Chapter 223
Chapter 223
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 223
Chapter Title: The Great Domain Challenge
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The most basic Great Domains number seven in total.
These Great Domains manifest in three bundles: the Three Domains of Nature, the Two Domains of Yin-Yang, and the Two Domains of Life.
Among them, the Three Domains of Nature—sky, earth, and sea—are considered the most common yet simultaneously the most powerful domains one can encounter in Lost World.
The other four domains are harder to manifest in the first place. The Two Domains of Yin-Yang have clear weaknesses, while the Two Domains of Life can drastically alter the game's balance, making them less favored.
'...A power that changes the board.'
If asked to explain Great Domains simply to Seong-un, that's how he would put it.
A Great Domain was truly a force capable of shaking the entire game.
That didn't mean the power itself was overwhelmingly strong, though.
'If simply gauging win rates based on acquiring a particular domain... something like the Domain of War would obviously rank higher. It's not even a domain you see often during play to begin with.'
On the other hand, players who reached the late game in Lost World without major issues earned the right to challenge a Great Domain.
'Divinity Level 31 or higher, at least 48 Subdomains acquired, and among them, 12 domains at Level 10 or above.'
The conditions for obtaining domains were straightforward in themselves, but achieving them was far from easy.
Divinity Level 31 surpassed the Level 11 quasi-divinity and Level 21 lesser divinity stages, finally earning the true title of "divinity."
To Seong-un, it felt like mere arbitrary lore, but it reflected the system creator's belief that "only with this level of power can one be called a proper god."
Leveling became sharply difficult from Level 11 onward, turning dramatically steeper after Level 21. Suffering defeats in war, dying during Possession, or losing apostles made it nearly impossible to even reach the late 20s, let alone 31.
'Plus, 48 Subdomains means securing two-thirds of the total 64 possible.'
While many Subdomains came naturally, filling the count required persistently hunting monstrosities in ancient ruins or slaying other players—otherwise, it was tough.
Another hurdle was getting 12 Subdomains to Level 10.
'If you don't focus on it, you end up repeatedly using only the ones you invested in heavily early on.'
Even Seong-un wouldn't have had as many opportunities to deploy Subdomains en masse without clashing with Hegemonia via the Paradox Prophecy.
'I would've gotten there eventually, though.'
Acquiring a Great Domain was crucial, but there was no rush.
Sprinting toward the challenge right from the early game wouldn't help given the difficulty, and even if achieved that way, the Great Domain itself wasn't handed over directly.
What you gained was merely the "right to challenge a Great Domain."
'Getting the sky this time around was the natural progression anyway.'
Earning the right to challenge one of the seven Great Domains simply required meeting the conditions. However, which specific Great Domain you challenged was determined by a complex interplay of factors from your playthrough.
For instance, Seong-un's first Subdomain was bugs, seemingly unrelated to the sky.
But he valued the Lizardman in his initial tribe who could read constellations and encouraged that knowledge to spread easily within the tribe.
This fostered astronomy's development, leading mortals who trusted Seong-un to explore various scientific knowledge.
He subjugated a demonic spirit that wielded electricity—the clearest manifestation of electromagnetism on the planet was in the sky.
Lightning from atmospheric charges streaked the heavens, and auroras bloomed from solar plasma friction against the planetary magnetic field.
Electricity inherently carried the sky's essence to some degree.
He appointed winged Garuda and helix-winged Ogu as apostles.
Through winged insects and birds, he scouted enemies in place of the god's eyes.
He possessed more observatories and airships than any other nation.
Countless stars were woven into constellations with names and associated tales.
His symbol was a blue butterfly with wings.
'Not a bad draw.'
It aligned perfectly with Seong-un's intentions.
'But challenging a Great Domain at this juncture...'
Seong-un pondered briefly.
'Could be dangerous.'
Unlike other domains, Great Domains weren't acquired simply by meeting conditions.
The moment a player initiated the challenge, they were designated the Great Domain Challenger—a status broadcast to all players.
'Challengers for a Great Domain require an enormous amount of Faith resources.'
Gathering Faith was routine for players, but the quantity was the issue.
'...The Faith investment for a Great Domain totals one million.'
This matched the maximum Faith capacity at Divinity Level 31.
Thus, Faith expenditure had to halt until the cap was reached.
A short pause was manageable, but per Seong-un's calculations, at current generation rates, it meant idling for four full days—insufficient on its own, requiring even the recall of frontline creations constantly burning Faith.
'Scale changes quality.'
Great Domains demanded absolute quantities of levels and resources.
But such vast amounts altered the paths to reach those levels and gather those resources.
'I can't afford four days of inaction. Hegemonia won't miss the opening and will advance.'
Ideally, even if the Pantheon gods lifted not a finger, their apostles could manage minimal defense. With more apostles than the enemy, they might even counter enemy apostles and hold the rest.
But Seong-un didn't delude himself.
'Hegemonia could overwhelm with mortal armies alone. Even if we disguise it well, we can't assume she won't notice.'
Nor could he drag his feet during the stockpiling period.
