Chapter 36: Colony, the City in the Desert (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 36: Colony, the City in the Desert (1)
In a situation so confusing it made his head spin, Alon was able to glean three pieces of information from the conversation that had naturally unfolded.
First, the alliance between Count Zenonia and Duke Altia was supposedly formed on Alon’s orders.
Second, this faction called ‘Kalpa’ was created because of a letter Alon had sent to Count Zenonia.
And third, the gifts he had been receiving all this time were part of a process for nobles who wanted to join the faction to gain permission from its leader.
“…….”
Having painfully pieced these facts together from the words pouring out of Duke Altia and Count Zenonia, Alon stared at them with an absurd expression hidden behind his expressionless mask.
Even though he had managed to grasp the facts, there was still much he didn't understand.
…No, more than that, there were so many things he wanted to protest.
Unless Alon was a Jekyll-and-Hyde-style split personality, he had never once given anything resembling an order through Count Zenonia.
In other words, he had—he truly swore—never told the two of them to form an alliance…!
‘No, I just sent a letter saying I didn’t like the other nobles. How did the story progress all the way to this?’
Alon’s head throbbed as he looked at the two of them, feeling as if he were witnessing something utterly incomprehensible.
‘Is this that "realm of genius" that ordinary people supposedly can't understand…?’
Alon recalled a video he had seen in his previous world about how ordinary people take words literally, while geniuses perceive multiple layers of meaning in a single sentence. He looked at the two with complicated eyes.
‘…Now that I see it, it wasn’t that Deus was being a filial son….’
He thought back to the gifts that had been arriving constantly for months.
To be honest, Alon had found it strange. No matter how great Deus’s standing was, realistically speaking, his fame wasn't enough for other nobles to send expensive gifts from all over just to build a connection.
Only then did Alon remember that most of the content in those letters had been praising Alon himself rather than Deus.
‘…This isn't easy.’
Alon fell silent as he realized that a series of coincidences had led him to unwittingly help create a faction.
From the moment he realized those few facts, he knew instinctively.
He could no longer jump off this locomotive called Kalpa.
He had already accepted far too much to turn back now.
Of course, if he truly wanted to get out, there were ways, but naturally, none of them were good options.
The moment the Royal Faction and the Noble Faction clearly identified him as an enemy, leaving this faction would result in a greater loss than staying.
…In truth, if the loss were manageable, he felt a desperate urge to hit the escape button without hesitation.
‘…But if I tell them everything was a misunderstanding, I don’t know how those two will react….’
Alon looked at Duke Altia and Count Zenonia.
The two of them, who seemed to have finished their conversation and were now looking at Deus, appeared to be nothing more than beautiful nobles. But Alon knew.
He knew just how terrifying a person Count Zenonia was.
As for Duke Altia, although she was someone who should have disappeared according to the game but was now sitting in that seat, Alon did not take her lightly either.
Masterminds were masterminds for a reason, and he knew well that they possessed a sensibility that ordinary people could not comprehend.
In other words, even if Alon explained everything perfectly, there was a high probability that their thought process would lead them to think, ‘How embarrassing. I should just kill him.’
Of course, Alon didn't know them intimately, but basically, most of those labeled as ‘Masterminds’ in this game were personality defectives.
Therefore, whether he liked it or not, he had to remain the leader of Kalpa.
Yes, whether he liked it or not.
‘…At least until I can find a decent excuse to step down from the leadership.’
However, Alon had no intention of holding the position for long.
He knew that while the leader of a faction gained much, it was also a position with a heavy workload.
In other words, the role of leader did not suit Alon, whose motto was to live a leisurely noble life without working for the rest of his days. Thus, Alon set a goal.
He would play the leader for a while and then retire when the opportunity arose.
“So, what do you plan to do now?”
“Hmm.”
Alon let out a short groan at the sound of Duke Altia’s voice, which came just as he reached that conclusion.
Based on their conversation, it seemed Duke Altia and Count Zenonia believed Alon had created the faction with some grand plan in mind, but of course, he had no such plan.
No, there was no way he could have one.
He had only found out today that he was the leader of Kalpa.
However, since he couldn't tell them the truth, Alon rolled his eyes and decided to buy some time first.
“First, let’s start by cleaning up the underworld.”
“…Cleaning it up?”
“Yes. That way, it will be easier for us to operate.”
Of course, Alon had no idea how it would make things easier.
But since he couldn't even remember what topics had come up in the Grand Council today, he knew that bringing up a political subject would likely expose his ignorance. This was his way of using his head.
…It was clumsy, but it was the best Alon could do.
“Well then, I have matters to attend to, so I shall take my leave.”
Alon stood up, turned around, and immediately began to walk away.
He was afraid that if they asked any more questions, he would run out of things to say.
“…….”
Thus, Alon made a quick exit and, in the empty hallway, practically sprinted to his carriage, terrified that someone might catch him.
