Chapter 70

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 70

Chapter Title: Karak's Apostle

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Fundamentally, Ian's creations possessed mana signatures nearly identical to his own. This was because they absorbed a hefty dose of Ian's mana during the life synthesis process.

That was precisely why Ian ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could easily pinpoint their locations even from afar.

Why?

Because the mana of his creations was no different from his own.

Just as he could freely move his own hands and feet, it was only natural that he could effortlessly sense mana originating from himself.

Yes. That held true as long as it was truly his.

But if it belonged to someone else, the story changed.

Distinguishing and detecting different mana signatures wasn't easy, even for mages highly sensitive to mana. Even Ian, blessed with fraudulent affinity traits, had to enter a focused state to do it. And for a non-mage to pull it off?

There was only one implication.

It meant they possessed an unparalleled affinity for mana, unmatched by any other.

"Now I understand why Karak warned us not to point our blades at the Empire. Ha! So that was the deeper meaning!"

Bolgrom exclaimed repeatedly in admiration. Count Lycan shot him a look of utter incomprehension, but Ian couldn't. He knew just how incredible it was.

This crazy bastard.

Rising to Great Chieftain meant being the top warrior in the tribe.

And on top of that, this insane mana affinity?

No wonder he turned the Empire's north into a wasteland.

Ian knew full well how many Imperials had fallen to the sword at that man's hip, so he couldn't dismiss Bolgrom lightly.

"Are you listening, warriors of the Frost Fangs!"

Bolgrom stepped out of the tent and bellowed. His aura-infused roar drew every eye.

"Karak's apostle dwells in the Empire's heart, which means the Empire is not our enemy! The Great Rock God knew this and thus commanded our retreat!"

"Ahh!"

"So that's what it was!"

"Karak is the best!"

Admiration rippled through the crowd. Many looked enlightened and deeply moved, as if only just grasping the truth. Ian felt oddly dazed.

What the hell? This sudden leap?

"That very apostle of Karak stands here! This man at my side, the truest warrior among us, is none other than Karak's apostle—Ian!"

Pardon?

"No, Great Chieftain. I'm not an apostle or anything."

"And yet he denies it himself! But I can tell. This man is Karak's apostle."

Ian let out a hollow chuckle. It was utterly unreasonable.

I'm really not... Sigh. Whatever.

Ian gave up persuading him. He'd said it over ten times already, but it fell on deaf ears.

Think what you want.

Come to think of it, Ddol Ddoli and he shared nearly identical mana signatures, so Bolgrom wasn't entirely wrong.

Just... the priority was off.

If anything, Ddol Ddoli could be seen as his apostle.

"I, Bolgrom—ruler ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the great plains, acknowledged by Karak himself—declare this man to be, without doubt, Karak's apostle!"

"Woooaaah!"

"Apostle! Apostle!"

"Apostle Ian!"

Cheers erupted. Some whistled wildly or threw their arms up in triumph.

"Sir Ian. What in the world is going on? Apostles and such—what's all this nonsense?"

Count Lycan sidled up and whispered. Ian shook his head.

"Beats me. I have no idea."

"It's about you, so shouldn't you know?"

"How could an Imperial like me read Northerners' minds? Probably just a misunderstanding."

As Ian played dumb, Count Lycan nodded.

"Fair enough. What reason do those dumb barbarians ever have for their actions? Must be vexing for you, Sir Ian."

"Vexing?"

"Calling a proper Imperial who believes in the great and holy Light an apostle of some petty god. What an insult!"

Count Lycan sighed deeply and patted Ian's shoulder consolingly.

"Bear with it. What's done is done. Think of it as sacrificing for the Empire—it'll help. That's why we're here, you and I."

"Pardon? Ah, sure."

Ian scratched his head. This guy was misunderstanding too.

Not really insulting at all.

With both sides jumping to conclusions, it was absurd.

But whatever. Good was good.

In conclusion, the diplomatic mission was a resounding success. The moment Ian broached the topic, Bolgrom burst into laughter and accepted.

"You'll provide aid? Excellent! I accept with open arms! How could I refuse a request from Karak's apostle?"

"Uh, are you sure? No need to consult your tribesmen first...?"

"What's to consult? An apostle of Karak is as good as our brother. You grant a brother's request—that's how it is!"

The immediate agreement left Ian stunned.

Is this too easy? Like, freebie easy?

He'd expected resistance.

Historically, the Empire had offered aid to the Northerners multiple times, but it was never straightforward.

Many harbored blind resentment toward Southerners, refusing aid even when offered, causing headaches.

He'd thought this time would be the same.

That's why, representing the Empire, he'd studied Northern customs and culture to do it right—only for it to prove mostly useless.

"We must make amends. Forgive our folly in drawing blades against the Empire. We thought you the villains, but the true evil lurked within us."

Bolgrom accepted the aid while formally apologizing, expressing his regret to the Empire.

He bowed a full ninety degrees, so sincerely that even Count Lycan—who'd always viewed Northerners with disdain—had to clear his throat awkwardly.

A man's apology, free of political calculation. The kind that stirred a warrior's heart.

Even Ian admired this side of the rough Northerners.

The problem? Their hyper-macho ways made them prone to diplomatic blunders.

But they didn't care about that. No overthinking.

In that way, they suited Ddol Ddoli well...

Wait, too insulting?

"Ahem! With words like that, I have nothing to say. I'll convey the Great Chieftain's will to His Majesty faithfully."

