Chapter 330
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 330
Chapter Title: Let's Have a Quick Chat
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Mooo...
The vast expanse of central Africa.
In the place commonly known as the savanna grasslands, a herd of buffalo lingered.
Whether humans waged their wars and died off at their whim or not.
It had nothing to do with them.
They grazed leisurely, occasionally swishing their tails to shoo away the buzzing flies. The sight was the epitome of悠闲 leisure.
It was a scene that naturally evoked a sense of the wild's serenity in any onlookers.
Crunch crunch!
But right after that.
The tranquility shattered to pieces.
The moment a massive shadow suddenly blanketed the sky.
A colossal monstrous bird, large enough to blot out the heavens, appeared and swooped down on the buffalo herd.
Mooo!
The startled herd scattered in panic, fleeing every which way.
It was an instinctive response to sacrifice a few comrades in hopes that the rest might survive, but the outcome was futile.
The beast crossed hundreds of meters with a single flap of its wings, hunting down and devouring every last one of the fleeing buffalo.
Even the calves.
And yet, it still seemed unsatisfied.
As the monstrous bird clacked its beak and smacked its lips, a voice called out to it.
"Garuda, still hungry?"
On the back of the whale-sized Garuda.
A man lay sprawled with his arms pillowed behind his head. At his words, Garuda responded with a vigorous cry.
Kreeeek!
"You've been eating so well lately, you've put on weight. What if you get too fat to fly?"
Kreeeeek!
"Yeah, yeah, that's not gonna happen. Just hold on a bit. We've got guests coming soon, and I can't have you looking all plump and sloppy."
Kree...
Grudgingly, it seemed.
The beast scraped at the ground with its talons but didn't demand more food.
It simply flapped its wings and took to the air.
"Not long now."
For some reason, he seemed delighted.
Gazing down at the plains from Garuda's back as it soared into the distant sky, the man grinned.
And muttered leisurely.
"Since we're throwing a party anyway, it'd be nice if some hot babes showed up too, not just a bunch of drab guys."
In Africa, where countless military regimes held sway, this man ruled the second-largest territory after Egypt.
He was also the master of Utopia Guild, one of the former great guilds, and one of the mere eight absolutes left in the present era.
Summon Lord Branga.
With that modest wish in his heart, he drifted off for a nap while awaiting his guests.
Utopia Guild.
A guild centered around tamers and summoner-type players.
But its defining feature lay in its structure.
Before being a players' guild, it was an organization that directly governed and operated an entire nation.
With its international influence, it was exceptional when considering the typical guild's nature as a mere association or business entity.
At the same time, it was only natural.
In Africa, power was everything.
And as one of the former great guilds ruled directly by the Summon Lord, Utopia possessed that power in abundance.
That was why.
A dark-skinned woman.
Namim yawned hugely, her face screaming exhaustion, as she surveyed the guests filling the banquet hall.
"Hello..."
"A pleasure to meet you. I'm Hosep of the South African Revolutionary Army. Just call me Colonel Hosep."
"Sure, Hosep. Nice to meet you."
"Ahem, I've long admired your great duke's reputation. But where is the lord himself...?"
"Food?"
"Pardon?"
"Eaten yet?"
"Ah, no, I haven't had dinner."
"Then dig in. Our guild chefs are top-notch; it'll be delicious..."
"Well..."
"Don't like food?"
"...No, I'll enjoy it."
Hosep stared at her in bewilderment, unsure what to say next.
Namim trudged on with her sleepy expression.
'I wanna sleep.'
If she could have her way, she'd head straight to her room... no, just flop down anywhere sunny and catch a quick nap.
If only she weren't in charge of this banquet.
'That guild master asshole...'
Namim cursed the Summon Lord.
He'd arbitrarily thrown this party, sending invites to every military regime in Africa.
Yet on the day itself, he bailed to feed his summons and still hadn't returned even after it started.
Thanks to him, Namim had been yanked from a sound sleep as a last-minute sub and was feeling utterly glum.
'Should I quit?'
Namim pondered seriously.
She'd joined for the great food, nap times, and 20 paid days off a month.
What others called a former great guild didn't matter to her.
As a grand duke-level player and extreme slacker, it was just one of many guilds chasing her.
'...Too much hassle.'
Leaving Utopia meant scouting new housing and guilds from scratch.
Far less bother to tough it out just for today—a thoroughly pragmatic decision. So Namim shelved quitting.
And wandered the banquet hall.
All attendees were heads of their military regimes.
