Hikigaya's God Slayer Story

Chapter 22 – The Ennead

Mahmoud was the current leader of the Egyptian Ennead.

Being the leader of the Ennead wasn't exactly a cushy job. First, the organization wasn't particularly profitable—without money, there was no way to maintain the aura of prestige.

Second, due to longstanding divisions among sects, most of the time Mahmoud's role as leader was ceremonial at best—people only remembered him when there was a mess to clean up.

Ancient Egypt was a precursor to monotheism.

The Egyptians believed that gods had many identities and names in the world.

But even though all scriptures referred to deities simply as "gods," arguments broke out about which form was the "main account" and which was just a "side alt."

For example, people in City A might believe that the scorpion form was the main deity, while their neighbors in City B thought that the pig tied up outside their house was the real god, and the scorpion was just a throwaway skin.

Disagreements? Time to throw down! "My pig-god is decked out in purple gear! I'll smash you!"

Though the ancient Egyptian kingdom was long dead and buried, the legacy of its fractured religious history lived on.

There remained three primary god systems, thousands of local deities, and more than a dozen principal gods who had once been worshipped nationally.

Wherever there's belief, there are sects. Where there are sects, there are disputes.

Mahmoud absolutely loathed this bunch of idiots—and he'd like to add: not to brag, but every other sect was garbage. Horus was obviously the real god, okay?

But right now, Mahmoud thought the Japanese were the real idiots—and the most annoying.

Not long ago, someone reported that Osiris's tomb had been excavated and that damn Japanese had stolen the Altar of Set. Those damn Eastern devils—what are they, moles?

How'd they even find something that well hidden and just dig it up?

Mahmoud was furious. He'd wanted to dig it up too! There were divine relics of his sect in there, after all...

Before he could even finish stewing in envy, word came from Japan: a new godslayer had appeared.

Seth, you son of a bitch, are you kidding me?

Mahmoud's first reaction was that Seth(the leader of the sect not the god) was screwing with him.

He and Seth didn't get along—probably because, back in the day, they had chased after the same girl.

Modern Egypt was an Arab nation, where flirting between men and women was highly frowned upon.

It would've been fine if both had failed.

But no—Mahmoud had lost.

Every time he thought about it, he wanted to call his younger brother over and beat the crap out of him. That idiot brother always made his fists itch.

Like right now...

"You're telling me something was stolen?"

Mahmoud sat in his chair, staring incredulously at the younger man who looked quite a bit like him—just younger, with an even bushier beard.

The room was filled with over a dozen senior members of the Horus sect, all looking about as poor as ever.

Very on-brand for the Ennead.

"Yes, Chief," the man said angrily.

"Alright, alright, Hazazi," Mahmoud said with a look of pity at his brother, who had always made him suspect that their brains and asses had been swapped at birth. "Take it slow."

Even though he was always itching to slap him, Mahmoud actually cared about his brother—as long as he didn't screw up anything big.

And Mahmoud had always assumed that with his brother's extraordinary level of stupidity, messing something up on a large scale was actually difficult.

He was even a little curious—would Hazazi ever be capable of screwing up something big?

"Okay, Chief. It was a Japanese person."

Goddammit, again with the Japanese?

Mahmoud suddenly had a bad feeling. Could this finally be the moment Hazazi met his destiny? The moment Mahmoud had only joked about in the past?

He swore, he only ever joked! The gods didn't have to grant him this particular wish.

If they were going to grant anything, they should just give him a raise instead.

"There was a powerful Japanese man. He stole our sacred altar."

"What?!" Mahmoud was enraged. He nearly flipped his chair to beat his brother then and there.

"Wasn't the altar enshrined in the temple you were guarding? What about everyone else?"

Mahmoud had never expected his idiot brother to protect anything valuable, but the others were supposed to be elites!

This was outrageous.

When the Altar of Set was stolen, he was heartbroken but still managed to laugh at the Set-worshippers for a whole day.

But now the Japanese had stolen from them too? What the hell? Are those guys trying to loot every sacred item of both the Big Nine and the Little Nine gods?