"My thanks, Count Lycan."

After successfully conveying the overtures ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of peace, a welcoming banquet ensued for the delegation.

"It's modest, but we've prepared as best we can. With the Frost Boundary Forest subjugation looming and none of our wealth rivaling the Empire's, bear with us."

Thus, the drinking began. Surprisingly, the Imperial delegates blended in well. Perhaps due to the Northerners' code of never skimping on guests, they were treated warmly with smiling faces.

Though it was mostly thanks to the 'Karak's apostle' bit.

They kept calling him apostle and brother, urging camaraderie. The delegates, unaware of the full story, looked baffled by the lavish treatment.

Time passed, and the banquet's mood ripened. Amid boasts of homelands and laughter, Ian was deep in drinks with Bolgrom.

"Ha! Feels like pulling a rotten tooth—pure relief! You know, just recently I was miserable, thanks to that damned demon who deceived us. But now my chest is clear. How joyful!"

"That demon—do you mean the former high priest, Murunda?"

"Exactly! As expected of the apostle—you knew! Well, of course you did."

Bolgrom muttered, leaving Ian bemused.

Why assume I know like it's obvious?

"Just heard it by chance. Karak himself judged that demon, right?"

"Yes! Karak slew the demon and saved us from delusion. That's why we're here celebrating. Ha!"

"How exactly did you handle the demon?"

"Tossed it out of the plains. Can't defile sacred ground with a demon corpse."

"Hmm. I see."

Figured he dumped it. Typical.

The culprit behind the environmental mess was right here.

"Could you guide me to where you left the demon's body?"

"Easy! But why see that foul thing...? Ah! To purify it!"

"Pardon?"

"Truly Karak's apostle! To personally cleanse that unholy corpse. My judgment was spot on—you're our brother!"

Bolgrom threw an arm around Ian's shoulders. Ian's face twisted in bewilderment. This man's thought process was incomprehensible.

Purify? I just want to extract its soul.

"Warriors! The apostle will personally purify the demon that mocked us! What greater joy is there?"

"Pardon? No, that's not—"

"What? Purification? By the apostle?"

"I wanna see!"

"Me too!"

Hands shot up everywhere. Red-faced from booze, men swarmed. Ian rubbed his forehead.

What the...?

Felt like a monkey in a zoo.

Sigh. Just wanted to quietly feed on the soulstone.

Looks like stealth was off the table.

"Ha! My men are excited. Understand—they naturally want to witness a demon purification."

"Of course. I get it."

Ian smiled resignedly.

Fine. Let's make it a real fireworks show.

The demon Sirmet's corpse lay discarded some distance from the camp.

Right beside a babbling brook, where blood and rotting flesh from the body tainted the water. Ian nearly gasped in shock.

Hey, you idiot. How do you just dump a demon corpse like this?

This was valuable.

Pristine class-1 water turning real-time to class-5 or worse...

"Well? Can you purify it?"

"Naturally."

He first moved the corpse away from the brook. Then chopped wood for a simple pyre and bound the body atop it.

"Watch closely. This is the purification of the vile demon that toyed with the Frost Fang tribe!"

"Yes!"

Dude, don't hype expectations.

Ignoring the pressure, Ian closed his eyes. He mentally connected to Lara.

-Lara. Ready?

-Yes! All set!

-Say "now" and you cast right then. Got it?

-Yes!

Lara replied energetically. She'd been summoned into his pocket dimension before arrival—for a flawless show.

Never thought I'd pull a scam like this in my life.

He placed a hand on the demon's head. Sticky, squishy disgust oozed. Even Northern warriors grimaced. Ian's face, however, stayed serene.

Alchemy numbed one to such gruesomeness.

Soon, incomprehensible words spilled from Ian's lips—not holy incantations, just gibberish. He didn't know priestly chants anyway.

Appearance mattered. Muttering "Namu Amida Butsu" or "Om Mani Padme Hum" worked wonders.

Half left?

What?

Damn. Expired maybe?

Eating expired stuff causes issues.

Whatever—let's try.

A pale mist began rising from the mushy skull. Ian shouted inwardly the moment it did.

-Lara, now!

-Yes!

Whoosh!

Flames ignited, roaring to life. A warm glow spread, carrying a holy aura that drew soft gasps.

"Ahh, worthy of the apostle!"

"So radiant..."

"I feel Karak's grace!"

Grace? What grace?

Can you even feel that?

Soon, fire engulfed the corpse entirely.

-Keeeeaaaagh!

A bloodcurdling wail pierced the air as flames shot skyward.

Whoa. Check the effects.

Blazing spectacularly.

Gonna pee myself tonight from excitement.

Extraction proceeded smoothly. Half a soul? The rest vacuumed right in—no issue.

Half remaining was fine...

Huh?

What the fuck.

Damn. Got filth on me.

-Lara! More power—hurry!

-Yes!

-Use Sanctuary! Small scale okay?

-Of course!

A circular sanctuary bloomed in a short radius. Flames roared higher, holy light bursting forth.

Phew.

Lucky.

Ian's soulstone filled, pitch-black in hue.

Success, thankfully.

Phew. Nearly got tainted... Huh?

Ian noticed the sudden silence around him.

He glanced about. All the Northern warriors were prostrated.

"Wh-what? Why are you all like that?"

"Karak's power is so immense!"

"Ahh, Apostle!"

Uh, okay.

Surveying their reverent gazes, Ian scratched his head.

Guess it worked out?