Mob MC 1.1

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Chapter 1.1. The Prologue Is An Epilogue!

It was a room devoid of light. The walls and ceiling resembled obsidian, emitting no light whatsoever. If there were any light sources, they would be absorbed, and not allowed to illuminate this room. It was a room filled with an eerie air that conveyed a sense of malevolence.

A black mist spread throughout, obscuring the view into the depths of that room. Describing it as a room might be odd, for its depth was likely around a kilometer. An endless expanse of pitch-black world stretched out, silence being the sole inhabitant.

There was no design on the walls or ceiling, and no furniture occupied the space. If one strained their ears, faint and eerie voices, thin yet ominous, carrying pain, hatred, and resentment, could be heard as if from nowhere, mingling with the background noise.

Everyone would conclude that this space was something sinister. Even if it were an ancient building of historical value, people would unanimously agree to destroy it. Such was the nature of this room.

For hundreds of years, the room had marked time without anyone visiting.

Yet, light illuminated this place where no one had set foot for centuries. A magic circle, drawn with glowing blue symbols, emerged on the pristine floor.

As the magic circle shone brightly, a figure materialized at its center. The figure, which hadn't been there before, was draped in a robe, with even the face concealed by a hood.

The magic circle seemed to have fulfilled its purpose and gradually faded away, losing its light.

Without surprise at the disappearance of the magic circle, the figure began to walk. The black mist that had filled the room seemed to move as if it had a will, attempting to envelop and enclose the figure.

This cursed mist stole the vitality of fools who entered the room, transforming them into the deceased. It was a dreadful trap that even dissolved bones.

The polished floor and ceiling, resembling obsidian, were not made of obsidian; they had been polished and turned into a jet-black material with human blood. It was a room crafted from the remains of tens of thousands of corpses. That was the sinister truth of this jet-black room.

The trap of death lunged at the figure, attempting to drain its vitality. However, something mysterious happened. As the mist touched it, the figure absorbed it 

Still, the mist continued to assail the figure unabated. The mist that filled the vast room wriggled like slime, slithering towards the figure with a viscous movement. Eventually, all of it was absorbed into the figure and vanished.

"So, this mist was treated as magic, huh? Too bad, Dark attributes get absorbed, my bad."

The figure spoke, offering an apology, though their tone lacked genuine remorse. Shrugging their shoulders, they walked through the darkness where the mist had disappeared, as if they could see perfectly.

Upon reaching the center of the room, they extended their hand into the air. Strangely, an array of sword, spear, gemstone, necklace, and numerous items materialized in the air and rained down onto the ground. They all emitted a divine light, harboring a potent power that could purify even this malevolent room.

"Oops, a failure, a failure."

The figure formed a wry smile and haphazardly arranged the scattered items into a circular pattern. Despite the items' divine nature, the figure treated them nonchalantly, akin to treating them as mere toys. With preparations complete, they once again raised their hand into the air.

In their palm, a pulsating heart appeared. The heartbeat is in a dark red rhythm, harboring an eerie sensation and resembling a crystallization of malevolence.

Yet, the figure paid no mind to this mass of evil. They placed it at the center of the circle.

Raising their hand, they gazed into the air and began to chant in a resonant voice.

"-Use- the Heart of the God of Destruction, -Yes-, -Yes-, -Yes-..."

As the peculiar incantation concluded, the entire room glowed red, illuminating the surroundings. A grotesque and malevolent magic circle, reminiscent of bones assembled around a heart, appeared. It began destroying numerous Sacred Artifacts.

Mystical spears snapped, and sword radiating divine light began to rust. The shimmering gemstone turned to stone, a serene necklace that emitted a gentle aura shattered.

With each item losing its power, the heart pulsated strongly, intensifying the aura of darkness that enveloped it. As all items shattered, the ground trembled, and the heart floated upward. The elevated heart transformed the surrounding darkness into bones, then into flesh, and finally into skin.

Thus, it underwent a metamorphosis into a colossal giant that reached up to the sky. Clad in obsidian armor, adorned with an exquisitely designed toga, its four arms, each thick as a log and composed of muscles that seemed about to burst, gripped swords and spears enveloped in an aura of malevolence, so potent that merely looking at it would make one shudder.

Twisted horns, reminiscent of a ram's, sprouted from its head covered in snakelike hair. Each strand of hair was a snake, and its face bore 3 vertically elongated, reptilian eyes that gleamed like gold. Mammoth-like tusks protruded from its mouth, and its breath exhaled a mist-like miasma. Then 10 bat-like wings adorned its back, and its body measured a staggering ten meters in height.

The monstrous entity hovering in the sky was undeniably malevolent, an existence that should not exist in this world.

With a sinister gaze, it turned to the robed figure and spoke in a voice that sounded like a scratched glass, sending a shiver down one's spine just by listening.

"Well done, for resurrecting me. I'm Ashtaroth, the Demon God born to destroy this world. Let me spread darkness across this world and bestow the night of magic upon all living beings."

"Heh, so, Ashtaroth, are you completely resurrected? Or is it an incomplete revival?"

The figure placing a hand on their hip, the figure inquired without showing any reverence towards Ashtaroth. Despite the figure's nonchalant attitude, Ashtaroth's face twisted with annoyance. Still, it considering that the figure resurrected it, Ashtaroth tolerated the attitude and responded.

"Yes. I'm fully resurrected. I'm overflowing with mana within this body and unchanging magical power from ages past. I'm completely restored. That's all thanks to you for using all the artifacts that sealed me for the resurrection ritual. You deserve praise."

Scattered around were weapons and accessories that had been the artifacts sealing Ashtaroth. It was a surprise even for Ashtaroth, a Demon God, that someone could gather all these artifacts and resurrect it in its complete state.

That's because only about half of the artifacts had been assembled during its previous resurrection, rendering its power incomplete. It could only destroy half of the world, and then humans had sealed it anew using artifacts they'd created with the power of gods.

However, now Ashtaroth's power was complete. With this, it could lay waste to the world and reshape it into a domain of magic under its control. The Gods no longer existed in this realm, their power merely floating in the world like air.