Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Assembly of the Apostles
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Tatar was about to ask, but Rakrak beat him to it.
"So the gods still haven't emerged from the sanctuary."
"Yes. That's right."
Tatar gazed toward the pantheon.
The pantheon contained many spaces within.
And some of those spaces were closed even to the finest mortals and apostles.
Places like the gods' private chambers or the first and second conference rooms were like that.
But even in those cases, if you were designated as a god's errand runner or obtained permission, you could enter. The sanctuary, however, was different.
Some rooms in the pantheon were larger than the entire structure of the pantheon itself.
The external training grounds outside the pantheon building were plenty large and spacious, but spaces like the third conference room were bigger than the pantheon appeared from outside. The internal training halls were so vast—meant for guardians whose sizes started at tens of meters—that you could faintly see the horizon. The inside was bigger than the outside.
Among them, those who had glimpsed even a bit of the sanctuary said it was larger than any other space in the pantheon.
Hardly anyone, not even among the apostles, came and went from the sanctuary.
As a result, rumors about the sanctuary abounded, but even apostles who could make reasonable guesses rarely mentioned it specifically.
'Rakrak is the same.'
To Warrior Tatar, who could claim to be closer to the gods than anyone, the distance to them still seemed vast.
'Of course, the Wing-Folded Golden Bird or Muyoung would sometimes chat amiably with mortals like us...'
Whether it was a difference in divinity or simply each god's personality, Yacheon rarely conversed with anyone who wasn't an apostle.
The other gods traveled with anywhere from a couple to a few hundred errand runners, but Yacheon brought no one.
Tatar thought it natural that Rakrak knew Yacheon's—no, Nebula's—true name, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy.
'Then this much should be fine to ask.'
Tatar spoke up.
"It might be as rude as with my comrades, but what exactly are the gods doing inside the sanctuary?"
Rakrak looked at Tatar as if surprised he'd asked.
Rakrak said,
"There's nothing rude about it."
"...Then?"
"But I don't know precisely what kind of space the sanctuary is, either."
"Hm, but I've seen you enter following Yacheon before."
"That's just it—even after going in and looking, I still didn't get it."
Rakrak explained,
"It's a massive room. Not quite as huge as the internal training hall for the guardians. But that room is packed full of rectangular boxes."
"That's all?"
"That's what it was like when I went in. I waited near the entrance, and when I tried to touch one of the boxes, Yacheon warned me not to, saying it would break."
"... ."
Tatar understood.
Rakrak didn't get along well with anything resembling advanced technology.
The fortunate thing was that Rakrak didn't need such things.
'Something combining the knowledge of high scholars and the gods? Who knows.'
Rakrak said,
"If it had been Jaol or Star Reader, or even Second Seat, they might have figured something out."
"Not you, Rakrak?"
Rakrak laughed and patted Tatar's shoulder.
"You don't need to be curious about everything in the world, right? Taking care of yourself comes first."
"You're right."
Rakrak and Tatar chatted for a bit.
They were old acquaintances, so they shouldn't have had much left to say, yet once conversation started, there was plenty.
Tales of battles from their living days were always a staple topic, and as warriors, they bantered about how fights could have gone better, what they'd do differently if given another chance.
There were some new stories, too.
Both had children, and their descendants had followed them to the afterlife.
Most people lived ordinary lives and settled there, sparing themselves the toil of climbing the Tower of Trials.
But bloodlines have their pull in the end—some eventually climbed the tower just to see their ancestors' faces.
Recently, one of Tatar's descendants had ascended—not a soldier, but an artist who played instruments. And shockingly, the descendant didn't even know of their ancestor Tatar.
Rakrak easily accepted it, saying that whether fighting, scholarship, or art, it all boiled down to one skill in the end.
Tatar nodded in agreement after hearing Rakrak.
Finding flow amid the chaos of war was the same skill as reading sheet music and catching the rhythm.
As the conversation ripened just right—talk turning to wrapping up training early for a cup of fruit wine—a Lizardman errand runner approached the two.
"What is it?"
"The gods have emerged from the sanctuary. They're summoning all the apostles."
Rakrak said,
"Looks like the drinks will have to wait."
"Of course."
─┼
Third Conference Room.
The highest seats were all empty.
Those were for the gods, the players.
The circular table below them was for the apostles.
In truth, when players used this place themselves, they often ignored such rules.
Even though the players emphasized discipline, the sheer number of minute protocols from rank distinctions was hard to memorize entirely—and even if known, they hindered efficiency.
But apostles, when no god was present, actually adhered to the rules.
They left the top seats empty and filled from the lower ones.
The one who had just opened the door and entered was Apostle Third Seat Mazdari.
"We meet again, Mazdari."
First Seat Rakrak, already seated, spoke.
Mazdari gave a light nod of the head and strode forward.
"Many seats are empty."
"Second Seat seems awfully busy."
"I heard about that. But with attendance this low..."
Then, an oguri sitting across the table waved its arms on the desk and chimed in.
"Count me too! That makes half in attendance!"
