Chapter 144: I have already picked up that very first napkin!

A new chapter unfolded in Orario.

The first wave of the biohazard had already passed. Under Roland’s far-from-ordinary strength and with the assistance of numerous first-tier adventurers who remained largely uninjured, the festering situation was quickly brought under control.

However, the dawn had not yet fully arrived.

Beneath the sunlight, the ancient city was still prowled by monsters transformed from the dead.

They hunted for any lingering traces of life, wandering through the surrounding streets. They could be seen everywhere, and occasionally, one could spot zombies that had once been adventurers—beings possessing physical prowess far superior to ordinary humans—leaping and darting across the rooftops.

Compared to ordinary zombies whose numbers could be managed, these elite adventurers were the nightmare of the survivors.

After all, for the fearless zombies, there was no need to care about their own injuries; landing an attack meant victory. Consequently, these adventurer zombies often possessed the ability to fight opponents above their own rank, making them exceptionally troublesome.

At this moment, an adventurer far faster and stronger than the others, whose Ganesha mask had not yet been removed and who had been renowned in Orario during life, was being pinned underfoot by a single figure.

He was still struggling fiercely, attempting to raise his arm to attack the human stepping on his spine, the sharp virus crystals at his fingertips emitting a chilling glow in the light.

Yet his end was nothing more than serving as material to inspire the heroes.

"Keep moving forward! Form up with the elite adventurers at the core. These guys, whose strength at most reaches Level 4, cannot possibly be our opponents. As long as your formation holds, the elite adventurers will clear these obstacles for you."

Roland shouted loudly.

Receiving his orders were the troops composed of low-level adventurers. Armed with standard-issue spears, they crowded closely around the variously equipped first-tier adventurers.

These weapons were also drawn from the stockpiles within Babel. Rather than letting the adventurers use weapons they might each individually favor, Roland had deliberately demanded that they use spears.

Dungeon monsters and zombies were two completely different categories. The mere facts of them being humanoid creatures and highly infectious were enough to trip up many adventurers.

Thus, out of consideration for efficiency, having these adventurers use spears proved far more effective.

Distance was a crucial factor in inspiring courage. When separated by a safe distance and backed by teammates, let alone seasoned dungeon adventurers, even ordinary people hastily organized into a militia would dare to step forward and thrust a few times.

With first-tier adventurers acting as the fallback, the clearing of Orario's inner district, centered around Babel, was proceeding in full swing.

"Understood!"

The low-level adventurers encouraged themselves while fiercely thrusting their spears forward toward the staggering zombies, driving them home with all their might.

Compared to a conventional army, the attacks delivered by adventurers created a visual impact beyond imagination. The heads of quite a few zombies were directly pierced, accompanied by the distinct sound of shattering bones.

Although these zombies were devoid of consciousness, in essence, it was merely the virus manipulating their bodies in place of their minds; both the brain and the heart remained fatal weak points.

"We did it!"

"Long live the Hero of the Sword!"

"Die, all of you! I'm going to drive you bastards out of Orario, not leaving a single one behind!"

Before long, joyful cheers erupted from squads all over, immediately followed by an immense sense of accomplishment.

Yet these emotions quickly transformed into blind worship of the hero.

The more severe the times, the more prevalent blind hero worship became. Were the zombies truly that strong?

Aside from the special individual cases created when a few elite adventurers were infected, ordinary zombies fell far short of Dungeon monsters in terms of raw power.

Otherwise, Roland would never have been able to rescue so many people yesterday. This was all the more true for a fantasy-tinted world like DanMachi.

The elite adventurers who had gathered at Babel yesterday were essentially uninjured. At Level 5 and above, one couldn't even find any casualties; had they not been so unlucky as to be infected before the outbreak, the possibility of these people contracting the virus was virtually nonexistent.

Yet people were inherently afraid of the unknown.

Even knowing that failure was unlikely on their part, as long as the possibility of infection existed, unease was inevitable.

