The straight sword, gleaming with a silvery-gray sheen, fell sharply, pinning a numb figure to the ground. Behind the swordsman, Colin Iliad, an even larger, obese figure suddenly sprang up. The dark green monster, covered in pustules and rotting wounds, brandished a skeletal staff, aiming directly at the back of Colin's head, which was unprotected by a helmet.
The "Silver Knight," who had fought his way out of the mountains of corpses and seas of blood, seemed to have lost his keen intuition. He was unaware of the danger approaching from behind and gripped the hilt of the sword stuck in the numb figure with both hands, slowly and painstakingly pulling it out.
His slightly cloudy eyes were calm as water, but the edges of his pupils were suddenly tinged with a fiery golden hue.
The light of heaven fell behind him, burning away the walking plague and destroying the rotting corpses that rose against the laws of life and death.
The leader of the Mountain Gate, one of the guardians of the Grand Librarian, the "Mentor of Justice" Idlerus Nuha gazed at the pure flames that had descended at his summons. With a flick of his right hand, two fingers drew a broadsword, too powerful for an ordinary man to wield, around the elder's wrist. Then, gripping the hilt tightly, his half-bent arm, propelled by inertia, snapped straight, tracing a perfect arc in the air and severing the monster's still-struggling and howling head.
Colin completed the purification at the same time. As the two straight swords in his hands returned to their sheaths, the figures he had previously suppressed twisted and writhed, gradually dissipating into ethereal light spots amidst the flowing silver light.
The two leaders of their respective city-states exchanged a glance and nodded slightly. The older leader, Colin, then gave orders to the troops behind him.
"keep going."
...
Caesar Harbor is famous not only because it was named by the great explorer and one of the greatest navigators in history, Emperor Russell, who first set foot on the southern continent here. Caesar Harbor is surrounded by mountains on two sides, and the surrounding mountains contain huge amounts of gold and silver mines.
When the Intis first set foot on the undeveloped shallows, they were attacked by surrounding tribes before they even had time to cheer or understand what was happening.
The tribes occupying the mines mistook them for hostile tribes with whom they had conflicts, and taking advantage of the Intis people's unstable foothold, they launched a surprise attack on the exhausted fleet that had just crossed the ocean.
Unfortunately, they chose the wrong goal at the wrong time.
At that time, Russell Gustav, who had just taken office as the governor of the Republic of Intis, was in high spirits. The "Mentor of Knowledge" killed the native chief who had offended Him with swift and decisive action. The Intis army and the monks of the Church of the God of Steam and Machines who came with the governor cooperated with each other, relying on ships carrying a large number of firearms, to quickly build an encirclement and plan a horrific massacre at the landing point.
Under Roselle's orders, they sent the heads of the fallen natives to a tribe on the other side of the mountains as a gesture of goodwill, and in doing so, they gained the friendship of a powerful chief named Komaglai.
The "vengeful spirit" in his prime received the Intis people very warmly and presented them with four thousand ounces of gold as soon as they met.
However, the chieftain, who had just witnessed the Intis's enormous ships and was filled with envy, now found himself bringing astonishment to the outsiders.
The natives' generosity astonished the sailors who had accompanied the governor. The chief's high-level and respectful reception of these sea warriors made it seem as if the invincible outsiders, possessing divine power, could not maintain their dignity for even a second upon seeing gold.
Rosell watched speechlessly as his followers attacked each other like a pack of mad dogs that had broken free of their chains, drawing their swords, shouting and clashing with each other. Even the monks of the Church of the God of Steam and Machines joined the scramble, each wanting to get a little more gold.
Their appearance, the appearance of these pioneers of the Age of Exploration, witnessed by their leader, was like a heavy gavel in court, thus sealing the impression of greed that the people of the Northland would leave in the minds of the natives, and also proving this point with their actions.
From that day on, the roar of steam filled the sky above Caesar Harbor without ceasing.
From this day forward, the real nightmare for the people of the Southern Continent began.
The highland natives living around Caesar Harbor, who have made their living by mining for generations, are always hoping that their god will one day save them from their suffering. They also hope that harsh divine punishment will befall every Northlander, bringing curses and death to the colonists.
