Chapter 243
Chapter 243
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (2)
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“Oink oink oink~ Sniff sniff! Squeee!”
In the dewy morning of a forest thick with mist, a family of wild boars rooted through the damp earth. The early woods offered a chance to sate both hunger and thirst after a long night, so the piglets scampered excitedly around their mother, foraging with glee.
The mother, busy digging up tubers as she watched the scene, suddenly lifted her head at an odd noise.
“Sniff? Grunt grunt grunt. Squeee? Squeeee?”
She sniffed the air sharply, scanning the surroundings, but nothing was in sight. Yet her animal instincts, her maternal gut, screamed that something was approaching, even if unseen.
Fweeeeee—
“Squeal! Squeeeee! Eek!”
“Eek eek? Weeek?” “Grk? Oink oink!”
As the eerie sound drew closer, the mother swung her tusks warily in all directions. Terrified, the piglets scattered into the underbrush.
All but one.
A piglet that had found a worm in the moist soil kept rooting happily, oblivious to the shadow looming overhead.
It was a massive flying beast. A large, boxy creature with strange wings hurtled toward the piglet at breakneck speed. Sharp talons reached for the nape of its neck.
“Squeeeee! Squeeeeee!”
In that instant, maternal instinct overrode survival. The mother charged with a roar, her huge snout shoving the piglet aside. The startled piglet met its mother’s sorrowful eyes in confusion.
Boom!
A hot air balloon piled high with letters crashed down atop the little family’s tragedy.
Amid the bewildered striped piglets who couldn’t comprehend what had happened or where their mother had gone—
A large man rose, pushing through the sodden letters.
“Phew!”
The Professor sighed in relief that they hadn’t crashed into a city center or village. He scanned the area.
Deep woods, untouched by humans—no trails in sight. Mostly conifers, so they’d drifted from the Empire’s south nearly to the north. The elven forest was still a ways off, unfortunately.
The balloon’s plunge into Ottoman’s water spell had left everything soaked like a flood. Spotting a familiar furry lump amid the mess, the Professor yanked it up with one arm.
“Ugh, my stomach’s churning. Hey, Borca! You alive?”
“Groooan... ughhhh... Daliah, my love... I see our homeland’s forest... The children, the children are still alive... Tusan, Marca...”
“Good. You’re healthy. Don’t follow your wife just yet—stay put. Notum’s... ah, here she is. You okay?”
“Groooowl... Trolls don’t fly. Flying trolls defy nature’s order... guweeeek—”
“She looks fine too. Ottoman and Aldrich? They layered shields at the end, so they’re probably alive. Hey, Idrasil! Get down here!”
Confirming the party mostly intact, the Professor peeled Idrasil off his waist and neck, where she’d clung like a cicada.
“Sorry. You seemed the most elastic and shock-resistant nearby.”
“Sometimes I think you’re kinda creepy, you know.”
“Disgust from species differences is common. I understand, so it’s fine.”
“Tch. Easier to put up with than convincing an elf. Hey, legends! Lucilla! Wake up. We survived!”
No need to search for Lucilla. As the weakest, he’d held her during the fall.
“Cough, cough! Ugh... Huh? Uwgh...?”
“We lived. Pull yourself together and tell me where we are. You’re the only one who knows Empire geography. Oh, Idrasil—recover those spirit balloons before the wind spirits escape.”
“Yes.”
The party was all safe, anyhow. The balloon had crashed midway, but after a week aboard, they’d gotten their money’s worth. Best of all, the spirits pointing to the elven forest lingered in the leather balloons—no fear of getting lost.
[You sure attract mid-flight disasters, shell. Maybe seriously consider divine punishment or something?]
‘Divine punishment... Could be. Even if theoretically possible, getting shot down by letters from across the Empire? Fantasy or not, that’s beyond reason. Personally, I think it’s system intervention.’
Ding-!
[The world can’t keep up with your meddling fate! Temporary Misfortune Lv.15 applied! / After Misfortune Lv.15 ends, Luck Lv.7 granted for 24 hours!]
If the status window were active, something like that’d pop up, right? Misfortune Lv.15 means failure at everything. No ranker’s seen it, and community lore pins it on one guy.
Roman Gacha Man, the inventor “cursed” by [Masterpiece! - Electromagnetic Acceleration Mana Bullet Launcher: Railgun]. That player’s vid showed the message.
‘Railgun blew up in his hands—instant death, yeah?’
[Works like a charm.]
‘Exactly. Our crash was probably system-enforced.’
Admittedly, the system’s a bit of a dick. Enemies scale infinitely, reshaping the world at will, but players must match their level. Favoritism? Top-tier bullshit.
But.
