Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: Grand Lords' Meeting (2)
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A tense atmosphere on the verge of explosion.
The conference hall hung heavier than any battlefield where fighting had broken out.
It wasn't just that the First Lord had been deceiving everyone. No one had noticed until now because his skills were that extraordinary.
The First Lord was already rated as the strongest among the northern warriors.
If such a man had been rejuvenated through the "Blessing of the Gods," no one could even guess the extent of his power.
Perhaps he could even rival the Demon King Gaph, who was said to have unified the North a thousand years ago.
'At minimum, three of us would need to charge in to match him. It'd be far more advantageous to turn this into a war of factions.'
'That ambition is dangerous. Better to eliminate him here...'
The lords' minds raced.
They were rivals, constantly checking one another.
They couldn't just sit idly by if another one pulled ahead.
Now that he'd revealed himself at the lords' conference, the First Lord would launch a conquest the moment he left this place.
Just look at how arrogantly he'd boasted about handing over "half the North" right in front of them—he was no one to leave alone.
What to do?
What if that First Lord defeated the "Apostle of the Holy One" and even claimed the Holy One?
"Hold on."
The Second Lord, wearing a deer mask, spoke up.
"This is the lords' conference. Without the qualifications of a lord, you have no right to speak."
The Second Lord turned his head and looked at me.
We had gathered because of me, but strictly speaking, I wasn't a lord.
What to do?
"Hold on."
What if that First Lord defeated the "Apostle of the Holy One" and even claimed the Holy One?
The Second Lord, wearing a deer mask, spoke up.
For someone like me to voice an opinion at this lords' conference and have it reflected by the other lords would undermine the established order.
'He thinks Croft will lose.'
It was a forced argument.
We hadn't gathered for a lords' conference in the first place.
In essence, we'd come together because they wanted something from me; we were here purely out of mutual necessity, not for any discussion.
Yet the reason they insisted on calling it a "lords' conference" was simple.
Croft's defeat.
They were imagining the repercussions the moment Croft lost and I fell under the First Lord's control.
The Second Lord continued.
"We've gathered here to discuss the one who appeared in the Holy Land and claims to be a 'god.' Only lords may speak, and any decision not passed by vote is invalid."
The Third Lord nodded.
"The Second Lord is right. Wasn't this agreed upon long ago? Our policy of not interfering in the Holy Land during wars was also decided at a 'lords' conference' through a vote."
Oh ho.
This was news to me.
The Holy Land had been left empty because of a decision at a "lords' conference"?
Over half had agreed to ban dispatching troops to the Holy Land.
'I can sense the intent behind this.'
Did Grand Duke Carlos pull some strings?
One thing was certain: Grand Duke Carlos had known about their movements in advance.
There was a high chance one of these lords was in contact with him.
Someone with Grand Duke Carlos as their backer, steering the war against the North's disadvantage.
It wasn't Shaan, at least. Nor those guarding the Holy Land.
'Some lords must have quietly sent troops to the Holy Land anyway.'
To Grand Duke Carlos, the Holy Land was a treasure he absolutely had to seize.
So anyone allied with the Grand Duke would have turned a blind eye to it.
Who was it? Who was the culprit?
The Second Lord pressed on.
"Moreover, that one claiming to be a 'god' attends our conference with his face hidden. Surely he's not trying to represent a lord's qualifications with mere guarantees from a saintess or from Yung?"
"...I guarantee him."
That was when it happened.
The Seventh Lord, Shaan, spoke for the first time, wearing his black bear mask.
It was the guarantee of Shaan, a great warrior and lord.
Not from a saintess or a pagan, but from a lord himself—impossible to ignore.
The other lords' expressions twisted.
"Seventh Lord..."
"He only just ascended to lordship. He's overstepping."
The most recent to become a lord.
But Shaan pushed his conviction forward.
"I don't know if he's a god, but I believe he has the qualifications of a 'lord' at least."
"Is the Seventh Lord mad?"
Shaan shook his head at the Second Lord's question.
"He defeated me. Without moving a single step, just standing there with his hands clasped behind his back."
"...!"
He'd defeated the Seventh Lord.
With his hands behind his back, no less?
The Seventh Lord Shaan's specialty was javelin throwing.
His javelins struck targets accurately even from several kilometers away.
Their destructive power could cleave mountains, obliterating anyone who took a direct hit without a trace.
Shaan, worthy of being called the god of javelin throws, had declared defeat.
An official declaration—its weight was no light matter.
'How strong is he?'
'Does he truly possess the power to reach the end of the Holy Land?'
The Holy Land grants power.
Those with power delve deeper and gain even greater strength.
But most lords never set foot in the Holy Land.
Gaining power there halts further growth.
It'shortens lifespan too, and the pagans' suffering was infamous.
The pagans were beings who lived without dying, enduring constant "penance." They were revered as gods precisely because of that endless "asceticism."
But... what if this self-proclaimed god hadn't reached the end of the Holy Land by mere coincidence, but through genuine power?
'Stronger than the First Lord?'
'Is that even possible?'
I tensed inwardly.
He wielded the authority to heal pagans and overwhelming power.
On top of that, he had the absolute support of the Holy Land's warriors and pagans.
He met every qualification.
There was no reason not to grant him lordship.
The Seventh Lord raised his right hand in declaration.
"Thus, I nominate him for the seat of the Eighth Lord."
To become a lord, one needed a recommendation from another lord.
Then, at the lords' conference, a majority vote was required.
It was the final safeguard to organize the chaotic North.
Without this system, countless factions would have risen, each claiming kingship.
A sort of republican state.
To become a lord now, four out of the seven gathered here had to agree.
Regardless of raw power or faction size.
The Second Lord opposed.
"You're saying we should seat some unknown as the eighth lord?"
