Chapter 106: A God Created Through Receiving (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 106: A God Created Through Receiving (1)
Before the night grew too late, Alon headed back to the camp with Selaim Mikardo. Since the Hermit’s Hideout had been opened, Selaim no longer had any reason to continue his research there.
"…A way to reach the next Tier, you say?"
"That’s right. I thought there might be some information about it in there."
Alon pondered Selaim’s response as they conversed on their way back to the camp.
‘There shouldn't be anything after the 8th Tier, though.’
As far as Alon knew, according to the settings of Psychedelia, the 8th Tier—where one could utilize the Origin—was the absolute limit for a mage.
"I see."
"Yes. There wasn't much once I actually got inside. Well—it wasn't all bad, though. I gained quite a lot from investigating the Gate’s magic circle."
Alon nodded silently as he watched Selaim laugh cheerfully. He didn't want to rain on the man's parade when he was so passionately exploring magic to reach the next level.
‘…Besides, it might just be that there was nothing beyond the 8th Tier in the original game settings. A 9th Tier could actually exist here.’
Then, a sudden thought occurred to him.
‘…Come to think of it, what happens to Selaim Mikardo in the original story?’
In the original work he knew, the character Selaim Mikardo never appeared. Even when he dealt with the hysterical Penia in the original plot, the topic of the Tower Master never even came up.
‘Am I forgetting something? It has been a long time, so my memories might be starting to fade if I don’t check my notebook soon.’
Alon recalled the notebook where he had jotted down useful knowledge of this world whenever he had a spare moment, fearing he might forget.
‘Still, I’m certain he didn't appear in the main story of Psychedelia.’
Just as he became sure that he had never seen the man regardless of the timeline—
"By the way. Do you mind if I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"…How exactly did you find the real key in the second Gate?"
At Selaim’s somewhat cautious question, Alon replied with a hint of firmness.
"I’m afraid I can’t tell you that."
In the world of mages, it was considered rude to ask about a spell someone had developed personally, excluding the standard Tier magic. Thus, Alon could confidently refuse.
…In truth, politeness aside, he had nothing to tell him because he had simply used magic that looked flashy on the outside but was functionally empty.
‘It’s strange, though. An 8th Tier mage should be able to see through it easily. Is it because it’s Phrase magic?’
While Alon reflected on how well his white lie had worked, Selaim maintained his smile.
"Ahem, my apologies. I was just so curious."
"It’s fine."
"Well—I’m sure once we get a bit closer, I’ll be able to hear at least the basic principles. I’ll look forward to that day."
"?"
Watching Selaim laugh, Alon felt a brief moment of doubt at the keyword "getting closer," but—
"Well then, I shall take my leave."
"Are you going already?"
"Yes, I have quite a lot to do starting now. Two bodies wouldn't be enough for the work ahead."
Alon was glad to see Selaim offer his farewells as soon as they reached the camp. To be honest, he had felt strangely uncomfortable being around Selaim as well.
"Then, I’ll see you next time."
"I look forward to it."
Alon gave a casual response to Selaim’s polite, hollow invitation to grab a meal sometime, and the man soon vanished.
"Whew."
Alon let out a deep sigh.
‘That’s the second task finished.’
He continued his thoughts as he walked back to the inn.
‘Now, only the final task remains.’
To prepare for the 'Forgotten One.'
Alon thought of the object—no, the being—that would be of immense help to him even excluding the Forgotten One. It was, in fact, the primary reason he had come to the jungle.
‘…And the preparations are all complete.’
With that thought, he fingered the ring he had received from Heinkel inside his pocket and entered the inn.
"You’ve returned, Marquis."
"Deus?"
"Yes. I am back."
Upon entering, he saw Deus bowing politely.
"Hmph, so this is the Marquis?"
And then there was the man looking at Alon with an incredibly arrogant, yet somewhat displeased and annoyed expression.
It was Reinhardt, the powerhouse who should have originally been the First Sword of Calliban.
‘He’s huge. I knew he was big, but he looks easily over two meters tall.’
Alon reflexively looked up at Reinhardt. His height was imposing enough that even Alon, who was quite tall himself, had to crane his neck.
Contrary to the noble-sounding name 'Reinhardt,' his rugged face projected a sense of dread. Furthermore, having stayed in the forest for a long time before Deus found him, he was dressed in what were essentially rags. Currently, Reinhardt looked like a mountain bandit through and through.
‘…When I saw him in Psychedelia, he looked clean despite his rugged face, so he had a strong image of a noble knight.’
As Alon stared blankly at him due to the stark difference from the appearance he remembered—
"What are you glaring at? I’ve introduced myself, so you should—"
Reinhardt began to speak with a scowl.
However.
Thwack!
