Those Who Serve the Dead Gods
During the period when the Ark Gallery had ground to a halt due to its upgrade. In a remote corner of the continent. The nest where the Yellow Dragon once resided. Figures clad in black robes were holding a meeting. Having brazenly occupied the sanctuary of a great being that had long since perished.
"How long do we intend to keep hiding our existence? They're gradually recovering their strength."
"Indeed. The number of successors is dwindling. At this rate, we'll vanish without having accomplished a thing."
There were ten seats prepared at the meeting place. Yet only seven were filled, and the remaining six were vehemently protesting toward the one seated in the center.
"It's plain as day that the outer gods' power has weakened. And in tandem, the loathsome followers of that goddess are swelling their ranks. How much longer must we wait..."
The meeting had devolved into an outburst of fierce discontent. Perhaps displeased by the ceaseless complaints, the one in the highest seat—Gerhard Blutner—raised his hand to silence them. Silence descended in an instant. Confirming that all mouths had shut, he parted his heavy lips.
"Have I not said it time and again? That we must not aid the outer gods simply to slay the goddess's followers. Our enemies are not just one. They are all of them. Do I need to explain again for you to remember?"
With those words came a viscous mana that pressed down on the surroundings. The six successors seated there clenched their teeth to keep from collapsing under its weight. Even among fellow successors, the disparity in power was vast. The might of the great successor blessed by the Creation God. Though defeated and absorbed by the goddess, the Creation God's remnants still influenced the world.
"This world belongs to the Creation God, Alphater, who brought all things into being. The usurper goddess, and the outer gods seeking to devour this world—they are both our foes. Do not forget that."
The six successors nodded vigorously in agreement. Gerhard nodded in satisfaction at the sight, then withdrew his mana.
"Hah..."
"Kuh... Hngh..."
Only now could they breathe freely, harsh gasps echoing from all sides as Gerhard continued.
"Since you've all understood, let's proceed. These are all the changes from the past two weeks, correct?"
He questioned while checking the paper before him. The human successor, Konrad, hurriedly replied.
"Y-yes, Hierophant. I've compiled all the major recent events."
The past two weeks. A short but pivotal time in which the world had transformed. Gerhard confirmed there were no oversights before slowly organizing his thoughts.
"..."
In those two weeks, the world had undergone drastic change. Intelligent beings under the Ark Gallery's influence had escaped endless despair, dreaming of happy futures and striving to live each day to the fullest. Everyone had begun moving forward, preparing a counteroffensive against the outer gods. An era of great upheaval, a new beginning. Everyone except them was advancing. That was why the successors trembled in anxiety. Though he'd suppressed it with force, Gerhard understood their impatience.
But everything has its proper time. Their survival must remain hidden for now. If exposed, they'd be hunted and destroyed just like before. Their forces were far too meager to confront the continent's powerhouses all at once. For the moment.
"I knew it, but it's truly remarkable. Just the emergence of a single person has wrought such massive change... What do you all think?"
Gerhard praised the Moderator's feats—the root of this crisis—while soliciting opinions. But the six successors hesitated, fearing to irk him.
Frustrated by their silence, Gerhard furrowed his brow. The elf successor, Belion, quickly spoke up.
"It's true he displayed exceptional ability. B-but for some reason, he seems reluctant to offer direct aid. As if he only wants to play a minimal role."
Minimal role. Gerhard shifted his gaze to Belion, urging elaboration. Under that stare, Belion hastily added,
"H-he doesn't just provide help for free; he always demands some form of compensation in exchange for goods. As if there's no such thing as charity."
"Hm..."
Slightly differing from his own view, Gerhard took a moment to process the information. If one focused solely on the method of providing goods, Belion's assessment rang true. But considering the process behind those provisions, it was flawed logic entirely. Gerhard focused on that process. The Moderator was voluntarily supplying what everyone needed, based on his own judgment. A contradictory pattern with an inscrutable motive. Its enigmatic nature precluded rash conclusions.
"My view differs from yours, but it's persuasive enough. A fresh perspective. Indeed... that possibility exists."
What if the Moderator wasn't a good person? What if the voluntary supplies were merely a ploy to sell more goods? Providing needed items is the act of a virtuous soul, but doing so for payment is the merchant's way. No firm conclusion yet, but a new avenue had opened. Gerhard decided to consider the chance that the Moderator wasn't benevolent. Good or not—an overly simplistic binary was too risky without more data. The Moderator concealed his existence meticulously, after all. If he were merely a merchant, they might pull him to their side. For now, Gerhard set aside thoughts of the Moderator and moved on.
"We'll end discussion of the Moderator here. Next item. Slak, what's the status on mana stone procurement?"
Directed by Gerhard, the dwarf successor Slak immediately opened the relevant documents and answered.
"It was a close call, brother. The empire's recent subjugation nearly exposed us. But we secured the required quantity."
"'Nearly' means that mine's unusable from now on?"
Belion asked Slak in shock. One of their few remaining mana stone mines—and a high-purity one at that. Slak laughed heartily at him.
"Kuhaha! Didn't I say 'nearly'? No worries, brother. The imperial forces passed right after we finished disguising it."
"Phew..."
Belion sighed in relief. Watching, Gerhard began organizing future plans in his mind. They'd secured stock for now. But as the empire stabilized, their operational area would shrink. Mana stones and all supplies would dwindle. To endure, they'd have no choice but to venture out. Gerhard steeled himself and spoke lowly.
"Hiding indefinitely serves no purpose."
His deep, weighty voice echoed through the Yellow Dragon's nest. The six successors stared in astonishment. Hadn't he just said it wasn't time to reveal themselves? Hadn't he dismissed their views moments ago? A sudden policy shift. But cowed by his overwhelming power, they dared not question him. Gerhard smirked and explained.
"I've deemed external operations impossible now. But I don't mean revealing our existence. We'll infiltrate their midst."
"Their... midst...?"
One successor finally ventured a question. Gerhard continued as if responding.
"Not enduring from outside, but undermining from within. We've done it plenty before."
"True, but..."
"Didn't Valerian destroy all our bases? We have zero footholds in the empire. Infiltration is nearly impossible."
"Indeed, brother. And dwarves or elves can't infiltrate at all. That's why we're holed up in this backwater."
Objections poured out once the floodgates opened. Gerhard silenced them with a raised hand and pressed on.
"Do you think subversion means only from high positions? Konrad, your thoughts?"
Suddenly questioned, the human successor Konrad steadied his trembling hands and replied.
"L-low-level subversion is possible. In fact, right now, it's the only option."
"Heh, exactly. As you all said earlier, we're cornered."
The six broke into cold sweats. This trajectory boded ill. They'd end up living like lowly tenant farmers. But Gerhard continued indifferently.
"Find a village suitable for the six of you—excluding Slak—to join. We'll enter as refugees."
The declaration hit like thunder from a clear sky. Refugees? They, great successors, as tenant farmers? Shock gripped them; they denied reality. Futile efforts. Gerhard savored their reactions as he outlined the horrific plan.
"We'll use magic to alter our appearances to suit a family of six. Slak, being a dwarf, can't—so you'll manage the nearby hideout."
"F-family..."
"Slak, can't you handle the hideout?"
"If you're jealous, become a dwarf, brother. Looks like short stature has its day."
No room for input—a coercive plan steamrolled ahead. All was decided; they had no right to refuse. Six pairs of eyes quivered to a halt. Realizing their fate, they abandoned resistance. For the successors blessed by dead gods, today brought rare regret.