How the hell did those dangerous Japanese devils even get into the country? Whoever let them in should be dragged out and shot in the nuts!

"We all tried to give chase, but that Japanese man was too powerful. We couldn't catch him."

"Powerful?" Mahmoud's face turned serious.

Japanese onmyōdō and Chinese fangshu (arcane arts) had strong reputations in the Western magical world, but their true masters almost never left their home countries.

Especially not to mess around in the Mediterranean with European magicians.

As a result, true masters of those arts were rarely seen in the West—and those who were around were usually foreigners who'd learned the arts secondhand.

Still, it was impossible to say Japan and China didn't have strong practitioners.

"Yes, very powerful!" Hazazi looked even more serious than Mahmoud, but next to him, the temple administrator was twitching with suppressed laughter.

This guy had been there for the whole thing and could already see where this was going.

"Oh? Tell me how powerful," Mahmoud sat up, intrigued. Hazazi was actually looking reliable for once. That was a surprise.

"A seasoned driver! He completely ignored red lights and pedestrians! We chased his car for ages, but we still lost him!"

Hazazi finished in one breath.

Mahmoud's smile froze.

The temple administrator had already turned his face away, unable to bear looking at the chief's expression. The rest of the senior members just remained silent with the look of people who had expected this all along.

The room was deathly silent.

After a long pause, Mahmoud exhaled.

"Little brother, come here. I have something to say to you."

"What for?" Hazazi eyed his older brother warily, remembering the man who once said, "My little brother has the best hand feel."

"Just come here. Just for a second," Mahmoud said with a sugary smile.

Hazazi's eyes widened in panic. He turned and ran.

Chapter 23 – Hazazi Ambition

Mahmoud's wish to give his little brother a good beating, although met with a few twists and turns, was eventually fulfilled.

But that was a small matter.

After finishing with his brother, this man who was both the leader of the Nine Gods Sect and the head of its First Sect, issued a declaration of expedition.

Theoretically, as the leader of the Nine Gods Sect, Mahmoud's declaration should have been addressed to all the sects within the organization.

But clearly, that was impossible.

To have all sects obey the command of one person—this was something even the great Pharaoh Ramses could not accomplish.

Still, Mahmoud did receive support.

Unlike the solitary Set sect, the Horus sect, to which Mahmoud belonged, had many allies.

It had long maintained friendly relations with the Osiris, Isis, and Ma'at sects.

Although they did not participate directly in Mahmoud's "expedition," they provided magical artifacts unique to their own traditions.

The world's earliest magic originated in ancient Egypt.

Though most of the magical spells have long since been lost to time, remnants of their mysteries can still be found in temples, shrines, pyramids, and murals, in the form of magical glyphs. T

hese are called Hieroglyphica Sacra (sacred script), used by priests and wizards—the direct ancestors of today's magicians within the Nine Gods Sect. In modern Egypt, the priests are gone, only the wizards remain.

The Horus sect is also considered part of the Ra sect. Horus, the falcon-headed god, is not only the ancient Egyptian god of the sky, but also an aspect of the sun god Ra—once even fused with Ra as one being. He is a god associated with vitality, health, and rebirth magic.

Mahmoud and his followers prepared thoroughly for the journey. They carried Ankhs in hand, wore Scarab rings on their fingers, Horus' Eye pendants around their necks, Isis' Knot buckles on their belts, Ma'at's Feather and tarot cards adorned with Djed Pillars in their pouches.

According to the ancient Egyptian magical system, this was called being "armed to the teeth"—every member was a tank.

This was indeed a powerful force.

Not just in equipment, but also in personnel.

The first wizarding organizations of ancient Egypt were named after the Eye of Horus, and once reached supreme heights in magical skill under the title of Horus' Eye Guardians. Though the Horus sect of today's Nine Gods Sect inherited only fragments of their ancestors' magic, they were still a formidable magical force.

Before departure, to bless the mission, Mahmoud specially called Hazazi to him, and—putting on his most brotherly tone—once again expressed his deep and heartfelt care.