In the next instant, his head snapped forward.
"Mind your manners."
It was Deus.
"You bastard—!"
Reinhardt glared at Deus with wide eyes the moment he was hit. But Deus simply spoke with a calm expression.
"Show some respect."
"This guy is the one being disrespectful! Are you blind!?"
"Did you not use informal speech first?"
"I’m allowed to!"
"No, you are not."
"Yes, I am!"
"If you can defeat me, you may do as you wish."
"Urgh—"
"The loser obeys the winner. Wasn't that the promise between us?"
When Deus brought up a promise Alon wasn't aware of—likely something made between the two of them—
"Aaaaagh!"
Reinhardt let out a frustrated shout as if he were about to explode, then let out a heavy sigh and muttered.
"…My apologies. I was disrespectful, Marquis Palatio."
Alon replied to Reinhardt, who spoke in a voice that didn't sound sorry at all.
"It doesn't matter."
Reinhardt sat down grumbling, his expression making it clear he hated saying those words. Watching him, Alon felt a strange sensation.
‘…I’m sure he was a headstrong character who never bowed to anyone… Seeing him like this feels awkward.’
Alon shrugged his shoulders as he recalled the promise Deus had mentioned in passing, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.
"We’ll talk later. For now, let’s rest for the day."
He decided to take a break first.
…The sticky humidity was still unpleasant, but perhaps he had grown somewhat accustomed to it, as he was able to fall asleep quickly.
* * *
The next day.
After confirming the drizzling rain outside the inn, Alon listened to Deus give a brief account of Reinhardt.
"…He came to the jungle for training?"
"Yes. He said he spent time in the Silvanus Zone and the Northern Zone."
"…The Northern Zone?"
"Yes."
Naturally, the Silvanus Zone was not a place one would enter just for 'training.' The variants within that zone were incredibly powerful. Even for someone as talented as Philian, who had just become a Sword Master, it was a place where he might not die, but he would certainly suffer immensely.
‘Training in a place like that… It’s only possible because it’s Reinhardt, but even so, the Northern Zone would be difficult…?’
The Northern Zone.
That place, which could be called the Domain of the Hundred Ghosts, was a location that even Deus would find taxing. The variants were only slightly stronger than those in the Silvanus Zone, but the problem lay elsewhere.
Specifically, the subordinates of the Hundred Ghosts.
"Of course, from what he said, it doesn't seem like he stayed in the Northern Zone for very long."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It seems he spent most of his time in the Silvanus Zone."
Alon nodded at the timely answer. While marveling at Reinhardt’s strength once again, he turned his gaze toward Deus.
‘…And Deus defeated such a Reinhardt.’
"Is something the matter, Marquis?"
Deus asked, noticing the gaze. Alon pondered how to respond before speaking calmly.
"I just thought things turned out well."
It was the pride of a father seeing his son achieve great success, but since saying that outright would be strange, Alon spoke indirectly.
"…Is that so?"
"Yes. You’re doing well."
"I see."
After talking with Deus, who seemed to stand a bit taller as if feeling proud of Alon’s words, they finished a simple breakfast along with Evan and Reinhardt, who had come down to the first floor. Then, Alon asked the necessary question.
"Deus, are you heading back now?"
"I was planning to… but are you not returning with me?"
"I have a place to stop by."
"Then I shall accompany you."
"…Shouldn't you return now that you’ve achieved your goal?"
"A few more days will be fine."
"Actually, I was about to ask you to come along if it wasn't a problem. I’m grateful you said it first."
"It is my duty."
That was Deus’s answer.
"Then you’re telling me to wait here?"
"You’re coming with us."
"Why should I?"
Reinhardt protested crookedly.
"Because you’ll just run away again."
"Ha? Me? Don't make me laugh."
"Did you think I wouldn't know you fled to the jungle just because you didn't want to call me 'Big Brother'?"
"…."
Reinhardt fell silent at the follow-up attack.
…The reason Reinhardt had left for the jungle—a reason Alon hadn't particularly wanted to know—was revealed.
Alon, who had been silently watching this rare spectacle, cleared his throat.
Then, Evan, who had been watching alongside him, asked quietly.
"So, where are we going?"
"We’re going to where the Thunder Snake Tribe is."
"The Thunder Snake Tribe? …Wait, you mean the one in the east?"
"Yes."
As Alon nodded, Reinhardt, who had been quiet, scowled deeply.
"Ha? You’re going there? Marquis Palatio, do you even know what kind of place that is?"
"Of course I know."
The home of the Thunder Snake Tribe.
Among the three zones explored from the jungle camp, it was located in the Eastern Zone—the region with the least progress in exploration. The reason was simple: the Thunder Snake Tribe’s absolute exclusion of outsiders.
