Rebirth of the 8th-Circle Mage

Splash!

Arthus stepped into a bathtub full of blood. He closed his eyes and took in the overflowing energy he felt within him.

“Ah...!”

Arthus was overcome by immense pleasure. The tremendous energy he felt was none other than the divine power resulting from his faith, his piety.

‘The power of a god is truly something amazing,’

Ever since he had become Janus’ chosen one, Arthus had been dreaming of becoming a god himself. Of course, this would be impossible for a human, even if they were the representative of a god, but Arthus was special.

No matter how much favor the worshiper had from their god, the amount of divine power they received from that god couldn’t surpass forty-nine percent of their total power.

That was because there were many different kinds of powers that made up a human being, and while Aura and mana were natural human powers, divine power was different. That power originated from a divine being, and if half of a person’s power was divine, they would cease being human.

They would be a demigod.

Thus, forty-nine percent was the threshold that separated humans from gods. But strangely enough, Arthus had almost surpassed that threshold, his divine power being 49.9 percent of his overall power.

This was a near-first for mankind, but unfortunately, most believers with divine powers weren’t aware of the secrets of how power functioned in their bodies.

Even Arthus hadn’t known anything about this until Janus had told him.

‘So even the Pope couldn’t get over forty percent, huh?’

According to Janus, even Pope Ross Borgia’s divine power from Irene had made up for only forty percent of his overall power.

However, even if the Pope had been lucky enough to gain more divine power to surpass his limit, it still wouldn’t matter since Janus’ and Irene’s divine powers were directly opposed.

In any case, Arthus was taking great pride in being the first human in history to obtain this much divine power. Having almost ascended to the status of a demigod, Arthus had gained an ability that only deities had—the ability to absorb faith from his own followers, who worshiped him like a god, an actual god.

Splash.

Arthus got up from the blood-filled bathtub.

With a gesture of his hand, the blood that had been dripping down his body, leaving crimson streaks, disappeared. He exuded a somewhat fruity scent.

That was also the power of a god.

“Dracan.”

“Yes, Sir Arthus.”

“It’s tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m really looking forward to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Henry, that guy, I’m sure he’s been preparing for the past month, desperate to somehow take me down... I can’t wait to see what kind of tricks he’s got in store for me.”

One month.

The reason Arthus had given Henry a month’s worth of time instead of ordering his apostles to get rid of everyone who was an encumbrance was simple—a meal was far more tasty after properly anticipating it.

In other words, Arthus was letting his food steam.

For example, freshly cooked rice was delicious, but it tasted even better if allowed to steam for a few extra minutes.

Moreover, Henry was perhaps the last fun Arthus could ever enjoy, because as far as he was concerned, Henry was the strongest man in all of Eurasia.

After he killed Henry, Arthus would no longer have anyone to entertain him. Everything following that would clearly be a piece of cake.

‘It’ll be a shame when the time comes.’

Since this could very well be Arthus’ last meal before his ascension to divinity, he wanted to make sure that it would be as delicious and exquisite as possible.

“Report to me our progress so far.”

“Yes, Sir Arthus.”

Dracan bowed and used his mana to unfold a map of the continent in the air. A large number of red and blue dots emerged on the map.

“The blue dots are us, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wow! My apostles have been working hard, haven’t they?”

“No, they are merely serving their great and almighty master, Sir Arthus.”

“Indeed. That’s what we made them for, right?”

“Of course.”

“Tsk, you used to talk back to me before, but now you’re completely obedient, aren't you?”

“I was ignorant before.”

“Okay, I guess... You’re behaving just fine now. Anyway, we’ve taken control of half... no, more like sixty percent of the continent.”

Arthus turned and stared at the map.

The blue dots on the map marked his followers, while the red dots marked the heretics.

Arthus’ followers were those who didn’t feel anything other than hunger and faith in him; they lived solely for his divine power.

Arthus and his apostles referred to those followers as blind believers. They acted like zombies, but they weren’t undead; they were actually living humans.

Faith only came from living people, so Arthus had no reason to kill them.

As Arthus listened to Dracan’s report, he thought to himself, ‘He’s quite talented, having come up with such an idea.’

Of course, it had been Dracan’s idea to brainwash all those people and turn them into blind believers.

Dracan had come up with a way to brainwash them after countless human experiments, and Arthus had used his power to transfer Dracan’s ability to the apostles.

As the apostles had traveled across the continent to spread the faith, they had managed to accumulate quite a large number of believers, just like the map suggested.

Thanks to the apostles, only forty percent of the people on the continent weren’t under his control, and twenty percent of them lived around Monsieur, where Henry had taken base.

“As you have ordered, we have left those close to Henry's territory untouched.”

“Good job. Anyway, he’s more dull than I thought, or maybe he was too busy to pay attention to his surroundings? I just hope that he was busy preparing for me, that he didn’t have time for anything else.”

“Well, then should we just proceed with our plan tomorrow, Sir Arthus?”

