Psyco in Ancient World
Copyright© 2026 by K.W
Chapter 2. No. 3789028376
In Belteruk’s eyes, the severed soul tether could be seen poking out from outside the virtual reality server-connection helmet, swaying as it dangled. Normally, the soul’s main body would’ve come out attached to that tether, but not this time.
That was because soul no. 3789028376 was currently inside the virtual reality world, enjoying a game. This was exactly why soul reapers could tell a soul was inside virtual reality without even logging in.
Virtual reality games were quite an annoying existence for soul reapers’ work. If someone died, they should be able to come out quickly so they could be taken away right then and there ... but humans who died while still connected like that continued rampaging around inside the server, not even realizing they were dead. Like bugs with heads, thrashing for hours even though they had no consciousness.
In cases like this, soul reapers had no choice but to wait until the soul they were supposed to take to the underworld logged out.
Of course, a weirdo soul reaper like Belteruk didn’t have much complaint about it. Because what he had in excess was time—time that was all connected to the terrible thing called boredom.
Belteruk found this virtual reality business a bit of a nuisance, but in some ways he was actually grateful for it. Because it let him kill, even if only a little, the dull and endlessly long time he’d been given.
Ssshk.
Belteruk, who had tucked his reaper’s scythe back into his chest, swept his gaze through the room. This was him examining what kind of human the soul of no. 3789028376 had been while waiting for it to come out. He wasn’t doing it out of interest in soul no. 3789028376. It was just a habit he’d picked up over an immeasurably long time, like a reflex. It had no meaning.
The room clearly showed the personality of the owner of soul no. 3789028376.
A sparse set of basic furniture and electronics. A desk and a bookshelf placed on top of it. A few books stuck into it and a bed. Also a small trash can beside it, and finally, the virtual reality capsule where the body of soul no. 3789028376 lay. Everything was so clean it looked newly bought, without a speck of dust.
Clean freak.
Soul no. 3789028376 seemed like a perfectionist who didn’t allow even the tiniest dust mote in their space. Belteruk had seen plenty of people like that, but a case this severe was rare.
‘Obsessive compulsive cleanliness? Or else... ‘
Belteruk’s piercing vision went past the room and stabbed into the living room and even the bathroom. Just like this room, it was hard to find even a single speck of dust. But that wasn’t what Belteruk had been expecting.
Sniff, sniff.
What stimulated his senses wasn’t his eyes, but his nose. From somewhere, he caught a familiar yet peculiar smell. Acrid, yet a unique fragrance that pleased the noses of soul reapers—blood, and the stench of rotting corpses. It was so faint that even a soul reaper like him could barely notice it. Only now, with his nerves sharpened, could he properly feel it. That was probably why he hadn’t sensed it when he first entered the villa.
Belteruk’s nostrils flared. He was tracking the source of the smell. It was rising from below.
He lowered his head.
Even as his naturally downward gaze passed through the floor of the 5th level, the 4th, the 3rd, the 2nd, the 1st, he couldn’t find the source. Belteruk’s pitch-black eyes turned white. It was a phenomenon that appeared when he pushed his piercing vision to the limit.
Soon, he detected a secret space underground.
‘Hm!?’
There were no corpses there either. His field of vision sank further down. Only after passing three more such hidden spaces did he finally find the source of the smell.
This customer really is a meticulous bastard.
“Kekeke.”
Belteruk grumbled low. The reason was that he’d confirmed the owner of soul no. 3789028376 was the kind of human who created extra work for soul reapers. He didn’t know what the man’s job was, but his “hobby” seemed closely tied to soul reapers’ work.
In a communal cavity hidden deep underground, the corpses of humans—dozens, or hundreds, hard to tell at a glance—were sleeping inside an enormous freezer. Judging by the fact that there were fresh bodies that weren’t fully frozen yet, the owner of soul no. 3789028376 had clearly enjoyed his hobby just a few days ago—maybe yesterday, maybe even today.
This planet called Earth in the 111th dimensional world had always been more brutal than other places. Recently, it has grown a little more distant from soul reapers, but essence doesn’t change so easily. Before the academic field humans called science developed this far, scenes like that could be found easily anywhere on this planet. Of course, when war broke out, things even worse than this happened all the time.
So to soul reaper Belteruk, this wasn’t anything special. The reason he found it interesting lay somewhere completely different.
A corpse carries the color of the killer’s soul and their killing intent. Even if the corpse is already an empty vessel with its soul gone.
From the corpses in that underground freezer, he felt purity. There wasn’t a trace of killing intent. How should he describe that purity?
Pure murderous madness. That was probably the right way to put it.