Miss Hebe Is Charging Through the Lostbelts! [43]

“Imhotep!!!”

Ozymandias finally realized fear.

He realized that if this continued, the ending awaiting him would be even more miserable than death.

Nefertiti was gradually about to overpower Ozymandias and become the ritual’s presiding force. Once she successfully ascended, Ozymandias would not be able to escape either.

For the Red King’s ritual was named “the tenth disaster that ends the Calamities of the Ennead.” This ritual symbolized Ozymandias conquering the Nine Calamities, thereby ascending into the Wasteland and becoming a new Consul.

If Nefertiti had not interfered, the Red King would naturally have been able to stop the disasters with ease—because the disasters had descended by his own will in the first place. Canceling them would only require a thought.

In other words, the Red King and the disasters were two sides of the same coin.

But Nefertiti had joined the ritual, giving the Ennead a second choice. More importantly, if Nefertiti became the tenth disaster, that meant the Red King, who represented the previous nine disasters, would in turn become the object to be conquered.

It was almost like a sacrifice bound to the altar turning around and offering the cultists conducting the ritual to an evil god instead.

An utter reversal of order.

Yet Ozymandias no longer had the strength to stop it.

He could sense that the war in the Wasteland was already on the verge of deciding victory and defeat… After Holy Grail withdrew from the competition, Remnant Wolf, facing the heavy blows of multiple Consuls, looked even less able to hold on alone.

To become the foundation stone for a dead person and suffer eternal torment? To Ozymandias, he might as well die.

The instant he made his decision, Ozymandias did not hesitate in the slightest. He chose mutual destruction.

He had no intention whatsoever of making any compromise.

“If thou canst stop me, then by all means, try again!” Ozymandias laughed savagely. “For all Upper and Lower Egypt to die for me is only fitting!”

The effects of God of Medicine were a drop in the bucket now, and would even help Ozymandias die faster.

After his death, the secret rite of ascension would fail.

The Calamities of the Ennead bound by it would sweep across all Egypt and truly destroy everything.

Ozymandias stared with satisfaction at the staggering girl. He had to admit that his grand design had actually been ruined by such a tiny insect. No matter how many venomous words one used, they would not be enough to describe the hatred in Ozymandias’s heart at this moment.

This god-king, who had once called himself the sun, now cursed everything with unrestrained delight.

“Imhotep, why dost thou no longer try to stop me?”

Ozymandias knew he would die, and so he had no more scruples. He even cast aside the dignity that belonged to a king.

“Had I accomplished my unrivaled Great Deed, my subjects would never have suffered this calamity, and all Egypt would have ascended into the Wasteland to become an eternal kingdom. I would have enacted the law of the sun in the Wasteland… Yet thou hast destroyed my grand design and guided Egypt’s fate into the abyss!”

“In other words, those sufferers died because of thee! Imhotep, thou art the truly stupid and wicked treacherous minister, a sinner who should have thy organs devoured by scarabs, be buried beneath raging sands, and be remembered by no one…”

Ozymandias was, after all, Crimson Star. Even as he gradually fell, his curse was still extremely effective.

Hebe coughed violently. Fragments of her organs sprayed from her mouth and nose, rotting away the instant they entered the air. Her fingers, too, gradually turned to sand, as though they might be scattered by the wild wind at any moment.

Ozymandias’s curse continued.

He did not hate only Hebe. He had already realized that without help, she could not have smoothly escaped Memphis, much less successfully come before him.

And that traitor was the King of Rams, whom he had deeply trusted and even entrusted with important duties!

How dared he betray him? How could he betray him?!

From that perspective, Ozymandias’s hatred for the King of Rams even exceeded his hatred for Hebe.

“Khnum, thou too art a treacherous minister of the highest order!” Ozymandias’s voice spread from the sky like a wild gale. “Thou shalt suffer lightning’s strike, the sun’s scorching, and the punishment of being torn apart by raging winds, and die together with the rebels of Memphis!”

“And you, Nitocris. Outdated, ancient, feeble little god of the netherworld…”

Perhaps because he was speaking of a pharaoh older than himself, Ozymandias’s voice turned somewhat grave, but there was not the slightest hesitation in the sound of his curse.

…

Memphis was a military capital. It maintained a considerable standing army, formed from the eldest sons of noble and commoner households.

The King of Rams had drawn away all the troops, leaving only a very small number of guards in the city to maintain order.

It was precisely because of this that, when Hebe sent the Sanctum of Silence to relocate the civilians, they encountered not the slightest obstruction.

Under the King of Rams’ command, this army had arrived at the destination ahead of time and set up camp.

Waiting at their leisure, they intercepted Nitocris by the seashore.

Across the banners, the King of Rams cast his gaze from afar. He was still draped in that ragged dark robe, his eyes burning quietly like flames.

Nitocris’s dress fluttered in the wind. Her face was deathly pale, her expression cold. She said nothing at all regarding the ten thousand elites before her.

The female pharaoh was still holding that obsidian mirror in her arms. Her hand tightened slightly around its edge, as though she would flip it over in the next moment.

