Chapter 49
Chapter 49
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: The Fall of Tamaridu
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Tamaridu couldn't help but feel expectant toward the stranger Lizardman who had introduced himself as Owen.
Both guests had told him to become king, or asked if he wasn't already one.
Tamaridu spoke first to Owen.
"Are you also telling me to become king?"
"Oh..."
Owen's eyes widened at the word "king."
Tamaridu nodded, thinking, 'As expected.'
But Owen's response wasn't what Tamaridu had hoped for.
"You becoming king? Honestly, I don't know. Who can predict the future? But if you're thinking of becoming king, I've come here to tell you to give it up."
Until yesterday, Tamaridu might have flown into a rage if told he couldn't become king. But after the two previous guests had left, confusion overshadowed his anger.
"Why? Why shouldn't I become king? Do I lack the qualifications?"
"Qualifications? What qualifications does one need to become king?"
"Well..."
Tamaridu furrowed his brow in thought.
His intelligence was 15—slightly lacking for a tribal chief, but...
"Recognition from the other tribal chiefs?"
Still, he managed to come up with an answer on his own.
"Have you obtained that qualification?"
"I'll have it soon. I'm not a tribal chief yet, but the Elf and human who visited today said I'm more than qualified to become king. What do the Lizardmen think?"
"Couldn't say. I intend to dissuade you, but our tribal chief might see things differently."
Tamaridu was puzzled.
'Can a tribe and its chief have differing opinions? If they're not united, leading the tribe would be impossible. These black-scaled Lizardmen must have a reputation that's all talk—their chief's power is apparently pathetic.'
Tamaridu kept such thoughts to himself; he had the refinement not to voice them.
His sociality was 22—a bit low even for aspiring to tribal chief.
Tamaridu said,
"So, you think your tribal chief won't acknowledge me?"
"No, quite the opposite."
"Opposite?"
"Our tribal chief will probably acknowledge you as king."
Owen added softly, out of Tamaridu's earshot.
"If you want that empty title, go ahead and take it. He'll say he'll show you what real authority looks like."
"...What was that?"
"Nothing."
Tamaridu's thoughts grew jumbled again.
"Anyway, the Elf, the human, and even your tribal chief will recognize me as king. So why do you say I shouldn't become one? If it's not a lack of qualifications, is it my abilities?"
"It's not about qualifications or abilities."
Owen cut in.
"It's better for you if you don't become king. I'm saying this for your sake."
"For my sake? Is being served by all a bad thing?"
"It could be."
Owen nodded.
If Owen's next words hadn't been so incomprehensible, Tamaridu might have grabbed his prized axe.
"If your god doesn't acknowledge it."
God.
Tamaridu's face went blank at the word.
"The Relentless Onslaught God... doesn't want me to become king?"
"That's what I think."
"But..."
"You're probably just pretending not to know, but deep down, you already do."
Tamaridu recalled the divine messages he had tried to forget—precisely tried to forget.
For the past few days, he had been plagued by the same nightmare.
In the dream, Tamaridu climbed the northern mountain to gaze upon the northern coast.
But ascending the northern mountain was grueling.
Fierce winds whipped around him, goblins swarmed, and massive boulders rolled down.
Tamaridu overcame it all in the dream, but as he trudged the narrow ridge toward the summit, he tumbled off.
Awake, Tamaridu realized there was no such towering mountain overlooking the real northern coast.
It wasn't just dreams.
Whenever he encountered the words "north," "ogre," or "king," misfortune struck.
A rock would catch his ankle, or his foot would sink into a pit that hadn't been there moments before.
Tamaridu had willfully ignored it.
Even after receiving the Elf and human guests, that was why he hadn't burst from his tent in youthful vigor to rally his tribe northward.
"...Why doesn't our god want me to become king?"
"How should I know? I have my Blue Insect God, and you have your Relentless Onslaught God. We can't even fathom our own gods' wills—how could we know another's? Though we can speculate..."
"Speculate?"
Centaur tribal chief Tamaridu leaned in to the storyteller Owen's words.
Owen packed his pipe not with his usual thunder-infused herbs, but with tobacco to sharpen the mind.
Tamaridu grew impatient at Owen's leisurely motions but held his tongue, fearing it might silence the speculation.
Owen took a deep drag and exhaled through his nose.
"Among the races on this earth, there's a hierarchy, right? True or false?"
"True. Even we Centaurs have Orc and Dwarf tribes we can summon at will. The ogres to the north enslave goblins."
"Then among gods, is there hierarchy or not?"
"What?"
"I think your Centaurs' Relentless Onslaught God is beneath the ogres' Endlessly Overlooking God."
At that, Tamaridu reared up and slammed his front hooves into the ground.
"You scum! Are you insulting the Relentless Onslaught God?"
Owen interjected.
"I spoke of hierarchy among gods, not mortals. Why rage like a mere man?"
"But...!"
"And if anyone's to rage, it should be your god—at the one suppressing him."
Tamaridu, moments from striking Owen, steadied his heaving breaths.
"Do you truly believe the ogre god suppresses ours?"
"How else do you explain it?"
Owen murmured quietly.
"There must have been some trap. The Endlessly Overlooking God played your Relentless Onslaught God for a fool. Now your god must obey the ogre god's will. He can't urge you to become king without glancing over his shoulder. Instead, he obstructs you. Sadly."
