Chapter 159
Temple.
A sanctum built to enshrine a divine being.
A place erected to revere someone godlike.
‘Ahheta funneled all death into this place.’
He could feel it.
A death so vast it defied comprehension.
In the past, humanity had challenged this place countless times—and failed.
They had tasted despair, unable to overcome the wall that was Anubis.
Which meant—
‘…I’m the first.’
Even in the distant future, it had been impossible.
Yet now, having returned to the past, he had succeeded.
Although it hadn’t been a frontal breakthrough, simply stepping inside the temple brought an overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
And he wasn’t completely ignorant about the Temple of Death either.
‘The orcs’ memories. The tale of Priest Yan.’
Back in the Dungeon of the Messenger, when he had taken Han Shin’s scheme—
He had unsealed the orc priest Yan and consumed the [Ten-Thousand-Blood Elixir] that contained the life and resentment of ten thousand orcs.
Since then, the orcs’ spirits had remained with him, sometimes whispering what he needed to know.
Just like now.
Sssshhh—
Like guides appearing on cue.
Ethereal orcs manifested before him.
It seemed this temple allowed the souls of the dead to take form.
The orcs soon opened their mouths, as if pleading.
—Ahheta turned our world into a sea of fire.
—We lost the war against the ‘Legion of Death’.
—Uncountable deaths led by Anubis!
—Afterward, Anubis imprisoned us inside this ‘temple’.
—But even ‘Anubis’ is nothing more than a corrupted monster!
—The true master of the Temple of Death isn’t Ahheta either.
After dying, the orcs had been trapped in this ‘temple’.
They were forcefully sealed by Ahheta and Anubis.
The fear was so deep, their ghostly bodies trembled visibly.
Then, another orc stepped forward.
“O one destined to become the Master of Death.”
A presence far more distinct than the others.
Seeing the staff in his hand and the respectful bow, Park Chan-woo responded.
“It’s been a while, Yan.”
The priest Yan who had once guarded the barrier.
His appearance was unexpected.
He had assumed Yan had completed death after blooming the Flower of Life.
Back then, he had been a gaunt necromancer with only bones left. But now, he bore the whole of his living form.
“Yes. It has been a while. And… you’ve already entered the Temple of Death.”
“Guess I was lucky.”
“No, I always believed you would reach it eventually.”
“Since you’ve appeared, I assume this is a feature of the temple. Am I right?”
“Yes. The ‘Temple of Death’ forcibly manifests souls. It’s a very dangerous place. That’s why the living cannot normally enter. You were right not to bring the soldiers in.”
The soldiers.
He must’ve meant the evolved examiners—those reborn from death.
Park Chan-woo tilted his head.
“Why not?”
“If they had stepped into the temple, the influence of ‘death’ would have surged beyond control. The Flower of Life would have withered, and they would have reverted to ‘Anubis’s’ control. I suspect you sensed this instinctively and left them behind.”
…Indeed.
No matter how far they had evolved into [Arc Warriors] or [Arknights], once they awakened to life, they could no longer step into the ‘Temple of Death’.
If they had forced their way in, they would’ve reverted to their previous selves—and become enemies once more.
That had been a dangerously close call.
Had he entered with the soldiers, he might’ve been decapitated then and there.
One simple choice had saved him.
“It wasn’t instinct. Just happened to work out that way.”
But Yan immediately disagreed.
“No. From what I’ve seen by your side, ‘Master of Death’, you paradoxically possess a strong survival instinct. It’s the mark of a true ‘Creator’—someone who endlessly weaves stories and sings of life. That will and instinct of yours… are truly transcendent.”
Hearing that, he gave a dry laugh.
All they were doing was dressing up his desperation to survive in fancy words.
Anyway, if these orcs had taken form—
‘Then all the other dead must exist here as well.’
He now understood the message that had appeared when he entered the temple.
A place where the souls of all the races Ahheta had annihilated were imprisoned.
Those spirits must have been forged of nothing but resentment and hatred.
They couldn’t be compared to these orcs.
“…If Ahheta isn’t the true master of this temple, why is he so obsessed with guarding it?”
“The Temple of Death is Ahheta’s most important ‘treasure vault’.”
“There are treasures buried here?”
“More precisely, countless things that can be used in the Abyss of Creation are produced here. The [Ten-Thousand-Blood Elixir] was one of them. This place allows one to forge souls.”
Forging souls.
Manifesting them. Giving them form.
Just like how the lives and souls of ten thousand orcs were sealed into an elixir.
Park Chan-woo stroked his chin.
‘If any alchemist saw this, they’d be drooling.’
Now he understood why Anubis had been made the gatekeeper—to prevent anyone from breaching this place.