"Origins don't matter. You've worn a deer mask, and I've worn a black bear mask—our seats and qualifications aren't defined by our 'faces.' Besides."
Shaan paused briefly before continuing.
"He healed the pagans and reached the end of the Holy Land. He's a boon to us, not a threat."
His qualifications were sufficient.
And the lord's seat was proof in itself.
The countless tribes of the North.
To erase their boundaries, lords often wore masks and hid their faces.
Hence their nickname: "Beast Lords."
Each lord received the blessing of a specific beast.
The Second Lord was also called the Deer Lord, while Seventh Lord Shaan was the Black Bear Lord.
If an Eighth Lord emerged, he'd be known as this:
'Dragon Lord.'
The one who appeared with the Holy Land's guardian dragon at its end.
No other name seemed fitting.
'Good idea.'
Represent qualifications with a mask.
Not a bad thought.
'Zero.'
[Yes, Master. Generating a hologram by scaling down the 'dragon' face from the database.]
[Task complete.]
The 'dragon' that Gluttony had devoured was stored in Zero's database.
Based on that data, Zero could project a hologram.
This seemed to be another ability born from the symbiosis with Gluttony.
"...Hm?"
"A dragon's face...!"
The lords buzzed as they looked at me.
A dragon's face, shrunken to fit like a helmet.
The black dragon, in the exact form it had when fighting Gaph a thousand years ago.
Not magic. They could all distinguish that much.
So it would truly seem like the presence of a god.
Shaan raised his hand.
"Those in favor of seating him as the Eighth, the 'Dragon Lord,' raise your hands to pass it."
One vote first.
"No choice, then."
The First Lord raised his hand.
To duel me on equal footing as a lord, he had to seat me first.
It only took effect under everyone's witness.
Two votes now.
Still needed two more.
The Second Lord crossed his arms entirely.
The Third Lord shook his head.
We'd gathered to decide the fate of this self-proclaimed "god," and making him a lord was absurd.
"Interesting. I'm for it."
The Fourth Lord voted yes.
"...Impossible."
The Fifth Lord cast his no.
Finally, all eyes turned to the Sixth Lord.
The Sixth Lord, covered in tiger-like tattoos, stared at me.
Beast-like eyes.
Impossible to tell if friendly or distrustful.
A moment later, he drew a holy symbol and clasped his hands.
"Guardian God of the Holy Land. We welcome you."
Four votes.
The birth of the Eighth Lord, the Dragon Lord.
*
I'd never expected them to revere me as a god right off the bat.
But I'd succeeded in making them see me as an equal—or more.
Once granted the qualification, the path ahead would be much smoother.
Eighth Lord? As if I'd settle for such a paltry seat.
'There's a spy among the opposition.'
Second, Third, Fifth Lords.
One or more of them had joined hands with Grand Duke Carlos.
A new lord emerging from the Holy Land.
Of course they'd oppose.
Now, by checking who proposed and voted for the Holy Land troop ban before, I could identify them for sure.
One thing left.
A showdown with the First Lord.
The duel was held under the witness of all lords and soldiers.
"Your face looks grim, Croft. Lost your confidence?"
Before the duel began, I had no choice but to ask Croft.
Even after recovering, his expression remained dark.
He'd answered confidently in the conference hall, but the First Lord was still the North's strongest warrior.
Impossible to gauge how much stronger he'd become after the mana shower.
Similar to Croft's case.
"No, it's just..."
Croft shook his head.
His grim expression wasn't from worry about the duel.
"Some worry you can't voice, eh? Speak."
"Your Highness, it's nothing."
"I said speak."
Croft turned serious and met my eyes.
In the past, he wouldn't have even hinted at such concerns to me.
But now, Croft and I shared a bond incomparable to before.
So I ordered him sternly to unburden himself if there was a worry.
Soon, Croft seemed to gather his thoughts and revealed his inner turmoil.
"...How much do you know about the 'Feats'?"
Feats?
The unexpected question made me pause.
"I heard they're errands from the gods. Why ask?"
"Did you truly meet the dragon inside the Holy Land?"
"Yes. I did."
"Was that dragon the target of the 'Feats'?"
"...Yes."
This was a truth I'd only learned upon reaching the Holy Land's end.
How did Croft know?
"Now I understand why no 9th-circle mages exist in this world."
The last 9th-circle archmage had existed a thousand years ago.
No human had reached it in the millennium since.
Croft muttered softly.
"All who glimpse the gods' secrets are disposed of..."
His eyes.
Somehow familiar.
Too familiar.
The eyes he'd had back then, before leaving the palace, when he'd made his resolve.
'No way?'
Mentioning "gods' secrets" meant it wasn't something to overlook.
Suddenly, Baal's words came to mind.
Any act challenging the gods could become grounds for a "Feat."
"Croft. Were you chosen for a Feat?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
This.
Damn it.
I'd half-suspected.
After the mana shower this time, witnessing the extreme, Croft had been selected for a Feat.
'Was leaving the palace back then for that too?'
Croft had been at the border.
Given time, he could've surpassed it easily.
If he'd left the palace not because of me, but because he'd been selected for a Feat...?
...And then quietly fought the dragon outside and died?
It might be a leap.
But given Croft's personality, it wasn't impossible.
Croft said,
"Don't worry. I won't leave because of that Feat."
"I'm not worried. I don't for a second think you'd lose to something like that."
"...I'll finish it quickly and return, Your Highness."
Croft bowed his head and stepped toward the duel.
The First Lord's confident face.
As if he were already envisioning a golden future.
Grind.
'I won't let that happen.'
I ground my teeth.
It had been a while.
This feeling.
This shitty rage.
The price for touching what's mine is steep.
No matter who— even if it's a god.
They will pay it.
[The Grand Lords' Meeting (2)] End