The Overlord Points the Way
***
"So it's a silver flame…."
Karlstein looked down at the report on the new-type monster he had been reviewing.
"Hmm…."
The report detailed how Maxien had confirmed and subsequently exterminated the new-type monster, along with notes on its capacity for gigantification and its outward appearance.
The mere fact that it had managed to flee from Maxien had earned it a Four-Digit Numbering designation. Even the lowliest of creatures were registered as Numbering Entities in part because of the danger they posed. It had appeared near the Wall, and everything about it suggested a monster built for ambush and escape.
'Is it really a monster, though?'
Its silver blood was currently being studied from every conceivable angle. A material with properties resembling Ether, and an extraordinarily high reactivity with the Astral Dimension.
Yet its properties differed markedly from the bodily fluids of known monsters, which had left him puzzled. Perhaps the research was still incomplete — or perhaps something decisive was simply missing.
'It's bound to become a core material for dimensional travel, I'm certain of it….'
Even used merely as a supplementary reagent, it promised a wealth of applications.
"A silver hue, hmm…."
A glint of greed flickered in Karlstein's eyes.
Could the silver flame Virdel had spoken of be connected in some way to the blood of this monster that had slipped through Maxien's fingers?
He had already received the analysis data harvested through Virdel's enhanced power suit, Hydra. As its base form was a suit, the analysis had its limits, but it would help regardless.
The rest was a matter for his subordinates to uncover.
Even so….
"Are there no more of those things? I could use a few more samples."
Karlstein clicked his tongue in disappointment.
***
Somewhere deep within the heart of a Root of the Great Sephiroth.
A woman lounged half-reclined atop a colossal throne carved from a silver tree trunk, and yawned.
"These Fine Roots don't seem to be doing their jobs properly these days."
Her beauty was as if painted by a master's brush, and her white hair shimmered with a faint silver radiance, lending her an air of mystery.
Her languid eyes soon took on an edge of irritation, and her brow furrowed.
"Come to think of it, I'm angry, aren't I? If you're going to take our Holy Blood, the least you can do is the work you were given."
The moment her voice spewed fury, the space around her began to tremble. Then a slender tree trunk descended soundlessly from the ceiling and gently patted her shoulder.
As if by magic, her irritation melted away. With a touch full of calm and apology, she stroked the trunk.
"Ahh, Mother. I'm sorry. I got worked up over nothing. The children haven't been doing well lately, that's all."
At the trunk's tip, a single drop of viscous silver sap slowly beaded and gathered.
"Well… I suppose that will pass soon enough. With the front lines reported so busy these days, even the useful children are being thrown into the fray."
The woman savored the drop of sap and smiled.
"More importantly, they say some madman from the Chaos faction is rampaging across the front lines. What on earth are those above doing? Someone ought to deal with him quickly and ease Mother's worries."
The trunk brushed softly over her, then curled back upward.
"Haa. Still, I must discipline them, mustn't I? The ones who couldn't even meet their quota…."
Silver flame coiled around her hand, and as she swept it outward, several humanoid figures tumbled out of the fire.
"Confess without a single falsehood, before I tear your dimensions apart."
Her decree, cold as an executioner's blade, fell upon the scattered figures.
They resembled humans, yet bore distinctly alien features, and at first they merely looked about in bewilderment.
But not for long.
The man who had been mid-meal, the woman who appeared to have been mid-tryst — every last one of them slammed their foreheads to the ground and trembled.
The woman on the throne was one of the Roots blessed by the Great Sephiroth.
She stood on an entirely different footing from these creatures, who received only the leftover dregs of grace from the true Roots. Summoned without warning, they were nothing more than tenants — beggars who had pleaded for a Root's mercy to lease a domain to manage. Such beings were called Fine Roots.
From the woman on the throne, the rebuke continued — words alone heavy enough to crush.
"One of the Fine Roots recently abandoned her domain. And left it in ruin, no less."
Flung into summoning in an instant, they could only quake and listen.
Did one of them truly have the gall to defy a Root?
Come to think of it, there had been rumors lately of someone failing to meet their quota….
"I will grant you a chance. Uncover the whole truth of the matter."
They might have demanded to know what any of this had to do with them — the one who caused the trouble and themselves.
But none dared entertain the thought of opposing the woman on the throne.
"Now, be gone."
The woman gave a light flick of her hand, and the prostrate figures vanished in an instant.
Returned, no doubt, to wherever they had been before the summons.
The woman on the throne watched them go and sighed.
"Don't tell me she's latched herself onto the other side?"
She bit her lip, her expression darkening, and a leaden weight settled over the great hall that held the throne.
"Dare to betray the Great Mother who governs the dimensions itself?"
It was true that no single Root ruled alone — but neither Chaos nor the Three Thousand could manipulate dimensions as her kin could. That was an indisputable fact.
