Chapter 201
Chapter 201
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 201
Chapter Title: Sparks of Revolution
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A red-skinned orc sat on the platform.
The red skin blessed by the Wrathful One was resistant to heat and burns, a trait that proved useful in the current war.
In the Wrathful One's army, it was a common sight to see red-skinned orcs carrying oil on their backs and wielding flamethrowers.
They had earned infamy for charging into enemy trenches and setting everything ablaze. Most of them were descendants of the red-skinned orcs that the Wrathful One, Hegemonia, had promoted as her main force upon entering the Second Continent long ago.
And among those red-skinned orcs, the most renowned warrior was Ankarde, the Wrathful One's second apostle, drenched in blood.
Ankarde spoke.
"What a shame, Alma. For things to turn out like this."
The Wrathful One's fifth apostle, Alma Alroy, who stood opposite him, nodded.
"If you wish to punish me, then do so."
"Hmph. The Wrathful One hasn't ordered it, so how could I?"
Ankarde spoke while sharpening the blade of his prized halberd-axe on a whetstone.
"Things are getting complicated."
"Yes."
"A rebellion?"
Alma denied it.
"They call it a revolution."
"A revolution."
"At least, that's what they're saying."
Ankarde shook his head as if he couldn't comprehend.
"It's absurd. If you've been defeated, shouldn't you accept it?"
"Even if it was their ancestors who were defeated?"
"Yes."
Ankarde bared his teeth and growled.
"You don't have to agree with it. But that's how I see it. If you've been defeated, then the defeat continues. Acceptance isn't just a matter of honor. If they refuse to accept it and keep charging forever, what happens to the rules of the world?"
"It would lead to chaos."
"Exactly."
Ankarde gestured emphatically as he elaborated his thoughts.
"If the lowly covet the seats of the noble and ultimately seize them? Then it's just the lowly taking the noble's seats. Someone will always end up in the lowly seats anyway. It's all the same. Nothing changes."
"..."
"But if we fight like this forever? If the lowly have to fight every time to take the noble seats? All those resources spent on this endless, miserable struggle to keep the noble in their noble places will be wasted. Forests will burn, rivers will dry up. If the lowly don't farm because they're busy fighting, where will they get food? If they're scheming to overthrow the noble instead of working in factories, who will make clothes and goods?"
Alma sighed.
"It's a valid perspective from the Union Kingdom's viewpoint, but everyone lives mortal lives."
"So you're siding with those lowly ones?"
"Perhaps. Their anger is justified."
"So you'll take the side of those tail-less vermin?"
Alma narrowed his eyes.
"No, that's not it."
The Pantheon’s attack began at the Ruveil Labor Camp.
Until then, it had clearly been one of the Wrathful One's cards, but it had somehow fallen into Wild Heaven's hands and dealt a fatal blow.
But neither the Wrathful One nor Alma thought it was over.
'They're just as unprepared.'
It was true that the Pantheon had come prepared for the fake god strategy.
However, the Pantheon's strategy wasn't about preparing one massive strike; it was designed for small strategies to flexibly connect.
According to the Wrathful One, that was one of the Pantheon's weaknesses.
Alma recalled the Wrathful One's words.
"That's the thing, Alma. The Pantheon has so many gods inside it that its leader, Wild Heaven, can't ignore them all. He has no choice but to grant each some autonomy. Even if Wild Heaven reviews each strategy, he can't directly oversee that many. In other words, not all strategies are perfect."
Therefore, what Alma needed to target was simple.
'Severing the organic connections between strategies.'
At first, Alma hadn't fully understood the Wrathful One's words, but now he did.
When they pulled out the revolution card as a follow-up to counter the fake god strategy, he had thought it might be dangerous.
But it wasn't.
The revolution's preparations weren't complete yet.
'Of course not. The raid on the Ruveil Labor Camp was a sudden outcome even among Wild Heaven's plans. It worked in his favor, but slaves from some labor camp are nothing—a single regular division could handle it. To capitalize on that Ruveil gain, they had no choice but to hastily play an incomplete revolution card.'
The situation in the Union Kingdom was serious.
Within its class system divided into Umi with tails, Mumi without tails, and the intermediate Banmi class, the Mumi class races were rising up, shouting revolution.
In small fiefdoms beyond the central authority's reach, serfs had revolted and killed their lords. In cities with large factories, workers had gone on strike and quit.
'But overall, it's just a fraction.'
The Union Kingdom was divided into multiple kingdoms, each with different political situations and contexts, making it hard for one ideology to spread completely.
'The Pantheon surely wanted to play this card after more perfect preparations. That's how to maximize the effect. But they're not there yet.'
Of course, they had no choice but to cede the Ruveil Labor Camp as the Pantheon intended.
