Chapter 211
Chapter 211
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 211
Chapter Title: Spirit Mountain Days
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Spirit Mountain days.
The person I talked to the most after Master was, without question, Eldest Martial Brother.
Of course, the one I heard the most stories from was Third Martial Brother, but he was such a chatterbox who loved to ramble on one-sidedly that it hardly counted as "conversation."
So the curious realization that suddenly struck me was...
Despite all those talks, I knew next to nothing about Eldest Martial Brother.
Unlike with the other martial brothers, I hadn't even heard what kind of world he'd lived in.
But.
- What was the little one's name again?
“...”
A question Eldest Martial Brother often asked me.
- Ah, right. Not 'Ruan' or 'An.'
He'd reacted with unfamiliarity upon hearing my name, so...
It never even crossed my mind that Eldest Martial Brother and I might hail from the same world.
Could he have been lying?
For what purpose?
[Let's have a quick lesson. Do you like history?]
“Not particularly.”
I denied it outright.
I'd always kept my distance from studying anyway.
Sure, I'd taken history classes at the academy, but that wasn't out of personal interest.
[I see. Then let's start with the basics. Do you know up to what point current humanity recognizes as ancient history?]
“Well... Isn't it the Warring States Period before the Nameless King? When dozens of nations and hundreds of factions still dotted the continent.”
A time of endless wars—cliché as it sounds, it was literally a sea of corpses and rivers of blood.
That era predated the formal founding of the Dark Cult...
Paradoxically, it was said to be the most devastated and chaotic time on the continent.
These days, interspecies conflicts persist, but there's at least a shared identity as imperial citizens.
In the Warring States, another race meant enemy, foe—something to kill on sight.
That's when the mad cult worshiping the Calamity God emerged, expanding its influence at terrifying speed...
Giving the mutually devouring races their first reason to unite.
Of course, without the Nameless King, it would have been impossible—but the Dark Cult's existence provided the spark.
Perhaps because it was such a turbulent age.
Records from the Warring States are scarcely preserved.
It's about 2,000 years ago, so not entirely surprising...
But even accounting for that, there are oddities.
A thought suddenly hit me.
Maybe the Empire deliberately concealed those records.
[The Warring States, hm... But of course, intelligent beings existed on the continent long before that.]
“I know, but humanity's intellectual level back then was so primitive they left almost no traces...”
The Martial God burst into laughter.
[Hardly. Intelligence hasn't changed much from then to now—science and culture aside. It's ancient history, but people lived then; traces should remain.]
“Did the Empire erase those records?”
[No. Merely...]
The Martial God started to speak, then closed his mouth and sighed.
[I still can't say much. With just one of the seven pieces in hand, no need to rush. But you should recall what I said in the past.]
“What you said?”
[The forgotten era.]
“...”
[Once, this world was a battlefield. Grotesque giants towered like the great trees of the deep forests, and when they clashed, the continent's shape sometimes shifted. These battles erupted simultaneously across the land, so it's natural few traces remain.]
“Why did they fight?”
[Wars have varied causes, but the goal was clear: to achieve their desires.]
“Their desires?”
Was this another restricted topic he couldn't discuss?
I worried briefly, but thankfully not.
[You already know the reason. You've realized this world's uniqueness.]
“Huh?”
[I told you once before. The black elf Kusset's descendant—the head of the family you now belong to—could reveal truths even I cannot...]
He meant the Iron-Blooded Duke.
I furrowed my brow in thought.
Then, a conversation with the Iron-Blooded Duke at the main house flashed in my mind—a single word.
“...Pantheon?”
[Mm.]
The Martial God affirmed with a hum and continued.
[A world where one can become a god.]
“...”
[I don't know how many such wars raged upon this land. But in the ones I fought, one being dominated above all.]
“Who?”
“...”
The moment the Martial God looked at me silently, a figure sprang to mind.
“No way...”
[Your master. I lost to him, had my title of Martial God stripped, and became a forgotten god.]
I shut my mouth.
The Martial God chuckled lowly.
[Countless victors and vanquished in those wars. But the true conqueror of the battlefield—the hegemon—was one: Baek Rogwang. And the war's hegemon claims immense rights.]
