Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 176
Chapter Title: The Fang's Offer
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Year 267 of the New Era, counting from the first year when the new gods arrived.
The continent known as the Southern Continent from Heukrin and still called the New World by other nations—or the Fourth Continent to players—featured the Yobwen Plateau at its center.
The Yobwen Plateau region was a vast plain over 800 meters above sea level, resembling the primordial meadows spoken of in the Pantheon tales, and thus revered as a holy land.
However, the name "holy land" had now become a thing of the past.
Yobwen was good land for people to live on. Just as the many spires and ruins proved, new generations were rebuilding civilization here.
In particular, the great city of Baseniol—named after the pioneer Bassen Rak Orazen—was one of the largest cities on the Southern Continent.
Though it had been built only about a hundred years ago, this metropolis at the edge of the Yobwen Plateau hugged the Garim River, which cascaded down into a waterfall below. Harmonizing with ancient ruins, it was a bizarre city blending past and present.
On another note, it also served as a supply base handling logistics for the frontline between the Heukrin Empire and the Danri United Kingdom.
The actual border between Heukrin and Danri lay several hundred kilometers south of Baseniol, but if the imperial capital and self-sustaining city Orazen was the empire's heart, then Baseniol was like the empire's hand, thrusting forward with spear-like supply depots and shield-like fortresses.
Yet not everyone coming to Baseniol was a soldier.
The New World was a region where forces from across the globe clashed: not only Heukrin's knowledge but also the Danri United Kingdom, the Ronante-Oroban Alliance, the Mun Holy Kingdom, and even the Black Church.
Everyone wielded some influence and fought to wrest control from Heukrin's sphere.
And those battles weren't fought with guns, swords, magic, and miracles alone.
Over the past century, the greatest weapon to shake the world had been knowledge itself.
Comparable to the scholars of the Kairin Academy in the self-sustaining city of Orazen was Baseniol's Magonin University.
Though Magonin University, with its attached officer academy training professional officers, was constantly criticized by other nations for lacking neutrality, students from abroad enrolled to learn knowledge that Heukrin effectively monopolized.
Of course, it wasn't bad for Heukrin either. Some of these foreign students returned home, others stayed in Baseniol to continue their studies, and some—perhaps as Heukrin hoped—"defected."
For other nations, it was their best effort to keep up with a rapidly changing world.
"...Therefore, after establishing the Pantheon, Yacheon revoked the blessings he had given his own race and bestowed them anew. For instance, the lizardmen of old were said to possess tremendous strength. Warriors could snap a water buffalo's neck with their bare hands."
Baseniol.
In a lecture hall at Magonin University.
Through the windows, the vast Garim River of the Yobwen Plateau flowed into a cliff, plummeting as a waterfall.
Below sprawled an endless jungle.
Rumors persisted of a few un civilized Rakshasa tribes still living there, but Heukrin no longer interfered as long as they didn't encroach on roads used by merchants and soldiers. They had concluded no Rakshasa group wished to submit to civilization anymore.
The middle-aged orc at the podium continued.
"But as the era of the Three Brothers passed, Yacheon withdrew the blessing of strength from the lizardmen. Instead, he granted it to the weak and frail Pangolians. Thanks to this, the small-statured Pangolians gained strength rivaling larger races. What do you think, Chochyo student?"
A quietly seated Pangolian blinked in surprise.
"Ah, um... Yes. That's right. My friends say I'm surprisingly strong for my size. It's never been inconvenient... but..."
"But?"
"If only Yacheon had paid a little more attention and made me taller too..."
Laughter rippled through the lecture hall.
The orc professor grinned, baring his teeth.
"What a shame. But Yacheon must have believed there's plenty one can do even at short stature. What else is there?"
This time, an ogre at the very back—nearly two meters tall even seated—raised a hand.
"Yacheon showed consideration to our race too. Not that insulting our ancestors, but honestly, they weren't great at math."
The orc professor nodded.
"Yes. I don't blame our unblessed ancestors either. Blessings can shift directions. For example, ogres from Heukrin differ greatly from those from Danri."
The professor said no more, but the ogre student nodded.
While Heukrin's ogres had gained intellect and integrated with other races, Danri's had grown far more savage than their forebears.
They were living tanks on the battlefield, but many Heukrin ogres were relieved not to be Danri ogres.
The professor said,
"Even we orcs were said to be brutish ancestors. Fortunately, thanks to Yacheon's blessing, I've graded fewer of you harshly."
A brief, awkward chuckle swept the room.
"In any case, Yacheon compensated for many races' weaknesses to foster harmony. We call this the 'Yacheon's Balance Weight.' It didn't happen overnight but unfolded meticulously over generations—and some scholars believe it's ongoing. This divine will aligns with the Pantheon's principles of equity, fairness, and balance."
He then excerpted from Muuel's tome Yacheon, lecturing on metaphysical concepts.
