Wraith King — Part 2
This doesn’t make sense.
Why São Paulo? Why not Seoul?
In Arcane Seoul, São Paulo held little significance.
Sure, Elder Smoke God Poca resided there, but that was it.
If a nuclear war ever broke out, it was one of the first cities that would be obliterated.
‘Could this be a betrayal?’
Did the High Priest stab the Saintess in the back?
No, impossible.
No matter what the Dark Jaguar Cult did, they couldn’t take on the Mama Quilla Cult alone.
And the Mama Quilla Cult?
They couldn’t even handle the Poca Cult.
[Comprehension] [Cold Rationality] [Brilliance] [Focus]
I activated my intelligence-based traits, ones that enhanced my cognitive processing.
I needed to figure out their plan.
I needed to get inside the Saintess’s mind.
Otherwise, I’d be dragged along by their schemes—only to end up as prey for the Old Father.
‘The secret alliance between the two cults must still be intact.’
Both the Old Father and the Dark Jaguar needed each other.
And their goals were clear.
Resurrection.
Both the Old Father and the Dark Jaguar dreamed of being fully revived.
‘Are they sacrificing São Paulo?’
That didn’t add up—the Old Father’s Cult had no real foothold in Brazil.
Brazil wasn’t as powerful as South Korea, but it was still a regional superpower.
A small, scattered branch wouldn’t be enough to pull this off.
No, I needed to shift my perspective.
Not from my own viewpoint, but from the Old Father’s Cult and the Saintess’s.
The Seoul terror attack had ended in complete failure.
The Old Father’s Cult had achieved none of their strategic objectives.
The assassinations, the social upheaval, the attempt to incapacitate the government—everything had failed.
And what about the zombie crisis?
Because of my interference, all four key components of the outbreak had been crushed.
At this point, even if the Dark Jaguar Cult mobilized everything they had, they wouldn’t be able to trigger a true zombie crisis.
At most, it would be a zombie incident.
A mere storm in a teacup.
If I were the Saintess, the logical choice would be to move to Plan B.
Save the Dark Jaguar Cult for later, or deploy them elsewhere.
‘I should’ve asked why they were heading to Seoul.’
I had assumed they were coming to trigger the zombie crisis.
No, that wasn’t it.
This was a decoy operation.
The Wraith King’s descent was happening in São Paulo.
Meanwhile, the Dark Jaguar Cult was in Seoul.
Even if their numbers were small, the High Priest and his priests could still orchestrate a large-scale terror attack or unleash a significant zombie outbreak.
The zombie sightings already spreading across the internet were proof enough.
With the High Priest dead and the priesthood wiped out, it was obvious that the pre-prepared zombies had lost their handlers and were now rampaging through the streets.
‘I need to head to São Paulo.’
The Saintess’s Plan B was the resurrection of the Dark Jaguar.
I had mentioned it before—
Poca was still a child.
As an Elder God of reincarnation, he could directly intervene in the world, but the downside was that after dying and reincarnating, he was powerless until he grew again.
The Dark Jaguar Cult was being used as a distraction.
By drawing the Poca Cult’s attention elsewhere, they could summon the Wraith King, amass a wraith army, trigger large-scale chaos—
And then, the Old Father’s Cult could abduct Poca.
Even if the other Elder Gods intervened, it would already be too late.
By then, Poca’s divine seat would have been stolen, and the Dark Jaguar would have been resurrected.
[Manager Choi. I’ve heard reports of zombie sightings in Seoul. Look into it—don’t leave it all to the government.]
[Understood, Sword Star.]
After sending the message, I got up—then paused.
Right.
I couldn’t use the Red Cougar right now.
I had no choice but to rent a private jet.
There weren’t any direct commercial flights to Brazil in this world either.
And after flying in the Red Cougar, even an advanced aircar wouldn’t feel the same.
A high-end private jet for superhumans was the best option.
“It’s an honor to have you aboard, Sword Star.”
A sharply dressed CEO-slash-pilot bowed deeply.
“I’ll ensure you have a comfortable flight.”
“Skip all that. Just get me there as fast as possible.”
“Of course. No need to worry—we operate the fastest aircraft in the world. We’ll be cruising at Mach 2 for a smooth journey.”
The aircraft was reminiscent of the Concorde.
Sleek fuselage, sharply pointed nose.
The Concorde had terrible fuel efficiency and limited range, but this private jet was different.
It was capable of flying the full 18,000 kilometers to São Paulo nonstop.
Guaaaang!
All thanks to its magitech engine.
The same technology used in high-end aircars.
It ran on a mana core—
But each flight cost an obscene amount of money.
A single trip? Easily in the 10 billion won range.
‘An international taxi ride for 10 billion…’
Mana core consumption.
