Normalization (3)
Around the time Grylls was taking in his peculiar new "family," the outside world was thrown into an uproar over the catastrophe that had unfolded in El Dorado.
It was an unspoken axiom that a state must never turn violence upon its own citizens. After all, the very reason humanity had banded together to establish nations was to escape the perils of the wild. Yet a government sworn to protect its people had turned its weapons against them. Even had force been deemed necessary, it was utterly indefensible without legitimate justification. El Dorado had not merely shattered that foundational principle—it had laid bare the foulest corruption festering at its core.
Nations across the continent issued formal condemnations one after another, while Mephisto openly sneered. The demons mocked the Holy Kingdom, scoffing that the very hypocrites who branded them the "Demon King's brood" had perpetrated atrocities worthy of a demon lord themselves. Ironically enough, Mephisto had matured culturally to such an extent that violent outbreaks within its borders had plummeted to historic lows.
Yet, as a realm most beloved of the divine and founded by a deity's own hands, El Dorado may have staggered, but it did not collapse. If anything, with the living legend Cain descending in the flesh, the prestige of the Holy Kingdom was poised to soar higher than ever—provided they weathered this immediate crisis. Such a dramatic shift was bound to send ripples, both great and small, throughout every neighboring power.
And that held just as true for Arnold, newly ascended to the throne of the Messiah Empire.
'It isn't the worst-case scenario, but it's hardly something to celebrate either.'
Arnold scrutinized the reports submitted by his subordinates alongside the latest developments on the Gallery. At present, El Dorado was bogged down in cleaning up the aftermath and determining the fate of the Pope. It was an ideal opportunity to strike at them politically rather than militarily, yet his hands were completely tied.
All because of Cain, who had answered the Hero's call and descended from the heavens. That single factor forced every nation on the continent to walk on eggshells.
'This is why religion is such an infernal headache.'
Countless deities were revered across this world, but the overwhelming majority of humanity worshipped two above all: Aragon, the God of Magic and Order, and Aris, the Goddess of War and Justice.
Even the Central Plains far to the east were no exception. They adapted the divine titles to suit their own customs, but the faith itself endured. Granted, over in that corner of the world, Buddhism held immense sway, so the influence of the twin deities was somewhat diluted.
'The remarkable thing is that they don't deny their existence.'
Even the Central Plains, renowned for their stubborn traditionalism, did not suppress the faith. They, too, acknowledged the ancient myths. That was precisely why this was such a problem. Cain appearing in the flesh carried an undeniable message.
'It's practically a divine endorsement from the Goddess Herself.'
Moving forward, El Dorado's standing would only rise, never fall. In truth, the Hero had dragged the nation back from the brink by the scruff of its neck, but that feat alone commanded immense respect.
'At least I was able to make a swift assessment thanks to the Gallery.'
Without the Gallery, it would have taken at least three days for the news to reach him through conventional diplomatic channels. Yet through the forum, he had grasped the situation almost in real time—a glaring testament to the Gallery's invaluable utility.
'The real issue is that El Dorado is effectively in a state of anarchy... Will the Hero step up as regent?'
Establishing a proper government would take roughly a month. Until then, the Hero would almost certainly have to act as interim ruler. After all, she possessed the unanimous support of the populace.
Arnold had gathered as much intelligence on the Hero as possible, but there was little substance to be found. An orphan of humble birth raised in the Papal Palace due to her innate genius, chosen as the Hero, and later branded a traitor and pursued as a fugitive—that was the sum of it.
'Her political acumen can't possibly hold a candle to the Pope's.'
Corrupt though he was, the Pope's political savvy had been exceptional; he had simply crossed a line that should never have been crossed. With Alfheim certain to raise hell moving forward, Arnold doubted whether the Hero could manage the fallout.
Of course, Alfheim would also find it difficult to openly strike at El Dorado. Cain might descend once again. They would be desperate to chip away at El Dorado's prestige by any means necessary—perhaps even resorting to covert, underhanded schemes.
'Even in this mess, Alfheim stopped at issuing a single statement of condemnation. What on earth are they plotting?'
Both on the Gallery and in reality, Alfheim remained unnervingly quiet. While no news was often good news, the elves were quiet to a fault. It wouldn't even be surprising if they were secretly hoarding strength for continental conquest. Alfheim and its elven race certainly possessed the might to do so—they were, after all, a species that rivaled the demon realm.
'If necessary, I'll dispatch an envoy to gauge their reaction.'
Now that he was Emperor, the time for diplomatic maneuvers was ripe. That applied not just to Alfheim, but to the other nations as well. For now, he planned to send envoys to the realms bordering his empire.
