Chapter 416
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 416
Chapter Title: Allied Forces (4)
The liberation of the colonies.
It happened more simply and straightforwardly than expected.
Rokan single-handedly crushed the forces in the capital and other major cities, and in that process, the ruling powers were either utterly smashed or fled.
At first, they didn't recognize Rokan and charged at him blindly. But once they saw dozens of master skills unleashed simultaneously get obliterated by a single axe swing, the situation shifted.
While Rokan was single-handedly unleashing a scene worthy of being called a slaughterhouse or hell on earth, the ten users who had moved with him scattered in all directions to meet the forces of the colonized nations.
They conveyed Rokan's intent to return their territories and laid out one single condition.
‘There’s no such thing as a free lunch.’
The establishment of the Rokan Church.
Until now, outside of Korea, the Rokan Church had only been founded in regions with World Trees. But this time, he planned to expand it across the board.
And since he had repelled foreign invasions on their behalf and even liberated them, how could they refuse?
It didn't cost them a dime. On the contrary, they stood to gain combat-related buffs, leaving them no reason to turn it down.
Having lost their bases and hunting grounds while suffering growth restrictions, these people welcomed the Rokan Church—which boosted their combat power—with open arms.
After all, they thirsted for strength more than anyone, starved as they were for growth and liberation.
The ‘liberation operation’ didn’t take long.
There was fierce resistance at first, but once word spread of what happened to those who invaded Korea, some places had already pulled back, leaving only skeleton crews, even before Rokan arrived.
Even so, that didn’t erase Rokan's contributions.
They had left plenty of personnel behind to keep controlling the colonies, figuring Rokan might miss it.
These were territories they couldn’t have retaken on their own, so the cheers and gratitude showed no signs of fading.
[Acquired Divinity: 821,734.]
[Acquired Divinity: 689,727.]
[Acquired Divinity: 1,082,404…….]
And each time, Rokan watched his divinity swell.
Every time the Rokan Church spread—every time NPCs joined and users signed up—his divinity grew day by day. Even small nations netted at least 800,000 divinity.
Dozens of such places meant the gains were nothing to sneeze at.
‘Now it’s time for negotiations?’
Having liberated every last colony, Rokan turned his attention to the true culprits behind it all.
He sent the ten companions back and boldly strode alone into the heart of enemy territory.
“What do you want!”
“You asking ‘cause you don’t know? War reparations, obviously. Compensation for material and mental damages, plus punitive damages for starting this crap. Pay up, or we keep fighting. Fair warning: we haven’t even gotten started.”
Rokan’s first stop was none other than China.
In The Lord, they were the ones forever chasing Sinocentrism, acting stiff-necked about everything.
He’d let their arrogance slide until now, but not this time.
‘Kneel or get beaten.’
He shoved a brutal choice down their throats.
Other nations might fold, but he knew these guys wouldn’t—at least, not them.
“As if one punk like you could touch the great Chinese nation! Bring it if you dare!”
“Yeah? Guess I will. King of Violence.”
And China, tragically, chose the poison—no, the all-out brawl.
Unable to ditch their precious Sinocentrism or swallow their pride, they openly defied Rokan.
Rokan had no interest in tormenting a bunch of losers who couldn’t even muster a handful of level 400 users. But this? This changed everything.
Power against power.
Evil against evil.
He made damn sure they regretted their choice.
No need to march out and bait another invasion—he crushed them right there on the spot, starting with the undead race, China’s self-proclaimed strongest force, after they bared their malice.
“Bring them! Get them here!”
Chuilong, the undead guild’s leader at the bargaining table, frantically called for reinforcements amid Rokan’s onslaught.
China’s hidden ace.
The so-called peerless national champions—level 400 heavyweights.
Just deploying them, who could hang with the ten grandmasters sent to nab Rokan, laid bare China’s ambitions and venom. But against an opponent on another plane entirely? Meaningless.
Rokan didn’t even bust out new creation skills. He just trampled them.
Smashed them to pulp, diced them up light as filleting fish.
Grandmasters? Apostles? Who gives a shit.
Overwhelming violence left them with one option: death.
China’s famed human wave tactics couldn’t handle Rokan—hell, not even Unicorn, Nightmare, or Kai. Giant Butterfly’s sleep powder alone could drop hundreds, thousands, snoring on their feet.
It took less than five days for China’s massive nation and all its users to bow to one man: Rokan.
He seized every base in his path, razed facilities, looted every stacked tax coin.
