Phillippo’s voice turned cold in an instant, annoyance filling his tone as he opened his narrowed eyes slightly, staring back at the ogre. The deep green eyes that shone briefly resembled the compound eyes of an insect, despite his otherwise human appearance. It made Phillippo all the more unsettling.
“Oops, my bad,” he said. “People tend to get freaked out when they see that, so I usually keep it hidden.” Phillippo quickly squinted his eyes again.
“I see. Those eyes are a symbol of the Blessing of the Insect God,” the ogre said with a nod, seemingly understanding. “And as for who told me about you, well, that’s simple enough. You can get any information you need by torturing prisoners.”
“… Ah, I get it now,” Phillippo said. “So, you’re the one who wiped out several of our units. Man, you really caused me some trouble. I was on vacation, you know? And then I get dragged out here because of you. I’d appreciate an apology. War is so much work, and I hate having to work.” Phillippo complained with exaggerated gestures, looking at the ogre with a mixture of annoyance and resentment. Though his mostly closed eyes made his face hard to read, the rest of his demeanor conveyed his feelings clearly.
“By the way, Mr. Ogre, you have a Blessing too, right?” he continued. “Which God gave it to you? I can guess the general type because of your dark aura, but I can’t pinpoint the specific deity. Hmm, considering you manipulate blood and create those Black Skeletons… I’d say it’s likely the God of Yomi or the God of Bone Fields. Am I close? Or am I way off?” Phillippo inquired.
The ogre didn’t say anything.
“Ah, the silent treatment. I guess you don’t want to tell me. That makes sense. If I weren’t so famous, I’d keep my Blessing a secret, too. Oh well. It doesn’t matter who your Blessing is from right now anyway.”
Phillippo smiled wryly at the silent ogre as he pulled three glass tubes from his pocket. Inside each tube were countless grotesque insects, a mix of white spiders and worms, writhing and pressing against each other.
“These are called Undead Soldiers: Andero, which I created using a combination of my Blessing and necromancy,” Phillippo said. He bit off the rubber-like caps of the tubes with a popping sound, then spat them out onto the ground. “Watch what happens if I sprinkle this on some nearby corpses.”
Phillippo scattered the insects from inside the glass tubes around. The moment the bugs came into contact with the half-buried corpses, they began to move, using their worm-like bodies and spider-like legs to penetrate the dead flesh, ripping into the bodies with their small fanged mouths before burrowing deep into them. Within seconds, the fingers and arms of the corpses started to twitch, as if they had come back to life.
“The death bugs burrow in and spread pseudo-ganglia throughout the body, allowing it to move,” Phillippo explained.
Bathed in the morning sunlight, countless corpses began to rise. Their limbs were bent at odd angles, brains and entrails spilling out, fragments of swords and spears embedded in their bodies as they emerged from the bloody dirt. Their eyes were hollow, and they bore an unmistakable resemblance to zombies. However, they showed no signs of being purified by the sunlight, and they moved with surprising speed and strength, even more than they had in life.
Clearly, they were not mere zombies, but rather something else entirely.
Behind his army of corpses, Phillippo wore a smile on his face. “Do you know the difference between a Brave like me and a Hero?” he asked.
“… The difference lies in one’s maximum individual capacity versus the number of companions that can be enhanced,” the ogre replied after a pause.
“Correct. Heroes excel as individuals and are generally stronger in one-on-one combat,” Phillippo began. “However, they can only enhance four to six companions at a time, at most ten. This makes Heroes suited for small elite groups. On the other hand, Braves like me might not be as individually powerful, nor can we enhance companions as much as Heroes can. But…”
As the number of reanimated corpses reached a hundred, Phillippo’s smile took on a euphoric quality. He raised both hands toward the sky, facing the ogre with closed eyes.
“When we, Braves, have over a hundred soldiers under our control, that’s when we truly shine!” Green phosphorescence emitted from Phillippo’s entire body, enveloping the moving corpses around him. Then, a significant change began. “It’s playtime, my little toys, my insect warriors. Break through that flesh and reveal your true form to the ogre.”
