Chapter 23 Truth About The Swarm
When my eyes fluttered open, the first thing I noticed was the ceiling—smooth wooden beams, latticed frames, and paper sliding doors painted with faint strokes of mountains and cranes.
A washitsu… a traditional Japanese room.
My heart skipped. This place… it felt familiar, achingly so, as though I had stepped into a fragment of my old world.
The faint scent of tatami mats and brewed tea filled the air, calm and nostalgic, yet out of place.
“Are you finally awake?”
The familiar voice drifted from behind me—gentle, feminine, yet carrying an calm tone that pressed against my chest. I turned my head, and there she was.
The goddess.
She sat gracefully by a low lacquered table, steam curling from the porcelain cup in her hand. Every movement she made was unhurried, deliberate, as though she had all the time in existence. When her eyes met mine, they softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
“Nice to see you again, Eiji.”
Moments later, I found myself seated across from the goddess at a low table. The faint aroma of tea lingered between us, steam rising in delicate spirals. She set her cup down with graceful poise and fixed her gaze on me.
“I saw what you did, Eiji,” she said softly, her voice carrying both warmth and authority. “I’m very proud of you—for helping those villagers.”
Her words made my chest tighten with a strange mix of embarrassment and pride. I gave her a small smile and scratched my cheek. “Well… it is my duty to help them, right? Hehe.”
She chuckled lightly, covering her mouth with her sleeve in a way that seemed far too elegant. “I suppose so.”
A beat of silence passed before curiosity got the better of me. “So… am I dead?”
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with amusement. “No. You’ve simply fallen unconscious.”
“Really? Oh thank God.” I exhaled in relief, slumping a little. “But wait—how am I even talking to you right now? And don’t I need to be at an altar to do that?”
“Normally, yes,” she replied with a serene smile. “But thanks to your mana, I can speak to you directly.”
That caught me off guard. “My… mana? What do you mean by that?”
Her expression shifted to one of mild exasperation, as if remembering something important. “Ah… of course. You never did stay long enough for a proper explanation, did you?”
I gave her a confused look. She sighed, setting her cup aside and folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“Well then,” she said, her tone turning firm. “Since you’re here, I suppose I’ll explain everything you should have known from the beginning. Listen carefully.”
“Uh… sure,” I replied, sitting up straighter.
“The reason I can speak with you now without the use of an altar,” she began, “is because of your mana capacity.”
“My… mana capacity?” I repeated, tilting my head.
“Yes.” She nodded once, her eyes glinting.
“Apparently, during your battle with the Molgurath, your mana grew stronger. Strong enough that I could sense it even from the divine realm. Normally, when a mortal wishes to communicate with us gods, they must pour a staggering amount of mana into an altar just to catch our attention. And even then, only those with sufficient reserves can succeed.”
I blinked. “So… what does that make me? Are you saying my mana is really that enormous?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes. Enormous. I don’t know how, but even now, I can feel it growing.”
I kept my expression neutral, but inside my mind the truth slipped out. That’s probably because of my Non-Stop Cultivation skill that just awakened.
I sat back, struggling to process it all. She gave me a moment, then leaned forward slightly, her voice softening as though to make it clearer.
“Perhaps an analogy will help. Think of an altar like… a phone from your world. Humans use it to ‘call’ us. If the person’s mana—let’s call it their ‘signal’—is too weak, the call never connects.
But you…” Her smile widened. “Your body produces so much mana, you’re practically a walking Wi-Fi tower. ”
I blinked again, stunned into silence. Then, after a long pause, I muttered, “…Since when did you get so knowledgeable about cellphones?”
She giggled, a light sound like wind chimes. “From your world, of course. Where do you think I got the idea for this room?” She gestured casually to the washitsu around us.
I let out a long sigh. “…Right. Should’ve guessed.”
Another thought crossed my mind, and I leaned forward. “So… is there anyone besides me you’re able to contact without an altar?”
Her smile faltered, replaced with a hint of disappointment. “No. The only people I can communicate with are priestesses… and one of your classmates. But they still require an altar.”
“I see…” I muttered. My brow furrowed. “Wait—which one of my friends are you able to talk to?”
She hesitated for a moment, then answered, “It’s your friend… Aiko.”
“Aiko!?” My eyes widened. “Well, I guess that’s not really a shocker. She was always volunteering at the church near her house. It makes sense she’d be the one who could talk to you.”
The goddess nodded, her smile returning. “Yes. Apparently, one day she asked a priestess if she could help with the duties of the church. While assisting her—”
I raised a hand, cutting her off with a sigh. “Let me guess. The priestess discovered Aiko has strong mana capacity, enough to communicate with you.”
The goddess chuckled at my interruption. “Exactly. You catch on quickly.”
“Well, she’s not the type you’d expect to slack off when it comes to religion,” I said with a small laugh.
The goddess giggled softly, her golden eyes warm. “I can see that. She always comes to talk to me whenever she has free time.”
I smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Then my tone shifted, the weight of what I’d seen pressing down on me. “Goddess… can I ask you a question?”