There was no helping it—others might opt out, but this guy had to go.

As much as Mahmoud didn't want to admit it, Hazazi's magical skills were second only to his own within the sect. Leaving such a powerful fighter behind was unthinkable.

Mahmoud was afraid that if he returned without him, the house might be in ruins, thanks to that airheaded brother of his.

"Let's go! This time the Japanese will give us a proper explanation!" Mahmoud proclaimed with righteous fury before departure.

Damn it! Stealing from those Set-worshipping idiots was one thing—but daring to mess with me, the great Horus sect leader? That's suicide!

As for that so-called Compilation Committee in Japan, he merely chuckled coldly.

Sure, Egyptian magic today was just a shadow of its former self. But their foundations ran deep.

Even the top European magicians wouldn't dare casually provoke the Nine Gods Sect.

What was Japan, with its in-fighting and impotent ambitions, compared to that?

The only thing worth noting was the so-called Godslayer—but…

"Others might not understand Godslayers, but do we not know them well? By Ra, the Godslayer holds the power of our very own gods. We are more qualified than the Japanese to serve him! Brothers—move out!"

With the declaration finished, the group of wizards, descendants of those who had served Horus for generations, marched grandly toward Cairo and boarded a flight bound for Japan.

More than ten hours later, after suffering through the wretched airline food, these wizards finally set foot on Japanese soil.

Because they traveled through official channels, the moment they landed—this group of flamboyantly dressed, totally non-mainstream-looking wizards—encountered their counterparts.

One of them was a sorcerer from the Compilation Committee.

From a certain perspective, Mahmoud wasn't wrong in his opinion of the committee—it was an internally combative organization.

In fact, its unimpressive standing in the world's magical community wasn't just because it focused on internal matters.

After all, focusing inward and being weak are two very different things: one is an active choice not to expand; the other is simply an inability to do so.

In the eyes of Western magic societies, the former is represented by China; the latter, by Japan.

Even Egypt—defeated in both national and ethnic competitions—still looked down on Japan. After all, even in defeat, their opponents had always been world-class powers. From ancient times until now, they had faced the strongest nations and peoples on Earth.

The Japanese sorcerer who tried to stop them was completely ineffective. Before he could react, his spell was reflected by the Egyptians and he collapsed to the ground, twitching.

"Hah! Trash! Now you know how powerful Lord Hazazi is!" shouted Hazazi gleefully.

Though he couldn't hold his head high in front of his big brother, Hazazi was overjoyed. He had struck the blow.

But the one he hated most wasn't the twitching weakling on the ground—it was that shameless, rule-breaking driver who had made him lose face.

That damn driver who ignored red lights! Just you wait, Lord Hazazi will deal with you!

Hazazi never thought he was wrong for obeying traffic signals while in pursuit.

His deceased grandmother had told him many times: "A man who respects traffic rules is a true man."

That despicable driver—he must teach him how to drive properly!

…Wait, something strange just flashed through his mind. Never mind, not important.

Hazazi ambition didn't stir up any waves at that moment. After disposing of the pathetic blocker, the Egyptian punk-mage troupe pressed forward.

They didn't take a car—declaring that having set foot on foreign soil, they should proceed with their own two feet—the conservative and proud Egyptian wizards marched into the city on foot.

Then suddenly, Hazazi loud shout stopped them in their tracks.

"Something's going on!" he yelled.

"Brother, did you forget what I told you?" Mahmoud gave him a dark look, his fingers flexing between fist and claw in an elegant yet menacing display.

Before them, at a busy intersection, a bright red traffic light flashed directly ahead...

The group of wizards all looked up at the sky—none of them wanted to get involved in the bickering between these two brothers.

It was just a red light, after all. Actually, Japanese red lights were kind of pretty.

"There's a police officer there," someone said quietly.

"Damn it! Are you even a wizard!?"

"My grandma was a wizard too, and she said waiting at red lights is what makes a real man!"

In a foreign land, Hazazi mustered the courage to argue with his brother.

He felt deeply wronged.

Why does no one like waiting—for—red—lights?!