The King of Rams raised his hand and issued his order with utmost calm.

“Entire army—lay down your weapons.”

Nitocris’s body went rigid. She saw no small amount of unrest break out even within the army, but Temehu nobles such as Sekanahat swiftly brought the turmoil under control.

And so they all laid down their weapons and removed their defenses.

The King of Rams lowered his head slightly. “These are the final blood descendants of Egypt. Please accept them, Your Majesty Nitocris.”

It was as though he had foreseen this day long ago.

There were many soldiers. Drawing them all into the mirror would be no small difficulty.

More importantly, inside Nitocris’s mirror, there already existed an Abydos, along with the entire population of Memphis.

It was like pouring water into a cup already on the verge of overflowing. The slightest carelessness, and all previous efforts would be lost.

And at that moment, Ozymandias’s curse descended from the sky in a vast torrent. With his voice came the furious roar of wild winds resounding in the clouds, and a thousand violent, terrifying rays of destruction were about to fall.

Anxiety and despair appeared on Nitocris’s face. The curse had come at far too critical a moment, and she was in the middle of unfolding her Great Deed, unable to mount any effective countermeasure.

Yet a low voice suddenly rang out.

“Female pharaoh who governs magecraft, wonders, and the netherworld, do not worry. Unfold your Great Deed as you will…”

That pale ram’s head swayed, shedding red, scalding tears of blood.

There was a barely perceptible tremor in his voice, as though he were enduring immense pain. “Before I die, not a single bolt of lightning will fall before you.”

“Khnum!”

From within the clouds, Ozymandias’s furious roar came faintly. He began to reclaim the King of Rams’ Authority, thereby forcing him back to his original form.

That tall, thin humanoid body hunched over. He shook his head and brayed loudly.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

A clear sound of shattering came from above the King of Rams’ head.

Hideous cracks spread from that ram’s head, covering his entire body at an extremely rapid speed.

And yet the Authority belonging to the King of Rams was bound within this fractured body, unable to return to Ozymandias’s control.

That ragged dark robe burned away. Beneath the shattered shell, a ram somewhat shorter in stature, yet covered from head to toe in mighty muscle, stood upright like a man.

If the previous King of Rams had seemed more human in appearance while giving off an even stronger sense of alienness, then the ram now was closer to a ram, yet gave one a feeling of closeness and trust.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” the ram said quietly. “I am not Khnum. The true Khnum, who governed the wisdom of forging, has long since died completely.”

“I am only Heryshaf, lowly and empty-handed save for strength.”

…

“Heryshaf… Heryshaf?!”

Ozymandias’s roar shook the sea of clouds.

How could it be Heryshaf?

…

In Egyptian myth, Khnum was a ram-headed, human-bodied creator god who possessed wisdom. He shaped the bodies of infants from clay, allowing them to be born into the world.

In later changes to the myths, Khnum was even regarded as a “craftsman god” who created the gods, his status noble and his honors supreme.

Whether in the city-states along the Nile or in the Obsidian City of Heliopolis, there were temples dedicated to Khnum.

Heryshaf was wholly different. In myth, aside from possessing strength, he had nothing at all.

He had no authority to create all things, knew nothing of forging or the wisdom of transformation, had no noble status, and did not even have a single temple dedicated to him.

Heryshaf’s only commonality with Khnum was perhaps that they were both ram-gods.

But how exactly had he deceived Ozymandias for so many years after the true Khnum’s death?

…

The destructive radiance came following the mark of the curse.

And Heryshaf merely gripped the Authority that belonged to the King of Rams. He was trying to use the King of Rams’ ruined body as fuel, melting the Authority down and forging it anew.

Blazing flames climbed up his arms, licking at the ram’s flesh and blood. Yet he remained unmoved, chanting loudly in the Hyksos language.

“Norton’s miracle, first forging: whip that scourges all sin.”

A striking light shone from his hands. In less than a moment, the Authority and ruined body of the King of Rams changed together.

Within the radiance, it gradually became slender, like a long whip, while spikes like brass knuckles extended from the grip.

But Heryshaf did not stop there. In his view, a once-forged weapon could not withstand the curse.

Before the iron staff’s form had fully emerged, Heryshaf had already scattered his own flesh and blood upon this once-forged weapon, chanting softly in Phrygian.

“The edge of Saint Verethragna, second forging: sword that slays kings.”

The long staff in Heryshaf’s hands changed again. A deep golden sphere of light appeared at the guard, then slowly spread to both sides.

As that light moved, the weapon became more savage. Its tip began to bloom with a terrifying edge, and from the blade rose a sharp killing intent, as though it would cut all things apart.

With a single swing, it cut a sharp opening through the clouds in the sky.

Yet Heryshaf was still reciting. His voice was low and gentle, seemingly in some language from the land of Canaan.

“When He comes, who can stand? For He is a refiner’s fire, and the fuller’s soap. He sets firm the foundations of the earth, establishes the dome of heaven, renews all things in the world, and lets nothing decay… final forging: Staff that Shakes the Gods.”

In countless nights that had been far too clear, Heryshaf had imagined the scene of this day’s arrival.