Her presence sank into something chilling.
"I suppose I'll have to make an example of someone…."
Crack—
***
"Just what means did you use, exactly? Surely you intend to tell me eventually?"
"Heh heh. All of this was done to uphold the righteous cause of the Jianghu. Would you betray the greater good out of mere greed?"
Namgung Jin, called the Invisible Divine Sword, ground his lips together.
Greed? Nothing of the sort.
He wanted to fire back that they were the ones grasping at greed — but Namgung Jin only quietly bit his lip.
An elder who had survived the bloodbath at the Mudang Sect and the Gaebong elder dispatched from the Murim Alliance were regarding him with solemn expressions.
"That day's events unfolded at Mount Mudang, the ancestral home of our sect, did they not? Naturally, I believe I have the right to know. Have I asked for too much?"
The Mudang elder's venomous eyes swept Namgung Jin up and down. It was the look of a man who had already weathered the destruction of his sect — a man with nothing left behind him to protect.
"Heh heh. The Murim Alliance supported you more diligently than anyone. We unsealed our survey charter of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains to proclaim your declaration far and wide, and labored day and night to restore the honor of the Namgung Clan. Surely this uncooperative attitude of yours is a bit much?"
At the mention of the Namgung Clan, a surge of emotion welled up in Namgung Jin's chest, but he forced it down and endured.
It was true that they had spread word of his declaration of war. And it was equally true that rebuilding the Namgung Clan required the Murim Alliance's cooperation.
Raising a fallen house from its knees was impossible by one man's strength alone.
Restoring the clan demanded far more than martial power.
Popular support, honor, a history newly laid brick by brick — all of it had to be rebuilt. A house without tradition was nothing but a band of strong-armed ruffians, no more and no less.
And without the Murim Alliance's aid, rebuilding the Namgung Clan would take an eternity — might prove impossible altogether. The more he considered the true nature of his power, the more true that became.
'The clan head must have fought tooth and nail against wolves like these.'
Where people gathered, could politics ever be absent? Even the lofty Namgung Clan of the azure heavens could not have been exempt.
But still — had they no fear at all, having witnessed the battle that day? They had already received the Heavenly Demon Sword, exactly as the Murim Alliance demanded, hadn't they?
Namgung Jin's eyes flashed dangerously.
Honestly, if he resolved himself to deal with them right now, it would not be impossible. No — it would be as easy as plucking a roadside flower.
If not for the clan's restoration, Namgung Jin might never have suffered such deliberation at all.
And yet.
What would happen if he cut them down where they stood?
They would raise a clamor of sorcery and demonic arts, brand him with the Jianghu's public condemnation. The Murim Alliance was already sighting crossbows of suspicion at his divine authority as it was.
And then what?
Yes — of course, he could probably sweep the Murim Alliance aside in open battle. It wasn't impossible.
But what came after? Would he cut down every rising resister, all while crying the name of Namgung to the heavens? What if the imperial court intervened next? And when he himself eventually died?
If… if he simply did as he pleased, how would he be any different from the Demon Cult?
Perhaps these men pressed him precisely because they knew that fact as well as he did.
As his thoughts tangled, a creeping doubt took root.
It wasn't as though they were merely throwing tantrums. Surely they wouldn't spew such nonsense as demanding he surrender the source of his divine authority.
What they wanted was for him to submit unconditionally to the Murim Alliance's control.
In plain terms: do as they commanded. In exchange, they would actively support the restoration of the Namgung Clan.
A tangle of conflicting feelings played across Namgung Jin's eyes.
Fine. He could swing his sword a few times at their behest.
By their argument: use that power in the righteous direction. And if he would not — then simply obey.
But what they desired went far beyond the pale.
From the village that had cooperated with the Demon Cult only under duress of threats, to every last soul quietly tilling fields in the shadow of the Ten Thousand Great Mountains — they seemed to want the Demon Cult's associates slaughtered to the last man.
No doubt it served to secure leverage over his political position while doubling as a warning aimed at the imperial court. Beyond that, Namgung Jin could not yet divine their aims.
And still… even granting all of that.
There was a line that no human being should cross. Even Namgung Jin, with Karma Points glinting in his eyes, held to that truth.
And these men were urging him to step across that very line.
Would he only be satisfied once he'd traded these suffocating old men in for Karma Points?
His gaze flickered back and forth with the storm of his thoughts.
"…."
At last, resolve settled into his eyes. He could not be dragged along by the leash forever.
And in that very moment, someone tore through space and appeared upon the continent where Namgung Jin stood.
She who had sunk into deep disillusionment with humanity.
A woman clad in jet-black full plate armor materialized at the heart of the Heavenly Demon Cult — the Ten Thousand Great Mountains.
"Ah…!"
The armor was cracked and battered in places — yet a faint silver radiance still clung to her full suit of plate.