'There is so much to do. Far too much.'
Things were stable internally, but the geopolitical landscape was intensely volatile. El Dorado was stabilizing for now, but there was no telling what might erupt next. He needed information, along with an overwhelming stockpile of resources.
'The Iris Kingdom is walking tall as well, all thanks to Kadir...'
Before El Dorado captured everyone's attention, the hottest topic across the land had been the levitation of the Magic Tower. Although the tower had returned to its original place, rumors were swirling: the tower's ascent into the sky was supposedly Kadir's doing, the byproduct of him ascending to an even higher realm of magic.
It couldn't be dismissed as mere nonsense either, given that Kadir was precisely that kind of monster. He was, after all, an archmage boasting the singular achievement of slaying a dragon single-handedly.
"Ugh..."
Arnold let out a low groan, massaging his temples. With crises erupting simultaneously on all fronts, he hardly knew which knot to untie first. In times like these, securing at least one reliable ally was essential, yet finding one was proving nearly impossible.
'El Dorado is politically unstable, the Iris Kingdom would tell me to go choke on a bone, which leaves...'
Only Wyd, the realm of the beastkin—a neighbor both near and far. Once dismissed as barbarians, they had forged a formidable nation and established themselves as a powerhouse. Even the demons preferred to avoid clashing with the beastkin if they could help it.
'This is the best option.'
Arnold drew a circle around the name "Wyd" on his map. As much as he wished to foster closer ties with Mephisto, doing so risked antagonizing Alfheim. While he would maintain cultural exchanges with the demons, gathering intelligence took precedence for now.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Your Majesty, it is Gorgon. May I enter?"
As Arnold weighed his options, his faithful retainer, Count Gorgon, knocked on the door. Setting his papers in order, Arnold granted permission.
"Enter."
Creeeeak.
The door swung open, revealing Count Gorgon. Perhaps owing to his newfound status as the Emperor's most trusted confidant, the count's face was noticeably brighter, his posture sharper, and his expression brimming with relaxed confidence.
"What is it?"
"I have located the area Your Majesty requested earlier."
"Is that so?"
Arnold's eyebrow twitched upward in mild surprise; he hadn't expected Gorgon to track it down so swiftly. Tapping his fingers against the mahogany desk, he asked, "Did anyone visit beforehand and cause an unwanted scene?"
"None that I could verify, Sire. However, word had already begun to spread in the area, which made locating the person much easier."
"Refrain from meddling with him directly if possible. Even if it's mere soil, it could prove to be an invaluable resource."
Count Gorgon nodded obediently at the Emperor's instruction.
What Arnold sought was the fixed-nick user who had received soil from the Forest of the Four Seasons through Grylls. The moment he had seen that user's post, Arnold had grasped its staggering potential: with that soil, a realm could enjoy year-round bumper harvests. Naturally, it would require rigorous testing, but the sheer efficacy described in the post was unmistakable.
"What is he doing at the moment?"
"I am told he is currently at home, conducting selective breeding on crops."
"Selective breeding...? Is he a student from the Academy?"
"He comes from a long line of common farmers, Sire."
"A common farmer, yet he took it upon himself to breed new varieties?"
"Yes. Word has it he has already developed a variety intended for livestock feed."
To think such talent exists... Arnold's mind raced.
This was a user who received steady shipments of soil from Grylls himself. Of all the fixed-nick users interacting with Grylls, the only ones Arnold knew of within his empire were that farmer and Count Gorgon.
"First, send an official dispatch to the local lord. Tell him not to pester the man. Instruct him to provide every accommodation so he may continue his research undisturbed."
"Understood, Sire."
"Ah, and offer him admission to the Academy as well. The more knowledge he acquires, the better."
"As you command."
Some might grumble that showering a single peasant with such patronage was excessive. But just as an angler refuses to let a hooked prize slip away, Arnold had no intention of losing this crucial lifeline. For now, the man was only receiving soil, but in the future, he might secure something far more extraordinary.
"Ah, and one more thing. We have received an asylum request."
"Asylum? From where?"
"From El Dorado..."
"Ignore it. I have no desire to see Cain descending upon our heads."
With that final request dismissed out of hand, Count Gorgon bowed respectfully and withdrew. Once his retainer had left the room, Arnold let out a long sigh. Just when one matter seemed settled, another reared its head.
'Still, things are looking up.'
The prospect of securing even more resources from the Forest of the Four Seasons brought a genuine smile to his lips. Seeking to unwind and savor the good news, Arnold accessed the Gallery. As luck would have it, plenty of entertaining posts had made it to the Recommended tab.