“What are those?”
[They are...]
...
...
The Martial God closed his mouth.
Then sighed.
[Seems that's all I can say.]
“Argh...”
Frustrating enough to kill.
[But one thing I can say clearly.]
“What?”
[Once my disciple, the former Nameless King, current Calamity God, and soon your impudent martial brother—his purpose is clear.]
I waited silently for the Martial God's next words.
[Reenactment.]
“...Reenactment?”
The Martial God said flatly.
[He intends to ignite the gods' war upon this land once more.]
* * *
After leaving the Nameless King's tomb, I quietly returned to my room. Fortunately, no servants had entered while I was away.
Normally, I'd be grinning smugly at pulling off the perfect crime...
But not now.
Sleep wouldn't come, so instead of bed, I sat in the chair by the window, propping my chin.
Cool moonlight brushed my hair. My fevered mind cooled a bit.
Grotesque giants, Pantheon, gods' war...
A string of tales that felt utterly unreal.
Without Spirit Mountain's existence, my ties to Eldest Martial Brother, and the Martial God's presence, I'd dismiss them as nonsense.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't daunted...
Separately, I felt my goals shifting slightly.
Originally, my aim was to meet Eldest Martial Brother and talk.
If his corruption proved true, I'd drag him back to Spirit Mountain, thrashing him per Master's orders—feasibility aside.
But now? No.
Eldest Martial Brother had changed from memory, yet the shift didn't feel drastic to me.
Somehow, his core remained the man I knew.
In that case...
The one I needed to confront now wasn't Eldest Martial Brother.
Baek Rogwang.
The World's Greatest, Greatest of All Time, Spirit Immortal, True Martial God.
My master, laden with stellar titles.
It felt like he was hiding something from me.
* * *
The next day.
I visited the Nameless King's tomb again with Glenn.
At dawn, paired with "tomb," it oozed eerie dread...
But by daylight, that vibe was gone.
Well-paved paths made it feel like a tourist spot.
Of course, fewer than a hundred in the Empire could tour it.
“I heard the Nameless King struggled most against the dragonkin. He battled the Crimson Blood Dragon for seven nights and won, receiving the Crimson King's Armor as a token of friendship.”
“Huh? Wasn't that his last fight with the dragonkin?”
“Correct.”
“But the mural showed him wearing the Crimson King's Armor from the start.”
“No choice. No one knows the Nameless King's face... Those murals aren't contemporary.”
“...”
Glenn, standing beside me, recited the Nameless King's feats, achievements, and identity theories.
Knowing he was Eldest Martial Brother made it ring strangely.
Of course, I didn't let it show.
After our chat, we headed back to the academy. I still needed to check the dean's notebook.
The notebook with clues on Leone.
With my impending departure from the academy, I needed it urgently.
“You're not heading back?”
“Nah. Staying a few more days... Worried about sis's condition.”
Sis meant Princess Perist, naturally. Nodding, I thought he was surprisingly affectionate.
We might not meet again for a while.
Did Glenn sense it too? He straightened his expression and said,
“You'll be a great hero.”
“Out of nowhere?”
“Not really. I felt it in the shadow world. You're our beacon. Neither I, the dean, nor anyone else could fill that role.”
Do royals just spout burdensome lines like that?
My chest tickled awkwardly, so I grumbled,
“My dream job isn't hero.”
“What is?”
“Dunno... The World's Greatest?”
“What's that?”
“Strongest under heaven. Cool, right?”
Glenn chuckled.
“Continent's strongest... That's a fine dream.”
“Anyway, see ya.”
“Yeah. Take care.”
The oversized capital meant sunset by the time I reached the dorms.
Lightness skill would be faster, but...
Can't hop rooftops in a crowded city, so train was quickest.
Yet back at the dorm, a somewhat welcome face greeted me.
“At last, young master.”
“Keian?”
It'd been ages since I saw this aged yet upright butler.
Time hadn't passed that long, but so many major events made it feel so.
Keian looked frailer than memory.
“I thought your body still unwell, but your movements prove this old fool worried unduly. Forgive my delayed greeting.”
It sounded like, "You've been gallivanting, so I couldn't see you till now."
