Some regarded them with respect and admiration, recognizing their valor and dedication to the kingdom. Others, however, looked upon the warriors with thinly veiled disdain, their expressions tinged with jealousy and skepticism.
Upon entering the grand throne room, Gazef and his Vice Captain knelt before King Ramposa III, the ruler of the kingdom. The king's countenance was one of contentment, pleased to see his trusted aide returned safely from a mission that carried great significance for the realm.
"My Warrior Captain," King Ramposa III spoke with a tone of warmth and appreciation, "I'm glad that you have returned uninjured from your mission."
Gazef bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, my King," he replied with unwavering loyalty.
"Now tell me, Warrior Captain, how did your mission go?" The king's curiosity was evident as he leaned forward slightly on his throne, eager to hear the details.
Gazef took a deep breath, his gaze steady as he recounted the events of their mission. "During our journey, we encountered numerous villages that had fallen victim to the enemy's ruthless attacks," he began. "I made the decision to divert some of our troops to aid and protect the surviving villagers, while I led the remaining forces toward our main objective."
He paused briefly, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Our path led us to Carne Village, Your Majesty. There, we discovered the aftermath of a fierce battle. Thirty knights, bearing armor from the Baharuth Empire, lay dead upon the ground."
The king's brow furrowed in concern. "And who, pray tell, was responsible for the demise of these knights?" His interest was piqued by Gazef's report.
"Your Majesty, I cannot say for certain," Gazef replied solemnly, his gaze unwavering. "The villagers recounted a tale of a dark deity, an entity of unknown origin, appearing amidst the chaos of battle. This deity, they claimed, single-handedly vanquished the enemy knights with terrifying efficiency."
King Ramposa III exchanged a glance with his advisors, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon them. The mention of a dark deity's intervention in mortal affairs was cause for both awe and concern. Such occurrences were rare and often heralded significant shifts in the delicate balance of power.
As Gazef Stronoff stood solemnly before King Ramposa III in the grand throne room, recounting the events of their mission, a murmur spread through the gathered nobles like a gentle breeze rustling through a field of wheat. Whispers and hushed conversations filled the air as the nobles exchanged comments and reactions to Gazef's report.
However, it was Marquis Boullope, a veteran noble with a heavily scarred face that spoke aloud, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "Those stupid peasants will think that everyone who helps them is a god," he scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain and superiority.
The nobles around Marquis Boullope chuckled and smirked at his mocking words, joining in with their own jibes and derisive comments about the common folk and their beliefs. The atmosphere in the throne room turned light-hearted, the nobles reveling in their shared amusement at the expense of those they considered beneath them.
But their laughter was short-lived as King Ramposa III brought his staff down hard against the floor, the resounding thud echoing through the room like a thunderclap. The sudden sound silenced the laughter and drew all eyes to the king, his expression grave and commanding.
"Many innocent people of the kingdom have died," the king's voice was firm, carrying a weight of sorrow and rebuke. "Please, Marquis Boullope, do not speak in such a manner."
Marquis Boullope, taken aback by the king's stern reprimand, quickly composed himself and bowed his head in apology. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he said humbly, realizing the error of his words.
Gazef watched the exchange with a mixture of discomfort and admiration. He was glad to see his king taking a stand for the dignity and respect of all citizens, regardless of their station in life. It was a reminder of the king's unwavering commitment to justice and compassion, traits that Gazef respected deeply.
"Warrior Captain who was this person that the villagers believe that he is a deity?" asked the king
"The villager said that he was an undead." said Gazef
The atmosphere in the throne room shifted from one of lightheartedness to one of incredulity and disbelief as Gazef Stronoff, the Warrior Captain, relayed the villagers' account of the supposed deity—an undead creature—intervening in the battle and saving lives. King Ramposa III's expression mirrored the shock evident on the faces of the assembled nobles.
"An undead creature saving the living... What kind of joke is this?" Marquis Boullope's voice rang out, his anger palpable as he voiced the sentiments of many in the room.
"I'm with Marquis Boullope on this one," another noble chimed in with a derisive snort, "those peasants are really stupid if they believe such nonsense."
The murmurs of disbelief and ridicule continued to ripple through the nobles until King Ramposa III brought the room to a standstill with another forceful strike of his staff against the floor.
"Enough!" The king's voice cut through the chatter like a blade. "Warrior Captain, do you believe the words of the villagers?"
Gazef met the king's gaze with unwavering conviction. "Your Majesty," he began, his tone steady and resolute, "there was undeniable evidence of a fierce battle at Carne Village. Blood and body parts littered the ground, the very earth soaked with the crimson testament of violence. The knights, members of the Baharuth Empire, were found brutally massacred, their armor and weapons scattered amidst the carnage."
