Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: Chapter.9 Star Fall (15)
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“Now, before I get into the explanation, there’s something we need to clear up first, right?”
A speech is a peculiar form of one-to-many communication. Peculiar or not, it’s still conversation. It’s the act of exchanging opinions through words, forming relationships, and slipping intentions into that space between.
Simply put, you might think it’s just spilling out whatever you want to say to the audience. But if you fail to achieve your goal—that is, persuade the crowd—then the communication fails, doesn’t it?
Especially in a mixed crowd like this: friendly listeners, neutral ones, and highly hostile ones. If I just spout my side, they’ll nitpick every word, counter every rebuttal, and before long, the main point dissolves into chaos.
So, what’s the solution?
‘Simple. Tailor responses to each of the three types.’
First, the friendly listeners. No need to worry about them. The Archbishop aligned perfectly, just as we’d discussed beforehand. The Radiant Church side would call beans red even if I said so.
Next, the neutral hero group. Pull them into the friendly camp through dialogue.
They’re full of personality, which makes their hook points stand out nicely.
Finally, Gregorio grinding his teeth and the Cabrick Knight Commander glaring at me like the Incarnation of Ruthlessness. Their negative reactions are a given, so use those as tools.
‘People are simple. Perfect for exploitation.’
Wondering what would make this boar-like knight captain explode, I carefully opened my mouth.
“Now, before we start, I understand there’s something we need to address. Take a look at this for a moment?”
Drawing all eyes, I waved my right arm—already healed to the lower palm, the cross-section closing up. Attention snapped to it instantly.
“Most of you here are masters of mana, aura, or holy power, so I won’t belabor it. Natural regeneration. Anyone know the principle behind it? Any—?”
Thump!
“Earth-affinity, Living Growth school’s lowly mage, Axion Root.”
Before I finished, an old man who’d been fidgeting jumped up, hand raised. Knew it. He’d been staring holes in my right hand since bursting in.
“Our school has spells to boost natural healing for wounds. Plenty of alchemists and natural healers research it, but your state... closely matches ongoing studies. Forgive the rudeness, but were one of your parents a Mutation Blood? No, maternal Mutation Blood would make you the Queen’s servant. Perhaps your father captured a female muta—”
“No.”
...Who’s he turning into whose father? Some imagination.
“Then truly a muta who converted?”
“Not that either.”
“Or transplanted muta tissue...?”
The Professor watched robed figures squirming like they itched to speak, then judged the moment ripe and answered.
“This body results from my innate unique constitution and experiments by mage Isaac Mandalius. As you see, successful enough to retain human ego while gaining muta-level—no, superior—regeneration.”
“Experiment subject!”
“Isaac—the mage killed by that red muta, right?”
“Heard rumors of parasitic infection... Maybe he researched mutas to escape it.”
“Pity. If Mandalius lived, alchemical magecraft would’ve advanced far faster...”
“Or his research threatened them enough to send the red muta assassin. Such a loss.”
Mages, forgetting decorum, murmured greedily, scanning my body.
Mages pursue bizarre research for new insights. Hottest topic: biological oddity from Black Mages—Mutation Blood.
‘[Dead 6th-circle mage’s research], [Muta experiment subject], [Success case]. Irresistible bait for any mage.’
Recalling Dome researchers’ obsessions, these were no less fervent.
For hero mages, tossing a rival’s success story shifted them from ‘acquaintance’ to ‘someone worth begging favors from.’ Need creates leniency. One severed wrist hooked nearly half the mages with greedy stares.
‘Not fools enough to grant favors yet, but positive ties formed. Just warming up.’
Reel them in gradually, like angling big game without snapping the line.
Drew mage interest with my origins—boring to others, catnip for them.
“So what? How’s that our concern? Pity the experiment rat? I thought this was strategy discussion.”
Right on cue.
The Professor continued breezily, per plan.
“It’s relevant. That trait gives a strategic edge.”
“Edge?”
“Information.”
Sshhh—!
Subtle heat from ‘experiment’ shifted to piercing stares.
‘Whoa, lasers from their eyes.’
Second hook. Assassins, rangers, big-party leaders crave it.
Information.
Material: prepped Chamber Maid head. Lifting thorn-vine hair drew intrigued glances.
“This was about assigning forces—positions, who where. Humanity’s fate at stake, so big-picture over self-interest. Someone dies. But human nature wants the spotlight, not the grave.”
Scrape—
Chair dragged; another hero at the table joined.