'I wonder if the Hero will be able to handle the enraged populace.'
Well, that was El Dorado's problem.
For now, it was time to enjoy his break.
Just as Arnold had anticipated, the fury of the public in El Dorado—no, the Holy Kingdom—showed no signs of abating.
The people had already been consumed by rage and betrayal over decades of deception, but the Papal Palace had gone so far as to unleash weapons upon them. Mere deposition from office would never suffice. Nothing short of seeing their necks in nooses would appease the public's wrath.
"Kill the Pope!"
"Execute the cardinals!"
"Death! Death! Death!"
The roar of the crowd demanding executions reached the ears of the Hero, Asella. The problem was that, in an unprecedented crisis of this magnitude, conducting an orderly trial was nearly impossible. Looking at the charges alone, public hanging was the only fitting sentence.
Yet Asella adamantly resisted, insisting that the tragedy could not be resolved merely by shedding more blood.
"Everyone! Please, calm down! Even if their sins are grave, shouldn't we at least hear their defense?!"
"Defense?! What defense?!"
"Are you in league with them too?! Huh?!"
Asella's plea only produced the opposite effect. From the citizens' perspective, her words were infuriating. Eventually, even Reina, watching from the sidelines, winced with an expression that said, This is a bit much...
Of course, Asella had not acted without a plan. She raised her voice, appealing to the crowd with everything she had.
"The condemned will give their final statements shortly! A sentence will be handed down immediately after!"
At the promise of a verdict, the citizens' fury subsided slightly—or more accurately, it was forcefully restrained, poised to erupt at the slightest provocation.
Before long, holy knights dragged forth Pope Louis II, the cardinals, and the high-ranking commanders. Almost all of them had been directly involved in the recent atrocities. Having taken a severe beating in the dungeons, none remained unblemished; their faces were bruised and swollen to the point where they could barely keep their eyes open.
"Die, you bastards!"
"Death! Death! Death!"
The moment the culprits appeared, the crowd's roars grew deafening. Stones, rotting produce, and filth rained down upon them without pause. Keeping the mob at bay as best she could, the Hero summoned a mage to amplify their voices; their final statements had to be heard by all.
"Now. Do you have anything you wish to say?"
"..."
"..."
Not a single cardinal opened his mouth. They knew all too well that their fate was already sealed. But one man was different—the Pope himself.
Despite having taken far more blows than the others, his eyes remained defiantly fixed.
Shameless to the very end.
"I... I am innocent! I merely carried out Lady Aris's divine will! Why must I suffer such humiliation?!"
"Shut your filthy mouth!"
"Can't we just rip his tongue out first?!"
Predictably, his defiance only poured oil on the fire. The crowd erupted in sheer fury. And that was precisely what Asella had been waiting for. She looked down at the Pope and asked calmly,
"Do you truly believe you bear no sin?"
"Of course! You are the traitor here, you wretched girl! Lady Aris undoubtedly manifested Lord Cain for my sake!"
"I see. You must feel terribly wronged."
"I am—!"
"Then allow us to help you clear that grievance."
"Clear... what?"
Pope Louis II stared at her, completely dumbfounded. Just moments ago, she had spoken as if preparing to execute them, and now she was uttering sheer nonsense.
"Master Ludwig must have felt terribly wronged as well," Asella said softly. "Which is why he stepped into the Forest of the Four Seasons on his own."
"Th-That is..."
"So we shall grant you the very same opportunity! Enter the Forest of the Four Seasons, seek out our noble benefactor, and plead your innocence before him!"
"Y-You crazy brat...! Are you out of your mind...?!"
"If that is unacceptable to you..."
Asella broke into a gentle smile, offering Pope Louis II a proposition he could not possibly refuse.
"You are more than welcome to step down and receive the full wrath of the populace."
"..."
"Everyone! I shall now pronounce the sentence! Since the condemned claim they have been wronged...!"
Asella turned toward the gathered sea of citizens and cried out at the top of her lungs,
"In order that they may atone, they shall be cast into the Forest of the Four Seasons to seek out our savior!"
"WAAAAAAAH!!!"
"Long live the Hero! Long live the Hero!"
"Asella! Asella! Asella!"
Arnold had worried about the Hero's political capabilities. But when it came to speeches and public spectacle, her performance was nothing short of brilliant.
'I should send my gratitude to Mr. Grylls first. And let him know we're sending some people his way while I'm at it.'
Had Grylls been there to witness this, he undoubtedly would have barked in response:
I have zero use for unrecyclable trash!
Slowly but surely, El Dorado was returning to normal.