The battle of the great first apostles had ended in a draw, but in reality, the Wrathful One had confirmed the revolution breaking out, judged further fighting pointless, and withdrawn her first Sal Kait, leaving the Ruveil slaves alive.
'No troops to dispatch immediately...'
But Alma didn't see losing one labor camp as a big loss.
Alma said to Ankarde.
"By the Wrathful One's command, measures to suppress the revolution have already begun."
"Is that so?"
Alma nodded.
"Even if it's a revolution, their forces are fragmented. Excluding a few key figures, they're no different from moths following the light. They look like a massive, fierce wave from the outside, but inside, they're too busy infighting."
"Oh ho."
"We can't ignore them. A revolution could become a major crisis. But it's not at that level yet. We can counter it. So what becomes truly important is... the war itself."
In Alma's view, purely in terms of the war's momentum, the Wrathful One was winning against the Pantheon.
The Wrathful One was truly the god of war.
The Empire was holding against the Union Kingdom despite being at a disadvantage in warfare because the nation's strength supported it.
'This revolution is just another petty trick from the Empire so far. No need to panic.'
Ankarde laughed.
"I see. So it all comes down to me doing well, huh?"
"I leave it to you."
Ankarde slung his massive axe over his shoulder.
"Alright... time to get moving."
Sarucho was a bugbear.
Bugbears were known as distant kin to orcs, much like humans and elves were seen as distant relatives.
With their large jaws, uneven teeth, and fierce appearance, plus stiff fur covering their bodies except the face, they had an advantage in cold regions due to their looks.
Players rated them as a 'better start than orcs in cold areas'—a mediocre race with no standout features.
In the Union Kingdom, orc-like races were treated as Banmi, not quite Umi, but with the second apostle being the orc Ankarde, they enjoyed a good social reputation.
Accordingly, bugbears were close to Umi as Banmi; while not entering the Umi nobility, they faced no barriers rising as soldiers, merchants, priests, or other societal elites.
In fact, Sarucho was a priest.
However, Sarucho had a recent dilemma.
In this world where war never ended, he aimed for a smooth life, but last night, he had been summoned by Shuvanel's high priest, the city's top Rnarr priest.
The high priest sat Sarucho down and said,
"A divine revelation came to temples around the world yesterday. Have you heard?"
"...No, I haven't."
"What about the Mumi revolts popping up across the continent lately?"
"I've seen reports on status."
"...Our city of Shuvanel has them too."
"Pardon?"
The high priest lowered his voice.
"So-called revolutionaries exist in our city."
"Then shouldn't we arrest them immediately? What are the guards doing?"
The high priest waved it off lightly.
"That's why Alma herself issued the revelation. These revolutionaries gather in small numbers, waiting until they have enough to overturn the city. But if we try to catch them early, we miss some, and they all scatter."
"Then...?"
"We need someone to infiltrate them and root them all out."
Even Sarucho, rated as somewhat dull, understood.
It meant become a spy.
To buy time and think of a refusal, Sarucho started tentatively.
"High Priest, I..."
"Sarucho."
"Yes, yes."
The high priest said,
"Lady Alma Alroy said such tasks must go to reliable, faithful devotees. Moreover, it must be a Mumi or Banmi who can approach them. That's why it's not the guards or soldiers flashing their fangs—it's us priests."
"...I see."
"You're the only suitable one in our temple, Sarucho."
Afterward, Sarucho sought ways to escape, but couldn't sway the high priest.
'How did it come to this?'
Sarucho had lost his father to war and grown up with siblings under his mother, who toiled alone in a factory for money.
Seeing his older sister and brothers suffer, he decided to become a priest somehow.
Priests always got good treatment.
But defying the high priest now might jeopardize his position.
'Life can't always be smooth.'
Thinking that, Sarucho still sighed deeply.
"Here you are, Priest."
A Nix man approached Sarucho.
"Ah, you..."
"Yes. Name's Garil. Thanks for offering to help."
First, Sarucho had contacted the fang agents to identify Shuvanel's confirmed revolutionaries.
Then, he requested contact, saying he wanted to help in any way.
They hadn't seemed to suspect his identity yet and readily agreed to meet.
'A priest as a spy—ridiculous.'
But per the high priest, these revolutionaries were likely touched by the Empire, so a Wrathful One priest approaching would make them think he'd apostatized, lowering their guard.
At least for now, that seemed correct.
"Follow me, this way."
Garil led into a back alley, and Sarucho followed tensely.
'They couldn't know who I am.'
Garil gripped the basement door handle in the alley.
"This is it. When we heard a priest was coming, all the city's revolutionaries gathered."
Garil opened the door.
Seeing the stairs down, he gestured.
'Please, let nothing happen.'
Sarucho descended the creaking wooden stairs.
Upon reaching the basement, Sarucho couldn't help but be startled.