It was the apostle of the Wing-Folded Golden Bird, Eighth Seat "Mad Inventor" Tulto.
With its plump build and goggles perched atop its eyes, Mazdari had initially dismissed the oguri.
But after fighting together on the battlefield for the first time, that changed.
When Mazdari once saved Tulto's life, Tulto came up with the idea for the Thunderstrike Airship and gifted it to Mazdari.
However, as a small-bodied oguri, Tulto was dwarfed by the chair and table.
Only its head poked over the desk, with arms barely rising above that.
Mazdari replied,
"Sorry about that."
Age had mellowed Mazdari; he skipped saying "you were too small to notice."
"But how is three out of however many half?"
"Ah, well..."
Then, a satyros woman appeared from the corner, holding a cushion.
"You've arrived, Mazdari."
"Ah, Keiju."
Apostle Fifth Seat, player Krampus's apostle "Harvester" Keiju.
Keiju could be called an orthodox warrior following in Rakrak's footsteps.
Born to poor farmers, she had led a volunteer militia against the Allied Kingdom's landing forces early in the war.
Her great scythe, wielded with unyielding tenacity and primal instinct, became the symbol of the Dan Yeom Empire.
Keiju grabbed Tulto's scruff with one hand, lifted it effortlessly, placed a cushion on the seat, and set it down.
Tulto said,
"Thanks, Keiju!"
"No trouble."
Rakrak and Mazdari themselves, plus Keiju and Tulto—with Second Seat absent for some reason—filled five seats.
Mazdari said to Rakrak,
"Who are we waiting for?"
"Yacheon will come."
"I see."
"But since nearly all apostles planned to attend, let's wait a bit more."
No sooner had Rakrak finished than a commotion sounded from beyond the entrance.
Listening closely, it was the sound of salutes.
"Third Conference Room, Captain Obin Mabur, requesting entry!"
"Enter!"
With a click, the door opened.
In walked Renaur Obin Mabur in imperial uniform.
Even resembling a shaggy fox of the Renaur race, his face was covered in patched-up wounds.
One of the fangs Renaurs prided themselves on was broken, and his left eye had lost its color.
Behind him, a Renaur military band played the officer's entry march.
Obin entered with a salute, and Rakrak stood to return a casual one.
The band closed the door.
Sixth Apostle, player Runda's apostle "Special Forces" Obin removed his beret with a wry smile.
"Sorry every time, Rakrak. Making me play soldier like this."
"Nah. I find it amusing."
Fifty years ago, when the war with the Allied Kingdom nearly became total war, this soldier had miraculously enabled an allied retreat.
Called "Special Forces," Obin had actually been an ordinary conscript at the time.
His tale of unbelievable sacrifice and heroism had become novels and dramas known to every soul in the empire.
As a figure heroized by both enemies and the empire, Obin's popularity carried into the afterlife, and the other apostles accommodated accordingly.
Renaurs were small in stature too, but unlike Tulto, Obin deftly pulled out a cushion and sat.
Meanwhile, a small commotion stirred outside the door.
"Next one's right on their heels, I suppose."
Keiju said,
"Seventh Seat? Or ninth?"
The door opened, revealing a massive shadow.
Mazdari said,
"Seventh Seat."
His clothes were neatly donned.
Military uniform, like Obin's.
But he was a giant nearing three meters tall—an ouger.
"It's been a while, everyone."
Player Im Chun-sik's apostle, Seventh Seat "Supreme Commander" Dordol.
After Im Chun-sik was enfeoffed by Seong-un, the oguers dispersed across the northern third continent.
Over a hundred years of such living, the oguers inheriting former chieftain Kazin's blood retained high intelligence.
They'd evaded detection by the Black Lin thanks to that very intellect.
And when their god returned, that bloodline joined the empire alongside him.
Dordol was small for an ouger, but that wasn't the remarkable part.
Quick-witted with rapid calculations, above all he excelled in strategy and tactics.
Despite his bulk, field commanders valued his brain over brawn, leading to unusual rapid promotions to higher command and staff roles—all backed by Dordol's victories.
When old Emperor Kyle lost his brother Basen, it was Dordol he appointed Supreme Commander.
The palace, centered on Lizardman bloodlines, rebelled fiercely, but Kyle trusted Dordol to deliver in war.
And Dordol repaid that trust.
Under his command, he defended against the Basenriol offensive on the fourth continent and pushed them back to the south.
Since then, Basenriol hadn't mounted another attack.
Rakrak said,
"Our Supreme Commander is always busy, so it's no surprise we rarely see your face."
"You're too kind. With so many fine commanders here already, I hardly deserve it."
Mazdari said,
"Then the rest are Ninth Seat and... Fourth Seat. But those two have dodged showing up with excuses till now."
At that moment, someone stepped out from the back of the conference room.
The sudden presence made everyone turn, then rise from their seats.
It was Seong-un.
Seong-un said,
"Those two are coming today, too."
Seong-un lightly snapped his fingers.
Flames then erupted in the center of the conference room.