Chapter 218
Chapter 218
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 218
Chapter Title: An Eye for an Eye, a Tooth for a Tooth (3)
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"Perfect."
Rokan flashed a satisfied smile as he checked the newly updated territory management window.
The territory funds piled high in every domain once managed by Duke Kilimanta were pleasing enough, but the additional territories and troops the emperor had tossed his way like a generous gift were on another level entirely.
The high masters who had followed Duke Kilimanta were all dead or imprisoned, but now that Rokan had risen above the duke's station, he could use 'Enlistment' to hire master-level knights at random probabilities.
And if he raised them well, he could even cultivate high masters from them.
Of course, it would cost a fortune, but with duke-level territories in hand, what was money? Just funnel one month's tax revenue into it, and he could hire as many knights as he wanted.
[You have acquired 5,000 experience points.]
[You have acquired 6 merit points.]
But the benefits Rokan reaped weren't limited to his subordinates' combat prowess.
A portion of the experience points and merit points they earned from slaying enemies on the battlefield flowed directly to him.
It might not seem like much from one or two, but when it added up to thousands or tens of thousands...
"Heh, this is the sweet stuff."
It created an environment where he could level up just by sitting back.
He immediately mobilized funds to bolster his forces and threw a good chunk of them into the fray, but Rokan himself didn't head straight to the battlefield.
Adding his power to the mix could turn the tide of even the fiercest battle, but he still had unfinished business.
[Book of the Prophecy of Ruin][????]
A book containing the prophecy of ruin. Sealed by some special power.
An item he'd uncovered through searches after devouring Kilimanta's territory.
A secretary that might hold all the secrets of the Corruptors lay before him.
"Hmm, a seal, huh..."
The Book of the Prophecy of Ruin. At a glance, it might seem incomprehensible, but Rokan had heard of it before.
Not the item itself, exactly—just the keyword.
Corruption, and ruin.
He had a hunch that the two weren't so different.
Which was why he figured he knew how to break the seal.
"How about this?"
What Rokan pulled out was an Orb of Corruption. He'd used up all the ones he'd gotten before, but a duke like Kilimanta, who stamped out corrupted monsters, had left behind a flood of them in his territory.
He placed one, then two, atop the book, and changes began.
A sinister green glow shimmered, followed by the sharp crack of the book fracturing.
"Damn it."
Crackle.
Had he gotten the method wrong? The book crumbled to dust. All that remained were scraps of paper with a few words.
[Corruption... Ruin... Ancient... Spell... Perhaps... Resurrection...]
"What the hell does this mean?"
An incomprehensible jumble of words.
Rokan spat out an irritated grumble at having wasted the hard-won book. The item was gone for good, but he committed the words to memory.
They felt like they could form some meaningful phrase, and if he found more keywords later, he might piece it together.
Rokan gathered the shattered fragments of the book and stepped outside.
Now, it was time for the counterattack.
* * *
The battlefield Rokan had vacated was now filled with users.
Top guilds, suppressed by Rokan's dominance or overshadowed by his reputation, had all jumped in, making the battlefield even more intense.
The war's aftermath had saturated or ruined hunting grounds, making normal hunting difficult—that played a part too.
Thanks to them, the Golden Lion faction and Black Dragon Legion alike saw top users dive in, turning every day into a brutal, desperate grind that birthed new heroes.
The pinnacle players of each race. Their names—the first to reach master level—splashed across the homepage in glory.
"Odin."
Rokan murmured the name at the top of the list as he scrolled the homepage.
Odin the Thunderbolt.
Impressive epithet though it was, his name from the previous life was even grander.
King of Genesis.
Rokan's eyes gleamed with madness at the sight of his arch-nemesis. Just as Rokan had risen again, so too had he soared to new heights.
He wasn't on Rokan's level yet, but among users excluding Rokan, he ranked highest.
He'd proudly claimed a spot on the SS-rank user combat power list.
"Interesting."
What Rokan was reviewing now was the so-called 'User Combat Power Rankings.'
Not officially from the game company, but compiled by a nosy user known as 'Kruang' on the homepage and The Lord—a freelance game webzine journalist.
What made it fun was that he hadn't ranked them on his judgment alone; he'd harnessed crowd wisdom.
He'd drafted it, but built a site where masses of users voiced opinions, updating ranks and tiers in real-time.
And on that chart, Odin—the undefeated rank 1 from the previous life, dubbed King of Genesis—was listed as SS-rank, not SSS. Intriguing. Or maybe obvious.
"Just one, huh."
SSS-rank (Rank 1, Immeasurable): Rokan
Only a single soul was classified SSS-rank: Rokan.
