Chapter 511 – Power
The world has always been a place where countless forms of conflict and collision repeat endlessly.
For example, in human society, wars were waged in the name of justice or self-interest, pursuing either public or private gain. Behind the scenes, shadowy struggles were fought, eliminating rivals or political enemies.
Victory, or defeat──as you can see, the process and conclusion are always clear.
However, the evaluation differs depending on each person's perspective.
Some would disparage a cunning stratagem that routs the enemy, calling it dishonorable and cowardly.
Others would judge and remember the victor gladly, regardless of cowardice, focusing solely on the results.
Of course, there are countless other viewpoints.
Which of them is right cannot be clearly defined... but if one were to choose the simplest and most logical, it would be the conclusion brought by sheer power.
The winner takes all.
The victor is justice.
In truth, that may be closer to the truth itself.
Whether individual or group, one's position shifts dramatically depending on whether one has "power" or not. Even the most complex of laws can only be executed if backed by strength.
That said, today's world is not as blatant about it as in the past.
Simply put, it has become more refined.
Nations and powers have come to influence one another to the point of being organically entangled. Like dominoes, if one falls, the next and the next could shake or collapse in turn, so who would dare open such a floodgate?
A single misstep could mean international ruin.
This was not a natural occurrence.
It was the result of the mighty powers that succeeded in reigning over the East, the West, and the Central Continent, building a system and stabilizing it after countless years... and so, most of them desire no great change.
Uncontrollable factors would only amplify disorder and endanger their position.
But that does not mean they believe they can control everything.
Thus, various measures were prepared, one of which was the "Ownerless Land".
A land filled with chaos that balances the stability of the world. A legalized conflict zone, where all manner of desires are hurled together, a battlefield carved out to reap the advantages of war.
Here, blood is more common than water.
"... or so I've heard."
Arriving in the city of Dallehin, Grave walked along the main road, glancing about.
Clean.
No bloodstains, no ragtag thugs armed with daggers roaming in gangs and disturbing public order.
At worst, two men quarreled loudly, but even they were quickly stopped by a patrolling soldier.
An ordinary daily scene.
After a while, Grave could not tell what made this Dallehin any different from the cities outside the Ownerless Land.
'No, if anything, it seems safer.'
Lighting a cigarette in an alley, Grave turned his steps toward Dallehin's lord's castle.
[Kyak kyak!]
Even in broad daylight, bats flitted from shaded corners.
Surely, this was the doing of the Vampire Dumal, who was running the city in place of the heir of Verden... Asher, the holy one of the Eastern Continent, who had taken control of Dallehin.
Though it was permitted for intelligent abnormal species to blend, in limited fashion, into society, it was still rare for one to actually be employed.
"State your name, please."
"Grave Rudworth."
The guard at the castle gate checked his name and then opened the gates.
When Grave expressed, through the Society, that he wanted to visit Dallehin, Verden not only granted permission but also sent word that if he had nowhere to stay, he could lodge in the lord's castle.
"Hm."
Receiving such favor from a Transcendent was the first time in his life, and Grave did not know how to define this feeling.
A young maid, appearing in her mid-teens, approached him with hands folded politely.
"Welcome, Sir Grave. Lord Dumal still has matters to attend to, so I shall first escort you to the guest chamber."
Following the somewhat awkward but cautious maid, he entered deeper into the castle.
As they ascended the stone stairs, Grave asked.
"What was Dallehin like before?"
"Before, sir...?"
"I mean, before the lord of Dallehin changed."
Her face stiffened at the memory, but only for an instant.
"The former lord... was terrible. He killed the families of the previous lords, enslaved the people claiming he was 'taming' them, beat them, and raised the taxes sky-high... My papa, no, my father, was also brutally mistreated by the soldiers. I was nearly dragged away too, but our lord appeared just in time and saved me."
The girl Verden had rescued as soon as he arrived in Dallehin, "Tena", now spoke brightly as she explained what followed.
The awe of seeing a single man storm the castle and drag down Dallehin's cruel lord.
The streets, once dark with screams and wailing, falling silent.
After seeing Dallehin change because of one person, Tena had discussed it with her father and then applied for a maid's position at the castle.
"Why did you decide to become a maid?"
"Because I wanted to help our lord, even if only a little."
To the citizens of Dallehin, Verden was a hero, and Tena's heart was pure.
She was happy.
Happy to hear news from outside the city, happy to occasionally see or serve her lord when he visited.
"Everyone says the same. They wish these days could last forever."
"... Forever, huh."
Grave paused midway down the corridor. Beyond the castle walls, the city of Dallehin spread outside the window.
A peaceful city, despite lying in the infamous Ownerless Land.
It was as though... freedom itself was being sheltered by a vast power. Whatever it was, he did not quite know.
Grave wordlessly committed the scene, touched by the hand of a Transcendent, to memory.
***
"Hey! Swing that hammer properly!!!!"
"Yes, sir!!!!"
In the depths of a massive mine, loud voices rang out amidst the deafening clamor of metal.
Dwarves moved in perfect order, each fulfilling their assigned roles.
When they had been in the volcanic region, they were ignorant little runts, but with the craft innate to their race and Gharun's harsh teaching, they had long since become proper Dwarves.
Two or three of them together... while their workmanship might lack some detail, their construction speed alone rivaled that of typical Dwarven artisans.