Only then did Tamaridu understand all the dreams and omens.
"If that's true, what should I do?"
"If it's true... do what the ogre god least wants."
"What he least wants?"
"Become king."
Tamaridu felt a fierce flame roil in his chest.
The previous guests had merely stoked his personal ambition.
But Owen's words were different.
Now, becoming king was no longer mere desire—it was duty and prayer to the Relentless Onslaught God, his holiest mission.
Tamaridu no longer merely wanted to be king.
He had to be.
Owen said,
"Of course, my personal opinion is that if you pursue kingship, the ogre and Centaur tribes will clash, betraying the alliance..."
"I need hear no more. Be gone."
"...Well, then."
"But I can't send away the sage who awakened me empty-handed."
Tamaridu gave Owen the treasure pouch from the human as he departed.
After Owen left, Tamaridu began war preparations.
The Relentless Onslaught God hindered him still, but no god could stop Tamaridu, bearer of a sacred mission.
Northern coast.
In a place mortals couldn't glimpse, a conversation mortals couldn't overhear continued.
Solongos wore iron armor evoking Goguryeo's armored cavalry, his face masked. Snow fell heavily, but it affected him not.
Solongos said to Im Chun-sik,
"Sorry, brother."
"It's fine, little brother."
Im Chun-sik, replying to Solongos, wore a sleeveless tee and shorts.
His wrinkled face suggested a mid-50s man, paired with thong sandals.
Solongos couldn't tell if Im Chun-sik's avatar reflected his real self or matched the nickname.
But it didn't matter.
Appearance aside, Im Chun-sik was trustworthy.
Im Chun-sik said,
"My mistake. I ignored that weird concept-obsessed Elf too much. Didn't expect him to get greedy and drag in another player."
"I overlooked it too."
"You had to deal with Hegemonia."
Snow piled on Im Chun-sik's forehead and protruding belly.
"If anyone's sorry, it's me."
"Pardon?"
"Tamaridu and Kazin will clash soon. If Tamaridu dies, you lose a key priest."
Solongos laughed at that.
"Haha, brother. I apologized partly because things turned out this way, but mainly because my Tamaridu will kill Kazin."
Im Chun-sik grinned slyly.
"I doubt that."
Tamaridu rallied his NPC subordinates for war, and upon hearing, Kazin reinforced barricades around a distant goblin village.
Tamaridu paid it no mind.
'Goblins are just ogre slaves anyway.'
He decided to strike straight for the ogre main force—Kazin’s neck.
Raiding the goblin village would yield more loot, but this war aimed to dismantle the ogre tribe.
No need to attack a fortified village.
Plus, all Centaurs were cavalry, and selecting only mounted troops from his subordinates would let them reach Kazin's village easily.
'Kazin trusts only goblins and outer walls. But following the river, we can bypass goblin villages and reach his directly.'
Tamaridu was confident in his flawless strategy.
He'd beheaded one warrior who called it flawed, but wasn't that just one dissenter?
Tamaridu's strength was 58.
That power compensated for any lacking intelligence or sociality as chief.
It unified the tribe's will.
"Charge, warriors! This path leads to kingship!"
Tamaridu led 70 Centaurs and 60 mounted subordinates—130 cavalry total—into Kazin's domain.
Along the river, skirting goblin villages, he advanced.
But Tamaridu's march didn't go far.
"Lord Tamaridu! Goblins ahead!"
Tamaridu hadn't anticipated Kazin twisting his strategy twice over.
Kazin had predicted Tamaridu would bypass villages and prepositioned goblin units along likely routes.
Still, Tamaridu wasn't worried.
"Just goblins! Plenty in number, but trample them with hooves! Charge!"
And so they did.
Three hundred goblins, but many lacked bows or even arms—literal slave fodder.
The goblins tried fleeing, but the narrow hillside trapped them.
Blood-drunk Tamaridu and his warriors plunged in; a few resisted, to no avail.
Tamaridu thought momentum would carry them to victory over Kazin.
Unaware he'd fallen into a trap the moment goblins blocked the path.
From bushes thought impenetrable, ogres burst forth, shattering brush and trees with brute force.
3.5 meters tall, one ton each.
Short-necked, pot-bellied giants.
Startled Centaurs and riders tried evading the close ogres.
But dead and live goblins tangled their feet, stamina drained from slashing fodder.
Some riders dismounted fleeing horses, but Centaurs couldn't.
Charging Centaurs outmatched ogres, but stationary ones didn't.
Ogres with hammers and clubs began smashing Centaur skulls.
Still, Tamaridu beheaded two ogre warriors from standstill.
But the third was unusually massive.
Tribal chief Kazin.
They'd never met, but eye contact revealed identities.
No words needed.
They charged; weapons clashed aside, dropped.
Their fight turned bare-handed.
Kazin seized Tamaridu's neck.
Tamaridu struggled free—his strength 58, never bested in raw power.
Kazin dodged hands, mounted his back.
The weight buckled Tamaridu's knees.
Kazin throttled with wrists; stabilized, he twisted.
-Crack
The Centaur's thick neck vertebrae snapped; Tamaridu collapsed.
Kazin dusted his palms, rose.
Then strode to break the next Centaur's neck.