Chapter 108: A God Created Through Receiving (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 108: A God Created Through Receiving (3)
Everyone’s jaw dropped at Alon’s words.
Wise Ashgul, whose eyes were hooded by deep wrinkles.
Swift Sirkal, who still watched him with a wary expression.
Evan, who had been curiously examining one of the giant monster masks on one side of the tent.
And even Reinhardt, who, like Evan, had been looking around with little interest—all of them stood there, mouths agape.
The words that had just left Alon’s mouth were something no one here could possibly understand.
Reinhardt, in particular, stared at him with an expression of utter bewilderment.
‘What… did he just say?’
Though he looked like a beggar at the moment, Reinhardt had spent a long time traveling to and from the camps while training in the jungle. He knew exactly what kind of entity Alon was referring to.
Receiver Basiliora.
That violent, colossal serpent was the ruler of the Eastern Zone and the god worshipped by the Thunder Snake Tribe.
The main reason most expedition teams avoided conflict with the Thunder Snake Tribe was precisely because Basiliora stood behind them.
Yet, here was Marquis Palatio, standing before the very tribe that worshipped Basiliora as a god, declaring that he would subjugate it.
‘…Has he lost his mind?’
Reinhardt looked at Alon and genuinely wondered if that was the case.
Of course, he knew Alon wasn't ordinary.
Between the rumors and the things he had witnessed firsthand, he couldn't help but recognize Alon's exceptional nature.
However, no matter how famous 'the Marquis' was, attempting to subjugate Basiliora seemed like a boast that went far beyond the limits of even the most delusional braggart.
‘That monster…?’
Reinhardt recalled the time he had caught a glimpse of Basiliora.
The overwhelming sight of dozens of trees snapping like twigs from a single flick of its tail, and its body so massive it could be seen even above the canopy.
He had only seen it once, but it was a memory he could never forget.
That was why, just as he was about to make an incredulous face at Deus—who was casually nodding and humming in agreement beside the Marquis—
“…What did you just say?”
Instead of his usual easygoing smile, Wise Ashgul frowned for the first time.
“Those words are difficult to overlook, no matter how honored a guest you may be.”
With those words came a palpable sense of hostility.
However, Alon did not flinch.
He had fully expected this reaction from Ashgul.
Alon spoke the words he had prepared in advance.
“Then do you intend to keep living like this?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“I am asking if you intend to keep offering your tribesmen to that god.”
“How do you… know that?”
Ashgul fell silent, his face etched with shock.
By asking that, he had essentially admitted the truth.
Alon continued, unbothered.
“Bear this in mind, Ashgul. The god you serve will never stop demanding human sacrifices until the Thunder Snake Tribe is extinct.”
“How can you be so certain?”
At Ashgul’s question, Alon answered without hesitation.
“It’s not a matter of certainty. You should know better than anyone, shouldn't you? That the creature will never stop.”
“…”
“If the Thunder Snake Tribe assists me, I will take care of it for you.”
Ashgul remained silent.
Alon said nothing more.
To be precise, there was no need for further talk.
His job here was simply to force the chieftain to face the truth he was trying so hard to ignore.
And to let him know that an opportunity existed.
After a brief moment of silence.
“…First, would you give me a day to think?”
“I shall wait.”
With the promise of a meeting the next day, their first encounter came to an end.
As Alon stepped out of the tent with his party.
“?”
He left the temple behind, leaving Swift Sirkal standing there with her pupils trembling uncontrollably.
* * *
Immediately afterward.
“Marquis.”
“What is it?”
“…Are you really going to hunt that god or whatever it is?”
As soon as they returned to the quarters assigned by the Thunder Snake Tribe, Evan asked the question. Alon nodded.
“Yes.”
“…No, really?”
“I am.”
“…I swear, I’ll never understand you, Marquis. But anyway, is it okay not to say anything more? Their reaction didn't look all that great.”
Alon replied calmly.
“They will likely accept.”
“Why?”
“Because they won’t want to continue performing human sacrifices they never desired in the first place.”
“I had a feeling, but I guess that really was the case.”