The one-armed blacksmith, Linus Voltimoog, judged them so in his heart.
Linus and Geradin oversaw both direct facility construction and the management of over a hundred Dwarves.
Meanwhile, Gharun worked alone.
Ttang───! Ttang───! Ttang───!
The great hammer, Markuab, pounded on an enormous, red-hot steel plate.
It would become the massive body of a very special furnace.
Since the alloy contained a high ratio of the finest metals, the cost was astronomical, but it was only natural to accept it.
For the furnace must be able to withstand the heat sufficient to melt a keel.
Not for a single use, so building a facility with greater durability than the one used in the Black Volcano Clan was no easy task.
Ah, of course, since the cost of construction was not coming out of Gharun's purse, the Dwarves had no reason to care in the slightest.
The legendary blacksmith, eyes sharp and solemn, poured sweat as he devoted his heart and soul.
───Ttang!
"This should do for now."
With the furnace mostly prepared, it was time to begin crafting the foundation for the hammer.
Setting down Markuab, Gharun picked up the blueprint, sweeping his gaze over the construction site as he reached for some refreshing liquor.
That was when──
"Construction seems to be going well."
"Ugh, damn it. You scared me."
Inside the tent waited Verden and Alpha. Seeing the uninvited guests, Gharun set the blueprint down on the table.
"What is this? No notice, no nothing. Don't tell me you came to ask when the construction will be finished?"
Alpha, perched on Verden's shoulder, raised one arm high.
[Correct.]
"Tch! Not long since you asked me to build it first, and now you're already nagging? I said I'm working on it, so shut your mouth and wait."
"I didn't come empty-handed."
From subspace, Verden summoned a luxurious bottle of liquor. Tossing it lightly into the air, Gharun snatched it up with quick reflexes.
"It's rare and expensive, so you'd better drink sparingly──"
"What kind of liquor is drunk sparingly?"
Pop.
He uncorked it and, without even smelling the aroma, chugged it down. With one gulp he emptied nearly half the bottle, then snorted.
"Ha, expensive my ass. Half the price is just for the shiny bottle."
[Request for return.]
"That won't be happening."
Corking the bottle, Gharun stored it somewhere out of sight.
"I was going to take a short break anyway, so I suppose I've got time for a few questions. What exactly do you want to know?"
"How long will it take until Adrian and Isabella's weapons are complete?"
"Not just the facility, but the weapons as well? Let's see. Assuming the facility is finished and every last material is ready the moment it's complete, then probably..."
Stroking his rough beard, Gharun calculated the time.
"By the time winter passes, according to Central Continent standards."
"Winter. That's convenient."
"What do you mean, convenient? Anyway, if you've come here just to ask me in person, it must be urgent. How dangerous is it?"
"My life will have to be on the line."
Cases where a Transcendent could not guarantee survival were exceedingly rare.
Gharun's gaze sank.
"So, you plan to kill a Transcendent."
This was not something he guessed from context.
He had already heard it.
When Verden infiltrated the Black Volcano Clan, he had visited the imprisoned hammer of resolve, Gharun, to request the crafting of a staff.
───What do you intend to do, with such a powerful weapon in your hands?
───Before long, I will erase two Transcendents from this world.
It seemed the time had come.
"Don't you think it's too soon?"
"The chances of victory are more than enough. In my way."
"If the chances were really enough, you wouldn't be talking about risking your life. You've barely lived a fraction of a fraction of my years, yet you're already this shortsighted."
At that moment, Alpha interjected.
[Gharun is younger than me, too.]
For reference, Alpha had existed for over 500 years since its creation. Even Gharun could not compare.
Alpha muttered one of the words it had picked up from wandering streets with Verden.
[Greenhorn.]
"What the hell is this little golem babbling about?"
Ignoring Alpha, Gharun folded his arms.
Beneath the age-worn skin, heavy muscles and veins stood out. He spoke again.
"In any case, Asher, you've got a long way to go. As long as you cling to that contradictory ideal of 'freedom through strength', you need to look further ahead."
"But if you look only too far ahead, you won't see what's right in front of you, will you?"
"Oh, listen to you, pretending you've got wisdom when you've not even lived a hundred years. Then look at both. What's close, and what's far."
Gharun's offhand remark aligned exactly with Verden's current vision.
"I already am."
And the conclusion he had reached, was here and now.
***
In the Western Continent's "Nutiar Forest", somewhere stood a shabby hut. Bright autumn sunlight blazed down, a gentle breeze teasing the lush canopy.
The hut, repaired time and again, contained not a trace of magic.
Before the founding of Black Hour, eight Mages had built it for rest, and for fun, a memory they had shared.
An old woman entered the hut and stopped before a broken dining table. Years of neglect had left the walls and floor creaking precariously.
As always, seated in her wheelchair, she closed her eyes quietly, waiting for someone.
Hours passed, until dusk began to fall.
Creak.
The old door groaned. A half-rotted plank fell to the floor.
The presence grew stronger. Heavy footsteps made the hut tremble faintly.
At the same time, the woman opened her eyes.
The two recognized each other.
"Melard Tastienne."
"You look well, Carindin Lerhar."
The original members.
After a long silence, the betrayer and the betrayed met again.
You can read more chapters in organised way on my website:- https://revengernovel.com