Chapter 186
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 186
The current state of House Carmine, the great family that once ruled the North Sea, was nothing short of disastrous.
They had lost their capital, Abacha, to a sudden onslaught of the Great Sea Serpent merfolk and had been forced into a humiliating retreat to a temporary inland capital.
Even more horrific was the political fallout. In the midst of that chaos, they had collaborated with the very merfolk who razed their capital to attack House Parsha—a fellow human power they held no real grudge against. To make matters worse, the expedition had been a total failure.
"Speak to us! Was this attack truly your will, My Lord?!"
"How dare you raise your voice in my presence? Such insolence from one so young..."
"This isn't a situation you can suppress with seniority!"
"My friend died in this expedition! Are you certain they were all volunteers, or were they coerced?"
"Why on earth would you do such a thing at a time like this?!"
No matter how rigid the hierarchy of a mage family was, with the Head at its apex, such disastrous decisions were bound to draw fire. This was especially true since the reason for the attack was something they couldn't even openly justify.
Had the attack succeeded, they might have framed it as a preemptive strike against a future rival. But in the wake of failure, even that excuse rang hollow. In short, they weren't just being condemned for immorality—they were being condemned for incompetence.
While House Carmine was in the throes of this internal strife, a visitor arrived from House Parsha.
They hadn't sent word ahead of their long journey; instead, they appeared suddenly on the outskirts of the city, as if springing from the earth itself.
"Why are they here?"
"I don't know. They insisted on speaking directly to the Family Head."
"Damn it. They win one fight and suddenly they act like they own the place."
The nobles of Carmine gnashed their teeth at the messenger's arrogant attitude, yet they couldn't simply turn them away. Having lost their capital and many high-ranking nobles—including Zemel Carmine—their influence was a shadow of its former self.
Consequently, the messenger from House Parsha succeeded in barging into the meeting hall where the Family Head was presiding. He strode in with muddy boots, refusing to disclose his business to anyone else.
"A message for Rodor Carmine, Head of House Carmine. Turan Parsha, Head of House Parsha, requests a meeting. If you accept, come to the summit of Mount Agran by sunset on the 12th—the day you receive this letter. You may bring four companions."
Mount Agran was a peak to the south of their temporary capital, part of a range that eventually connected to the Gray Zone far below.
Since it was already well past noon, telling them to arrive by sunset was essentially an order to start running the moment they finished the letter. Furthermore, considering Mount Agran was within Carmine’s territory, it meant the head of a hostile family had trespassed without permission.
"Has the Parsha Head gone mad?!"
"What does he take House Carmine for?!"
"Such insolence cannot be tolerated!"
At this brazen declaration, even the young nobles who had been criticizing the leadership erupted in fury.
It was then that Rodor, the Head of House Carmine, raised his hand to restrain them. His face was a mask of neutrality.
"Is that all? It feels like there should be more."
"My Lord..."
"I have never met him in person, but the Parsha Head I know wouldn't have sent a messenger just to drop that off."
As the room calmed at his words, the messenger from Parsha swallowed hard and continued. In truth, he had wanted to read the next part immediately, but the contents were difficult to grasp, and his instructions had explicitly told him to 'take a breath' before continuing.
"...The subject of the meeting is the price of the 'King of Disaster,' and the method of returning home."
Few understood the messenger's words. Only a tiny fraction within Carmine knew that the head of House Nagin to the west had instigated the ambush, promising a holy relic of an ancient god as payment.
Even the part about 'the method of returning home' was lost on some of the possessed vessels. To those who were a bit slower on the uptake, the idea of returning to their own world seemed like a fantasy.
However, Rodor—the lawyer, and one of the sharper minds among them—understood perfectly.
After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Does the Parsha Head also have four attendants?"
"No. He has chosen to set foot on Carmine soil alone."
Upon hearing this, Rodor lightly projected his mana. The pressure made the messenger break into a cold sweat, but the power reflected back was only that of an ordinary noble. He wasn't a significant combatant.
"Fine. If we want to make it on time, we should leave now."
"He said the sooner you arrive, the better."
"My Lord! Do you truly intend to accept such an insulting invitation?"
"The family's prestige—"
"It's worth at least having a conversation," Rodor interrupted. "Besides, the meeting place is in our territory anyway."
Those about to launch into passionate speeches were silenced. It would look ridiculous to rage when the Family Head himself remained unbothered.
Instead, another noble raised a practical concern.
"It could be a trap. The Parsha Head possesses power over space; an entire army could pour out of the meeting site..."
"Then we shall bring our own army to the foot of the mountain. Would that be acceptable?"
"Yes."
Rodor’s eyes flickered with interest at the messenger's immediate confirmation.
"Does a mere messenger have the authority to decide such things?"
"The Family Head gave me instructions in advance."
This meant that Rodor's train of thought hadn't strayed beyond Turan’s predictions. As someone who took pride in his intelligence and enjoyed outmaneuvering others, Rodor found this slightly unpleasant, but he clicked his tongue and brushed the emotion aside.