To save face, Utopia's vice master needed to show her mug.
Though another reason loomed larger.
"Ha, as they say, enemies meet on a single log bridge. Never thought I'd run into you here."
...Like this.
'Again...'
Hearing the voice dripping with sarcasm, Namim slumped her shoulders.
Par for the course.
Anyone picking a fight like that was a regime head she had bad history with.
Sharp retorts would follow, tensions escalating until guns came out.
Namim guarded the hall precisely because these incidents were routine.
To mediate smoothly, at least the vice master had to step in.
"Excuse me, who might you be?"
"Kumbah of the Somalia Liberation Army!"
"Ah, the renowned Field Marshal Kumbah, top general of the east. A pleasure."
'Huh...?'
Namim paused mid-yawn, tilting her head as she moved to intervene.
The opponent's courtesy was unexpected enough, but the whole demeanor was off.
'White person?'
A mask covering her eyes.
Impeccably pale, smooth skin.
A slender build to boot.
As Namim racked her brain over the guest list at this standout white-masked woman, flustered Field Marshal Kumbah scowled again.
"...Flattery now won't help. I have no intention of going easy on you."
"Sorry, I don't follow. This is our first meeting, so why act like I hold a grudge against you?"
"After stealing my Shadan tribe, how dare you play innocent!"
"There's a flaw in that statement."
"A flaw?"
"I never stole the Shadan tribe. They requested relocation, so I accepted them under international law's wartime refugee protections."
"Wartime refugees... what?"
"Above all, the Shadan aren't your property. So don't treat them like objects."
Not just Namim listening in.
Onlookers struggled to hide their bafflement.
In Africa, insults got fists, provocations bullets, fights full wars.
Anything less marked you a pushover. Such polite deflection was absurd enough.
But invoking international law and decrying ownership of citizens? Utterly alien.
They had no clue how to process it.
"They called you the east's outlaw, and you're one weird bitch. Just like all whites..."
In the end, Field Marshal Kumbah spat a few curses and stormed off.
Claps need two hands, after all.
Her bizarre responses left him increasingly uneasy, killing any urge to press further.
Everyone else felt the same.
The watching regime heads dispersed with odd expressions, clearly eager to avoid entanglements.
'East's outlaw, huh... Yeah, even among warlords, she's infamous for a reason.'
Meanwhile, Namim's sleepy eyes sparked with interest as she eyed the woman.
She'd heard rumors of the east's outlaw's eccentricity, but not to this degree.
'Anyway, seems like a hassle. Better steer clear.'
But that spark faded quickly.
Intriguing as the oddity was, Namim loathed hassle and had no desire to tangle.
Had it been the Summon Lord here, maybe different.
Deliberately averting her gaze from the masked woman, she headed to a corner to kill time.
Then she froze again.
Another oddity caught her eye.
'A kid?'
A golden-haired, tanned boy, bare-chested and adorned with golden ornaments, stared intently at something. Namim tilted her head.
'No Egyptians invited, right?'
For this banquet's purpose, Egypt-adjacent or pro-Egypt figures were excluded.
So why an obvious Egyptian-dressed child? Puzzled briefly, Namim mentally scanned the list and spotted the east's outlaw approaching the boy.
Then it clicked.
'Oh, that one? The heaven-toppling genius strategist?'
'Dragging him here means the rumors are true—she dotes on him and keeps him glued to her side.'
Interest reignited in Namim's eyes.
She was a woman, after all.
War, tactics, bribes? Boring. But gossip about a famed eastern power couple? Mildly engaging.
So she eavesdropped on their chat.
"Any progress?"
"Nah, they won't take me seriously 'cause I look young."
"I see..."
"What about you, sis? Find any leads?"
"Same here. My reputation keeps them either sniping or dodging."
'...Not the sweet talk I imagined?'
Namim felt let down.
She'd hoped for lovers' whispers.
Instead, dry, businesslike talk.
"Tch, how're we supposed to find the seven-colored bird like this..."
"Huh?"
That moment.
Namim blinked.
"Seven-colored bird? Why hunt for 'that one'?"
Too shocked, she muttered aloud unwittingly.
Then turned away.
Whether they sought the bird to eat or breed it, none of her business.
With her trademark laziness, she cut off interest and moved to leave.
'Whatever, not my problem...'
"Hey, hold up."
Grab.
...If not for the sudden hand from behind snagging her clothes.
"Sis, let's talk for a sec."
Like manna from heaven.
Faced with the golden-haired tanned boy's sunny grin as he held her, Namim could only frown.