The messenger of the gods is dead."
"Whose messenger is this?"
"God's, and the true Creator's..."
"The true creator...is also God? Karat, do you know what you're saying?"
"I'm very clear-headed, Edmonton. I've never been this clear-headed."
"..."
"In the end, what difference is there between us and the people of Trensost now?"
"The difference, ah, we can only ever be second-class citizens, and always will be."
"No, when I was sent to study by the Fusaks, I heard that the 'Father of All Beings' in the south treats believers of every race equally, and that there are even legendary giants and dragons in His kingdom. If even those beasts have a place, why should we be second-class citizens?"
...
Although the war has ended, the ideological conflict has not yet been resolved, nor has a result been reached that can stop the Rothschilds from having wild thoughts and allow them to confidently look to the future.
Behind the cramped bunker, two men of some standing in the resistance discussed the bleak future. They each represented two voices of the Rothschilds, trying to persuade their compatriots, whether to prepare for continued suffering or to regroup and embrace a new faith.
Unlike Carat, who had "study abroad" experience, Edmonton grew up on the other side of Blue Mountains Island, hearing the name "City of Generosity" all his childhood, but never once enjoyed the milk and honey flowing over Bayam.
He doesn't understand the complex international situation, which is fraught with unpredictable waves, nor does he understand which god is behind which ideology in the outside world.
In an era when the rebels were struggling to survive, the education he received, which was almost negligible, couldn't even help him understand the difference between the Fusaks and the Intiss.
In his view, these white people from the West, like Ruen, were treating him and his parents and brothers as docile and productive livestock. The so-called humanitarian action to support the independence of the Rothschild Islands was merely coveting the wealth of this bountiful island and taking a liking to the hardworking nature of the island men and the beauty and submissiveness of the island women.
To be honest, just two days ago, he never imagined he would receive help from the Ternsost people.
He had heard of this country before. Although few Terensusans appeared on the archipelago due to various reasons he didn't understand, one or two persistent missionaries would always sneak into their homes as "shepherds" to spread the belief in the true Creator.
If it weren't for the missionaries always carrying their necessities and being willing to generously provide free aid to the Rosdeans who were struggling to survive, the old Church of Poseidon would never have allowed them to roam freely.
Of course, the situation is now reversed.
The fate of the Church of the Sea God rests entirely on the decision of the people of Trensost.
More accurately, it was tied to the mysterious Northern Continent man who had visited them not long ago; at least, that was the answer he received after trying to find out more through roundabout means.
But now, he received another message: the man from the Northern Continent seemed to be dead, and the ships lingering on the shore were trying to retrieve his body.
Stroking the rough stripes painted with blue and red oil paint on his arms and chest, Edmonton, shirtless, asked without looking up, the ferocious sea serpent pattern in his empty eyes seemingly lifeless.
"I heard that Trensost is far from us. Do you think they will station troops on the island?"
With another empire firmly established, Edmonton had to step back and reconsider the future.
Having fought against the Rune for so long, and having tried to subtly probe the Intis and the Fusak people about the "iron ships at sea," he probably understood that the Rune was the undisputed ruler of the seas, and that it was very close to their homeland.
"Probably..."
Karat clutched the blanket, which was covered in lead-gray soot and had become filthy. His wheelchair had been destroyed in the earlier firefight, and he had crawled into the bunker using only his hands.
For a disabled person like him, sacrificing his life to resist becomes something he feels powerless to do.
"There is no more important port city at sea than Bayam. They will definitely occupy the archipelago and then further control the entire sea route connecting the north and south continents."
"This is a huge economic gain. Even if Rune is unwilling to concede, other countries in the Northern Continent, such as Fusak, will definitely try to cultivate good relations with Trensost in private. Although their country has a vast territory, it is quite barren, and many industries rely on maritime trade with the Southern Continent."
Karat's blood-scabbed fingers clung to his shaved head, his slightly sunken dark brown eyes devoid of their usual composure.
