Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: Shipwreck on Unknown Shores
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At the southeastern tip of Heukrin lay Maganen.
An elf was speaking with a dockworker at the warehouse.
The elf's deep crimson fabric was embroidered with gold thread, but he didn't seem like just some wealthy merchant.
The sleeves and hems were tied with cords to keep them from flapping in the sea breeze or tangling around his ankles. He was a seafarer.
His narrowed eyes looked like they were smiling, but their dark, intense gaze made it hard to read his true intentions.
The dockworker yelled at the elf in anger, but soon quieted down, and by the end of the conversation, he was bowing his head.
As the talk wrapped up, a Lizardman approached the elf.
"Busy, are we?"
The elf twitched his long ears and turned to Basen Rak Orzon.
"Prince Basen... no, Captain?"
"Long time no see, Tione Itimo, Captain."
"Captain?"
Tione broke into a wide smile.
"Thanks to you, Captain, I'm now the owner of a small fleet."
"Should I call you Fleet Master, then?"
"I'm still the captain too, so Captain works just fine."
Finishing up with the worker, Tione headed to a nearby noodle shop and caught up with Basen Rak Orzon on everything that had happened.
While Basen was commanding the army as a general during the Continental War, Tione had been diligently transporting war supplies.
Once the war ended, he received the backlog of payments from the palace, and it seemed to have made him quite wealthy.
"I even joined the Fifth Waterwheel."
"Fifth Waterwheel? What's that?"
"You don't know?"
Basen nodded, and Tione covered his mouth.
"Then pretend you didn't hear..."
"What is it? Something I shouldn't know?"
"I figured someone of your stature would already know... I put my foot in my mouth again..."
Basen chuckled.
"If just mentioning it makes you nervous, why not just say it freely? I don't know what it is, but I'll keep it secret."
Tione hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
"It's nothing major. Just a secret merchants' guild."
"Secret merchants' guild? Not a regular one?"
"Yeah. It was formed long ago in Jecheongseong when Hwikyung gathered famous merchants from across the continent."
"Like a legend among merchants?"
"Sort of... The interesting part is it's not a legend. I thought it was just a myth until they invited me."
Basen considered asking what benefits came with joining, what the guild's goals were, or who else had met those strict conditions, but Tione didn't seem eager to answer. Besides, Basen wasn't that curious.
"Congrats on joining such an elite group."
"Thanks. By the way, did you personally decide on this southern continent voyage?"
Basen nodded.
"Yeah. I was originally planning to head to the eastern mountains, but things got messed up big time. Plus, it's what His Majesty wants—of course—and apparently the gods of the Pantheon do too."
The word Pantheon felt unfamiliar to Tione.
Talk of the gods was already the hottest topic in the postwar era.
Muyeong, the elf and Zarin's god who had introduced himself as the messenger of the gods, had shared stories with the chosen priests. These were compiled into books and spread across the continent.
Soon, they weren't just books anymore—they were performed on street stages as the tale of The Dawn of the Pantheon, known to everyone in the civilized regions.
Tione, who had been at sea for so long, had only recently caught up and was still adjusting to the story.
"I saw one of those performances too. They did it in the square here just yesterday."
"Not sure if it's the same troupe, but I saw them every day in Orzon. One time, there was even a role for me. A dwarf—not even a Lizardman—wore a mask and acted it out."
"Orzon has plenty of Lizardmen, though."
"Heard the guy was the best actor, so he pulled double duty. It was fun."
"Actually, in yesterday's show, a troll played your role."
"...Intriguing."
Tione said,
"Anyway, we're the ones carrying out that final part from the end of The Dawn of the Pantheon, right?"
"That's right."
Muyeong had said that to revive Ambon, killed in the war, they needed to journey to the distant southern continent.
For that voyage, they needed witnessing priests and hardy explorers to endure the perils.
Basen was leading that expedition, and Tione was captaining the fleet carrying them to the southern continent.
But Basen had fibbed a little.
It wasn't entirely his own desire.
Thanks to the war victory, support factions had formed around him despite his wishes, and the continent was still too vast for Heukrin to fully control.
If he just held on, it would burden Kyle.
'Kyle would manage somehow, of course.'
Still, stepping aside would lighten the load, and conveniently, there was a role suited to him.
Tione said,
"Not the eastern mountains we promised before, but we're going even farther."
"Who knows? Maybe we'll get there someday."
A few days later, priests gathered from each imperial territory and selected explorers departed from Maganen.
The five ships left Maganen together and would sail as far as Doltan Island, but then they'd avoid the Deep Ones' territory—called the Black Cult—and dock at different southern continent coasts.