“…My Lord?”
“Let’s head straight to the Colony.”
He decided to leave for the Colony that very day.
‘The letter should have arrived by now. I hope I can get some help, just like with Deus.’
With that thought, Alon’s carriage began to move.
…It was an early summer night.
* * *
Meanwhile,
“Cleaning up the underworld, he says—”
As Count Zenonia muttered, recalling Count Palatio who had risen and vanished like the wind as if he had nothing more to say, Duke Altia spoke up after a moment of thought.
“…If he says cleaning up the underworld, it can only mean one thing, right?”
“Well, we’ve already had our territories under clean control for a long time. If he’s telling us to clean it up despite that—”
“It must mean the remaining territories.”
“In other words.”
Count Zenonia and Duke Altia fell silent, but soon, as if on cue, smiles spread across their lips.
The words that followed described a dream that would have been impossible if they were moving individually.
But now that they had an alliance and a faction, it was possible.
“…Unifying the underworld.”
“That sounds interesting.”
Count Zenonia and Duke Altia wore deep smiles.
“I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m becoming more and more curious.”
“Truly. I wonder what he intends to show us.”
Clink—
With those words, the wine glasses they held collided with an elegant sound.
“I’m looking forward to it. Truly.”
The praise for Alon spread along with the aroma of the wine.
* * *
One week later.
Around the time Alon had left Teria and was heading south to go straight to the desert city.
“Hmph—”
A man, the Agent, was watching a carriage in the distance.
The carriage carrying Count Palatio, the target of his contract.
The Agent looked at the carriage slowly advancing south, pulled a quill pen from his robe, and thought.
‘I was tempted by the Abyss Bodies, but there are still some things that bother me.’
Of course, he could kill Count Palatio right now just by approaching him and flicking the quill pen through the air.
However, the reason he was hesitating was none other than the rules shared among those who held the name ‘Agent.’
‘They told us not to make troublesome enemies if possible….’
In truth, Count Palatio didn't exactly fall into the category of a ‘troublesome enemy.’
Rather, the one they considered a troublesome enemy was the Master Knight in Calliban who seemed to owe Alon a great debt—Deus.
‘He will definitely move.’
Of course, it wasn't that the Agents feared Deus.
They were all individuals with skills exceeding that of a Sword Master; they were confident they could kill even the Sword of Calliban if they set their minds to it.
However, regardless of skill, they had to avoid creating unnecessary ill will with those who wielded significant power in the light, as it would become troublesome in many ways.
Even if the commission fee was a substantial amount of money, the principle remained.
But the reason the Agent had accepted Carmine’s request was that the reward he offered was simply too attractive.
‘Three Abyss Bodies….’
Abyss Bodies.
These were items that Duke Comallon had begun secretly distributing in the underworld at some point. If absorbed through a special process, they granted the user a unique power. They were items that couldn't be bought even with a fortune.
This was because Duke Comallon rarely distributed Abyss Bodies, even if he did release Abyss Pearls that enhanced physical abilities.
In other words, while Abyss Bodies were currently selling for exorbitant prices on the black market—essentially whatever the seller demanded—he hadn't accepted the request just to sell them.
‘If I use those, just how strong will I become…?’
The Agent, wearing a characteristically vile smile at the mere thought, cleared the distractions from his mind.
Seeing the carriage rapidly approaching, the Agent gripped his quill pen.
And then.
“Nothing personal, but a job’s a job.”
Just as the Agent’s hand, which held the quill pen already soaking the air with black ink, was about to slash horizontally—
“?”
The Agent saw it.
He saw that his right hand, which had been holding the ink a moment ago, had been severed.
For a split second, his expression showed utter incomprehension of the situation, and he was about to scream from the agonizing pain that followed.
“Guh—!?”
With an even greater surge of pain, his body, which had been floating in the air just a moment ago, was slammed into the forest.
And in the next moment, the Agent, who had crashed into a tree with a loud thud while clutching his severed right arm, saw him.
“!?”
It was a boy with black hair and blue eyes.
A boy with youthful features who looked as if he hadn't yet reached adulthood.
The Agent quickly surmised that the person who had cut off his hand was the boy before him and tried to speak.
“!”
He realized his mouth would not open, as if it were being forcibly held shut by something.
“What a shame.”
A voice came from the boy, who was wearing a bright smile.
A cheerful voice that did not fit the situation at all.
And.
The moment the Agent looked into the boy’s face.
Crack, snap—!
His neck spun around twice, and he met his end.
The Agent died with a bewildered expression, as if he hadn't even realized how he had been killed.
Watching this, the boy immediately turned around.
“If the opponent hadn't been the Ho—… no, the Count, you wouldn't have had to die by my hand.”
He turned and vanished.
Only the Agent’s corpse remained in the forest.
A corpse with its neck twisted twice over.