The value of this temple was astronomical.
It possessed an infinite worth greater than even a whole world.
Yan continued.
“But its most important purpose is the ‘creation of life’.”
“…Is Ahheta trying to make homunculi?”
“This temple is a graveyard of countless species. Races personally destroyed by Ahheta, or those who lost in the war against the ‘Twelve Species’, or in the ‘Species War’, all died and ended up here. And now, Ahheta is attempting to create a counter-race to oppose the Twelve.”
Is that even possible?
Creating an entire race?
That was a far cry from mere artificial life.
Was he trying to become a true god?
“What lies at the end of this temple?”
“…We don’t know. All we remember is despair. We’ll guide you as best we can, but…”
Boom!
Boom! Boom!
Suddenly—
Something nearby thundered violently into view.
“…Orcs?”
Park Chan-woo narrowed his eyes.
They were clearly orcs.
But not any kind of orcs he knew.
Monsters, fused together from many orc bodies.
“When souls mix chaotically, this form is what emerges. A chimera. Perhaps they were once orcs… but now they’re nothing more than wraiths, having lost all orcish pride.”
—We are great warriors!
—Move aside!
—Protect Lord Park Chan-woo!
The orc spirits that had taken form began to fight the chimeras.
Their numbers kept growing.
And when they reached ten thousand, the sight was awe-inspiring.
‘This is a real war.’
But the orc chimeras weren’t comparable to normal orcs.
A single chimera could handle fifty regular orcs.
“We’ll escort you as far as we can.”
“Yan. What happens if you die here?”
“We vanish.”
“…What?”
“Our souls will never reach the true ‘sky’ of the Abyss. We’ll be shattered here and cease to exist.”
The Ninth Heaven of the Abyss.
Yan called it the ‘true sky’.
If they couldn’t reach it, even the [Reaper of Souls] couldn’t claim them.
In short—
‘Eternal erasure.’
They would be gone.
Forever.
“Please don’t worry. We’re not afraid of vanishing. What we truly fear… is returning here again, forgetting everything, and despairing once more. Losing the pride of the orcs.”
Yan pointed his staff at the chimera.
No trace of orcish pride could be seen in those monsters.
Once, they too had wandered the temple just like this.
“We are only liberating our comrades. So please, do not worry. In fact… thank you for giving us this chance.”
Yan’s expression hardened.
This was the only chance to free the orcs.
Even if they were all erased, they had to ignite the souls of as many as possible.
So that none would suffer anymore.
With the escort of ten thousand orcs, Park Chan-woo advanced through the temple.
How far had they gone?
Screeeeech!
Screeeaaak!
A massive orc chimera—unlike any that had come before—appeared.
It radiated the presence of hundreds, maybe thousands of orc souls fused together.
Seeing it, Yan’s voice trembled.
“L-Lord…!”
The priest and orcs could only murmur in disbelief.
Orc Lord!
—Our king!
—Ah… why?
—How could you be devoured by death?
The master of the orcs.
The absolute guardian that all orcs once followed.
He had been consumed by death—and became a monster.
Now, devoid of reason, he endlessly absorbed orc souls.
But he had once been brave.
An indomitable orc who knew neither defeat nor collapse.
Yet even he couldn’t withstand the despair brought by the ‘Temple of Death’.
Gritting his teeth, Yan clenched his staff.
“Grant the Lord peace!”
—Peace!
—Liberation!
All the orcs charged forward with resolute determination.
But—
Boom!
Ruuuumble!
Their attacks didn’t land.
The Orc Lord stomped once—and a hundred orcs vanished on the spot.
…It was overwhelming.
Honestly, he couldn’t even guess what level that thing was.
It was hard to believe it was even an orc.
It felt like staring at one of the legendary ‘giants’ spoken of in myths.
“…Forgive me. It seems I haven’t been much help.”
Yan lowered his head.
He had tried to guide Park Chan-woo as far as possible, but their limit had arrived sooner than expected.
Even ten thousand orcs were barely a drop in the ocean in this ‘Temple of Death’.
And now their enemy was the Orc Lord.
A monster that had absorbed countless souls and was now even more powerful than in life.
Even with Yan joining the battle, they couldn’t win.
This was as far as they could go.
“Tch. Pathetic. You giving up already?”
At that moment—
A familiar voice came from behind.
“…You are…?”
Yan tilted his head at the figure.
It was an orc he had never seen before.
But Park Chan-woo immediately recognized him.
“…Kankun.”
Smeek!
“It’s been a while, my comrade.”
Orc Master Kankun!
The one who had climbed to the summit of the Tower of Arrogance with him.
The one who had given Park Chan-woo his heart and died.
Now, he had returned—shaped from spirit—and stood before him once more.