“I get your point. We’re no nobles; no flowery words impress us. Cut to it: command authority?”
“Bingo. Name?”
“Ashthalon. No surname.”
“Ah! Singing Sword Ashthalon!”
“Hm? You know my title from afar?”
“Hahaha. Can’t discuss command without knowing allies.”
Bluff. Not memorizing every 3rd-world hero unit. Chat logs feed me real-time. Radiant Church’s info net isn’t half-bad either.
Key: show prior knowledge. Info superiority vibe. Subtle pressure.
“Species-scale war looms. No pointless death if you’re essential here. I think info power’s prime for assignments. Agree?”
Nods, bar a few. Obvious.
“Even scattered forces like ours—if one group’s info dwarfs others, they take command? Agree?”
Half nodded, quick ones grasping.
“So your info outstrips heroes here? Absurd.”
“Heroes are state-sanctioned saviors. Royals mobilize intel for them. That claim’s diplomatic fire. Understand, but disagree.”
“So! Let’s verify!”
Thud!
Amid grumbles, Professor grinned mischievously, setting the head down.
“Told you: head from mission-critical enemy. Explain why vital, muta position, response—most clear wins my Radiant Church command authority.”
“Command... all?”
“Yup. Every bit I hold. All of it.”
Bang!
Table—knight-proof—screeched under fist.
“Nonsense! You dare discuss Lo Haram’s holy warriors’ fate? Worthless—”
“Do it.”
Crunch!
“Arch...bishop? What...?”
“Hohoho. I said do it. Professor’s Lo Haram’s earthly tool. He’ll manage. Hohohoho!”
Murmurs!
Gregorio’s uproar pierced by Archbishop’s voice; eyes shifted panic to shock to awe.
Archbishop’s serene smile certified it—Professor’s words official.
Heroes gaped, deemed him mad, or schemed.
Me? Waltzing with gramps now.
‘Priest? Or 50-year intrigue vet summoned by Lo Haram?’
Expected alignment, not this masterful nudge! Massive stake—even disinterested heroes bulged eyes. Radiant Church commanded King’s Landing clout, summoning forces. Command here? War bait.
‘All bluff, though.’
They missed: my ‘authority’ just manages me and kids. ‘My Radiant Church command’—they assume hero-scale, wielding armies. Archbishop knows; sends token losers if I lose. No skin off.
Never planning loss.
“So, what’s this head?”
Thump! Scrape! Drag!
Three quiet watchers bolted up, eyes fierce for first word. Familiar faces.
“Maria Saintess of Abundance Church?”
“Oh? Me first? So kind.”
“Chair flew—that’s why. Speak.”
Maria, arms under ample bosom spilling green dress, continued Abundance-style.
“Recent new muta near north border. No formal name—‘Maid.’ Potent guards surround it, per you. No activity yet, but escorts razed cities; Maid roots in best defensive spot. Inference: magic-artillery-specialized commander. No counter to barrages, right?”
“Ha! Half-knowledge. Sudden Mutation Blood mass-production. Convenient Maid outing. Link blind? Nutrients to chest, not brain? It’s their lifeline! Dragon Veins? Massive mana flows underground. Blue Line Mountains strongest outlet. Maid’s supply base—north drained, seeking new. Explains Church mission kill. Cut supply—war basics.”
“Mere speculation? Intel’s observed facts only—”
“You sound industry, not saintess. Jimmy, modest intel guild in Erantel. Church dabbles? Pros like us doubt your reliability? Admit wrong leg, bow out?”
“...Insult to our Church?”
“Whoops! Empty head, sharp ears! Nailed truth—praise?”
Crackle!
Sparks flew—literally, holy power vs. aura clashing. Brawl imminent.
Sparking info boasts, heroes piled in.
Queen’s spawn for new queen branch; pollutes for muta-friendly zones like Black Mages; dying queen’s vessel—opinions clashed, heat soared.
‘Perfect. Real summit vibe!’
Bored finger-tappers now vein-popping shouters.
No real answer expected. Chamber Maid too new—month short. Rooting/production lags; none know exact role.
Except chat-informed me.
“Maid. Queen’s artificial womb base for area conquest/external production. Formal: Chamber Maid—our ‘Maid.’ Queen births limit numbers, but overwhelming; guard till settled, then endless low/mid mutas. Vital production/supply overseer.”
Casual, relaxed. High, clear tone cuts chaos—especially ‘Maid’ intel amid guesses.
Shouts faded; eyes converged.
