Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Several Years Before the Day of Blood
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A few years before the Day of Blood.
Wisdom was displeased with King Dermaldin of Asbestos.
'Competent and ruthless. But he falls into arrogance too quickly. What I need isn't a narcissist—it's a war machine.'
Yet Dermaldin Vial Oser wielded absolute royal authority.
Dermaldin had been eccentric ever since he ascended the throne twenty-four years ago.
As the firstborn prince, he was already the most likely successor, but to keep his brothers in check, he relentlessly plotted assassinations and poisonings—and succeeded in most of them.
Those who pointed out his excessive cruelty were exiled from the palace or vanished without a trace.
Once crowned, Dermaldin wasn't exactly a tyrant to the common folk, but he became a figure of terror to the other nobles.
The nobles, stripped of any power to oppose him, groveled before Dermaldin. The peripheral lords—beyond the reach of central nobles and bordering foreign lands—were simply too weak.
To consolidate his power, Dermaldin married his own cousin, and recently, he accused his firstborn and third sons of treason, burning them alive.
As his reign dragged on, he began seeing even his own sons as rivals.
But Wisdom didn't see this as a major issue.
The troll nation that Wisdom had forged was designed to be ruthless for the sake of efficiency.
Dictators could always make wrong choices, but at least they could make choices.
Sometimes, it was better to make any decision quickly than to hesitate and waste time.
Of course, Wisdom didn't particularly like this kind of dictatorship.
Back on Earth, Wisdom had never once believed that dictatorship was ever justifiable.
But this was a game.
A real world born from Lost World, perhaps—but Wisdom now recognized himself not as an ordinary player, but as a god.
Gods had infinite rights and no responsibilities.
Thus, Wisdom treated the trolls harshly simply in the hope that they would move more efficiently.
The trolls submitted to their god, who symbolized the tangled skein of fate, and learned that ruthlessness from him.
The trolls then inflicted that same ruthlessness on the other races in the lands they ruled.
Terrified, countless races knelt before the trolls.
Thanks to that, the trolls dominated the widest territory on the Third Continent.
'...But.'
Despite their vast lands, that ruthlessness did not guarantee a strong nation.
The mightiest kingdom on the Third Continent was not Asbestos, but Blackrin.
The gap wasn't just a simple difference—Blackrin could hold its own against any other nation.
One could understand how the disparity arose by examining it piece by piece, step by step.
But when viewing the full span of over 150 years, it was hard to accept.
Wisdom knew Nebula had set unbreakable records and played brilliantly, but even so, this level of difference was hard to fathom.
Wisdom thought this because he himself had played exemplarily.
Wisdom pondered.
'What's the problem?'
Facing an impending war with Blackrin, Wisdom remained optimistic and believed that fact hadn't changed.
The Five Alliance held the advantage, even if one of them betrayed the others.
Wisdom found the answer in his own methodology.
'Was it a lack of something? Efficiency?'
One of the large dodecahedrons in Wisdom's rotating Kepler-Poinsot polyhedron came to a halt.
'No—ruthlessness.'
The gameplay was solid.
Objectively speaking, Wisdom couldn't call it exceptional, but it was certainly respectable.
Compared to players like AR1026, who suffered crushing defeats to the belatedly rising Runda or Jeoubi, it was hardly subpar.
The issue was that the trolls hadn't perfectly executed Wisdom's will, missing opportunities to perform even better.
They had done well, but not well enough.
There was a clear difference when compared to Nebula, who controlled Blackrin like an extension of her own limbs.
'I don't know Nebula's methods. So I have no choice but to act with the methods I know.'
Wisdom knew war was coming.
Late or not, he judged it necessary to replace the king.
Wisdom had found someone sufficiently qualified.
It was Dermaldin's son, Reddin.
Troll skin is generally a grayish green.
However, mutants with red skin occasionally appeared, though they were usually born frail, with weak bodies and short lifespans.
In contrast to the healthy green-skinned trolls, red-skinned ones were called 'the Withered'.
Reddin Vial Oser, Dermaldin's twenty-first child, was one of the Withered.
Though royal, he was the son of a concubine and had red skin, so he was raised outside the palace.
With virtually no chance of becoming king, Reddin lived with just one servant to tend to him and a royal errand boy to report whether he lived or died.
His mother, a mere commoner, offered no foundation to support him.
It was at this point that Wisdom took notice of Reddin.
Reddin's individual stats were in the top 1%, making him capable but not exceptional.
Top 1% sounded impressive, but there were too many such individuals for a player to invest choices in any one of them.
However, having strength, intelligence, and charisma all in the top 1% was noteworthy.
'Among Dermaldin's children, he's the most promising. And the fact that he's been cast out of the palace appeals to me.'
The humbler the origins, the more room there was for a god to intervene and elevate them.
And the greater the disparity in power, the stronger the individual's faith would inevitably grow.
