“Monster? Yes, I certainly am a monster. I had no choice but to become a monster. After all, it takes one to kill one.” - Cin Coperus, speaking to Pope Ignis III, in the year 603 A.C.
The birds were chirping. The cool forest air caressed my skin. The smell of pine soothed my senses. The world was calm. Yet I wasn’t. For I could still
remember the terrible presence of the man now standing before me. Although he had not unleashed it yet, the mere memory still smothered me. “Why-
why are you here?” I croaked. He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t I just say why? I’m here to have a little chat with you.” Sitting down on one of the fallen
logs, caused by my earlier mad rampage through the forest, he placed his hand on his chin and stared at me. “Your father seems like an asshole.” He
said. I stared at him. “Why didn’t you kill us?” I asked nervously. He smiled. “Why do you think I didn’t kill you, Corin?” I was silent for a moment. Why
was he here? Why was he asking me that? Opening my mouth, I said, “I don’t know why. Lord Vitar, the God of Healing,” He snorted at that title, but
didn’t say anything, so I continued. “Said that it was probably because my courage impressed you.” The God of Death looked at me. “Do you believe
that’s why I spared you?” I hesitated, before shaking my head. “I really have no idea.” He nodded. “Well, you are correct in not believing what Vitar, the
‘God’ of Healing, claimed.” He stressed the word God, as if mocking that title. “The real reason I spared you Corin, is simple.” He smiled at me, clearly
amused. “I never planned on killing you in the first place.” I stared at him in shock. The God of Death never planned on killing us? Then what was that
terrifying presence for? As if reading my mind, he answered. “It was just a prank. I saw three kids and thought I’d play a little joke on them.” My jaw
dropped. ‘He almost gave me a heart attack as a joke?’ The God of Death started laughing at my expression. “Oh man.” He said, wiping a tear from his
eye. “You should see your own face.” “Why are you here?” I asked again. He stopped laughing, and stared at me with a playful expression on his face.
Clearly, he was about to say something ridiculous again and was eagerly awaiting my reaction. It would have seemed cute, had he been anyone else.
But all I could feel was fear. “Corin Rivum.” He said with a false serious tone. “How would you like to become my disciple?”
“What?” I asked stupidly. “How would you like to become my disciple? And no, I’m not joking right now.” He repeated. I blinked in confusion. ‘Become his
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
disciple?’ The disciple of the strongest man on the planet, who wouldn’t want to be that? Except that man was a maniacal mass murderer, wanted by
every single nation on the continent. “Wouldn’t that make me a heretic?” I asked the first thing that came to mind. He nodded. “Oh, yes it would. But
sacrifices must be made to achieve true strength. Besides, you don’t strike me as the most pious person, which is the only reason I’m even asking you
this in the first place.” He said in a mockingly grave tone. It was true. I wasn’t the most pious of people, despite going to an academy run by the Church.
As a noble, I had grown up learning about the political relations between my country and the Church, which made it rather difficult for me to be
completely faithful. “Why would you even want me as your disciple?” I asked. “Afterall, I only have a Deacon ranked core.” He gestured at me to take a
seat on another fallen log. Reluctantly, I did so. “Tell me what you know about mana cores.” He said. Gathering my thoughts, I replied “Mana cores are
ranked according to size, these ranks being in order from smallest to largest; Deacon, Priest, Bishop, Archbishop, Cardinal, Pope, Saint, and God.” The
God of Death nodded. “Each rank has twice as much mana as its predecessor. A Deacon rank core, when expelling mana at a normal rate, can last for
at most a minute, while a God ranked core can last for 128 minutes.” In other words, Makus, with his God ranked core, had 128 times as much mana
as I did. Seeing that the God of Death was making no signs to stop me, I continued my explanation. “Some cores have affinities, allowing the use of
magic of that affinity. Finally, it is possible to go through multiple Baptisms, granting someone multiple cores. These cores are always the same rank as
the core granted in the First Baptism, but can have different affinities.” I finished my explanation. “Correct.” The God of Death spoke. “Now, tell me
Corin. What rank do you think my core is?” I thought for a moment. Remembering the dreadful pressure he had created as a ‘prank,’ I was certain that
the amount of mana he had had to be tremendous. “God ranked?” I asked. He shook his head. “Nope. Actually, although it is called a God ranked core,
only one ‘God’ has one currently. The rest have lower ranking cores. Guess again.” I thought for a moment. “Saint ranked?” I asked. If he had a Saint
ranked core and had undergone multiple baptisms, then it would make sense that his total mana could surpass the amount of mana a God ranked core
provided. He shook his head yet again. “This is kind of a trick question, so I’ll give you part of the answer.” With the air of someone about to say
something incredibly provoking, he stared at me with a playful smirk. “When I underwent my First Baptism, and all subsequent Baptisms, I gained a
Deacon ranked core.”
Silence. Absolute silence. I could not believe what I had just heard. ‘The God of Death… has a Deacon ranked core?’ It made no sense. Unless he had
undergone hundreds of Baptisms, it made no sense at all. “So, how about it?” His voice brought me out of my thoughts. “Want to become my disciple?”
I thought for a moment. The man sitting in front of me was the worst criminal in human history, a man who had killed tens of thousands. He had started
an era of fear and bloodshed that had lasted 300 years. He was, without a doubt, a monster in human skin. Yet he was also the strongest. ‘It should
have been you.’ I remembered every loss, every defeat. My desperate struggle to prove my father wrong, to prove the world wrong, to prove myself
wrong. Yet it was all futile. No matter how hard I tried, how hard I fought, there was no overcoming my weakness. Did I want to become the disciple of
this monster? I smiled. “Yes. Yes I do, master.”