The nobles, who had initially dismissed the villagers' account as absurdity, now listened with rapt attention as Gazef continued his report. His words painted a gruesome picture of the scene, a stark contrast to the nobles' earlier skepticism.
"Two hundred meters away from the village," Gazef's voice lowered slightly, his words carrying a weight of solemnity, "we discovered a chilling sight. Ninety-nine dead bodies, all of them bearing signs of a brutal and merciless slaughter. Limbs torn asunder, bodies mutilated beyond recognition."
A collective gasp went up from the nobles, their faces pale and eyes wide with shock. The notion of an undead creature not only protecting the villagers but also slaughtering imperial knights in such a savage manner was beyond their comprehension.
The king remained silent for a moment, his mind processing the gravity of Gazef's words. The implications of such an event were far-reaching and could have significant repercussions for the kingdom and its relations with neighboring powers.
"The citizens of the kingdom might think of this as a big joke," one of the nobles muttered, the unease in the room palpable.
King Ramposa III's gaze swept over the assembly, his expression grave yet determined. "We cannot dismiss this matter lightly," he declared, his voice commanding attention. "Gather more information, investigate thoroughly. We must uncover the truth behind this... undead savior."
Gazef Stronoff's words echoed in the throne room, carrying a weight of truth and revelation that sent ripples of unease through the gathered nobles.
"The bodies that were away from the village did not seem to be from the Empire," Gazef's voice held a tone of certainty, "they were from the Slane Theocracy."
The revelation that the bodies found away from Carne Village bore the crest of the Sunlight Scripture, agents of the Slane Theocracy, sent shockwaves through the throne room. King Ramposa III's brow furrowed in concern, his mind racing with questions and possibilities.
"And how can you be sure about that?" Marquis Blumrush's voice cut through the murmurs of the nobles, his skepticism evident.
Gazef, ever composed and factual in his responses, didn't hesitate to provide clarification. "That's because they had the crest of the Sunlight Scripture," he explained calmly, "Half of them were magic casters, easily identifiable by their robes and symbols, while the other half were warriors clad in armor distinctive to the Slane Theocracy."
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The Slane Theocracy, known as the protectors of humanity and staunch allies of the Re-Estize Kingdom, were now implicated in a bloody massacre that defied explanation.
"Why would the Slane Theocracy do this?" murmured one noble, voicing the question that weighed heavily on everyone's mind.
"What was their goal in destroying these villages?" added another, the confusion evident in his tone.
"Are they trying to provoke a deeper conflict between our kingdom and the Empire?" speculated a third noble, his voice tinged with apprehension.
The room buzzed with speculation and concern, the implications of the Slane Theocracy's actions sparking a flurry of questions and theories.
"All right, that's enough," King Ramposa III's voice cut through the chatter once more, his tone firm and decisive. "We will send a message to the cardinals of the Slane Theocracy, demanding answers for these atrocities."
Turning to Gazef, the king continued, "Warrior Captain, did the villagers tell you more about the one who massacred the knights?"
Gazef inclined his head respectfully. "As I mentioned earlier, Your Majesty," he began, "The villagers spoke of a powerful undead entity. They described it as a being of immense strength and dark power, capable of vanishing into the sky after the deed was done."
As the discussions in the throne room delved into the troubling events involving the Slane Theocracy and the mysterious undead creature, King Ramposa III's weariness was palpable. The weight of these developments, coupled with the impending war with the Baharuth Empire, bore heavily on his shoulders.
"Now this is troublesome," the king remarked with a sigh, his expression reflecting a mix of concern and frustration. "Special forces of the Slane Theocracy infiltrating our kingdom, and now a mysterious powerful undead creature saving villagers."
Gazef, ever attuned to the king's mood and the gravity of the situation, sensed the weariness in his ruler's voice. It was clear that the complexities and challenges facing the kingdom were taking their toll.
Recognizing the need to regroup and focus on the imminent threat posed by the Baharuth Empire, King Ramposa III made a decisive decision. "Close this meeting," he ordered, his tone firm yet weary. "We must prepare for the war ahead. The young emperor of Baharuth is a dangerous foe, and we cannot afford to be divided or distracted."
The nobles, though still reeling from the revelations of the meeting, acquiesced to the king's command. As they filed out of the throne room, their minds buzzed with thoughts of the looming conflict and the enigmatic events that had unfolded.
Gazef, however, found his thoughts lingering on the mysterious savior of the village. Despite being an undead creature, this being had shown compassion and bravery in saving innocent lives. Gazef felt a sense of gratitude and admiration toward this unlikely hero.
King Ramposa III sat alone in the quiet of the throne room with Gazef Stronoff, the trusted Warrior Captain of the kingdom. His gaze was contemplative as he listened to Gazef recount the harrowing events of the recent monster attack.