Crew salaries.
Maintenance costs.
It all added up.
Was it a ridiculous price? Absolutely.
But at Mach 2, it was worth it.
It still stung, though.
‘If only the Red Cougar were working…’
Maybe I should just buy my own aircraft.
A supersonic fighter, or at the very least, a personal jet.
With my traits, I could probably fly at Mach 4 or Mach 5.
I’d look into it once this was over—maybe see if the South Korean government had any leads.
Kwaaaaang!
The jet cut through the sky.
It was fast.
A regular flight, with layovers, would have taken at least 25 hours.
But with this?
I arrived in just eight hours.
The private jet rental service had even taken care of my immigration paperwork in advance.
The CEO-slash-pilot approached me with a polite bow.
“Thank you for choosing our service. Just say the word, and we’ll take you anywhere.”
“Yeah. Good work.”
Getting back wouldn’t be an issue.
I could just use the Ring of Grand Escape.
A single-use item, absurdly expensive, but still cheaper than a 10-billion-won flight.
A sleek black limousine was already waiting for me on the tarmac.
Another courtesy from the private jet rental company.
I was responsible for the rest of the itinerary.
The chauffeur greeted me as I entered the limousine, while the local assistant in the front seat checked her tablet.
“Hello, Sword Star. I’ll be assisting you during your stay in Brazil. My name is Marcia Sampaio.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You have a scheduled meeting with the Bishop of the Poca Cult in São Paulo in 30 minutes. Would you like to make any changes to the schedule?”
“No changes. Let’s go now.”
“Understood. I’ll take you to the São Paulo Grand Temple.”
The Mama Quilla Cult had a vast domain and a unique structure.
It was divided into five sects, each responsible for a specific region.
Brazil was under the Poca Cult’s jurisdiction.
Meeting the Grand Patriarch himself was impossible.
I anxiously fiddled with the insignia hanging from my chest.
‘If I were a Paladin of the Mama Quilla Cult, I’d get a free pass.’
Think about it—if I went to the Thor’s Cult or the Gaia’s Cult, I wouldn’t meet an Bishop.
I’d be speaking with the Pope directly.
But I had no real ties to the Mama Quilla Cult.
I hadn’t done anything significant for them during the Great Rift.
“We’ve arrived.”
“Thanks. Wait outside.”
Nothing ever went exactly as planned.
It would be great if the Poca Cult’s Bishop accepted my request, but there was a good chance he’d just brush it off.
Given the current circumstances.
That meant I needed to move to Plan B.
During the eight-hour flight, I hadn’t just been killing time.
After waiting briefly in the reception room, the door opened, and a portly Bishop with a kind expression entered.
“It is an honor. For the Stigmata’s Protector to request an audience—this is truly a pleasure.”
“I’m Warrior Kim. It’s an honor to meet you.”
They called me the Stigmata’s Protector here, too.
Not surprising.
If the Great Labyrinth was under the protection of the Thor’s and Gaia’s Cults, then the Great Rift was the domain of the Mama Quilla Cult.
And the Protector Alliance.
Even the United States had invested significant resources into it.
“I heard you briefly visited the Great Rift before. Ha-ha, our brothers at the local branch had hoped to meet you, but unfortunately, you left before they could.”
“I was in a hurry. But I have great respect and appreciation for the Mama Quilla Cult. After all, you’re the ones holding the frontline against the Great Rift.”
“You flatter us. We are merely fulfilling our duty as the servants of the Moon.”
The reason the Protector Alliance’s headquarters was in the Great Labyrinth and not the Great Rift?
All thanks to the Mama Quilla Cult.
If the Great Rift ever overflowed, they would send an Elder God to slaughter the invaders.
Of course, that didn’t mean there weren’t casualties—
Just look at Kali’s grandmother.
For a while, we exchanged small talk.
As impatient as I was, this was unavoidable.
This was aristocratic politics.
And as a level 7 superhuman, I was essentially nobility myself.
I had to play by the rules.
Especially when dealing with the priests of the notoriously conservative and rigid Mama Quilla Cult.
“That aside…”
After some time, I finally steered the conversation to the real issue.
“There’s a reason I came all the way to São Paulo.”
“Yes, I’m sure. A man as busy as you wouldn’t travel without cause.”
The Bishop studied me closely, signaling for me to continue.
“You may already know, but yesterday, I fought the High Priest of the Dark Jaguar Cult in the Eastern Pacific.”
“Wait. The High Priest of the Dark Jaguar Cult?”
“Yes. I have evidence.”
I had confiscated several magical artifacts from the High Priest—valuable items that priest-class superhumans would pay a fortune for.
They were all safely tucked away in my golf bag.
The Bishop’s expression turned serious.