I’m no Thousand Stream Emperor slicing named Mutations or primal ancient hero units. The western front isn’t crushing Mutations outright. So why’d the system yell “doctor’s stop”?
One meaning: GG’s omnipotent system saw some unseen event tipping scales too far toward humans.
And the most likely culprit?
‘Bazur finally croaked after slipping away at death’s door.’
90% sure. A queen’s direct lineage, one of twelve named Mutations till world’s end—dead now. Especially Bazur: unmatched in magic quantity, tanking wizard barrages solo. His wizard corpse stock depleted? In 3rd World, where he halved magic fights, killing him screams human dominance.
‘Even if they drag it to boring attrition, humans won’t budge.’
Empire’s watching now, deserts, elves, others not joined yet.
Final phase hits, wizards pour from mage towers—half in rotation carpets low-tier Mutations. Guard mages, neuter swarm tactics.
‘Queen’s riskiest phase was that, gaining evil god’s blessing for infinite low-tier Mutations via divinity. Pile corpses over walls. War burns national strength; they turtle, spam meat waves—Lordric starves sans farms, crumbles. But overwhelming magic? Mana blocks swarms easy.’
Dual core perks? Inferring from clues feels x-faster. Solo vs. duo brainstorming? No contest. Shared base knowledge—think vaguely, he gets it.
Hyde rummaged memories, frowning slightly (face unseen, but vibe), then spoke.
[Hearing it, yeah... Haven’t dug all memories since crossing over. How far’s this world progressed?]
‘Too many variables for cleanse rate. Time? Guessable. Called Bazur the fourth, the baby. Four of twelve named out—doom countdown 1/3 done.’
Maybe a tad more—late-game spawn doubles early. Generously, world timer half-spent.
[That? Not system-break worthy? One of twelve down, that fuss? Mutations weren’t chumps. Queen lives. Palkatus too—you thought it, he did. Countermeasures certain. Politics, economy, religion—he’s entrenched. Balance not shattered that bad.]
‘Thought that too. Bazur’s pillar confirmed.’
[Others?]
Professor pulled a small leather pouch. Stolen sub-space from Tobrun’s tower. Battle-worn, but fine for small stuff.
He withdrew a severed arm, black-red veins spiderwebbing like a web—Edeorna’s.
‘This.’
[What’s... oh, that bitch’s arm got chopped? Wizards’ gift? So?]
‘My guess...’
As Professor prepped to share deductions—
“Gyaah! Borca! Notum! Help! My luggage! My trade goods! Everything’s flying away!!”
Party recovered, hauling cargo from crashed balloon amid flung letters. Half-broken but some air sacks intact, the basket dragged Lucilla staggering every which way.
‘Later. Sort first, then explain. They need to know.’
[I’ll handle them. You clean up.]
‘You?’
Before parsing, two black arms with hooked claws burst from his back, snagging trailing ropes.
“What...?!”
[Heh heh heh. Professor, know how I babyed your body months outside? Every blood drop, cell fragment—my watch. Mastered human bodies now. Plus, you conquered this body’s infection factors—no Mutation limits. And... no psych distance. Admit it—me puppeting feels fine?’
“Yeah, true.”
[Exactly. Regen body sprouts freely, perfectly split yet synced controllers. We can do everything but full split?]
Shoulder skin stretched—Hyde’s real face emerged: wolfish, fangs bared, slit eyes winking. No dream, no mindscape—real-world Hyde face.
.
.
.
.
.
“Whoa.”
Party reacted in kind.
Borca and Notum, yelling for help, dropped ropes in shock;
Lucilla, clutching pricey box on basket edge, fumbled—silver coins cascaded;
Sedated wizards giggled off into la-la land;
Thud!
Tree-perched elf slipped, notebook in hand.
Eyes saucer-wide, stumbling speech—shock overload.
“T-that’s... um, ah, shocking... beyond my wildest... ability... Could you... assist for records? I’ll study, but... that, um, ‘that’ exceeds my 70 years’ ken...”
“F-first, breathe, Idrasil? I’ll explain everything—”
『Hyde. I’m Hyde. Nice. To meet you. Elf.』
Rough voice buckled her legs.
****
Crackle, crackle—
Sizzle sizzle—
Professor hustled. Tied staggering balloon with dazed Lucilla aboard to a tree. Slapped sedated wizards’ cheeks for another sedative vial each. Lit fire; dried/warmed all—trolls, wolfman, elf included.
As roast boar—Professor’s handiwork—hung over flames, party stared blankly at nonstop-chattering head atop his shoulder, per orders.
『Where’d. Boar. Come from?』
“Just on ground? Fresh kill. Breakfast half-done plus chaos—everyone’s starved. Food talk: stay in during meal? They’ll choke sans me.”