I nodded slightly.
“Sorry. You were looking for me.”
“Arjan and I managed, nothing for you to trouble over.”
“Sorry.”
Apologizing again.
With subordinates or servants, you should notify them right after waking...
Never had such underlings in my life.
Keian shook his head.
“No need. More importantly, I heard you met the Family Head.”
“How'd you know?”
“The main house sent word. A list of items the young master will soon receive from him.”
“Items?”
“Auction goods, I believe.”
“Oh.”
Right, I'd bought plenty at Abyss Auction.
I'd forgotten with the auction house collapsing...
Did the Iron-Blooded Duke have Ryzen buy them after? Doubt he paid full price...
For Ryzen, they became toxic inventory post-collapse—probably sold at a loss, weeping.
“Quite a haul, so I arranged delivery to the Small Iron Hall... Here's the list. Check for anything needed now; we'll extract it.”
“Got it. I'll look later.”
Pocketing the notebook Keian offered, he spoke again.
“From the imperial city, yes?”
“Yeah. How'd you know?”
“You got an outing pass from the academy.”
Truly the perfect collector.
Scary meticulousness.
Keian looked slightly troubled.
“Had you stayed there, no needless trip required.”
“Hm?”
“Imperial award ceremony today. The rest already left.”
“When?”
“Dawn. By now, it's underway or done.”
“...”
When things go wrong, they go spectacularly awry.
“...No penalty for lateness or absence?”
“One-sided imperial notice, so mild reprimand at worst. It's to commend merits anyway.”
“Hm.”
“Young master Hector advocated strongly.”
“I see.”
First time owing Hector.
“Still need to attend the palace, even late?”
“Too late today. Depart at dawn tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Then handle all remaining academy business today.
* * *
Hector Bednicker had been endlessly busy lately.
Though Ruan claimed the biggest merit this incident...
Somehow, Hector faced frequent summons externally.
Because Ruan fainted?
‘Dunno...’
Even awake, Ruan wouldn't handle such hassles.
But some hassles are unavoidable.
This was one.
Showing face to key figures was essential for a great family's scion.
Hector accepted it as an elder brother's duty.
He buzzed everywhere.
Imperial Special Forces, Hero of Heros, press, Sun Church priests, even a few mid-level names.
Stomach aching from pressure, Hector stayed composed, answering their interrogative questions calmly.
What he sensed...
Some gazes weren't friendly.
Trained since childhood, Hector recognized it: not hero-welcome, but treating a political foe.
...Then he heard Ruan awoke.
Joyfully rushing to meet, but the guy—wanderlust struck?—wouldn't stay put.
Hector's schedule tight, couldn't wait.
Resuming piled work, an unexpected visitor arrived.
“Haha. You Hector?”
“You are...”
“Helsta from the 72 Churches.”
“Ah... I've heard much.”
Hector bowed promptly.
Helsta: 72 Churches' youngest bishop, famed.
Innate talent plus pope's youngest—immense influence.
Though rumors of impurity swirled...
“Lord Baal spoke to me last night. To look after the academy heroes. Sorry for lateness.”
“Any injuries? Discomfort?”
“If even slightly unwell, seek me. Staying at academy awhile.”
“Got it? Must come. Danger if any curse lingers.”
“...”
Contrary to rumors of authoritarianism, vulgarity, greed...
His demeanor toward cadets was saintly.
‘Rumors truly unreliable.’
Hector, a step away, quietly admired when Helsta turned.
“You alright?”
“I'm fine. Prefer you check Ruan...”
“...Ruan.”
“Ah. The incident's hero. My youngest brother, currently dubbed Golden Fairy by the masses...”
“Already met him.”
“Ah... I see.”
Timing worked out.
“How was Ruan? Most curse-exposed...”
“Healthy. Excessively so. But that Ruan fellow—naturally rough-tempered?”
“Pardon?”
Helsta hastily added,
“Ah, nothing. Forget I said.”
“...”
That instant, Hector felt inexplicable kinship with the bishop.
Like with Karon or Nabi at times...
‘...No way. Surely not.’
Even a deranged little brother wouldn't assault a 72 Churches bishop.
Hector prayed his youngest had that much sense.