"…You know they’re there, and yet you’re going?"
"Yes."
"Ha—"
Reinhardt didn't hide his look of disbelief.
To that—
Thwack!
"Ack! You bastard, seriously!"
"Mind your manners."
"You want to die? Huh!?"
"If you truly want to see who dies, you’re welcome to try."
He was struck on the back of the head by Deus once again.
Watching Reinhardt begin to rage noisily, Alon thought to himself.
‘If you know about the Thunder Snake, that reaction is only normal.’
Whether in the game or in the lore, the Thunder Snake Tribe was an incredibly difficult race to deal with. First, the strength of each individual tribesman was at least knight-level, and their combat efficiency more than doubled in the forest.
Was that all? The moment one became hostile with the Thunder Snake Tribe, they would be hit with over ten different types of shamanic curses, and those debuffs would plague them until they left the Eastern Zone.
Still, that wasn't the part he was truly worried about. He had Reinhardt and Deus by his side now.
However, there was still a reason to be cautious. It was because the Thunder Snake Tribe possessed an absolute existence.
The god they worshipped.
…And the very thing that was Alon’s objective.
Therefore—
"It seems our talk is over, so let’s leave immediately."
Alon stood up.
"To meet the Thunder Snake Tribe."
* * *
After confirming that the rain had stopped, Alon’s group set off toward the Eastern Zone, a place where no exploration team or mercenary dared to go.
About an hour or two after entering the Eastern Zone—
"…."
Reinhardt watched Marquis Palatio walking ahead with somewhat dissatisfied eyes. To be honest, Reinhardt didn't like the Marquis. It wasn't that the Marquis had done anything directly to him, but ridiculously enough, he had suffered a lot of collateral damage(?) because of him.
‘…What is so great about a guy like that that he gives such long-winded speeches about him?’
Reinhardt could never understand Deus, who brought up Alon as naturally as breathing whenever they had a meeting. Of course, he had heard through other knights that Alon had played a major role in the struggle against the Outer God in the North a few years ago, but surely that wasn't a story to be milked for years.
Furthermore, the Marquis Palatio that Reinhardt saw in person didn't seem particularly special, contrary to all the praise(?). In fact, if it weren't for the testimonies of several knights who had gone on the Northern Expedition, who spoke until their throats were dry whenever the expedition was mentioned, he would have thought the rumors were a bit exaggerated.
He wasn't in a great mood because he had been dragged all the way here when he could have just returned to Calliban. Just as he was walking along, feeling quite grumpy—
Reinhardt suddenly drew his sword.
And then.
They appeared.
Unidentified people wearing white pelts and animal bone masks on their heads. They appeared before them like a mirage.
"…."
The moment he saw them, Reinhardt scowled.
‘I’ve already been hit by a curse.’
He felt his spatial awareness suddenly become infinitely dull.
"I warn you, strangers. This is the territory of the Blue Snake. Leave."
He heard the growl of a tribesman wearing a mask with four horns, and he reflexively let out a small exclamation of admiration.
‘He’s not a Sword Master, but he’s right on the verge. I didn't know there would be someone this close to that level in a primitive place without a single proper training method.’
While he was observing the masked tribesman—
"I have come to see the Chieftain."
"You ignore the warning."
He could see it. No, he was forced to see it.
As soon as Marquis Palatio finished speaking, the tribesman’s long single-edged blade, thrust forward with sharp momentum—
Cr-crack!
Froze instantly.
That wasn't all. As if refusing to allow even the slightest opening, the area around Marquis Palatio began to freeze over. The drizzling rain, the surrounding plants.
The thrust-out blade.
Followed by the hand holding the blade.
Everything froze.
And Reinhardt’s pupils dilated uncontrollably as he stared blankly at the scene. The reason was the two eyes visible behind Alon’s back.
As if forbidding the very act of perception, they began to eat away at Reinhardt’s mind in an instant. However, the real reason he was truly shocked lay elsewhere.
The sight of Alon’s back—his fur coat fluttering, with two eyes floating on either side—was incredibly familiar.
It was a scene he felt he had seen somewhere before—a scene that he shouldn't have been able to remember clearly if he had just passed it by, yet for some reason, it was etched deeply into his brain.
Thus, as he instinctively searched for where he had seen that image—
Reinhardt recalled a single fact.
One year ago.
The place Reinhardt had entered boldly after hearing rumors, only to be forced to flee. The place where his sword had been ruthlessly shattered by a single attack, leaving him with a sense of defeat even greater than what Deus had given him.
‘…The statue… behind the Ghost King?’
The statue carved into the entire cliff behind the massive rock where the Ghost King sat was strikingly similar to the Marquis standing before his eyes.