"Very well. We leave immediately. Prepare yourselves."
*
Before long, the magical beasts for Rodor and the top-ranking Carmine nobles were ready. Most of the beasts bred by House Carmine were aquatic and had been killed or severely injured during the battle for the capital, but they still had a few creatures capable of land travel. They were simply too few and too weak to be deployed on a military scale.
Rodor chose four companions to accompany him, all of whom were fellow possessed vessels. Since two of the seven gods who originally ruled Carmine had been captured by Turan, this was essentially the entire group.
"Is it a coincidence that the numbers match perfectly?"
"Unlikely. We have to assume Karl or Yota spilled everything."
'Karl' was their nickname for Zemel, and 'Yota' was the other god captured with him. They assumed the two prisoners would have given Turan most of their information. They would have done the same if they were the ones caught.
"More importantly, did you understand what he meant by that message?"
"The 'King of Disaster' part is obvious since those two probably talked, but I didn't get the second part."
"It likely means a way to return to Earth."
The other gods' eyes widened at Rodor's words.
"Is that... possible?"
"Honestly, even if I could go back, I'm not sure I want to."
"You don't miss Coke?"
"You'd go back to a puny human body just for a Coke?"
"Ah, now that you mention it, fair point."
They conversed naturally even while mounted, crossing hills and streams. They ignored the surprised stares of commoners who saw five swift magical beasts—a wolf, a deer, a mountain goat, and a snow leopard—carrying riders at high speeds.
"Regardless, that's why I decided to meet him. We'll have to talk to get the details... but I'm sure some of us would go back if they could."
"Hmm."
They debated amongst themselves for an hour until their destination, Mount Agran, came into view.
"There it is..."
"Everyone brought their items?"
"Of course."
"I'm actually a bit nervous. Feels like we're going into a boss raid."
"This isn't a game. It's dangerous, so stay sharp."
At Rodor's reprimand, one of the Carmine gods nodded, looking embarrassed. Despite the recent string of misfortunes, there were still a few among them who couldn't take the situation seriously. It was the result of the momentum built up over thousands of years of reigning supreme.
Then again, if human elders in their eighties find it hard to change the perspectives of their youth, how much harder must it be for 'elders' who are thousands of years old?
"Detection?"
"So far, only one human presence."
"He really came alone. Brave of him."
When the companion who could draw upon the power of a Pursuer class through soul magic spoke, Rodor murmured in an impressed tone. No matter how confident he was in his strength, Turan must have known Rodor would come with other possessed vessels. The fact that he limited the number to five suggested he only wanted the vessels to come in the first place.
Was he that confident he could escape even if they turned hostile? They would find out soon enough.
They ascended the rugged mountain on their beasts for about five minutes. Finally reaching the summit, they encountered a young man sitting on a rock, reading a book.
He had ash-gray hair tied back and matching ash-gray eyes. Turan Parsha was waiting for them.
"Faster than I expected. The sun is still far from setting."
"The sun is probably setting at the foot of the mountain. It stays up longer at the summit."
"True enough."
Thud. Turan closed his book and used tracking magic to check for followers. Seeing hundreds of presences approaching from a distance, it seemed they had indeed brought an army. It didn't matter; it would take them a long time to climb the mountain.
This surprise meeting initiated by Turan had two major advantages. First, it minimized the time lost in formal diplomacy. Considering it had taken months to meet Harun in the past, this was a significant gain.
Second, he wouldn't be isolated in the heart of the enemy's power base. Turan remained unfazed even though he knew Rodor and those behind him were all Carmine’s possessed vessels. He was certain that while he might not defeat them all, escaping would be easy.
‘It’s a shame this knowledge came at the cost of someone’s death...’
Feeling a bitter taste in his mouth, Turan forced his mind back to the task at hand.
"None of us are idle people, so let's get straight to the point. Was it Monarch who gave you the King of Disaster?"
"You..."
When Turan casually dropped the name, Rodor showed visible discomfort.
"Did you do that on purpose?"
"I wonder."
Turan answered Rodor’s interrogation with a smile. As suspected, mentioning Monarch's name here was intentional. Given Monarch's trait of sensing when he was mentioned, he would now know that Turan and Rodor were meeting. If the two tried to cooperate again in the future, this fact would be a very uncomfortable thorn in their side.
"Stop the petty tricks."
"Call it a trick if you want, but I'm asking seriously. There's a chance Zemel was mistaken."
"Fine, yes. It was him. Though it was his right hand, Badal, who delivered it and gave the orders."
"Badal?"
Rodor hesitated for a moment before nodding. Turan gave a thoughtful hum, and then Rodor threw a question back.
"Now I'll ask. That second part—what does it mean?"
He had expected it, but the possibility of returning to their original world seemed to mean even more to these gods than he had thought. It was an emotion Turan, who had no desire to return to Hisaril Hill, found difficult to understand. Was it homesickness? Or perhaps the comforts of the civilization they once enjoyed?
Turan had absorbed some of Kadram—Junseo’s—memories in the past, but even that didn't help. The life Junseo had lived was not filled with happiness, but with inferiority and hatred for the world.
"Since you were honest, I should answer. Monarch and Zahar have joined forces again. I heard they found a way to return home and decided to go back together."
Watching the faces of the Carmine gods turn stony, Turan calmly laid out the stories he had heard from Harun. The plan was to return to the old world while maintaining their divine bodies, reigning as gods there.
Rodor, who had been listening silently while stroking his beard, asked, "Why are you telling us this?"
"Why do you think he didn't make this offer to you?"
The reason the Arabion-Nagin faction had drawn in the Zahar gods was specifically for their tracking and stealth abilities. While the bloodline abilities of the other families were attractive, Monarch considered those two specific abilities crucial for ruling the modern world. Not to mention 'Eye of Truth,' the skill they could use by combining bloodlines—an invaluable tool for an interrogator.
However, Turan deliberately omitted those facts and spun his own narrative.
"Probably because they don't want to share power with you. You've spent thousands of years controlling merfolk and borrowing their strength to oppose the other gods."
"Mmm."
"If they leave by themselves, only you and we will remain here. I don't need to tell you what happens next, do I?"
If Meisa took over the Arabion that Badal left behind, then the four families—Arabion, Parsha, Lavitas, and Baraha—would descend upon Carmine without restraint. Even at its peak, Carmine could not withstand such an assault.
Of course, they could abandon the mainland and flee to the islands of the North or South Seas... but House Carmine had fought for millennia to stay on the continent precisely because they didn't want to live like that. Being skilled in naval combat didn't mean they enjoyed living on the water.
And considering the threat of the Great Sea Serpent merfolk—who were hardly allies despite their one-time cooperation—it would be a brutal life.
"Even if you receive an offer to join them later, you should consider the high probability that you'll be abandoned. If they truly intended to take you, they would have told you beforehand."
Turan’s voice, like a whispering serpent, seeped into the ears of the Carmine gods. He was planting the seed that any future promise from Monarch would be a lie.
Amidst the gloom, a god in the body of a young woman shouted irritably, "Stop talking in circles. What do you want from us?"
Looking at her scowling face, Turan was reminded of Visen. A young noble who had once suppressed a mad noble with him, only to go mad herself later. Being of the same bloodline, they looked alike, but their expressions were entirely different. Then again, the personality inside that body was most likely male. According to his information, almost none of the gods had originally been female.
"I'm suggesting we join forces. If we take them down, the technology to cross worlds will fall into our hands. You can take that and go back to your original world, leaving this land to us. Isn't that a win-win?"
It was the same proposal he had made to the Zahar gods. The Carmine gods whispered amongst themselves, but there was no sign of rejection. On the contrary, they looked expectant.
Naturally, even those who said they wanted to stay here only felt that way because they didn't want to lose their power and status. If those could be preserved, there was no question which world was better. They might worry about nuclear missiles and tank divisions, but with a couple of high-level mages, they could surely overcome them.
While his companions were fueling their fantasies, Rodor asked sharply, "That man is no fool. If such a thing were possible, he would have made the offer to you before us. Is there a reason you can't accept it?"
Indeed, his nickname 'The Lawyer' wasn't for nothing. Turan brought out his prepared answer.
"You're right. I received a similar offer but refused. I heard that to execute the plan, they need a powerful, well-made mage's body, like Meisa's. I don't know the exact reason, though."
"Mmm."
Sensing that this was a line Turan wouldn't compromise on, Rodor groaned. If that were the case, it would be just as difficult for them to cooperate.
"And the solution to that?"
"Grinding down their souls to create new bodies. Several divine souls should be enough to substitute for hundreds of thousands of people."
At Turan's words, the Carmine gods looked revolted. They had sacrificed countless lives for their own immortality, yet they reacted this way? Turan felt a surge of mockery at their hypocrisy but gritted his teeth and held it back.
"That's a bit..."
"Is it because we're all fakes and you're 'real' humans, so you're reluctant to sacrifice them?"
"Well, no. Not necessarily that, but..."
A god in the form of a middle-aged man murmured defensively, but Turan’s words struck at the core sentiment shared by the fallen gods. The natives of this world were mere NPCs, while only they, who had come from the real world, were true humans. Because of that, even when they fought, they would hold each other hostage rather than brutally carving up spirit bodies as Turan had. They knew that once they started being cruel, they might have to keep killing until only one person was left.
To them, Turan made a firm declaration.
"That's why I'm saying I'll do the dirty work. You just join forces with me and fight when it's time to fight. Then, after we win, you can go back and enjoy your world to your heart's content."
The Carmine gods stared blankly at Turan’s outstretched hand. Though they were the ones once called Demon Kings by the other races, this felt like a true devil's bargain.