In summary, it concerned Yacheon's righteous intent, concluding that victory over mighty nations like Danri was natural because it was just.
It was inevitably somewhat dogmatic, but the students' reactions weren't bad. This was a required course for graduation: "History of the Pantheon."
The professor said,
"Finally, any questions on today's lecture? I'll answer briefly... None?"
The sparsely seated students exchanged glances.
Lunchtime neared, signaling no questions.
Ignoring those looks, a pale hand rose.
The hand of humans, elves, dwarves, or halflings—what lizardmen crudely called "baldies."
Its owner sat in the most obscure corner, hood pulled low, face hard to discern.
But the professor knew the name.
"Lamine Solrost?"
"Yes."
A woman's voice.
The orc professor glanced at the wall clock.
Many items in the hall were handcrafted by dwarven artisans from the Fabirang Empire territory.
The small magic-powered clock was especially valuable, never stopping with regular maintenance from mages.
The orc professor said,
"Ask away."
Piercing glares fell on Lamine, but she remained unfazed.
Lamine said,
"I have a question from the first half of today's lecture."
The professor recalled: the afterlife realms of the Pantheon.
Post-Three Brothers, Yacheon's simple primordial meadow afterlife merged with other gods', forming complex rules.
The professor nodded, and Lamine asked,
"This isn't strictly Pantheon doctrine. I know believers go to their gods' afterlives upon death—not just Yacheon's followers. But..."
"But?"
"What happens if someone believes in no god at all?"
The room chilled.
The orc professor looked puzzled, hesitating, as whispers rose from one side.
"As expected, she's... an unbeliever."
"Why did our school even admit her?"
Lamine stiffened slightly.
Her keen ears caught the words despite trying not to.
"A vampire. I thought they were extinct until I saw her."
Lamine had thought the same.
Until she became one.
Long ago, in Heukrin's dawn, Rakrak slew the god of blood and rotten flesh.
Moved by his devotion and sacrifice, many vampires starved themselves, refusing to live off others' lives.
Not all did.
A few weak, insignificant ones hid among people.
Too trivial for gods to notice.
But history books, if scoured, recorded vampires and their punishments.
Most who harmed people were executed; others starved in cells.
The starved in Absolution Gorge became icons of holy sacrifice, but escapees and descendants fared poorly.
Vampirism ceasing to be a crime itself was recent.
Thus Lamine entered Magonin University, though stares persisted.
The orc professor spoke.
"Lamine, honestly, I don't know. Gods claim believers' souls. Unbelievers... usually just vanish."
"..."
"I'm no theologian or priest, so not precisely. Ask our experts here."
"But..."
Lamine meant to say she'd already asked them.
Then a student shouted at the window.
"It's the mobile fortress!"
On the horizon, the towering mobile fortress strode over the jungle toward the plateau.
"Was it coming today?"
"Nah, route must've changed."
"Why? War?"
Link wyverns flew from Baseniol toward it.
Students buzzed excitedly.
Beyond war supplies and troops, merchants loaded with mainland goods used it for trade.
Especially in Baseniol, its arrival was festival day.
The orc professor gave Lamine a helpless look, then said before she could respond,
"That's it for today. Have a good day."
Professor and students filed out.
Lamine rose last.
She gazed at the approaching fortress.
Lifting her hood slightly for a better view, it slipped fully back.
Beneath black hair, her once-human deep brown eyes had become ominous red.
Lamine frowned.
She yanked the hood down against the sunlight's pain.
The mobile fortress hadn't even arrived, yet Baseniol's streets buzzed like a festival.
Dizzy from the crowds, Lamine slipped into a dark alley as usual.
Baseniol's security was decent.
Many soldiers passed through, and visiting nobles from various nations forced Heukrin to maintain order.
Plus nearby mage tower wizards deterred petty thieves, making highway robbery rare.
No one wanted to pick a fight and meet a mage.
So Lamine ignored the footsteps behind her.
Until a blade pressed to her throat.
"Lamine Solrost, raise your hands slowly and don't move."
Lamine complied, asking quietly,
"Who are you?"
"I've been watching you for a long time."
"Pardon?"
"Vampire. Half-breed. Unbeliever."
"..."
"You're the talent we've been seeking."
"What do you..."
"Turn around slowly."
Lamine turned.
Unfortunately, the alley's depths were dark and empty.
A wooden mask.
Resembling troll, Rakshasa, or goblin faces.
Somehow comical and whimsical.
Black clothes and cloth concealed the rest.
Yet Lamine knew the symbol.
"You..."
"Yes. Our existence became known after the Three Brothers era. I am 'Fang.'"
The group curtly called Fangs was Danri United Kingdom's covert unit.
Specializing in shadowing, espionage, abductions, assassinations—disrupting rear lines.
Heukrin soldiers dreaded them, yet here one stood boldly in the South's largest city. Lamine felt stunned.
The Fang agent said,
"Lamine, if I gave you the chance to blow this city sky-high, would you take it?"