Evan clicked his tongue in anger.
“Yes.”
“But even so, I don’t think they’ll accept your offer so easily. I mean, it’s a barbaric culture, but in places where human sacrifice is established as the norm, they might not even realize it’s wrong, right?”
Evan’s point wasn't entirely incorrect.
To the people here, human sacrifice was an unthinkable act, but that was a perspective possible only because they possessed a conventional sense of morality.
In a tribe that extremely avoided contact with the outside world, it was valid to argue that they might lack the standards to judge such morality.
However, there was one thing Evan was mistaken about.
“The Thunder Snake Tribe was not originally a tribe that performed human sacrifices. They are currently being forced to do so.”
“Forced…?”
Alon didn't know everything about them, but he knew two facts clearly.
That the Thunder Snake Tribe was not originally a tribe of human sacrifice.
And that the one forcing those sacrifices was their guardian, Receiver Basiliora.
“…Wait, then there’s no reason for them to refuse your offer, is there?”
Evan looked puzzled.
“You’re asking about the obvious.”
The one who answered wasn't Alon, but Reinhardt.
“They’re obviously afraid of what happens if he fails. Isn't it clear? If the tribe is being forced into this, they’re doing it because they don’t want to be slaughtered, right?”
“That’s true, but couldn't they just run away to another area where Basiliora isn't?”
“There’s obviously something keeping them from running away, which is why they’re putting up with such humiliation.”
At Reinhardt’s words, Alon looked at him with newfound interest.
Contrary to his bandit-like appearance, he had accurately deduced the current situation.
“Correct. The Thunder Snake Tribe cannot leave this place. To be more precise, it would be more accurate to say they are imprisoned. Basiliora is watching them to ensure they don’t leave.”
“Oh.”
Evan let out a small exclamation of admiration.
When even Deus turned to look at him, Reinhardt puffed out his chest for a moment before frowning as if something felt off.
“Wait, why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Uh…”
“Because your brain works faster than your appearance suggests?”
“Ah, that’s—wait—ahem…”
Evan nodded vigorously in agreement with Deus’s words before catching Reinhardt’s eye and clearing his throat.
He quickly changed the subject as he saw Reinhardt’s eyes narrow.
“Uh, but—why is that thing keeping the Thunder Snake Tribe from leaving for other areas?”
At the somewhat urgent question, Alon thought to himself.
‘It’s likely because of faith.’
Basiliora received the faith of the Thunder Snake Tribe and was well aware that it strengthened him.
In other words, to Basiliora, the Thunder Snake Tribe was an incredibly precious source of faith.
The problem was that Basiliora, having become obsessed with faith, realized he could extract even more of it through fear and human sacrifice than through simply protecting the tribe.
‘And the chieftain likely knows that fact well.’
Alon recalled the truth about the human sacrifices that Swift Sirkal had bitterly confessed in the game, saying she had heard it from the previous chieftain.
“I am not entirely sure of the reason myself.”
However, the explanation was too long to go into, so he gave a vague answer.
“Regardless, let us wait.”
With those words, he took a seat.
About three hours later.
“Can you… can you really, truly kill Lord Basiliora?”
Contrary to his expectation that it would take a day or two for the tribe to hold a meeting and decide on the matter, Swift Sirkal arrived after only three hours.
“Yes,” Alon nodded calmly.
“…My younger sister is the next sacrifice.”
It didn't take long for him to realize the reason.
The reason why the tribal meeting had concluded so quickly.
“So that’s why the meeting ended so fast.”
“Yes. If we move now, I can still save my sister.”
“It couldn't have been easy to persuade the others.”
“The chieftain and I have decided to take full responsibility.”
“…”
For a moment, Alon wondered if she could truly bear the risk alone if he failed, but he soon nodded.
Certainly, given Receiver Basiliora’s nature, the Thunder Snake Tribe was essential to him, so the lives of her and the chieftain might have been enough to appease him.
But for Alon, that wasn't really a consideration.
From the start, he had no intention of failing.
And so.
“Then I shall tell you what needs to be done from here on.”