With other players informed, they would harass relentlessly to prevent Seong-un and the Pantheon from accumulating Faith.
A strategic misstep could lead to constant ankles-grabs, culminating in witnessing the opponent claim their Great Domain.
Thus, hard-earned gaps narrowed.
'The silver lining is having stabilized the board beforehand.'
Typically, late-game Lost World avoided clean clashes between two megafactions.
Conquering a continent neatly was tough for any faction, and similar ratings among ranked players often led to messy free-for-alls.
In such individual brawls, if one challenged a Great Domain, others cooperated to crush the challenger.
The Empire was already battling all remaining players, minimizing ambush risks.
'...Not that it's exactly ideal.'
In some ways, Seong-un was in crisis.
Hegemonia appeared poised to challenge a Great Domain soon herself.
Likely the Great Domain of Earth.
Until then, players' civilizations survived defying nature.
But claiming one of Nature's Three Domains allowed summoning massive natural disasters previously impossible.
Partially, nature shifted from foe to ally.
'Hegemonia will see this as her chance.'
It was understandable.
Seong-un was currently dueling her via Paradox Prophecy.
And this prophecy would hit each more fatally.
'Losing it would transfer roughly 300,000 Faith to Hegemonia. Hard to calculate precisely, but it might even downlevel her.'
Pantheon players shared a single Faith pool.
Losing 300,000 would force recalling many frontline creations, crippling domain-supported logistics.
As feared, handing Hegemonia momentum.
With a Great Domain challenge announced, it wouldn't end there.
Seong-un's challenge grew harder; Hegemonia's drew closer.
Hierarchies could invert.
"...Hmm."
Seong-un reviewed his prior preparations meticulously once more.
Confirming no issues, he tapped Yes on the message window querying the Great Domain challenge.
Polybia.
The invisible war was reaching its climax.
No—by now, this war was no longer invisible.
Just three months prior, the alleys buzzed with chaotic energy. Now, they reeked of gloom. Beggars pleaded, street thugs concealed blades in their robes, and opium smokers sprawled amid the refuse. An Anak clutched scavenged bread to her chest, glancing warily as she hurried along. Paired guards sauntered by, but showed no intent to intervene.
Pirates of unknown employ had stolen Polybia's merchant ships. Docked vessels fled the bizarre happenings, and savvy traders began unloading cargo at other ports instead.
With goods drying up, quality of life plummeted. Astute merchants and nobles fled to villas or foreign estates. Without employers, servants lost their jobs.
The Etimo and Pallet families bribed each other's factory workers. Under the "revolutionary" banner, they orchestrated strikes and sabotaged machines. More souls took to the streets.
Crime syndicates seized the security vacuum.
They shook down remaining shops for "protection" fees. Those unable to flee paid grudgingly, but as scarcities devalued currency daily, the gangs grew dissatisfied.
The first floor of a department store shuttered by arson.
Troll Orelldin, boss of the crime syndicate Rusty Brass Coin Gang, glanced at the newspaper before stomping it underfoot.
"Hmph."
A dwarf subordinate addressed Orelldin.
"Boss, you think that guy's really coming?"
"He will."
The Rusty Brass Coin Gang shared a long history with the Pallet family.
The Pallets fed them patrol intel, council secrets, or leniency in sentencing. In turn, when needing dirty work, they deployed the gang.
But the past few months had been lackluster.
The rival Etimo family had hired formidable mercenaries.
The gang botched missions repeatedly, earning Pallet reprimands.
Then, by chance, they grasped a mercenary's weakness.
"Untie this? When Teacher Owen shows, you're all dead. This is your last chance to live."
It was Solotl Simo, the mercenary's constant companion.
Orelldin had lured and kidnapped her via a diversionary feint, suffering heavy losses. Many underlings fell to the mercenary, but luring him into this deserted store put Orelldin in control—or so he believed.
And it wasn't just any summons.
"You think he'll really bring the contract?"
"If our intel's right, yes."
The Pallets sought the Etimo family's patent contract.
Orelldin demanded it in exchange for the hostage; the mercenary agreed.
Orelldin waited with his crew.
He declared,
"He uses a sword. Weird magic too. But in a cluttered spot like this, he can't fight properly."
A subordinate replied,
"The boys are worried, boss. Wide-open spaces, dark interior... What if they snipe from afar?"
"Idiot. We'd hear shots. And don't we have guns?"
Orelldin brimmed with confidence besides.
Lessons from prior clashes taught reconnaissance's value.
Subordinates monitored from the shadows for the Lizardman mercenary's approach.
Surveying the area, Orelldin barked,
"Dozens of us against one Lizardman, and you're whining? Just make sure that Solotl doesn't escape."
"... "
Orelldin sensed oddity.
Subordinates sent to "check ahead" hadn't returned; idle chatter fell silent.
Even the dwarf right behind him clamped shut.
Feeling unease, Orelldin whirled.
"Why no answer?"
The addressed dwarf crumpled behind him, arrow-pierced between the eyes.
"Gah."
Orelldin looked up.
Owen stood beside Solotl, bow trained on him.
"...A bow?"
Owen tsked pityingly and loosed the string.