And Roland’s role was to act as the banner that dispelled that unease.

He achieved this through stable order, an efficient formation, and absolute power. Naturally, he garnered the most attention.

Even the gods were happy to see this. At a time like this, a glowing beacon of hope was simply too important.

"The zombies aren't so tough after all... As long as Lord Hero is here, we should probably be able to clear out a main thoroughfare today."

"Compared to that, the more important thing is to head to the Dungeon for an expedition! It's rare for all the first-tier adventurers to be gathered here. If we don't seize this moment to launch an expedition and eliminate the mastermind, what are we going to do when the next disaster strikes?"

"…I think we still need to deliberate carefully. Right now, we can only be said to have the upper hand. Committing all our elite combat strength to an expedition is far too much of a gamble. If we suffer losses, the situation will become completely irreversible..."

Amidst the heated atmosphere, a hesitant voice had yet to finish speaking when fists from the surrounding crowd abruptly cut him off.

"Bang—!"

"This is the wish of Lord Hero of the Sword! What qualifications do you have to question him?! You brat must be an enemy!"

"Enemy! Damn it! An enemy, beat him!"

Before long, the crowd fell into chaos due to conflicting ideologies, and the advance of the troops was forced to grind to a halt—until several first-tier adventurers gathered together to rescue the unfortunate fellow who had been mobbed.

"Counting the two times yesterday, this makes the third time this has happened."

Finn walked over to the silent Roland and sighed.

"Your prestige right now has completely surpassed that of the deities. Not only are the common people sparing no effort to praise you with every beautiful word imaginable, but anyone who disagrees with your views even slightly faces ostracization. Right now, they have begun to think entirely with you at the center."

"So what if they do?"

Roland exhaled softly and smiled.

"As long as my actions themselves do not stem from pure selfishness, you will still stand by my side, won't you, Finn? That much, at least, I can guarantee to you. I did not give birth to the idea of an expedition out of a pursuit of fame and glory."

"Everything I do is to resolve this disaster and aid the world itself. Even the idea of an expedition is a measure I have judged to be absolutely indispensable."

The simple sense of justice carried in those words caused Finn to swallow back the questions he had been about to voice. He looked into Roland's eyes, which were devoid of even a trace of gloominess.

For a moment, the two stood in mutual silence.

This quietness was broken only when Finn took the initiative to speak.

"I understand. Although I still have my doubts, I trust you. However, even if the majority supports you, there will always alternative opinions existing, just like today."

The civilians rescued by Roland constituted the majority within Babel, but as Finn had said, during a disaster, it was impossible for everyone to be of one mind. Especially in a fantasy world like this, even though Roland had reached the pinnacle of popularity, there still existed those who remained aloof and detached from the masses.

Gods were beings that chased amusement. In Orario, pure benevolent factions often failed to reach the pinnacle precisely for this reason. When a disaster first struck, the gods would indeed panic; yet once the situation began to stabilize, it wouldn't take long for certain deities to develop a intense fascination with this novel zombie apocalypse.

For gods who loved comparison, the thrill brought by continuing to revel in such an environment was ten, or even nine times more exhilarating than in times of peace.

Coupled with the heavy losses Orario had suffered and the massive reshuffling of the Familia factions, it was inevitable that certain gods would begin to grow restless.

"Although these people lack any real power, they certainly know a thing or two about dragging people down. At today's General Meeting of the Gods, they are likely going to make trouble."

"Mere clowns."

Roland hooked the corner of his mouth into a sarcastic smile.

"The reason I have worked so hard in this disaster is precisely because the person who picks up the napkin must be a figure revered by all."

Roland looked at Finn with sparkling eyes, an unquestionable weight carrying through his words.

"And now, I have already picked up that first napkin!"

"No one can stop the Grand Expedition anymore. Because, as the fermentation of worship and the daily decrease in fear toward the zombies take hold, the entire Orario has become like a powder keg primed and ready to blow. This is no longer merely my personal will, but the great momentum of the era!"