She noticed the change immediately, setting her teacup aside. “Of course. What is it?”
“It’s about the Molgurath and the Groomcroaks. That wasn’t just an ordinary swarm, was it?”
Her playful demeanor faded into solemn silence. “So, you noticed.”
“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward. “It’s true that amphibious creatures like them would search for new territory. But why target a lake already inhabited by demi-humans? There were other lakes the same size out there. Why ignore those? Why choose that one?”
Her voice hardened, carrying a weight that made my chest tighten. “It’s simple. Because they are not natural beasts—they are weapons of the Demon Lord.”
My eyes widened. “The Demon Lord…?”
“Yes,” she said, her gaze steady. “During the war nine hundred years ago, he used creatures like the Molgurath and Groomcroaks as gatherers to strengthen his power.”
I frowned. “Strengthen his power? How? What could they possibly gather?”
She exhaled deeply, as if the words themselves were bitter. “Tortured souls.”
A chill ran down my spine. “Tortured souls?”
The goddess folded her hands in her lap, her tone now grave.
“The Demon Lord discovered an ancient spell—one that predates even the gods’ commandments.
Its purpose was to convert agony into power.
You see, a soul is more than life essence.
It carries memories, emotions, and scars.
And the strongest echo left behind is suffering.
When someone dies in terror, pain, or despair, their soul fractures.
That fracture radiates energy… and he found a way to harvest it. ”
Her golden eyes dimmed as though remembering old horrors.
“He called it the Abyssal Well. The more souls filled with anguish that were gathered, the deeper that well became, granting him a near-limitless supply of corrupted mana. “He did not create the Molgurath and Groomcroaks to serve as soldiers in his army,” she said gravely, “but as catalysts. Within each of them, he implanted a cursed object—an ancient core that twists the laws of the soul. Every time a Molgurath or Groomcroak kills, the victim’s soul does not ascend to the heavens. Instead, it is dragged into the core and absorbed, feeding directly into the Abyssal Well.”
Her voice lowered, each word heavy with disgust. “And with their unnatural ability to lay massive quantities of eggs, their numbers never dwindled. They multiplied without end, each generation carrying that same cursed core. Every life they took, every soul they consumed, all of it funneled back into the Demon Lord’s power. ”
clenched my fists. “So every villager, every animal that died suffering… all of it was feeding him?”
Her expression grew sharp, voice trembling with restrained anger. “Yes. That is how he rivaled even the gods. With each tortured soul, the Abyssal Well deepened. With every scream, he grew closer to immortality. That is what nearly brought the world to ruin nine hundred years ago.”
Then, without warning, my body began to glow, a strange warmth coursing through me. My eyes widened in shock as I looked at my hands. “W-What’s happening to me?”
The goddess set her teacup down, her expression calm yet tinged with knowing. “Ah… it seems your body is waking up.”
I blinked, still caught off guard. “Waking up…? So this is it, huh?” I let out a small smile despite the unease.
She nodded gently. “Yes, it looks like it.” Then her lips curved into a faint smile. “Oh—before I forget, there’s something important you should know.”
I tilted my head, curious. “What is it?”
Her golden eyes softened, but her words carried weight. “Some of your friends… they are walking the same path as you. Sooner or later, you may cross paths again.”
My heart skipped. “Really? Heh—” I smirked, leaning back slightly. “Well, I wonder how strong they’ve gotten.”
She giggled at my confidence, then shook her head. “That, you’ll have to discover for yourself. But remember this—” her tone grew more serious, “—with the strength I sense from you now, you might already be ten times stronger than they are.”
The glow around me flared brighter, my form beginning to dissolve like dust in the wind. I looked at her one last time and gave a nod. “Then I’ll see you again, Goddess.”
Her smile lingered as the room faded away. My vision blurred, swallowed by a brilliance that turned everything into nothingness.
When I finally opened my eyes again, the first thing I felt was softness beneath me. I wasn’t on ice, or stone, or mud—but on a bed. A real bed. I blinked a few times, letting the dim light of the room come into focus. The ceiling was wooden, the walls plain but homely. It was… someone’s house.
Before I could fully gather my thoughts, the door creaked open. Sylendra stepped inside, her emerald hair swaying gently, a warm smile on her face. “Ah, you’re awake. Good morning,” she said softly, relief evident in her tone.
I managed a small smile back. “Morning.” My voice came out hoarse, but steady enough.
Not a moment later, heavy footsteps followed. Sir Darruk entered, his towering frame filling the doorway. His beard bristled as he let out a booming chuckle. “So, our hero’s finally awake.”
I sat up a little straighter, giving him a polite nod. “Good morning, Sir Darruk.”
“Morning, kid,” he replied, folding his arms with a satisfied grin. “Did you sleep well?”
I stretched my arms, still stiff but surprisingly light after everything. “Yeah… better than I thought I would.” Then curiosity struck me. “Wait—how long was I out?”
Darruk raised a brow, as though testing if I was ready to hear it. “About three days.”
My eyes shot wide open, and I practically shouted, “T-THREEM DAYS?!!”