Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 132
Chapter Title: Chapter 25: Germination (1)
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The victory celebration wasn't held at Kalom Castle, but at Robole Castle.
Kalom Castle still wasn't safe enough for civilians to come and go freely.
It would be some time before it became like the other garrison castles, where civilians bustled in and out, forming markets.
More precisely, it would be after the Temoria Church secured Kalom Castle's safety.
'I think they said it takes about a month to set up the barrier.'
A divine barrier capable of blocking all threats and hardships in the world and enduring them.
That was the authority of Temoria, the god of endurance.
The additional trait Yang Tae-ho received upon awakening as a silver badge holder was a downgraded version of that power.
'And thanks to that barrier, no Meso appear in areas with demi-humans.'
It seemed similar to a ward or protective shield at a glance, but there were clear differences from magic.
'As long as the barrier's caster doesn't give up, it never collapses...'
It meant they could maintain the barrier for days, months, or even years.
Theoretically possible, as long as those who erected it endured and held on.
'But it's only theoretical.'
In reality, it was impossible.
No matter how exceptional they were, they couldn't endure sleepless nights forever.
'If the barrier's caster falls asleep, the barrier vanishes.'
That's why the divine barrier was maintained by Temoria priests taking turns to erect new ones continuously.
Considering that they needed to perform rituals to receive blessings, it implied an enormous consumption of resources just for that.
Of course, that didn't change the fact that the Temoria Church had created safe zones despite such costs.
Thanks to them, Temoria's influence pierced the heavens.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it the most prestigious among the seven churches.
'Practically treated like a guardian deity.'
Accordingly, their followers' pride was exceptional.
But today, regardless of which god they believed in, everyone was excited.
It had been two years since the recapture of Bicheta that news of a successful reclamation had come.
"Long live the church army!"
"May our god watch over us!"
"There, foreigners! Wooaaah!"
"Praise to the heroes!"
Robole Castle was packed to the brim with demi-humans who had flocked to see the victory celebration.
There were so many it was hard to imagine where they had all come from.
Was their excitement so thick it permeated the very air?
Even sitting in the assigned seats divided by church affiliation, watching the ceremony, everything touching my skin felt scorching hot.
I could feel just how long these people had awaited this day.
As if living up to their expectations, the victory celebration was grandiose.
Petals scattered throughout the entire event, and the rewards given to those who had earned merits were generous.
'As expected of a wartime situation.'
They had to boost military morale and secure public support, so it had to be flashy.
I understood the situation in my head a hundred times over.
But was it because I'd been running around just yesterday to build an orphanage?
The falling petals from the sky, the free food distributed to celebrate the victory, the gold coins raining down as rewards.
Every element filling this splendor grated on my eyes.
'If they cut back on these ceremonial shows, they'd have plenty of funds for elsewhere.'
Enough to easily aid thousands of war refugees.
But spending money that way wouldn't make a visible impact.
We're at war, and we're working hard to win it.
To convey that message to the masses, they couldn't skip events like departure ceremonies or victory celebrations.
I knew that, so why did it still sour my mood?
'Don't think too deeply.'
It wasn't a problem I could solve just because it bothered my eyes or heart.
'I even built an orphanage.'
When plenty of others did nothing at all, this was enough.
I'd done everything an outsider like me could.
I repeated that to myself, shaking off stray thoughts.
In the meantime, the ceremony proceeded, reaching the part honoring the players' merits.
"We cannot forget our comrades who toiled together to achieve today's glorious victory."
The one who ascended the podium and turned his gaze toward where the players sat was Carmant Efenel.
He was the supreme commander of the 1st Army Headquarters, which handled the central forces among the church armies.
'The marquis of the Heilas Principality where Robole is located, and the apostle of Pinelpenia.'
His voice, enhanced by amplification magic, filled the vast plaza of Robole Castle.
He scanned the players seated by their affiliated churches before continuing.
"Those who answered Temoria's call, rise."
As expected, the first mentioned was Temoria, the most influential church.
The players who had joined them ascended the stage to receive their medals and rewards.
The players invited to the victory celebration had already received briefings through their respective churches.
How the event would proceed, when to stand and what to do.
They had also been informed that Palawo would be last in the order.
Thanks to that, I stayed firmly seated, observing the players called up one by one.
'Our party included, about 20 in total.'
Essentially, all the talents currently standing out in each church were gathered here.
'In other words, the new faces of the churches.'
This was also the occasion for the players to officially show their faces to the Biharin people.
Every time their individual exploits and achievements accumulated, their church's name would be mentioned alongside.
Reminded of that simple structure, I felt a sneer bubbling up.
'Even in a war that's dragged on for over a decade, they're a mess with competition and posturing.'
Not content with the heavy air of defeat, even maintaining the status quo was a struggle, yet the higher-ups were engaging in petty power plays.
It wasn't just a problem among those who served gods. The seven gods had created this structure.
The more I learned, the more affection I lost for them.
I sat quietly in the Palawo Church ranks—practically at the very back—watching the ridiculous clown show.
Just then, the previous group finished, and the Palawo players were called.