Several hundred years ago, whenever he thought of this moment, the flesh and blood throughout his body would tremble without end. Just imagining it made his blood surge.

After that, his heart had grown anxious in torment. He had worried about gains and losses, yearning for liberation to arrive while fearing the true coming of that day.

But when this moment truly arrived, his heart became incomparably calm.

The mighty ram raised that heavy, pitch-black long staff.

His bones were groaning beneath an unbearable burden. His muscles were splitting and bleeding. Blood mixed with sweat gushed from every pore.

Heryshaf, Heryshaf, mighty ram—at this moment, what was in your heart?

In that instant, by some miracle, the ram’s mind recalled the final time he had seen his father.

His all-powerful father had brought him to the temple dedicated to Geb. Under that god-statue’s gaze, he had taught him the threefold forging incantation word by word.

“Remember it, child. But before that crucial moment arrives, you must never use it.”

“By the god Geb above, I will die tonight, but you must become the new Khnum and deceive His Majesty’s eyes and ears. Child, you will become the hero who saves the world, though the price is…”

Just as when Hebe used the Sword in the Stone, this long staff held the will of Skyflint. How could one swing it without paying any price at all?

Yet Heryshaf laughed with lively bravado. He finally knew that this was something only he could do.

Because he was the only god of strength upon this beloved land of Egypt.

And a god of strength was synonymous with a hero.

Heryshaf swung his arm and hurled the long staff toward the sky.

Flames surged out from the hollow in the clouds, sweeping in every direction, burning the sky the color of fire in an instant.

Ozymandias’s final curse vanished like smoke before Skyflint’s mighty power.

Satisfied, Heryshaf fell backward, laughing like every hero in myth.

Then he made no sound again.

…

Ozymandias knew that he had lost. Lost utterly and thoroughly, with no possibility left of turning the tables.

For the sake of a prophecy whose truth was unknown, someone had actually managed to restrain their own nature, abandon a long life, and disguise themselves completely as another person… Fuck. Even though Ozymandias hated “Khnum” to the extreme, he still had to admit that Heryshaf was indeed worthy of the name of hero.

Ozymandias’s life was draining away rapidly. He stared at Hebe as she gradually turned to sand, his tone mocking.

“I must admit, I have indeed been defeated by insects such as you. But because I have lost, dost thou think that means you have won?”

“The mighty power of the god Geb has its limits in the end. When my life reaches its end, an unprecedented disaster will sweep across all Egypt.”

“Now, thou who hast overdrawn thy Marks cannot possibly reproduce a Great Deed again. Imhotep, go to the netherworld and weep as thou reflectest upon thy errors!”

What answered him was Hebe’s calm gaze.

The girl struggled to hook up the corners of her mouth, showing the mad god-king a smile.

Then illusory pansies flew up against the sea of clouds, sweeping over the great temple like a tide.

In Hebe’s gradually dimming field of vision, words only she could see shone bright: [AVALON: THE EVERDISTANT UTOPIA]—the blueprint leading to the future, the lamplight that illuminates darkness, the key that opens hope.

That was the greatest reward she had obtained in the War of the Roses, a Great Deed that could only be released once she became Daylight again.

[AFTER THE FOURTH HISTORY, ALL GREAT DEEDS HAVE BEEN SUPPRESSED AND ERASED BY THE PRESENT WORLD. BUT EXCEPTIONS STILL EXIST, AND THIS IS NOT THE ONLY ONE. BEFORE YOU REACH DAYLIGHT, THIS GREAT DEED SHALL REMAIN SEALED.]

[CURRENT IDENTITY IMHOTEP HAS REACHED DAYLIGHT.]

[GREAT DEED RELEASED.]

Hebe extended her hand. At some point, the blue-green flames had already vanished.

The flesh and blood of her arm fell away like sand, leaving only white bone.

“No, no, no… How canst thou have two Great Deeds—who are you really?” Ozymandias screamed hoarsely. “I would rather die! I would rather die than become a stepping stone for a dead woman… Never!”

Ozymandias could sense that his spirit-body, which had nearly dissipated, was miraculously gathering again. Even his ruined body was gradually being repaired.

But the more this happened, the more terrified Ozymandias became.

This king, who had declared that he would stand equal to the gods, no longer had a shred of majesty left. All that remained was endless despair toward an ending worse than death.

Hebe staggered forward a few steps and leaned weakly before the gate of the shining great temple complex. Against the temple’s outer wall, her body gradually slid down.

“I am Ozymandias. My peerless great work dares make Heaven bow.” Hebe’s voice was very soft, but she knew Ozymandias could hear her.

As she spoke, she laughed aloud. Yellow sand flowed out from the girl’s skeletal chest cavity and scattered into the sea of clouds without a trace.

The sun rose from the far end of the horizon. Daybreak broke, and the light of dawn stretched vast.

So beautiful.

“The timing is perfect,” Hebe said. “Please ‘ascend,’ Your Majesty.”

This is a fan translation of 赫柏小姐正在杀出异闻带！ by 青散人 Rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!