"Furthermore, Trensost intends to continue expanding its territory. They've invaded the former highlands, and the newspapers say the Southern Continent's army is suffering repeated defeats. But have you noticed how many merchants on the archipelago are selling off their properties? It's not just Ruen; people from the Northern Continent are doing it too..."
"It must be that Trensost caused the White Pigs a lot of losses in the Highlands, making it impossible for them to continue their maritime trade. They're scared now..."
"That must be it... If several countries are at war at the same time, even if Trensost is strong and capable, they won't want the war to drag on. They will definitely occupy the archipelago and use maritime power to threaten other countries besides Rune, and that will end the war..."
"The war is over. The archipelago will return to its former glory and become prosperous again. Moreover, the 'Father of All Beings' of Trensost is a benevolent god, not the 'Lord of Storms,' and will not be like the Runes. The Order will be preserved..."
Edmonton looked at Karat with a complicated expression. He knew that his old friend had long since abandoned his former restraint and could only muster the courage to face the next order from the Ternsosts by constantly convincing himself.
He sighed, unwilling to offer any more useless words of comfort, and fell silent, awaiting the judgment of another group of "gentlemen".
Before he could even pull out the last cigarette he had carefully guarded from his pocket, he heard a whistling sound, like a monster's scream, pierce through the air above him and Karat, and the precarious bunker was shaken by the high-speed airflow.
He pulled his unsteady companion to safety, then stared blankly up at the horizon, only to see the back of an elven archer, and then more Trensost people, displaying different extraordinary abilities, surging toward the beach.
what happened?
The thick fog obscured his vision, and Edmonton tried hard to see clearly, but could only make out a dark, murky scene mixed with the smell of gunpowder.
He was anxious and helpless, sweat dripping down his cheeks. At the same time, he saw a tiny flame of hope about to ignite at the end of the fog, as if to dispel the gloom that was pressing down on them.
Cheers erupted, the cheers of the Ternsorians and elves, a few seconds later, faintly repeating a name, a strange name…
It seems so, Mr. V.
...
The hermit crab moved unsteadily, its six legs powerfully piercing through the sand and hard objects, all in an attempt to escape the monster that its tiny brain could not comprehend.
A giant dog with black flames burning in its eyes stood on the soft sand, its head held high. A dozen or so enormous, ferocious-looking monsters were sentinels spread out in the dark and heatless deep sea, vigilantly watching the ocean currents above that carried massive numbers of fish.
The "Undead Legion" was relegated to the outer ring of the underwater beach by the "Hounds of Fortune." The half-human, half-snake undead leader, like a statue, and his many underworld companions formed a circular array. Only the pale flames burning in their empty eye sockets proved that they were different from ordinary skeletons.
Having lost their commanding guards, both sides reached a tacit understanding and awaited a signal.
However, unlike the confident "Hound of Fortune," the skull of the undead leader subtly revealed a hint of panic.
It is just that it is not good at expressing itself, which does not mean that it is really like an ordinary zombie, without any self-thought.
It knew perfectly well the identity of the human who had summoned it with the bronze whistle of the "Death Archon," at least part of it.
Now, it clearly senses that the human's heart has stopped beating, which means death.
If the miracles of the underworld do not occur within that human's body, if "Death" is unwilling to favor this soul, it dares not imagine what kind of wrath awaits it and its subordinates when its master learns of this news.
His Highness has always been cold-blooded; apart from the great "Grim Reaper," it has never seen His Highness care about any individual.
Time ticked by, and the sunlight could not penetrate the thick layer of seawater. The faint light moved from the middle of the beach to the west, and a cold, desolate darkness descended. Then, new specks of warmth appeared from the east.
About a day later, or perhaps only a dozen hours later, just as the leader of the undead, who was almost in despair, was listening intently to the faint sounds from within the underworld and awaiting the judgment of the "Death Archon," a miracle finally occurred.
Glug.
A few bubbles drifted in from the seabed; their tiny, sand-like size was negligible compared to the vast ocean.
However, behind this seemingly small change lies a series of great achievements that are incomprehensible to most people.