“I heard rumors that the cultists in the Amazon launched an aircraft. The Brazilian Air Force tried to intercept it, but… tch. Seems like there were cult sympathizers among them, causing delays with pointless discussions. I did confirm that you dealt with those heretics, but… was that really the High Priest’s faction?”
“Yes. I’m certain. And the High Priest used a rather unusual power.”
“Hah, I see. No need to show me the evidence. Our god has already delivered a divine message.”
“A divine message?”
“Yes. That the Dark Jaguar Cult has been eradicated. Just like those wicked Sky Serpents before them. Didn’t they already fall into decline centuries ago? Only a handful of blood-mad fanatics still worship the Sky Serpent. And now, with their High Priest, their three Grand Priests, and their main priesthood all dead—well, the Dark Jaguar Cult will meet the same fate. You did well. Exceptionally well.”
The Bishop beamed with satisfaction.
Huh. This might actually go smoothly.
“But I also uncovered some critical information while dealing with them.”
“Information? What kind?”
“The High Priest didn’t leave Brazil without a plan. He had already set things in motion in São Paulo.”
“Set things in motion?”
“Yes. According to what I know, the Wraith King is about to descend upon São Paulo. You know what that means, right? It might have already descended and begun amassing a wraith army.”
“Hah! The Wraith King, you say?”
The Bishop frowned.
The Wraith King was a high-tier undead.
If it fully manifested, it would reach demi-god status.
Far beyond the likes of a Death Knight or a Lich.
“This city is personally watched over by our god. Do you truly believe such a creature could exist here?”
“A city watched over by a god doesn’t mean it’s a divine kingdom. The Wraith King could be lurking in the shadows anywhere.”
Even São Paulo had slums.
It had landfills.
Places where the city’s inevitable accumulation of negative thoughts, dark-dimensional mana, and pollutants gathered.
Such locations were perfect for the undead—especially for the Wraith King.
If not regularly purified, disasters would occur.
I looked at the Bishop and spoke with firm insistence.
“This is confirmed information. You must investigate.”
“Hah…”
The Bishop’s face twisted into a frown.
He was clearly hesitating.
I could see right through him.
The [Comprehension], [Cold Rationality], and [Brilliance] traits I had equipped allowed me to read his true thoughts with ease.
So I pressed him again.
“You must investigate. Do you think I flew all the way here—rented a private jet, no less—for no reason?”
“…Tsk.”
The Bishop clicked his tongue.
“Fine. If the Stigmata’s Protector insists, I will see what I can do.”
“I appreciate it.”
Unbelievable.
I was warning him that his own religious sanctuary, his own nation’s capital, was in danger—
And I still had to beg for him to take it seriously?
But honestly, I had expected this from the start.
Right now, Poca was a child. Unawakened.
There was no way they would listen to a mere warning.
Their only concern was guarding and serving Poca.
City purification?
A descending Wraith King?
None of that mattered.
What did matter?
Their living god was growing by the day.
If they had the manpower to investigate the city, it was better spent worshipping Poca.
Hearing his voice.
Looking upon his face.
Basking in the divine aura surrounding him, believing it would grant them a ticket to paradise.
An Elder God walking the earth in physical form.
Proof of an afterlife made manifest.
That intoxicating combination had blinded the Poca Cult completely.
“Useless.”
I sighed as I exited the reception room.
They had just made this much harder than it needed to be.
Then again, if Poca had been fully awakened, São Paulo wouldn’t have even been a target in the first place.
Time for Plan B.
São Paulo’s population was around 30 million—more than twice that of my original world.
Naturally, there were dozens of potential locations where the Wraith King could appear.
Well… nothing to do but search them one by one.
The longer I took, the larger its army would grow.
Before I knew it, the sun had begun to set.
A crimson sunset spread across the sky.
By now, my limousine should have been parked outside.
Beside it, my local assistant for the day—Marcia, a typical Latina woman—should have been waiting.
But something was wrong.
The limousine was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, a red sports car was parked in its place.
And leaning against it—
“You!”
A freckled face.
An ordinary, unremarkable appearance.
But the black-and-gold breastplate she wore, the mana wavelength perfectly adjusted to match my level 7 signature, spoke volumes of her true identity.
“This makes three times now, doesn’t it?”
She smiled.
Choi Juhee, the Paladin of the Old Father’s Cult, smiled.
The Saintess.
Standing before me.
Smiling coldly.
–TL Notes–
Tired of seeing Ads? Then please support me on Patreon! Any tier of subscription will make it so you won’t get any ads!
If you want to support me or give me feedback, you can do it at patreon.com/InsanityTheGame
Join my Discord! https://discord.gg/BWaP3AHHpt
Ah fuck
damn