Time Flies in the New Continent
Time flew by swiftly in the New Continent. All the non-human races that had migrated there were pouring their full efforts into building their own new paradise.
The elves purified the salty sands and rocky terrain, coaxing plants to grow. No race could match them when it came to nurturing flora. Their only flaw was their laid-back pace, but that wasn't an issue now, yielding impressive results.
I arranged a meeting between the elder of the migrant elves and the Great Elder of the Great Forest. They shared their joy in true elven fashion—utterly incomprehensible to human eyes.
The Great Elder hinted at wanting to migrate to the New Continent in stages. Even with barriers in place, the heart of the Great Forest wasn't the most livable spot for elves. He promised full support for constructing elven villages here. That said, the forest elves practiced extreme minimalism, so they didn't take much—just seeds of crops they favored and saplings for their tree homes.
While the elves bid each other elven-style farewells, I turned into a lumberjack in the Great Forest. Even with the sand mortar Setas had developed, we needed a ton of wood. We'd bought from Akasha Territory merchants before, but this scale demanded direct harvesting from the forest.
The mighty trees of the Great Forest, impervious to non-auric blades, toppled one after another. The razor-sharp magic sword, forged and enchanted twenty-four times over by a dragon himself, finally found its purpose.
When I asked the Great Elder about the World Tree, he said migration was its own wish. I'd met the World Tree once, and it was an enigmatic being—neither god nor demigod, yet undeniably transcendent.
Over a thousand dwarves threw themselves into construction. Beastkin handled raw labor and foraging for immediate food needs. It required expeditions to the sea, but as a race specialized in hunting, they seemed to enjoy diving in to gather seafood.
They also had a knack for husbandry, so I handed them herds of omnivorous pigs and chickens.
Vampires, limited by daylight and unsuited for outdoor work, brewed underground or crafted woodwork. In woodworking, they rivaled dwarves, producing exquisitely antique furniture that would fetch premium prices among humans.
As expected, Eltis returned to Akasha Territory without his kin. Meanwhile, Setas's long-term stay prompted his mother to cross over. She was startled at first by the non-humans but soon blended in with her natural affinity. She seemed poised to become the daytime manager for the New Continent's Paradise Branch 2 of the Blue Moon. Lily had already reserved Branch 3.
With everyone immersed in their tasks, I found myself with some free time after handling my share.
That's when Setas introduced janggi, a traditional game from his old world. It caught on fast. Even the idlest among us—me and Howard—along with the non-humans, showed keen interest. Our boards and pieces were crafted by the dwarf elder.
"Where's the janggi player at?"
"Germain, just give me one move," Howard said, slyly nudging a piece I'd just played.
"Freeze right there, you beast. Hands off."
"You little ghost punk— that reincarnated brat spilled it. Multi-calculation or whatever. Cheating with skills in a game?"
"Hey now! Who was it that called this tiny board a microcosm of the world's truths?"
It was a splendid traditional game that fostered deep bonds even among friends.
I was the undisputed janggi master. I'd beaten Setas, its teacher, in three days flat—seeing a hundred moves ahead with clone-assisted calculations.
"Wouldn't moving the knight there work?" the dwarf elder chimed in from the sidelines.
"Brilliant! I hadn't thought of that!"
I swiftly followed his advice.
"Aren't you busy, Elder? All the other dwarves are swamped."
Setas had taught me meddling was a grave sin. I could spot a win even spotting him moves, but in a close match, it could spark murder. These weren't ordinary folk—one aura-charged swing, and heads would roll.
"Ahem! Just this one game," he'd been saying since three games ago.
Duke Pellaini, Eltis's uncle, clucked his tongue beside him. "No, no—knight was wrong there. Should've been the cannon."
This vampire seemed quiet, but his second-guessing was worse. Whatever— it'd end in a few moves anyway.
Howard struggled valiantly but fell to my assault, his king toppled.
He wailed as if his nation had crumbled. "Ahh! Your Majesty!"
Anyone would've thought a real emperor had perished. As if he'd ever sworn fealty to one as a knight.