"And finally, those who answered Palawo's call."
Among the players attending the victory celebration, four were from Palawo.
The most from any of the seven churches.
The church pushed to the very bottom had produced four players who contributed enough to participate in the victory celebration.
It was only natural, really.
Palawo required the ability to condense mana even in the bronze badge era to enlist.
To achieve condensation at that stage required innate talent for mana.
Only those who could grow faster than others had enlisted, so naturally, they produced more results.
'Must sting a bit.'
The other church leaders present probably weren't pleased.
I swallowed a sneer and rose from my seat.
What happened next was something even I hadn't anticipated.
"Woooaaah!"
"K! K! K!"
"Palawo's hero!"
"The first foreigner!"
The crowd's cheers intensified.
The sound was so powerful it vibrated through my body.
It felt like standing right in front of massive speakers.
Caught off guard by the sudden outburst, I ascended the stage as instructed beforehand.
"Thank you!"
"Please save us!"
"Long live the foreigners!"
"Long live Palawo!"
With endless cheers at my back, I stood facing Marquis Efenel.
I had to force myself not to frown during the process.
Because the adulation unfolding behind me wasn't welcome.
But regardless of my feelings, the cheers continued.
"Foreigner K."
No sooner had I clicked my tongue inwardly than Marquis Efenel, who had been quietly looking beyond my shoulder, called my name first.
Around mid-fifties, with neatly trimmed hair and mustache like they'd been measured with a ruler.
But what impressed me more was his golden eyes, which felt impenetrably solid.
Rashar and Jordan had described him as meticulous and obsessive about self-care.
Meeting him in person, that assessment didn't seem far off.
No, it felt understated.
The angle of his clearly groomed eyebrows matched perfectly without a millimeter of error.
'Symmetrical to the point of uncanny valley.'
Because of that, my first impression of Marquis Efenel wasn't mere meticulousness.
'An obsessive perfectionist.'
That was the most accurate phrase capturing how he appeared to me.
His uniform was flawless, without a single flaw.
While I observed Marquis Efenel, he observed me.
That's why there was a brief pause, unlike with the previous players.
Not enough to disrupt the event, though.
"You've worked hard."
Marquis Efenel, opening his mouth at just the right moment, extended his hand.
No matter how I looked at it, it was an invitation to shake hands.
Up until now, he'd given brief words of praise before awarding medals and rewards. Why this now?
For a moment, I questioned the sudden change, then let out a chuckle and offered my hand to Marquis Efenel.
A faint glint flashed in his eyes.
Sure enough, the moment our hands touched, I felt an unfamiliar divinity.
'Pinelpenia's authority.'
The power I'd used only once, the one that revealed past events, was now reading me.
But it didn't bother me much.
'I've never done anything shameful.'
Even if I'd committed misdeeds, they were decisions of my own free will.
I was prepared to face any blame or criticism that came with them.
I'd never wasted time fruitlessly, nor done anything to be ashamed of before myself.
That's why I stood taller than anyone before a power that read the past.
'If it read thoughts, I'd have avoided it at all costs.'
But since it only read the past, there was no reason to evade.
That's why I'd taken his hand without hesitation, knowing he was Pinelpenia's apostle.
At least, I could hold my head high before myself.
'A brief contact won't reveal far into the past anyway.'
If it only went back a month or two, dodging would be the mistake.
'It'd look like I had something to hide.'
Holding his hand with an expressionless face, the short handshake soon ended.
"Indeed."
As soon as he spoke, the ongoing cheers quieted.
As if the crowd was leaning in to hear his words.
Thanks to that, his amplified voice rang even clearer.
"Excellent."
The cheers, briefly subdued, reignited.
Because the audience knew Marquis Efenel was Pinelpenia's apostle, they went wild.
The intangible waves pounding my back crumpled my expression before I could hold it in.
Because the ugly underbelly of that fervent cheering wasn't pleasing.
'They're too scared to risk their own lives to improve things, so they cheer for those who will.'
Those cheers resembled the desperate demands of people seeking someone to depend on.
That was simply the nature of the masses.
'Sweet, they swallow; bitter, they spit.'
Right now, they cheered because the actions of me and the other players suited their tastes.
But betray their expectations or fall from favor, and they'd turn in an instant, tearing into us.
In the end, that fervent cheering wasn't directed at me—it was aimed at their own desires.
My assessment of the masses was blunt and cynical.
With a furrowed expression, I glared at Marquis Efenel.
He had clearly just stoked the crowd's frenzy.
His amplified voice spread to every corner of the packed plaza.
In such a situation, why was he saying and doing things to me that he hadn't with the other players?
'What scheme is this?'
I couldn't read anything from his visible expression.
At best, that it had softened slightly from before.
As my eyes narrowed in confusion over what was going on.
"If you'd followed Pinelpenia's doctrine, you would have served it admirably. Such a pity."
With each word from Marquis Efenel, the cheers grew even fiercer.
"Should you ever change your mind, come find me anytime."
Now, even his amplified voice was drowned out.
Only then did I realize why Marquis Efenel had said such things.