"Indeed... Hero."

Finn remained silent for a moment and said flatly. His attitude was unexpectedly calm—rather than saying he had anticipated this all along, it was more accurate to say that from the very beginning, he had always stood firmly on the side of rationality.

Compared to merely maintaining the status quo, eradicating the mastermind first suited his preferences far better. Hidden beneath Finn's seemingly diminutive stature was a madness that others had never managed to glimpse.

He looked at Roland, as if wanting to say something more, but both of them suddenly shifted their gazes toward the distant urban district. A surge of energy, dazzling beyond any light in this world, erupted violently and shot straight into the sky.

Without needing anyone to remind him, Finn understood the meaning behind this phenomenon.

"That is..."

"A god's return to Heaven... At a moment when the situation is beginning to stabilize, a god encountered a life-and-death crisis and was automatically sent back?"

Roland gazed at the roiling power within the pillar of light, a cryptic smile playing on his lips.

"How interesting."

—

"Fels! Endure a little longer, I've found the key!"

Dionysus looked at the young girl before him with a hint of madness, carefully raising a long needle stained with purple crystals and piercing it into the girl's fair skin.

The Apocalypse Virus, having found a host, rapidly began to spread. However, the moment the infection expanded to the size of half a palm, Dionysus promptly withdrew the needle, halting its proliferation.

"A true masterpiece..."

He gazed with infatuation at those murky purple crystals, wearing a smile akin to that of a devoted stalker. Yet he did not remain dazed for long; quickly grabbing a flask from nearby, he poured its contents down the throat of Fels, who had been infected with the Apocalypse Virus.

As the cap was unscrewed, a wondrous aroma began to emanate from the flask, carrying a temptation unlike any wine in existence.

This was divine wine, brewed exclusively by the gods themselves. If Roland or any member of the Soma Familia were present here, they would realize a startling fact.

The divine wine in Dionysus's hands possessed an even greater allure than Soma's. Although both were gods of wine, no one in Orario would have ever imagined that Dionysus, usually so obscure, could craft divine wine superior to that of Soma, who was obsessed with brewing.

That fragrance was enough to captivate not merely adventurers, but even gods themselves, plunging them into intoxicating oblivion.

Yet this impactful revelation paled in comparison to what was happening to Fels. After drinking the entire flask of wine, the scale of the viral crystals on her body actually began to shrink slowly. The traces of the virus reverted to their initial state and gradually peeled away.

Only two days had passed since the Apocalypse Virus had begun to spread, yet this deity had relied on his own craftsmanship to create a product with effects similar to a vaccine. If word of this got out, even that Hero of the Sword's renown would be overshadowed.

Fels thought this silently, though she knew Dionysus would never voluntarily expose this fact.

For who could have guessed that the seemingly peaceful Dionysus was actually an unadulterated evil god, even among the Evils?

Long before today's disaster broke out, he had already reached an agreement with that monster currently residing on the fifty-ninth floor, which was why he had remained safe and sound throughout this catastrophe.

"Compared to before, the Apocrypha Virus seems to have undergone a wondrous change... Once the mid-stage is reached, the effect of the divine wine vanishes completely, as if the virus has thoroughly fused with the host. The state of the mind also becomes irreversible, turning them into those zombies outside."

Dionysus rested his chin in his hand, meticulously studying the completely vanished traces on Fels's body and her increasingly drowsy eyes, where even sentience was fading.

"I have a feeling that this is not simply the effect of the Apocalypse Virus itself, but rather something else utilizing the virus as a host, altering the victim's mental state bit by bit."

Although he knew nothing of the existence of the Second Spirit, as one of the earliest collaborators with the Apocalypse Virus, Dionysus was still able to unearth certain clues.

This was the reason why, up until now, he had not gone to Babel, but had instead hidden himself alone in this secluded room to conduct experiments.

He believed that the zombie-like mental state was not merely a final destination, but rather an intermediate product of something attached to the Apocalypse Virus running its course.