China’s unpaid reparations? He collected them himself.
“Stop! Enough already!”
After three straight nights, they waved the white flag and surrendered. But Rokan stripped them bare.
Not a single coin of their hard-earned gold or cash counted toward it. He set the reparations, force-founded the Rokan Church, and dragooned them into joining.
“……What else do you want?”
“Prisoners. You picking them up or not?”
But he wasn’t done.
Rokan demanded ransom for those captured on Korean soil, too.
Separate from rainbow teleport fees to fetch them—he slapped on extra per head to get them back safe.
Word had reached the captives, so balking or cheapskating would spark riots from within.
Even China’s iron grip couldn’t stop hearts from wandering or guild grunts half-assing it.
No choice—China forked over massive reparations to Rokan.
‘Share? Why the hell would I?’
And Rokan gobbled it all up.
Sure, he tossed some recovery funds to the races and guilds. But compared to the obscene reparations he swallowed? Peanuts.
Let it leak—no skin off his nose.
No nation or race, united, could touch one Rokan.
Hadn’t he alone ended the war and flipped it into victory?
Plus, sitting on the emperor’s throne meant his personal damages topped the charts.
That’s how Rokan circled every nation in the international guild alliance—America, UK, France, India, you name it—raking in reparations one by one.
With China as the bloody example, resistance? Rebellion? Don’t make him laugh.
That was why he’d hit China first.
[King of Violence Rokan][Lv 470]
Founding the Rokan Church in dozens of nations pushed Rokan all the way to level 470.
He hadn’t given a choice—just kill or comply. Plenty of nations choked it down through tears. But once they joined and tasted those combat buffs? Damn useful.
Recovery took a hit, sure. But lifesteal scaling with attack power and jacked crit rates? Hunting felt easier than ever. Rokan Church fans multiplied.
Even the unforced rushed to sign up. Rokan’s divinity spiked in real time.
Paving his path to godhood.
“This about wraps it up?”
Post-China, they all flattened like pancakes. His battle itch chafed, but solid results.
Insane reparations banked. Divinity haul no level 400 monster massacre could match.
One more perk: spare time let him pump his three allotted worlds nicely.
War distraction worries led to tweaking the time acceleration. Sporadic check-ins worked.
First world: Hundred Ghosts Night Parade.
Freed from tyranny, the ghosts powered up past cities into nation-building.
You’d think ghosts would panic and launch big raids. Nope.
Just token squads now and then, probing limits.
Like steeping rice before the feast.
‘Not wrong. Spot on, actually.’
Yeah, close enough. Fattening for the kill.
Letting humans and other races mature for prime fear, chaos, screams.
Acting like they could squash them anytime. Big mistake.
They had Rokan as their god.
Full backing shot them past ghost expectations. Blades sharpening for payback.
Looked plenty doable to Rokan.
‘Not bad here up to now.’
Second world: Evil Ghost Dominion. Same story.
These ghosts packed deeper malice and grudges than Hundred Ghosts’. No mercy for humans or kin.
Endless torment, herding them to desperation’s brink.
Old them? Suicide city from the misery.
But it forged them.
Under Authority: Blessing of Unyielding Will, they shattered crises and limits. Abilities soared each time.
Few, but spirits and power unmatched.
‘Real star’s here, though.’
Final world: Netherworld Demon Realm.
Rokan’s handmade creation, base-invested with 100 million divinity—this one hit true golden age.
Racial war vanguard!
Prepped early via Rokan’s revelation (quest), they toppled mighty humanoid nations.
No ancient-emperor human-supremacy bullshit—no slave-driving the conquered. Cultures respected, folded into Rokan’s doctrines.
Future demanded more wars, bigger dominions. No idiot isolationism.
Military lead turned civilization, culture boom.
Rokan’s doting birthed heroes nonstop.
Heterorace champs? Outclassed. Some submitted outright to the swagger. Wars, unification: smooth sailing.
Rokan’s divinity ballooned daily. Humans? No slacking.
Conquest endless, god’s will constant. Slack? Dare they?
Rokan-like figures rose across the three worlds.
[The God of Massacre asks when the hell you’re coming.]
Rokan, pleased as punch, got nagged by Gale Wind’s impatience to hold up his end.
“Coming. Let’s go.”
Grumbled like a kid, but a thick grin split Rokan’s face.
Time to burn divinity on a throwdown?
He’d check Gale Wind’s true colors. Rokan headed for the altar.