In the previous life, a dozen or so so-called 'kings' including Rokan had been SSS-rank. Compared to that, this was hugely encouraging.
Even with multiple users now reaching master level besides Rokan, they were all dragged down to SS-rank, leaving him the lone SSS.
Same master level, but a different league entirely.
And who could argue? Rokan's feats to date made comparing him to these up-and-comers laughable.
"SSS-rank..."
Rokan bit back a bitter smile. A flash of nostalgia softened his gaze.
The 'king' title hadn't returned yet, but it felt like the old days. Memories surged vividly once more.
He suppressed the boiling rage and headed back to the battlefield.
"What's the situation?"
"Forgive us, my lord. It's not good. The visitors are fighting valiantly, but we're barely holding our human territories."
Rokan nodded at the battlefield briefing. It was only natural.
The front lines hadn't collapsed entirely only because the inner war's end drew away the masters and high masters—and that wasn't 100% thanks to human users.
With fewer numbers and even fewer high-levels, humans paled against inherently stronger dwarf or half-elf users. That was the real margin.
For humans especially, the neighboring half-elves had carried the load. Odin and his Ragnarok team had shone brightest, easing the defense.
"That doesn't matter. How's the faction war going?"
But that was irrelevant. With Rokan back on the field, the front would flip completely.
"It looks even, but... it's getting tougher. The Golden Lion's visitors have produced several masters, but the Black Dragon Legion is churning out even more..."
The overall picture wasn't all rosy.
They held a fragile balance for now, but the Black Dragon Legion—orcs, trolls, undead, goblins—with superior base stats to the Golden Lions, was pumping out master-level users in droves.
The problem was humans, as always.
The Golden Lion faction had a fatal weak link in humans, so they were outnumbered in masters from the start.
Plenty of users had picked human inspired by Rokan's exploits, but most dropped out midway, and even among the rest, master-level achievers were rare.
Other races had at least ten master-level users each; humans, including Rokan, had just two. Numerical inferiority was inevitable.
"And our comps are falling short too?"
"Exactly."
Another issue: in factions like Golden Lion where class preferences varied wildly by race, equal master numbers didn't mean equal comps.
Popular class lines dominated master production first, creating tactical holes.
Half-elves were all-rounders, fitting any role, but dwarves and gnomes struggled.
Dwarves couldn't easily pick non-melee, and gnomes picking melee was folly.
Fortunately, Golden Lion users favored half-elves most, but limits loomed.
"So that's how it is..."
Rokan grinned after hearing it all. His aides were pessimistic; he saw it as ideal.
Fierce back-and-forth. Humans dismissed.
Word of his return would heighten their guard, but lightly—they'd reached master too.
They'd console themselves that past beatings were just master skills overwhelming them.
Everyone has clever plans and excuses.
Until they get hit.
"Perfect. Now's the time to use 'that.'"
"...Pardon?"
Decision made, Rokan pulled something from his inventory. A lavish, gold-embellished decree.
The emperor's promise to grant anything for ending the civil war now took effect.
[Leave Pass]
"I'm on leave starting now."
"Ehhh?!"
What Rokan produced was none other than a leave pass.
Up to three months. The emperor's guarantee that Rokan needn't show his face on the battlefield.
Of course, if the nation faced total collapse, he'd have to appear—but as a duke, Rokan didn't want that either.
So the emperor had been generous. Just as Rokan wished, the pass exempted him from 'commander duties' with zero penalties.
"Kai!"
Screech!
"N-No, my lord!"
Even low ranks like soldiers or knights faced penalties for shirking racial war contributions long enough.
For a commander and duke-surpassing Rokan to vanish three months? The penalties would be unimaginable.
But one leave pass wiped it all clean.
Rokan was free.
Astride Kai, he soared off, ignoring his aides' pleas, abandoning the battlefield.
Territory management worked remotely via the window anyway—surely they could hold somehow.
He had tastier, more important business.
"Polymorph."
Flying Kai to a secluded spot beyond prying eyes, Rokan activated the embedded skill in the goblin shaman's transformation ring.
A ring earned for saving an ancient emperor's life.
It looked like a disguise skill, but its polymorph magic was high-tier: not mere illusion, but full skeletal and structural overhaul.
Usable only every three days, but Rokan boldly morphed into his planned form.
Crack. Crunch.
Bones twisted with sickening pops, and Rokan became another being.
Human Rokan vanished; Orc Krokchui appeared in his place.
"Grng. Let's go, then."
A lone orc berserker, yellowed tusks gleaming, leered wickedly and set off somewhere.