『Why? They saw. Look. All quiet. Adapted.』
“That’s grogginess, not adaptation. Dose shocks gradual—like traffic accidents otherwise.”
『Heh. Heh. Fine. They’re tough.』
Professor sighed at gritted-teeth Idrasil clutching charcoal. Even to Hyde-accustomed him, that hard-metal growl scraped psyches raw.
『No choice. Too cozy in your body. Human speech? Wrong mouth.』
[Hrm. You’ll get it outside. Can’t reshape like this—soft/flex here, sleek/hard there. Both solid. High voice on this face? Uncanny valley.]
‘Heard. Talk me only—pre-Lucilla faint.’
[Seal lips two ways: convince or stuff ‘em. Mmm~ hot protein. Smells divine.]
Hyde’s fang-baring yawn earned half-roast hind leg. Crunching bone/flesh rumbled Professor’s gut... Ugh. Even me, jaded weirdo, squirms.
Feeling party’s awkward stares, Professor explained Hyde’s tenure/method. Real-side censored for NPCs.
Crunch! Snap! Crackle!
“So... that’s it. Staying human in Mutation body, super strength/regen? Thanks to him. Looks scary, but good guy. Fun, solid personality.”
[Self-praise much.]
Idrasil bulging-eyed, scribbling. Did Grand Matron know, sending her? Never doubted her insight—but this? No.
“Hyde... was it?”
Idrasil eyed Hyde’s head; he wiped oily muzzle left-handed, tore another leg, pointed at Professor.
“Ask me. Same answer either way.”
Scribble scribble!
One sentence, but elf’s ‘learn human Professor’ zeal filled palm-sheet, flipped page.
“Got it. Two souls, one body? Aldrich? You saw Hyde... before, right?”
“Hm? Oh yeah. Long sensed something in him—begged help at border fief gamble. Faint as smoke then, sharp as whetstone now. Real. Hyde, yeah.”
Shock faded; Aldrich approached, curiosity piqued.
“Not split souls. Souls indivisible naturally. Black magic splits, but rips leave scars—personality flaws, madness. You two? Seamless as one, yet distinct. Honor for soul mage.”
『Wizard. Outed. Question: not split, so I born from Professor?』
“Hmm... Likely. Tangled so, ‘born’ fits loose... Shared memory/similarity? Mystery on his soul birthed you. My take.”
[Hey, you’re the father. Expert seal.]
‘Fuck off.’
[That’s you.]
Professor grumbled at smirking Hyde, slicing/spearing ripe boar bits before he devoured rest. No bowls—smashed.
“That’s my story. Questions? Buck naked truth—all out.”
Lucilla shot hand up.
“Me. That... extruding friend? Journey hiccups?”
“Dunno... Hyde? Thoughts? Issue?”
『Nah. Food bill up. Shell eats too little. Mutation blood best, but meals fill gaps.』
“Hear that?”
“Food bill... daily like that?”
Crunch!
『Every meal.』
Extra arm swiped Professor’s boar skewer—devoured save one.
Hyde proffered greasy remainder; Lucilla sighed tiny, took it.
“Not small, but no biggie. Strong enough to haul own chow. No journey/party/personality issues. All good?”
“Uh, yeah. Kinda like Aldrich, no?”
“Nell? Totally diff, but conceptually...”
“Our acceptance shocks more.”
“Professor-vibes numb us.”
“True. Storm Hill: smashed wind mage home; reborn from arm; saint’s soul... ugh, versus extra soul? Piece o’ cake.”
“Got it. Sad how well.”
[Your ‘sequential shock adaptation’? Potmeetkettle.]
‘Er...’
Party’s easy buy-in... guilt twinge. Months of thick/thin—comrade sprouts arms/head, ‘yup, him.’ What hellish life’d I drag ‘em into?
“Whew. Hero-types, eh. Eat up.”
“Yeah. Oh, Ottoman—your share’s safe. Scooped balloon-spilled herbs.”
“Thanks. Shame if all burned...”
“Foot-charcoal, please. Yes. Ran out.”
Back to normalcy.
Cloud-crash, head-sprout shocks aside—
Crisp forest air serene; post-shock dawn, rustling leaves/fire crackles soothed extra.
“Letters? Need any, Professor?”
“Grateful, but no. Camp till cart’s built—firewood ‘em.”
“Right. Notum, toss all.”
“Grok. Okay. Woo... no. Red legend’s heat-letter. Pricey. Your fave.”
Till Notum unearthed ornate letter from pile.
“Notum! How many times—no nicknames...?”
Fine stationery. Waterproof unlike others, silk-tied, scented—posh.
Lucilla couldn’t just fangirl.
“Uwaaa... uwa...”
Thud.
Iron Lucilla fainted before two-head/four-arm hero.
Notum’s letter bore crisp imperial seal.
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