If so, by allowing it to complete its thorough transformation, would he be able to witness its true face?

Dionysus was intensely curious about this.

This was also why he continually infected his own Familia member, Fels, with the virus, only to cure her once mild symptoms appeared—engaging in this horrifying cycle over and over again.

Fels's increasingly deteriorating mental state was the best testament to the mutation occurring within the Apocalypse Virus. Even though she had not yet reached the point of losing consciousness, her condition was worsening step by step.

Finally, after the sixth cycle, despite not a single trace of the virus remaining on her body, Fels slipped into a state identical to that of the zombies outside.

"Roar—!"

Subconsciously, she lunged toward Dionysus before her, attempting to attack, only to be firmly restrained by the chains on the wall.

Before she could enter the final state, Fels completely lost consciousness. Yet this seemingly failed outcome instead brought a delighted smile to Dionysus's face.

He turned his head to look at the shadows behind him.

"Your turn, the other Fels."

Hearing her master's summons, a second Fels with a complex expression looked at her own split-off clone. Sighing helplessly, she finally sat down before Dionysus.

When a living being's consciousness was pushed to its absolute limit, their mind would completely dissolve, and the remaining portion of their soul would be usurped by the virus. It was impossible to pull out whatever lurked latent within the Apocalypse Virus using just a single individual.

However, by utilizing a clone magic capable of dividing life force, stats, and even distinct personalities into two, it became possible.

By turning the minds of two living beings into zombies, fusing them into one, and then carrying out the final experiment—even the most resilient soul would be driven to the brink of collapse under such manipulation.

Yet, even knowing her own end, Fels showed no desire to resist. For someone turned into a freak like her, the meaning of living in this world had long since vanished. Dying like this might actually be a form of liberation.

Nearly half an hour passed. Under Dionysus's meticulous handiwork, the re-fused Fels emitted an intense glow from her magic stone—which represented her vital signs—making her look as though she were on the verge of shattering.

Her consciousness was chaotic to the extreme, and her physical body felt as if it were about to break apart.

Yet, upon witnessing this scene, Dionysus wore the smile of a mad scientist.

"It is complete. This is the last time!"

Under his expectant gaze, Fels's magic stone shattered completely, yet no special wave of energy was released. Just as he approached the statue-like body in confusion, intending to touch it, a sudden anomaly occurred.

"Puff—!"

To Dionysus's utter disbelief, Fels's physical body inexplicably turned into a puddle of pale orange liquid, spilling onto the ground and gradually spreading toward his feet.

"Is this... that being lurking within the Apocalypse Virus?"

Dionysus wanted to examine it closely, but he found that the puddle of orange liquid seemed to possess a life of its own, rapidly climbing up his body and surging into his mouth and nose.

The instant that pale orange liquid touched him, Dionysus understood its true identity.

It was life—living in its purest form.

Though his mouth and nose were covered, Dionysus felt no sensation of suffocation. On the contrary, he felt countless emotions welling up within his heart: elation, pity, agony, defilement, and purity.

He quickly realized that these were not the emotions of a single god alone, but included those of Fels as well. The psychological distance between the two of them had never been closer, transcending even the gap between mortal and god, as if he, too, had returned to the primordial origin just like Fels.

Wait... returned to the primordial origin?

"No, Fels...!"

As if realizing something, Dionysus frantically tried to grab at the orange liquid covering his face, but how could a mortal ever capture flowing water?

"You cannot do this! You cannot do this! I have already found the truth of the world, and the entire Lower World will be transformed because of me... I am your companion, not an ene—"

He frantically argued with the void, as if trying to salvage something, but his voice ultimately cut off abruptly.

In the end, Dionysus's body fell limply to the ground, completely enveloped by the orange liquid.

The next moment, within that tightly shuttered room, a pillar of light suddenly soared into the sky. While burying the truth completely, it also heralded the fall of a deity.

(End of this chapter)