However, just recently, when the army that claimed to be their god actually reclaimed part of their homeland and drove away those shameful invaders, the natives, who had been suffering terribly from years of toil, found that happiness and hope were still so far away.
The "Rose School" monks, whose beliefs had changed, rebuked the locals who had spontaneously gathered in the square to celebrate the "Royal Army," and drove them back underground with whips and claws. They then sent overseers to supervise their continued digging for gold and silver, under the guise of "for an even greater victory."
The unrestrained villains who had just seized wealth were reveling, the bloodthirsty colonists who had just lost their purses were cursing, and only the miners were bleeding. This was the scene that Klein saw when he arrived at the town of Entreles near Caesars Harbor.
"So, is it interesting?"
"Reality is the best testing ground. What happens here is more valuable than any social experiment. After all, laws are updated over the years. You rarely see this kind of scene in the Northern Continent and the Empire."
"Oh, even a plantation at sea seems quite lovely compared to the mines here, doesn't it?"
"Look, even the people of the Northern Continent aren't too cruel to their slaves. These cultists of the 'Rose School' are all of the same blood, but these poor natives would rather have committed suicide than have fallen into their hands."
"While alive, they were whipped and forced down into the mines; after they died, their corpses were dragged into blasphemous rituals to be used as firewood. Tsk tsk, indeed, people only reveal their ugliest side when dealing with their own kind..."
That's enough.
Klein glanced at Jerry Zarathustra, who was puffing on a cigarette and launching into a long-winded monologue about something that didn't concern him, and said in an icy tone.
Both men were dressed in wide-legged pants and jackets, common attire in the southern continent, looking no different from ordinary natives. They stood confidently in the mine's plaza, looking down and pointing at the people below.
Even though they did it so casually, no one noticed that these two "Southern Continent people" were talking about blasphemous things.
The exhausted miners buried themselves in their work, oblivious to the overseer who occasionally passed by them, mechanically wielding his long whip.
All of this is thanks to the illusions Klein created.
At first, when they first infiltrated Entreles, Klein's team was very cautious, only daring to send two "Faceless Men" from their team to disguise themselves and infiltrate the miners' ranks.
But as the investigation deepened, Klein and Jerry gradually discovered that there seemed to be no demigods in the town built around the mine.
So the two of them mustered their courage, broke away from the miners, and wandered around under the cover of illusion.
"I know you're kind-hearted and can't stand seeing others suffer, but have I said anything wrong?" Jerry Zarathustra ignored Klein's warning and took another deep drag on his cigarette. "The facts are right in front of you, whether you want to accept them or not, they're there. Why deceive yourself?"
"In my opinion, the 'Rose School' is far more barbaric than the 'Spirit Cult.' At least the 'Spirit Cult's' style can be attributed to the clear hierarchical relationship of the 'Death' path. As for the fact that most Byron people take pride in death, that's just their tradition, and it's unrealistic to expect them to change it in a short time."
"At least the Byrons did come up with a plan. Not to mention their own people, their leaders were very proactive. For example, your teacher, that 'Death Archon,' really, the fact that He expressed goodwill to the Empire through your words and hoped to surrender to the Creator can be considered the most successful political opportunism in centuries."
"What about the 'Rose School'? They were quite good when they were first led by ascetics, but as 'indulgence' gradually replaced 'moderation,' lewd desires gained the upper hand in the High Kingdom until even the 'Immortal Princess' herself could no longer control the situation, and the country and the sect completely rotted away."
"To be honest, I see no hope in their so-called resistance movement. Do they think that being mindless and barbaric towards foreign powers and inhumane towards their own people can solve the current situation?"
Jerry Zarathustra smiled dismissively.
He extinguished his nearly empty cigarette, and seeing Klein still deep in thought, he slowly raised the corners of his mouth, half-deliberately bringing it up.
"By the way, speaking of which, that 'Highland Princess' has something to do with you."
"Me?" Klein's empty black eyes flickered with doubt.