Alon began to instruct Sirkal, who wore a look of grim determination, on her role.
* * *
Jenira.
The younger sister of Swift Sirkal, the strongest warrior of the Thunder Snake Tribe.
She had just turned sixteen and was supposed to receive her title through a coming-of-age ceremony with the other tribesmen after this year. Instead, she stood alone on the roof of the great temple, watching the drizzling rain.
As if darkness were slowly creeping in, she watched the gray clouds turn a murky shade and suddenly looked down at her hands.
“…”
There was an apple.
It was the last meal given to her by the sister she loved so dearly—the apple Sirkal had pressed into her hand while sobbing, despite never having shown tears before.
She stared blankly at the red apple, which seemed to have lost its color just like the gray sky.
Her sister had given it to her to eat, but Jenira did not eat it.
No, she couldn't eat it.
It was clearly an apple she liked.
She was so, so hungry.
And yet, she couldn't bring herself to take a bite.
Out of fear that the moment she ate it, she would be truly alone.
Out of fear that the end would finally arrive, she couldn't eat it.
Because she knew this was her last meal.
…It was a futile gesture.
Jenira knew it too.
Holding onto this without eating it wouldn't mean she was still with the sister who had always protected her.
She was well aware that the approaching end would not stop.
She wanted to run away.
The impulse flashed powerfully through her mind, but she didn't move.
Because she also knew that the moment she ran, the next sacrifice would not be her, but her sister.
And so, as Jenira stared blankly at the gray sky slowly being dyed by darkness—
“!”
Rumble—!
Suddenly, she saw it.
Something truly massive was gliding toward her.
The great god she had served.
The god she never wanted to face.
…Death. It had come before her.
A serpent that appeared, crushing broken trees just by moving—
No, Receiver Basiliora slowly and lightly coiled itself up the massive altar and soon looked down at her.
The moment those reptilian pupils, larger than her entire body, stared intently at Jenira—
“Ah—”
She was consumed by terror.
Her body shook uncontrollably.
At the same time, the apple Sirkal had given her fell and was pelted by the rain.
The desire for survival burned fiercely in her mind.
‘I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live I want to live.’
Thoughts raced through her mind like madness.
Yet, she still knew.
No matter how much she screamed, prayed, or begged for her life, there was no one here to save her.
Her death was already a certainty.
Therefore,
All she could do was weep silently.
As the ‘Receiver’ leisurely savored the sight of the terror-stricken Jenira and opened its massive maw—large enough to easily swallow a house—to consume her.
“Severe Cold (酷寒).”
Suddenly, a voice rang out.
Cr-crack!
Everything on the altar froze.
The floor.
The rainwater pooling on the ground.
The apple she had dropped.
Even the rain falling from the sky—everything froze solid.
And then.
From the edge of the altar.
Step. Step.
Through the drizzling rain, a man with an expressionless face walked out.
“──”
Gray-white mana flickered on one arm.
Beside him floated a hexahedron of iron, about half his size.
He climbed the stairs, murmuring softly.
A voice so quiet she couldn't hear it.
But immediately after.
K-boom!
The iron hexahedron twisted grotesquely, forming the shape of a massive spear.
Sensing a threat instinctively, the god, Receiver Basiliora, tried to close its open maw.
But its mouth would not close.
Within that vast maw, in a world of gray, glowing purple threads were tangled haphazardly, ‘forcibly’ holding the god’s mouth open.
The moment it realized this, the god’s body, which had been coiling around the altar, convulsed.
Rumble!
The altar shook as if an earthquake had struck from a single twist of its body.
Yet, as if such a situation were nothing, the man finished climbing the stairs, passed Jenira, and stood before the god.
Once more, with a small murmur, he stood before the snake with its maw held open, extending his index and middle fingers like a gun.
“Penetration (貫通).”
He recited the final Phrase.
FLASH—BOOM!
A massive bolt of lightning struck.
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—!!!!!!!!!!!
And as the god fell, its palate pierced by the giant iron spear—
“Ah───────”
Jenira stared blankly.
At the ‘human’ who had brought such a ‘god’ to ruin.