“No, I changed my mind. I’m going to see Henry myself.”

“Pardon? You will meet him yourself?”

“Yes, I’m getting impatient. Plus, they’ve been waiting for a month, so I think Henry will be more motivated if I cheer him on myself, don’t you think?”

“Indeed, that makes sense.”

“Great, then that’s that... Anyway, how’s he doing?”

“By he, you mean the demi-human?”

“Yeah, him.”

“I tried to breed him like you’ve told me, but all I could manage was preventing him from going berserk.”

“Haha, he’s sure got one hell of a temper. He must’ve come from hell or something. You’re constantly keeping him well-fed, right?”

“Yes, I’ve been feeding him mostly enhanced Chimeras.”

“Don’t be afraid and keep growing him. He’s bound to be useful.”

“Understood.”

The demi-human was the last surviving Chimera from Charlotte Heights following his encounter with Henry. He had been reborn from the corpses of his peers.

Over the past few weeks, this creature had devoured everything he had encountered on his way down the mountains. He had devoured not only the demonic beasts from the Shahatra Mountains, but also humans and blind believers.

He was unbelievably strong, and he was also evolving at a frightening rate.

He was the apex predator.

However, although he could have reigned as the supreme predator, he had made the foolish mistake of devouring the Arthus’ blind believers, those who gave him strength.

Noticing the decline in his divine power, Arthus had quickly sent his apostles to eliminate the culprit.

Although he was a self-sustaining predator, he was no match for so many apostles. They eventually captured him, and when they brought him to his knees before Arthus and Dracan, Arthus deemed him a demi-human.

Of course, he didn’t look like a human in the slightest, but just like all the other Chimeras, he had also been a human once, which was why Arthus deemed him to be a demi-human.

Arthus liked this creature quite a bit.

Not only was he the sole survivor out of the hundreds of Chimeras he had sent in Charlotte Heights, but he had also managed to grow stronger and evolve by feeding on the corpses of his comrades, which Arthus found commendable.

Thus, Arthus decided to breed him as much as possible. Given how much the creature had evolved on his own, in the wild, Arthus was eager to see how strong he would become if someone would nurture it.

On the last day of the month, the sun was setting...

***

A day had passed.

The day before, Henry had reminded everyone that the upcoming battle would be the final one, the battle that could very well decide the fate of the entire continent.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Henry had indifferently told them the blunt truth.

He reorganized his forces for the final battle of the continent.

This organization didn’t have a proper name. Henry had decided to give it a name only after they won the battle and wrote history. He simply called this new organization the Union for the time being.

Naturally, he was the commander-in-chief of the Union, and nobody argued with it.

Henry called the seven school heads who had recently awakened the 7th-Circle the Seven Sages.

In addition to the Seven Sages, the eleven vice school heads, who had just recently become Archmages, were also officially part of the Union.

Following Pope Ross’ death, the Saint was considered to be his successor, but due to the current situation, the position of ruler of the Holy City was still vacant. Nevertheless, she was still the highest authority in the Holy City.

Saint Irenae recruited the best holy warriors to join the Union, along with her Twelve Apostles, who were her advisors.

Herarion and Viram assembled all men left in Shahatra to form a new army.

Henry had made seven of the nine knights his personal guards.

In addition, Hoosler, the Warlock, Vulcanus, and Masila, the librarian, were undeniably among the best forces on the continent.

The Union didn’t recruit any common soldiers. Instead, they had brought the Chowan Tribe of Deucekain, who hadn’t been affected by the apostles, to guard Monsieur. The Union provided them with the finest armor available.

Of course, the Seven Sages, the Archmages, and Henry’s guards also received the best equipment out there.

The first light of dawn finally unfurled across the horizon.

However, the Union hadn’t let their guards down since the stroke of midnight. Arthus had told them they had exactly one month, but no one knew when exactly he would consider that one-month period to be over.

For that reason, the members of the Union had taken turns standing guard.

The sun was slowly rising over the horizon.

All the preparations were already complete.

The Seven Sages, the eleven Archmages, the nine knights, and the rest of the Union gazed at the rising sun, nervously awaiting the final battle.

However, they waited for a good few minutes and nothing happened.

But just then...

“Khaaa!”

“M-my back is!”

“Aghhhhh!”

Three people screamed—it was Valhald, McDowell, and Allen.

The three of them had kept their eyes fixed on the horizon, anxious like everyone else, but then they suddenly started screaming in pain.

The three of them desperately took off their armor as if it had caught on fire. Then, they hastily tore off their undergarments as well.

The wounds on their backs were visible through their torn tops. They were the humiliating marks left by the apostles a month ago. However, the wounds seemed to be fresh, pulsating, and they were letting off a smell of burning flesh.

Amidst the intense pain and the acrid smell of searing flesh, they spotted the visage that they detested the most in this world.

“Arthus!”

Their final enemy had arrived.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel