Chapter 169
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 169
With the post-war cleanup nearing its end, Solif immediately led the Baraha mages back to Kalamaf. Just as the Parsha mages had done before them, they would return through secret passages hidden within the Sun Temple under strict supervision.
As for Turan, he had to immerse himself in follow-up tasks that were even more tedious and draining than the war itself. He had to verify and resupply the materials used in the battle; the gunpowder, in particular, was difficult to delegate since he managed its production personally.
Beyond that, accounting for the lives lost to the Carmine mages and the merfolk was of paramount importance. Excluding the mages who fell in direct combat, several villages had suffered damage simply because they lay in the enemy’s path.
“So, civilian casualties are roughly four to five hundred…”
“It might sound cold to put it this way, but for a war of this scale, that’s not many deaths. You’re allowed to be a bit happier about it,” Asiz said, flipping through documents across from him.
Perhaps it was because Turan’s face looked so grim as he murmured to himself that Asiz felt the need to offer an excuse. As a noble himself, Asiz wasn't the type of person to dismiss the lives of commoners as worthless, but he still believed that such a victory was well worth this level of sacrifice. Anyone else in the world would likely have thought the same.
Anyone, that is, except for the lord sitting before him.
“The people who fought on the front lines can be happy, but I shouldn't be. These people essentially died because of me.”
If I had planned the operation more meticulously, maybe this many wouldn't have had to die.
Listening to those words laced with regret, Asiz spoke to his friend in a serious tone.
“Turan, what you’re describing isn't the way of a human. To perfectly coordinate and control everything… that is the way of a god.”
To achieve exactly what one desires without a single mistake or frustration—one would have to be at least that. A human could not bear such a responsibility.
“I don't know. I’ve seen gods, and they aren't much. To do what you’re talking about, one would have to be something far greater.”
Those words would have given a devout follower of the Frea faith a heart attack, but none among the high-ranking members of the Parsha family or Turan’s allied forces maintained any shred of piety. They had learned exactly how pathetic and despicable the methods were that those self-proclaimed gods used to cling to life.
Based on his experiences so far, Turan felt that the average farmer or carpenter on the street was far more mentally mature than most of the surviving gods.
As they conversed, a thought suddenly occurred to Turan. It would have been nice if there truly were a god who could coordinate and control the world more perfectly, just as Asiz said. Even if they didn't control everyone’s every move, if only there could exist a single shepherd to govern this vast ranch called the world…
*
When Turan finished organizing the documents and stepped out of his office, a small golden eagle descended from the distant sky and perched on his shoulder.
After the war ended, Turan had sent Bije along with the returning Solif. Since the enemy was likely starting to suspect that the Baraha army was a fake, he intended for Solif to ride Bije to quickly join the decoy force and perform a show of strength. If the Family Head himself appeared at the front and displayed his power, no one would ever imagine that the army was actually filled with nothing but commoners.
Bije had exerted quite a bit of strength in the recent battle and must have been exhausted after carrying Solif for several hours, yet she didn't show it. She hopped energetically on Turan’s shoulder as if to prove she was perfectly fine.
Despite his own fatigue, Bije’s antics brought a smile to Turan’s face as he returned to his quarters. Checking on Meisa, he found her deep in a book in the study.
“What are you reading?”
“Just something.”
It was undoubtedly a romance novel, so instead of asking for the title, Turan sat down beside her and pulled her into an embrace. Through her faint scent, he could feel a vitality that was different from before.
“You seem to be in a good mood.”
“I am. I mean, all I did was fire off a few spells from the back, but going out for a walk after so long really refreshed me.”
It had already been a month since she had confined herself to the Head’s quarters after realizing she was pregnant. The fact that a brief outing could lift her spirits so much meant that being cooped up here had been stifling for her.
Turan could understand Meisa’s feelings. To begin with, his quarters weren't particularly spacious for the head of a Great Family. This was a structural issue of the city of Kalamaf. Since its foundations were that of a small town, there simply wasn't enough space to build a grand residence like those of other Great Families. Of course, the fact that the family’s base was small made it easier to maintain secrecy.
“Maybe it would be better to build a new city later.”
“Build a city?”
“Yeah. Like Morgen—design and build an entire metropolis from scratch. We can handle the terrain if we put some effort into it… though food would be the issue. The Gray Zone isn't exactly a fertile place.”
Of course, if they could just import grain cheaply from the Dakein Plains to the northwest, which was ruled by Arabion, food wouldn't be a concern. While it might fall slightly behind the Land of the Five Lakes in terms of variety, it was the most abundant place in the world for basic produce.
“Speaking of which, I heard things aren't going well in the Dakein Plains lately either.”
“Why?”
“Partly because the number of mages has decreased due to the war, but more than that, it seems they have too much grain.”
As the saying goes, too much is as bad as too little. The grain produced every year by the most fertile land in the world naturally required a market. However, unlike in the past when there were plenty of places to export to, Arabion’s current situation was dire.
They had been at each other's throats with the nearby Carmine until recently, so trade was naturally frozen. Because of the war with Parsha, who ruled the southeastern Gray Zone, maritime transport through the North Sea was essentially blocked, meaning the transport routes leading to the Enril Desert were effectively cut off. If it weren't for the high demand for food in the forest zone to the south, thanks to the displaced people rebuilding their cities, the economy would have likely collapsed already.
“…I see.”
Meisa listened to Turan’s explanation with a blank expression. The idea of prices becoming too cheap because of a grain surplus was something she had never really thought about. If Arabion had intended to raise Meisa as a proper successor, they would have at least taught her the basic concepts of economics.
After discussing grain prices for a while, Meisa shifted the topic to something she had been curious about.
“So, are we going to invade Ruban right away?”
“I originally intended to, but I think it’s better to rest for a bit. Just for a few weeks, if not longer.”
“Why? You said last time that it would be best to keep the momentum going.”
Meisa’s eyes widened in surprise. Turan sat down beside her with a weary smile.
“Not just the mages of our family, but the Baraha mages as well—the mental fatigue is too severe. Defending against an invasion is one thing, but I don't think an offensive would be easy right now.”
On the way back after the battle, Turan had realized this while watching the Baraha army and his own subordinates. Even while basking in the joy of victory, their eyes, movements, and even their scent carried a heavy exhaustion. It wasn't physical fatigue, but a mental sickness born from repeated cycles of killing and being killed. Turan’s sharp senses could detect those emotions, which the mages themselves likely hadn't even realized yet.
“Hmm…”
“If you think about it, they’ve fought a series of battles over the last few months that others would have taken years or decades to complete. It’s only natural.”
From Badal’s raid to this recent battle, they had fought three large-scale engagements. If one counted the minor monster subjugations in between, they had risked their lives over a dozen times in the past year or two. Considering that members of mage families usually only fought like that once every few months at the shortest, or once every few decades if they were lucky, it was an excessively short period.
Of course, not everyone had participated in every fight, but war had a way of draining the spirit even of those who didn't participate directly. Especially since mages were almost always related to one another within a few degrees of separation.
“Now that I hear it, I think I understand what you mean.”
Meisa said she had felt a similar atmosphere while leading the Dark Elf subjugation squads in the past. There were those who, worn down by continuous fighting, would die helplessly without being able to show their true skills.
Moreover, since most of the recent battles the Parsha family had faced were human versus human, the mental fatigue was bound to be even greater. Hunting other races, whom they had been taught since childhood were nothing more than animals, could never be the same as engaging in a war of slaughter with fellow humans.
Of course, outliers like Turan felt little difference and didn't tire even after fighting longer and more frequently than others, but that was simply because he was abnormal. At the very least, Turan was self-aware enough to know he was the strange one.
“Besides, we need to resupply our war materials… I can't throw unprepared people into a battlefield just because I’m feeling impatient.”
When he thought of the child growing inside Meisa, he wanted to wipe out all the other Great Families immediately, but he couldn't lead everyone who followed him to ruin for that sake. Before he was the father of an unborn child, Turan was the Head of a Great Family and a shepherd leading his sheep.
Meisa, who had been staring at his troubled face, waved her hand toward him.
“Here, do you want to see this?”
“Huh? Ah…”
Turan let out a low groan as he looked where she pointed. Meisa had slightly lifted her top, revealing her abdomen, which was no longer flat but slightly convex.
“It wasn't noticeable at all until recently, but it seems to be growing quite a bit lately. I had to change my clothes because of this.”
“Now that you mention it, I did think your outfit looked a bit different.”
Back when she couldn't eat due to her trauma, Meisa had preferred excessively loose clothing to hide her skeletal frame. After recovering and gaining a healthy amount of weight, she had favored form-fitting clothes that showed off her slender yet curvaceous body, but the clothes she was wearing now were similar to what she used to wear.
“Honestly, I thought you’d notice sooner.”
“Sorry. My mind has been elsewhere lately.”
“I’m joking. I know how busy you are. If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry for not being able to help properly because of my body.”
Meisa laughed and shook her head at Turan’s quick apology.
“Anyway, what I’m saying is don't be too impatient. I think I was a bit overly scared by what we talked about before… and besides, the method the Zahar Head mentioned isn't exactly common, is it?”
“That’s true. It’s just a problem because it’s not impossible.”
As Harun had done in the past, massacring a large number of children of a specific bloodline required an enormous amount of resources. Specifically, a massive quantity of souls, like those contained in the soul prison artifact—the jewelry box—that Turan currently possessed. Using something that could be so useful in other ways just to kill Turan’s child was a hideously meaningless waste.
But even knowing that, he couldn't feel at ease. Because it felt like someone in this world, someone with a terrible malice toward Turan, would try to harm him even in such a way.
“Do you want to put your ear to it? I think I can hear some sounds now.”
“Really?”
At Meisa’s words, Turan quietly pressed his ear against her belly. Sure enough, before long, he heard a faint thump, thump, like something was bouncing. It was so quiet that even with a noble’s superior hearing, it wouldn't have been audible without direct contact.
“It’s true…”
He had seen pregnant women many times and had often heard the sounds of a child moving in the womb, but this was the first time he had ever pressed his ear to one. It was a completely different sensation—literally the feeling of sensing life at close quarters.
Just then, a voice echoed within Turan.
Bije, who had been resting quietly, suddenly hopped out and stood between the two of them, shouting mentally. Meisa, who had flinched back in surprise, laughed after hearing Turan’s explanation and offered her belly.
“Sure, Bije, you try listening too.”
However, contrary to her expectations, Bije couldn't hear anything even after pressing her head firmly against Meisa’s belly. At just under three months into the pregnancy, Bije’s hearing was insufficient to catch the still tiny movements. If she had been a magical beast derived from an animal with good hearing, she would have heard it easily, but while golden eagles had incredible eyesight, their hearing was not particularly sharp.
“You’ll hear it when it gets bigger. Just wait a little longer.”
Turan laughed as he stroked the sulking Bije. Spending time like this seemed to wash away the gloom he had felt during the post-war administrative process.
*
After recovering his mental strength through that sweet rest, Turan decided to devote himself to his duties once again. This time, it was a task he had to perform not as the Head of Parsha, but as the Adversary of the Gods.
Specifically, managing the souls of the two gods he had collected this time.
[Nice to meet you, Jemel. No, you must have a real name, right? What should I call you?]
The young man looking at Turan from the center of the cold prison appeared to be in his mid-twenties. His features were quite different, but his face suggested he was from the same region as Kadram, whom Turan had captured before. This was likely the body Jemel had possessed in his previous life—before he had inhabited the body of a Player.
[You may call me whatever you wish, Great Master of Parsha.]
Seeing Jemel immediately prostrate himself and take a submissive stance, Turan laughed in disbelief but internally heightened his guard. In his experience, those who knew how to bow like this were often more devious behind one's back than those who were openly defiant. It was foolish to underestimate an opponent just because they acted servile.
[There’s no need for excessive formality. All I want from you is to faithfully fulfill your role as a prisoner here. However…]
In a calm tone, Turan warned Jemel, just as he had warned Resion and the other half-elves before. If he tried any shallow tricks to avoid interrogation, such as withdrawing his consciousness, Turan would tear his spirit body apart on the spot.
[In case you might take my warning lightly, I’ll show you an example.]
He immediately summoned a soul fragment of Kadram from another cell. Though a small portion had been lost when Turan absorbed it, it was enough to recognize that the hideously fragmented thing had once been the spirit body of a god.
Jemel’s eyes widened when he saw the face.
[Ju—Junseo…]
[Junseo?]
At Turan’s question, Jemel remained silent for a moment before speaking honestly. He explained that he had known Kadram—the one who used the name ‘Rom’ in the game—in the world outside the game. Junseo was Kadram’s real name, the name he used in the world outside.
To think he would hear the name he hadn't known even after possessing that very body.
[I see.]
He vaguely recalled hearing that in the ‘game,’ it was common not to reveal one’s true identity to others. If so, he thought Jemel and Kadram—Junseo—might have been unexpectedly close. However, Jemel shook his head and firmly denied it.
[I knew him, but we weren't exactly close. We didn't meet for a very good reason…]
Jemel explained that he and Kadram had actually met to have a physical fight. They had gotten into an argument within the game, and after bickering for days without either backing down, they decided to settle it in person. Usually, such things fall through because one or both parties fail to show up, but for some reason, both actually appeared at the meeting place.
However, once they met, Jemel was much larger and older, so Kadram got scared, and it ended anticlimactically with just an apology. Looking at him now, he was indeed much larger than the Kadram Turan had seen before. He wasn't particularly muscular, but rather on the slightly obese side.
[Well, that’s a fairly interesting story, but I’ll hear more of it later… Do you have any information that might be useful to me?]
Turan offered the same terms he had given the half-elves. If he revealed something useful, he would be treated well; if not, he would simply be left in this cold stone prison. Of course, if he refused to cooperate entirely, he could end up like Kadram—torn to pieces and imprisoned as mere wreckage for eternity.
[I’ll answer anything. So, please…]
Upon hearing the threat, Jemel immediately began to pour out the stories he knew, but unfortunately, not many of them were useful. Information about the identities of the gods or the secrets of this world had already been mostly revealed by Resion and the other half-elves. Realizing that Turan knew more than he expected and that superficial information wouldn't get him anything, Jemel looked flustered.
[That kind of information doesn't count for much. You’d be better off telling me something only you know. For example, secrets from within the Carmine family.]
Turan could easily guess why Jemel was trying not to leak information about the Carmine family. He likely wanted to have an excuse for his leader, the Lawyer, if he ever managed to get released. But that was his problem; as for Turan, he had to punish a soul who failed to provide meaningful information.
After a moment of silence, as if resolving an internal conflict, Jemel finally spoke.
[I will tell you about the mastermind behind this raid.]
[The mastermind?]
Turan, who had been looking somewhat bored, narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. Seeing his interest, Jemel’s face brightened.
[Yes, the mastermind! We only accepted a commission. To somehow keep the Parsha family in check so they couldn't run wild like they are now…]
[From whom?]
As if he had been waiting for that question, Jemel answered urgently.
[The Monarch—the one pulling the strings behind Arabion and Nagin—commissioned us directly. And they offered a very large reward.]