"I'm out—sudden business."
"Win and bail, huh?"
Not gambling, so no "hit and run," but he nitpicked anyway.
"No, really."
Truth was, I'd debated going myself. But the incident seemed to be escalating, so I decided to handle it personally.
"Wanna come?"
"Dwarf, you and me next."
"Challenge accepted!"
Howard clearly wanted to stay. I checked on Setas—perched on Bastet's head atop his, he flew about overseeing construction for some "planned city." Childish words, yet the non-humans obeyed unquestioningly. He'd helped dethrone their god-like ruler after centuries; they'd witnessed the battle and dared not defy him.
Post-incident, Bastet no longer avoided Setas. She often claimed his head, only to swat it with a cat-paw for no reason. Setas hated it, but dislodging a willful goddess? Impossible. Probably rode him just to torment.
Anyway, Setas was busy too. I'd go alone. Could grab Argin or Jayke en route, but they were tied up as chief instructors at the new mercenary school and Akasha Academy.
My destination was far—the Great Labyrinth area.
The Labyrinth had become the East Continent's hub. A metropolis sprawled around it, teeming with trade. Mercenaries and adventurers entering were top-tier now. Wealth drew power struggles, but state oversight kept overt moves in check, leaving shadowy factions battling fiercely for influence.
I didn't meddle unless exceptional. This felt big, so I aimed to nip it early.
The culprits weren't ordinary humans—witches from the East Continent.
Western witches clustered peacefully. Eastern ones embodied the stereotype: solitary, reclusive in dank spots, malevolent, committing atrocities without hesitation.
Not all started evil, but that's where they ended. Good intentions could've led elsewhere—life's endless choices.
Many hid among humans or lived quietly alone.
Anyway, these wicked eastern witches had allied. Pooling power, they stirred trouble near the Labyrinth—already underway.
The site was a small village, recently founded in the barren Labyrinth outskirts. Witches gathered there, alongside many mercenaries and adventurers.
Their leader: Tullisa, the Witch of Phantom Delicacies. Nicknamed for illusionary gourmet feasts, she wasn't prominent until recently. Now she wielded immense power—from a tiny soul shard embedded within.
I'd known of it awhile but watched, unsure of its abilities.
Tullisa stirred a massive cauldron straight out of fairy tales. Ingredients? Quintessential witch's brew—unthinkable for the sane.
Yet villagers queued eagerly, slurping it down. Their eyes glazed post-sip, pledging absolute obedience to Tullisa. Likely the shard's power.
A terrifying ability, depending on use. Feed anyone her soup, turn them into unyielding slaves. Three hundred mercenaries now; scale to thousands or tens of thousands? Conquering a weak nation would be trivial.
Not just slaves either. Other witches surrounded her. Not all powerhouse, but their combined talents posed threats aplenty.
Even the soup's suspicious allure needed help. No one would touch that gratis gruel without it.
Enter Sista, the Witch of Illusions. She projected brief visions—short-lived, ineffective on strong minds, but enough time to spoon-feed soup.
But my main reason for coming? Neither Tullisa nor Sista. It was Naru, the Ghost Sorceress among witches. Not true ghost control— she manipulated grudge spirits bound to her.
And she saw my clones. She'd passed hearing tests but ignored speech.
I wove through the queue and post-meal clusters toward Tullisa, ladling soup.
A few mercenary-clad guards lunged to intercept—on orders, no doubt. Child's play for me.
I subdued them effortlessly and approached the terrified Tullisa.
"Tullisa, why are you doing this? What do you gain enslaving people?"
Shard-bearers cracked the world anyway. She had to go, but I wanted her motive.
"Who are you?"
Scanning about, she suddenly grew bold. Some ace up her sleeve.
"Germain Akasha, the Second Saint."
I nodded. Guess I was famous now—even in the East Continent I'd never officially visited.
"He warned us to beware you."
He? Unknown backer? Or the outer god who planted the shard. Watched by gods too? I was really making waves.
"Yeah? What an honor."
No sooner had the words left her lips than Tullisa's head exploded.