Partly to gather as much info as possible, but also because they knew little about the weather and seas there.
It was a precaution so that if danger struck, not all five ships would be caught.
'We're heading to lands we never knew existed. No telling what'll happen.'
As Basen gazed out at the sea from the deck, Tione said,
"Don't worry. You think big ships like these are gonna capsize?"
Two days after passing Doltan Island, the ship carrying Tione and Basen, the Pirate's Shame, got caught in a typhoon.
"...Waves!"
The massive hulls that had loomed grandly when craning your neck at the dock now looked ridiculous as the waves battered the deck from above.
Tione shouted,
"What are you doing? Bail the water!"
Gripping the wheel, Tione bellowed orders, and Basen moved to help wherever he could.
But the ship tilted over 30 degrees to the left and rocked wildly.
"Grab the railing!"
That was the last proper sentence Basen remembered.
What followed were shouts and screams, the roar of waves that seemed to shatter the world, and the ship's agonized creaking.
Basen opened his eyes and saw something green, thinking to himself,
'Damn it, is this the Primordial Plains Shunen mentioned?'
It wasn't.
Brushing sand from his eyes revealed a shrubby undergrowth and a fairly dense forest.
Turning around showed a yellow sandy beach connected to blue ocean waves.
The sun, recently risen, slanted through the clear seawater.
'Warming up brought me around? Lucky.'
His head throbbed—maybe from tumbling and slamming into the ship—but thankfully no serious injuries.
The bad news: nothing around but emptiness.
'...No, there are shipwreck debris scattered nearby. Someone else might've washed up like me. But first...'
Basen's throat burned.
'Must've swallowed seawater.'
Chilled from the water, he was starving too.
Basen walked the beach, deciding to check the forest for food and water nearby before searching for other survivors.
Weaving through unfamiliar southern plants, he got a bit lost but found a small pond as hoped.
He thought it might be brackish since it was near the sea, but it tasted fresh.
'A bottle to carry some would be nice...'
As Basen circled the pond, he suddenly noticed a strange figure staring at him.
At first, he thought it was some weird beast.
Its back was round and covered in tough scales, with a long, pointed snout.
About half a halfling's size—no, half the average Lizardman height.
But it was clutching a thousand legs—not on its back, but in front—and holding a pouch in its hands, the kind Basen had been looking for.
A new race to him, but definitely humanoid.
This was a Pangolian, resembling a pangolin.
Covered head to tail in hard scales, Pangolians could curl into a ball like a ball when danger struck.
But this one had stopped fetching water and was staring holes into Basen.
As it stayed frozen, Basen spoke first.
"Hey."
"...Eek!"
The Pangolian let out a shrill scream and bolted in panic.
"Hey, wait!"
Having found another person, Basen didn't want to lose them.
He gave chase.
Realizing it was being pursued, the Pangolian curled into a ball.
"...Huh?"
While Basen faltered, the ball-Pangolian started rolling down the slope.
Stunned by the bizarre sight, Basen ran after it.
As the Pangolian slowed at the slope's end, Basen felt hope of catching up.
But then a massive figure appeared before the Pangolian.
To Basen, it looked like a grotesque race.
Size and build like a troll, but the face was brutish, mouth torn wide, eyes slanted in perpetual fury, and oddly, the facial colors varied like a mask.
Another new race to Basen, but known to players as Rakshasa.
Distant troll kin, characterized by always-angry faces and multicolored facial patches per individual.
The Rakshasa grabbed the Pangolian's tail.
"Mago! Skipping work and running again!"
Held upside down, the called Mago uncurled and said,
"Mercy, Master! But sick Chacha wanted water..."
"I told you to leave that one alone!"
"But if we do, Chacha will die..."
"That's exactly what I want! Nursing that sickly thing is delaying the temple construction!"
"But Chacha isn't sick—it's from your beatings..."
Enraged by Mago's words, the Rakshasa clenched a fist.
"You insolent—!"
Anyone could see the Rakshasa was a vile master, and poor Pangolian Mago was just trying to help a friend and getting punished for it.
Basen didn't shout "That's enough!" or "Stop it!"
The foe matched a troll's bulk, and Basen's sheath was empty—lost to the waves somewhere.
Instead, while they talked, Basen grabbed a rock and sneaked behind the Rakshasa.
Just before it struck, he smashed its head.
Thwack!
The Rakshasa staggered from the shock, dropping to one knee.
"Guh, who...?"
'Tough like a troll. Thick skull.'
Before it could turn, Basen smashed again.
The Rakshasa collapsed.
"Gasp!"
Freed, Pangolian Mago alternated stares between the fallen Rakshasa and Basen.
"Oh dear! What do we do now?!"