"Of course, the 'Rose School' practices a master-apprentice system. When there is an immortal royal family in the kingdom, the so-called royal heir becomes a joke. Those who will truly attract people's attention will naturally become the apprentices of the real power holders."
"Isn't Renette Tinicol Sharon's teacher?"
Here we go again… Klein wanted to explain that he and Miss Sharon had no improper relationship and to forbid Jerry Zarathustra, that loose-lipped beast, from making jokes about him and Miss Sharon again.
However, for some other reason, Klein's words of rebuke slid back down his throat and into his stomach before he could even utter them.
He just clicked his tongue, his expression not very pleasant.
"Do you remember we still have important things to do?"
"Of course I remember, finding the hidden, undisloyed 'Temperance Faction' members, what did you take me for..."
Jerry Zarathustra brushed it off with a smirk, straightened his collar, and pulled an ordinary cigarette case from his jacket pocket, inside which was a gold coin.
He casually waved his hand in the air, and a blurry, transparent shadow flew over, distorting the light as it went, before plunging back into the coin.
"I didn't make any valuable discoveries with my secret dolls."
After thinking for a moment, he said helplessly.
"I have identified a few suspicious items." Klein straightened his back without making a sound.
He enjoyed the slightly elevated perspective from Jerry Zarathustra, and said calmly.
"The overseers of the 'Rose School' rarely went down into the mines themselves. They detained the miners' wives and were not afraid that the miners would plot riots or escape. Because of this, they failed to discover the small groups that the miners formed while they were underground."
"Most of these groups are simply banding together to increase their survival rate underground, based on blood ties. Some are more radical, mostly young bachelors. These poor people who did not have time to form families or whose families have unfortunately perished come into contact with a few laborers who came with the 'Rose School'. The two sides help each other and often use the opportunity of going down into the mine to plot the possibility of escape."think if we're looking for potential undefected 'temperamentalists,' it's probably among them."
Listening to Klein's detailed summary, Jerry Zarathustra bit his lip, his tone somewhat unwilling.
"How many puppets did you control to find out so much?"
"Twenty-seven."
As Klein loosened his clenched fist with his left hand, many insects and rats in the underground mine ceased to move and lost their lives.
"Well, 'Trickster' is great…" Jerry Zarathustra seemed envious, but his lips didn't soften. "Although I didn't get much from my puppets, I discovered something interesting."
He turned to look at Klein and said "Hey."
"I know you have a moral bottom line and wouldn't harm people or casually turn intelligent beings into secret puppets."
"You killed a miner?"
Klein frowned, but Jerry Zarathustra remained calm and continued his explanation at a leisurely pace.
No, not at all.
"Before you left today, when you and A were discussing the follow-up arrangements, didn't I go out for a walk by myself?"
Klein nodded slightly. He remembered this incident; Jerry Zarathustra had been scolded by Mr. A for acting on his own.
"I first went to find a nearby toilet. Thanks to the 'God of Mystery', I happened to run into a supervisor who came to use the toilet. He was a 'prisoner' of Sequence Nine, so it was easy to take care of him."
"Lucky me..." Klein breathed a sigh of relief.
What did you discover?
"There are many, which one would you like to hear?"
There's more to it than that. What could a Sequence Nine possibly know? He thought for a moment and decided to let Jerry Zarathustra do as he pleased.
Based on his understanding of Jerry, this guy would never be so cocky without having certain information.
So, under Klein's watchful eye, Jerry Zarathustra lit another cigarette.
"Actually, it's nothing much. It's just that the town occupied by the 'Rose School' only has one 'Witch King,' and that 'Witch King' is an absolute research fanatic who lives in the next town and almost never leaves the residence he has chosen."
"Besides him, there might be two or three more Sequence Fives. After all, the minds of the 'prisoners' I control are in a mess. This guy calls everyone he sees 'sir.' I don't believe the 'Rose School' could have more than a dozen Sequence Fives andSequence Sixes here. I can only make a rough analysis based on the degree of fear he has towards those people…"
Suddenly, Klein snapped his fingers, and a tiny spark rose from the end of the cigarette Jerry was holding, nearly setting his hair on fire.
"Damn it, what are you doing?"