Chapter 36: Rest After the Battle
The battle was over, so it was time to rest. Mana was on the verge of depletion after rampaging like a madman. He'd downed a mid-grade mana potion, but as expected, wiping out over a hundred thousand enemies single-handedly was impossible. Still, he'd concluded that completely reversing the tide of battle was feasible.
In history, the only one who'd turned the tide alone was Glaine, the founding emperor of the ancient Magdo Empire. Of course, even he had forces following him.
"Need a force, huh." He'd realized it clearly from this battle. Sure, chugging high-grade mana potions, arming up with various items and spells, he could act as a one-man army. But taking on the entire empire solo? That seemed like too much. Victory in battle meant nothing without troops to occupy the land.
His own carriage was wrecked, so he'd commandeered Marquis Reshid's and was resting atop it when Kainus approached with a report.
"My lord, of our 150,000 troops, 10,000 are dead or wounded. The enemy, out of 200,000, has half dead or wounded—50,000 fled, and 50,000 are prisoners."
"Sent pursuit forces?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Good. We'll recover all the empire's lost territories so far. And we'll push north, carving out enough land to plunge a dagger into the heart of their lands."
"As you command."
"Anything else? Strategy, maybe?"
"You mentioned taking the Giant Gods tribe under your command?"
"Yeah. It was an oracle too."
"Then how about leading them all back to the territory?"
"Hm? Abandon our foothold here?"
"If not, you'll have to kill them all."
Whoosh! Kainus unfurled his fan with a flourish.
Dragon through and through—his words dripped with menace. Aron killed plenty by ripping them apart, but wiping out a whole tribe? Never crossed his mind. And saying it with a straight face confirmed he wasn't human.
"Isn't killing them a waste?"
"Blaine territory and the north are too sparse. Even if you take them under your wing, they'll break away in a few years. Too much hassle. Kill them all or take them—pick one."
"I see."
What kind of guy says that? But surprisingly, the gods chimed in agreement.
Even Demeter, who'd seemed somewhat normal, said as much. It made clear how the gods viewed humans. The scriptures back on Earth had scenes of wiping out corrupted humanity too. Same here on Karen Continent, no doubt.
"The Giant Gods are huge—double the work output of imperials. Can't we just enslave them?"
"Hohoho! The gods wish them dead unless taken in. So kill them if they won't convert."
"Guess so. We'll fetch the holy sword. If they won't submit to its authority, off with their heads—spill the blood on the earth."
"Excellent idea, my lord."
Demeter has sponsored you 20,000 karma.
"Call Amon. We'll push north and hunt for the holy sword. Bet he's found Jupiter's Book by now."
"At once, my lord."
Truth be told, challenging myths already didn't appeal. Myths and legends weren't like fighting humans—ruins guarded by monsters and divine guardians. He'd planned to down a high-grade mana potion first, but no choice now.
Numerically, the Giant Gods numbered two million. A small nation's population. Even half pursuing— one million. Nearly duke territory scale. And fully under him? Perfect for future rebellions.
"Never thought I'd end up absorbing such a massive population influx."
Marquis Reshid clicked his tongue, surveying the Giant God warriors kneeling in chains. Feared tyrants until one battle crushed them. From two million, they'd scraped together 200,000 warriors—nearly their limit. Fifty thousand dead, fifty thousand badly wounded, fifty thousand unharmed now prisoners. Fifty thousand fled, pursued by imperial forces.
Plan: Northward slowly, dragging prisoners. Recover lost imperial lands, expand the empire. This merit would promote Viscount Aron to count, swell his territory. In a few years, Aron would dominate the empire's east.
"How could the Giant Gods fall like this?"
"Viscount Aron has the gods' blessings. Supernatural power makes sense."
"That madman has divine favor? Does that even add up?"
"Er, Your Excellency, hear me out without misunderstanding."
"Go on."
"Viscount Aron started as a commoner knight. War service earned his title—a rare war noble from the peasantry in imperial history. Nobles shun and scorn such upstarts."
"...And?"
"Likely a fabricated persona. Even you don't scorn him now, right? He instills hate and fear, but no disdain. That's Viscount Aron."
"...!"
It clicked. The whole empire trembled watching Aron's moves. No ignoring or denying him. If he'd groveled to nobles? Buried in an instant.
"Hah."
"As you saw, he dominates the battlefield alone. The ancient Magdo Empire's founding emperor Glaine reached Grand Master and built an empire from a small force."
"You think Viscount Aron will do the same?"
"Yes."
Treasonous words—execution bait if overheard. But Raoul Count wasn't saying Aron threw tantrums; Aron could become emperor.
"Better build ties now, join his banner before it's too late."
"Mm."
"Taking the Giant Gods under him boosts the odds."
Marquis Reshid's pupils quivered. His advisor was right. A goddess oracled it—command the Giant Gods. A massive force inevitable.
"Head hurts."
"Take your time."
"Ugh, he still looks like a total psycho."
"A divinely blessed psycho. And that nature's probably fake."
Divine favor? True. But they'd overlooked Aron's zero intention of dropping the madman act.
Northward march began. Recovering lost lands was easy. The Giant Gods, souls scoured to muster 200,000, crumbled without their main force. No need to even reclaim—rumors drove them out. But they'd stripped territories bare on retreat.
Under Marquis Reshid, Count Lemside arrived at his lands, face ashen.
"Aigoo! They looted the granaries clean!"
Half-ruined castle, plundered domain. Subjects starving; without imperial aid, mass death.
Reluctantly supplied Count Lemside grain. Nobles hated the hassle, but public favor mattered.
"Waaah! Long live the commander!"
"Thank you, Viscount!"
"Wave a bit."
Kainus prodded.
"Ugh, really?"
"If you eye the empire someday, you need the people's hearts."
Not thrilled, but waved to the masses.
"Waaah! Long live the saint!"
"Long live Vivian's apostle!"
Rumors spread like wind. Oracle recipient? They were God's army now.
Cleared the trashed lord's castle, settled for rest. Claimed Count Lemside's room. Afternoon, Merchant Lord Amon arrived.
"Hohoho! Congratulations on the great victory! This humble merchant knew you'd pen a legend."
"Same old Amon. Got Jupiter's Book?"
"Of course! Who'd guess it'd be in heretic heartlands? Without Vivian's oracle, it'd have taken ages."
"Oracle hit the mark, then?"
"Goddess possessed her, I'd wager. Her word is truth."
"You a Vivian follower too?"
"Any imperial who isn't?"
"Thought you worshipped money like a god."
"Heh heh, can't deny that."
Amon summoned men with a chest. Iron-bound tight—serious security.
Clank! Snapped the chains effortlessly. Aura sliced key and lock; Amon looked rattled.
"Heard the Grand Master rumor, but it's real."
"Yep."
"As expected! This old man's eyes don't lie. The empire's star rises soon!"
Suddenly calling himself a retainer. Never keep merchants as such—purely profit binds them.
Jupiter's Book revealed: First edition, reeking of mold.
Fwoosh.
Flames in one hand.
"Gasp! My lord! What—"
"Burning it."
"We went through hell for that scripture!"
Fwoosh!
"Heok! Why on earth...?"
"Wait."
He'd worried if no map appeared. First edition meant burn for map—he'd set it that way.
As the first edition crumbled to ash, an pristine leather map emerged unchanged.
"What in the...?"
Even Amon, who'd fetched it, trembled. No one imagined Jupiter's Book's first edition hid such a trick.
Aron shrugged. "Like a ticket to challenge the myths."