The problem was that Reddin seemed content with his current lot.
Which was only natural.
Born to the king, yet he had over a dozen older brothers, and his circumstances offered no one to encourage him toward the throne.
A baron with a solid background plotting rebellion would have a higher chance of becoming king.
'An ignorant fool might dream of it, but not Reddin.'
So Wisdom decided to instill in Reddin the opportunity to become king.
He actively utilized his creation, Shytreiner.
"What do you desire?"
'Kill Reddin's mother. But leave traces behind.'
"Traces, you say? Should they know it was I who killed her?"
'No. Make it look like one of the royals did it.'
Shytreiner carried out Wisdom's will.
This consumed some of Wisdom's faith resources.
Directly killing a specific character counted as a player's 'active intervention'.
But it wasn't anything to worry about.
As Wisdom saw it, causality didn't demand much faith as long as it wasn't brutally torn apart.
'The mother of a discarded royal with no chance at the throne. Causality barely budges.'
Yet something did shake greatly.
Reddin.
Reddin spent his days learning trade from a village merchant and returned home only in the evening.
He discovered his mother murdered, with a royal dagger left at the scene.
Until then, Reddin had lived without any expectations from the royal family. Now, his life gained a new direction.
Revenge.
'Shytreiner.'
"You called?"
'Now create a fake culprit. Scout a suitable royal.'
"And then?"
'Kill the fake culprit so Reddin can't achieve his revenge.'
"...If I may ask an impertinent question, why?"
Wisdom always found it refreshing when his creation spoke up.
He answered gladly.
'If revenge is fulfilled, Reddin's story ends. That thirst for vengeance must not be quenched.'
"But what of that aimless revenge then?"
'Sublime it into other emotions. ...Now do as I command.'
Reddin sets out on a journey to the capital of Asbestos.
The night before his audience with his father, a murder occurs in the palace.
The victim is the owner of the dagger Reddin sought—Dermaldin's sixth son.
Reddin feels hollow at missing his chance for revenge, but uncovers more evidence.
The slain brother seems to have been killed by yet another brother's hand.
Meanwhile, Reddin is implicated as a suspect in the sixth son's murder and defends himself to clear his name.
In that defense, Reddin's outstanding abilities shine through, and he is exonerated.
He catches Dermaldin's eye.
"What now?"
'Rest.'
"Hasn't my task ended yet?"
'It's done.'
Wisdom added.
'What's left is my task.'
Reddin begins living in the palace, receiving the king's favor and attention—experiences entirely new to him.
Amid the luxurious life, Reddin continues his investigation.
He realizes the fratricidal strife among his brothers began long ago.
Reddin judges it all profoundly unjust and wrong.
'Father is still alive and well. Is there any reason to continue this cruel fight?'
Then, in a flash, he seizes a thought.
He realizes who benefits most from all these events.
'...Father. Were you the culprit?'
At that moment, Wisdom appears to him as a metaphysical, complex dream.
Reddin accepts all that has happened not as coincidence, but as fate.
Wisdom's revelation is clear and simple.
'That weak-willed man is unfit for the throne. Yet he swings his blade even at those too terrified to eye it. Now, someone must let him rest in peace.'
Now, Reddin's revenge transmutes into another emotion.
Reddin receives the will of the god.
First, Reddin enters Dermaldin's service, handling menial and dirty tasks.
Gradually earning trust, he begins taking on the more dangerous and important duties his father desires.
The concubine's son, the twenty-first child whose name even retainers couldn't remember, the Withered scorned among trolls—Reddin becomes the king's loyal servant.
As Reddin bides his time, gunpowder is invented, mages appear, and war draws near.
Wisdom plans to give the signal at the right moment through revelation.
But unexpectedly, player Jangwan contacts him.
'This shouldn't have involved you.'
As Wisdom checked his status window, Jangwan approached again.
He had still discarded his lion mask.
Jangwan, looking somewhat anxious, spoke.
"Was... the calculation accurate?"
The kobold priests were all dead, but gods don't die from anything short of level down.
Jangwan's high level prevented vassalization as well.
"Yes. I can make Reddin an apostle."
"Good. Now we have a card to play too."
Wisdom replied.
"Now that it's over, can I ask?"
Jangwan had asked that nothing be questioned until the exploiting was done, and Wisdom had complied.
Now that it was finished, Wisdom felt entitled to answers.
Jangwan nodded.
Wisdom asked.
"Why do you hate Nebula so much? Your paths shouldn't have crossed much during play. No connections, let alone grudges. Your emotions... I don't understand them."
After a silence, Jangwan spat out deliberately.
"I know Nebula."
"You know her?"
"I know exactly who Nebula is. Real name Choi Seong-un, that shut-in gamer loser who does nothing but play."
Jangwan ground his teeth.
"Nebula's my cousin brother."