“Giiiyaaahhh!”
With a shrill, piercing cry, the corpses’ bodies began to transform from within. Their flesh bubbled and writhed as the insects within them proliferated, altering their core structure.
The corpses that had lost their arms grew long appendages with centipede-like heads and numerous legs. Those who lost their legs transformed their lower bodies into ant-like forms. Corpses with crushed heads sprouted new feeding appendages filled with circular rows of fangs or entire insect heads. Those with relatively less damage had their skin replaced with chitinous shells, grotesquely resembling insects forcibly molded into human shapes.
While there are demi-humans known as Insectors or Insectoids that bear strong insect-like characteristics, the creatures that now approached the ogre were far removed from them, abominations that could never naturally exist in the world.
“This is my Andero Bazilara, the Army of Death Bugs,” Phillippo declared. “It requires death bugs and fresh corpses to use, but they’re not technically undead, so they can operate in sunlight. Plus, they combine their former abilities with those of the death bugs, making them quite formidable.”
The death bugs continued to multiply, surrounding the ogre. But despite Phillippo’s preparations, the ogre remained calm, showing no signs of impatience. He watched Phillippo with a steady gaze.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mr. Ogre. Now, let’s have some fun,” Phillippo announced, and the death bugs began their assault.
Death bugs with multi-legged lower bodies scuttled quickly toward the ogre, those with centipede-like arms extended their long limbs from a distance, and those with ant-like heads spewed liquid like formic acid from their mouths. Some transformed parts of their bodies into murderous spikes and fired them off. The one thing the death bugs all had in common was that they were aiming to kill the ogre.
However, none of their attacks reached him.
The moment a death bug with a multi-legged lower body entered the ogre’s range, it was struck by his silver left arm, the force so great it pierced its chest, scattering dead flesh. Despite its tenacious vitality, as it attempted to crush the ogre, the death bug was suddenly consumed by white flames from within, leaving not even ash behind.
Centipede-like arms were sliced to pieces by the halberd, and one bug’s body was split vertically by the water blade emanating from the halberd’s axe head. The bisected death bug tried to reattach its halves with tendril-like appendages, but in the next moment, it was crushed with a dull sound. No visible object could be seen crushing it; it was as if an invisible giant had squashed it with its foot.
The ant-headed death bug’s acidic liquid was scattered by a sudden strong wind and dissolved other death bugs in an instant. An attack with countless spines was blocked by the carcass of another dead death bug, which shattered its carapace. The death bugs launched countless attacks, from poisonous stingers to high-temperature gases, but all were crushed by the ogre’s inexplicable abilities and exceptional halberd skills.
The sight was surreal: an army of death bugs, each capable of easily wiping out ten to twenty times their number in human soldiers, being slaughtered by a single ogre. Yet Phillippo trembled with joy, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Amazing, amazing, amazing, Mr. Ogre! To kill my bugs so easily! For my toys to be destroyed so effortlessly, it’s incredible! And I can’t even understand some of what you’re doing! What is that?! How do you do it?!” Phillippo’s voice, filled with a mix of cheer and admiration, echoed across the battlefield.
The surviving soldiers felt indescribable emotions as they watched the bizarre scene unfold in stunned silence.
“I like you, I really like you, Mr. Ogre. I’ll definitely add you to my collection!” Phillippo declared, with the enthusiasm of a child who had found a new favorite toy. His smile, filled with innocent malice, spread across his face as he began to move his dagger like a conductor’s baton.
In response, the death bugs’ movements changed dramatically. They stopped charging recklessly and began to show coordinated actions. The centipede-like arms attacked from the ogre’s blind spots, flaming liquid rained from the sky, and spines that had unintentionally pierced other death bugs now aimed directly at the ogre’s heart.
Gradually, the ogre started to be pushed back, his flesh torn and his blood flowing. Yet none of the injuries were fatal, and the wounds healed within seconds. This remarkable healing ability, far beyond the natural resilience of even the strongest ogres, made Phillippo lick his lips. “Even now, I can’t kill you. You’re truly amazing, Mr. Ogre. But how about this?”