“Muta-side genius: ‘talking muta’ Queen spawn twisted blind love to ‘faith,’ crowning bitch Evil God. Fresh-born learning god-devotee bonds... not voicing source.”
“My lord Tenebreshi... Saintess fell to them...!”
Saintess intel: Cabrick, statue-still sword-gazer, exhaled murderously.
“Whoa, calm. Not dead yet.”
“How... know?”
Tap-tap.
“Told you: mage experiments muta-mixed me. Somehow peek Queen’s thoughts.”
Mercy Saintess alive? Near-certainty. Deified muta queen, but scant god-powers bar supply surge.
‘Mortal to immortal gap huge. Queen’s godding. That Palkatus obsessed learning. Incomplete divine—spares faith prop Mercy Saintess.’
Brain-probing possible, but no need telling pissed knight.
Cabrick muttered head-down; crowd mulled my bombshell in awe.
“Read Queen’s mind?”
“Er... limited, spotty.”
“So info’s fact, not guess?”
“Saw it—facts.”
“Unit positions, strategies, numbers/types now?”
“Not that handy. Fragments only—no live intel.”
“Hoh... post-meeting, my place? Probe head...”
“Head? Pry elsewhere.”
Excitement cooled; seats filled.
“So Radiant Church keeps command.”
“Hmm... Big spread, trusted backup.”
“Not ops detail, just assignments... Hand to Light. Direct enemy intel—even partial—irresistible.”
Heroes conceded wryly. Perfect steer; Professor grinned at beaming Archbishop—like ‘booze now?’ plausible.
Emotion/reaction pull technical, but stepwise logic simple.
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Someone needs overall command. Right? - Agree.
Unknown foe: info prime for commanders. Agree? - Agree.
We Radiant top info? We take? - ...Damn. Agree.
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Easy yeses build to tough; expand engagement/logic. Goebbels 2nd WW staple. They voiced yeses—too heated now to retract?
Church summoned; this exceeds prep. Buddha-smile screams clear.
‘Church goal met—my gains next. Hm? No bite? Need more prod? Nah? Zealot regained reason via logic...?’
“...But reverse: Professor leaks Queen intel like she spies via him? Such power demands sidelining—or kill pre-leak, since here!”
‘No! Yes! Jumped! Gregorio!’
Grandpa’s face twisted sans-eye; Professor inner cheered! Yes spite! Yes resist!
“Valid... Can’t rule out. Queen unaware of my peeks; I hers too.”
“S-see! Archbishop! He admits muta-info risk!”
“Ahem... Professor hero. What you want? If true, sorry—no sharing assignments...”
“So, I’ll summon distant supports.”
Ignoring Archbishop’s ‘WTF?’ eyes, I drooped sadly.
“Post-west front clash, frantic defense prep—foe halted, pulled back. Why?”
“Hmm... Wisdom Church guesses: shield immature-god queen, stockpile mystery supplies for bigger army...”
“Right. Queen stockpiles, shifts elite gambles to textbook humanity clash. Muta queen-safety-first, but bought us prep time.”
“How much...”
“One month.”
Pelas walls: Chamber Maid vines short, unrooted—newborn. Queen/goddess can’t spam; winless if so. Thus, one month till full production.
“Exactly one: fetch other forces watching.”
Seamless, rehearsed; Archbishop pained.
“Ahem... Light hero as envoy stains name? I’ll assemble separate team—detachment?”
Oof, sticky gramps. Nose-ring wanna-use, but too high to snub.
“Hahaha, fine, Archbishop. Only our unique party—werewolf, half-muta, troll, Black Mage, human mage—fits. Lo Haram approves.”
Professor pinned glowing Radiant markers on wall map.
“For war, Radiant envoy to elves/trolls beyond Blue Line.”
“Elves/trolls... nonhumans?”
“Minimal ties, but centuries resisting expansion prove strength. All humanity’s power? Theirs too.”
“They... dislike us.”
“Why us? Outcasts—nonhumans, Black Mage, mutants. Better human-centric contrast?”
Professor’s white teeth gleamed; thoughtful Archbishop clutched head, shook.
“Recess... Hero, time please.”
“Heh heh. Gladly. First, thanks heroes for long listen. Won’t see soon!”
Professor noble-bowed smirking. Clear? Good. Probe possibles?
‘World Tree! Wish magic! Humanity’s fate—Church name pries open!’
[Wish... my new body too?]
‘Duh! Game allows all! Sketch ideals! We raid elves next!’
Grinned thanks to label-sticking Gregorio freeing him.
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