Following the bubble was another equally ordinary vibration, a rhythmic and continuously increasing heartbeat that drew the attention of all the surrounding monsters.
The "Hounds of Fortune" knelt on the ground, and the undead leader and numerous skeletal messengers bent their bodies. Countless slippery tentacles woven from silk threads slithered over their heads, feeling the screams and tremors of danger emanating from within their souls. After waiting for so long, they finally got the result they wanted.
His heart pounded like a war drum. The slumbering Black Emperor had long since shed his armor and crown due to death. He opened his eyes blankly, his dark pupils obscured by the stray hairs dancing with the water. Relying entirely on instinct, he reached out and grasped the card that floated above his face, a card that was both heavy and light.
As Klein's consciousness and spirit returned to his body, he instinctively breathed, and as soon as he opened his mouth, his mouth was filled with salty seawater.
Out of the corner of his eye, Klein caught sight of the hideous shadows surrounding him. He suppressed the urge to vomit, and translucent worms surged across his smooth skin, quickly creating several holes, barely managing to avoid embarrassment.
Tristan and the others really did leave me at the bottom of the sea... Klein's eyelids twitched slightly as he realized his situation.
Unfortunately, being underwater, he couldn't open his mouth to curse. He could only suppress his frustration, quickly look around, and discover another tragic fact.
It turns out that the "Scepter of Calamity" that "Mystery" took out at the end of the conversation was not an illusion. He really took the scepter that had also fallen to the bottom of the sea and brought it to the gray fog.
Faced with such differential treatment, Klein couldn't even muster the energy to complain or grumble.
His mood did not improve despite his resurrection; he remained depressed.
After all, I was just a useful byproduct; He had no reason or obligation to do so much for me...
Sigh, that's actually how it should be. Before, I enjoyed being taken care of in every way, and I naively thought it was because of my status as a chosen one of the gods. In fact, even Roselle, who is known as the "Son of Steam," didn't enjoy as many benefits as I did.
The only thing he can compare to me in is that we both encountered Friedrich Zarathustra when we were weak, and were then deceived by that old man...
Klein looked at the "Black Emperor" card in his palm and stared at Russell dressed as the Emperor. He suddenly felt that this fellow countryman was just pretending to be dignified and it was hard to feel any real fear from him.
They can't stay underwater forever. The war should be over, but now that "Mystery" has taken the scepter, the barrier covering the Rosed Islands has probably disappeared. It's hard to say whether the Church of Storms and Rune will continue to react...
The "wriggling hunger" that had been dormant for so long sensed its owner's will and immediately regained its liveliness.
Deep blue fish scales rapidly grew on its surface, and streams of air appeared out of nowhere on the seabed, surrounding Klein.
Klein, who switched from "herding" to "wind-loving one," withdrew the slippery tentacles that had been corrupted by the "trickster," nodded to the "hounds of Fugen" and the undead legion surrounding him, and gestured with his eyes for them to meet him.
A not-too-fierce wind lifted his body, while blades of wind slashed at the seawater on both sides, relieving pressure on Klein as he rushed towards the sea at high speed.
Even with the "Wind Favorite" ability, it still took nearly half a minute to cover a distance of several tens of meters. As the water surface changed from deep to bright, and the colorful light spots became more and more dazzling, Klein couldn't wait to undo his body transformation. The moment he broke through the water's surface, he opened his mouth to breathe.
He shook his head, trying to shake off the water droplets sticking to his hair. After regaining his balance, he simply kicked off his shoes, stepped barefoot onto the sand, and struggled forward through the chest-deep seawater.
After taking a couple of steps, Klein seemed to remember something, turned around, and looked down, searching the azure sea.
"Looking for this?"
The voice that suddenly appeared was full of cynicism. Klein looked up and, sure enough, saw Tristan floating above his head, holding a pair of wet leather shoes enveloped in a cloud of gas.
The mocking expression of the "ancient scholar" annoyed Klein, but he couldn't muster any emotion; instead, he felt relieved.
Klein's lips curled up, and he snorted in annoyance.
"Get out of here, you bastard."
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