, a mere human being, popped off like a watermelon, and the contents of his crushed skull were splattered on the ground with dirty ketchup.

--And so Helian, the weakest of kings...

Helian, the weakest of kings, was rebelled against and killed by the people of the land he ruled.