"Gazef, tell me about the monster attack," the king requested, his voice carrying a note of solemnity.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Gazef replied with a respectful nod. "That monster was a powerful frost wyvern. It wrought devastation upon our citizens, city guards, and brave adventurers who sought to protect our kingdom."
The king's expression darkened with sorrow. "This is truly tragic," he murmured, his thoughts turning to the lives lost and the suffering endured by the people of the kingdom.
Gazef continued, his tone reverent as he spoke of the hero who had emerged victorious against the formidable wyvern. "An adventurer was able to slay that monster with remarkable ease."
"Ah," King Ramposa III's interest piqued, "and what was the name of this courageous adventurer?"
"His name is Mark," Gazef answered with a hint of admiration in his voice. "He was a platinum-ranked adventurer, but his prowess and valor have elevated him to adamantite rank. I witnessed firsthand his battle against the wyvern, Your Majesty. The way he effortlessly cut off the head of that monstrous creature... He must have reached the pinnacle of human strength. A true hero, indeed."
King Ramposa III listened intently as Gazef spoke of Mark, the dark hero who had become a symbol of hope and resilience in the kingdom. Despite the challenges and tragedies that beset their land, Gazef's respect for Mark remained unwavering.
The king nodded thoughtfully, a sense of gratitude and admiration filling his heart for the brave souls who stood as guardians of the realm. In Mark, he saw not just a skilled warrior, but a beacon of courage and determination that inspired hope in the darkest of times.
***
'With the appearance of the Ice Wyvern, I couldn't help but wonder how many members of Blue Rose would have managed to survive its onslaught. Judging by their capabilities, I was certain all of them could endure, at least through regeneration magic. At worst, Evileye or their leader would have been forced to use one of their trump cards—likely something bestowed upon them through their connections with the Platinum Dragon Lord.
I had been waiting to see such a card played, anticipating their moment of desperation. But as time dragged on and it became clear they either wouldn't or couldn't use it, I decided to intervene and resolve the situation myself.
With the Wyvern dealt with and the information I've gathered over the past few days, one thing became increasingly clear: this wasn't merely a world with a distorted timeline. No, this was something far more complicated—an alternate universe.
An AU.
This realization struck like a hammer, rendering much of my knowledge of the original plot nearly useless. Sure, general details and key players still held value, but beyond that? The intricacies of events and outcomes I once relied on were now little more than unreliable fragments.'
I thought while stacking up the coins.
*Clang, clang*
The metallic symphony echoed through the room as precious coins clinked against each other. I spread the shimmering gold and silver coins across the polished table, meticulously arranging them into neat stacks of ten. Each stack was a testament to my wealth increasing just a little more, a fortune that an average person in this world could not hope to accumulate even after a lifetime of labor.
"I have a lot of money though, kuku," I chuckled to myself, my voice tinged with a mix of amusement.
The room around me was a marvel of opulence, the most splendid suite in the finest inn of Re-Estize. Ornate furnishings, luxurious drapes, and intricate tapestries adorned the space, each piece a symbol of the inn's exclusivity. The cost to rent such a room was exorbitant, a sum that would make even the wealthiest nobles hesitate. Yet, for me, it was a mere pittance. Despite the inn's offerings, I declined the meals every time. Food was a pointless indulgence for me, something in my new form neither enjoyed nor consumed.
Spending thirteen years in a state where the necessities of human life—breathing, eating, even a beating heart—were completely irrelevant had a way of reshaping me. It was oddly therapeutic in a twisted sense, especially when it came to breathing. Now, as a being that no longer needed air, I found a strange sense of liberation.
Had I not endured those agonizing years as a soul imprisoned within another body, my first instinct upon gaining control of this one would undoubtedly have been to inhale deeply, to savor the rhythm of a heartbeat. But now, I didn't need to—and, perhaps, that was the greatest irony of all.
My gaze wandered around the magnificent room, taking in the lavish decor. My thoughts, however, were elsewhere. "I hope today those adventurers will not offer me again to become part of their party," I mused with a sigh.
Since the day I had slain the Frost Wyvern, my fame had spread like wildfire. The name "Mark" was on everyone's lips, a legend in the making. Adventurers from far and wide sought him out, eager to have such a powerful figure join their ranks. Their persistence was relentless, and even the allure of beautiful prostitutes, attempting to seduce me with their charms, was a constant distraction. Yet, I refused them all, maintaining my solitary path with unwavering resolve.
"Hope there is a nice job for me today, like exploring ruins or a dungeon," I muttered to myself as I glanced over the job board.
All the quests were about monsters slaying or being the bodyguard of a merchant. How was that called an adventure?
I sighed, my breath echoing faintly within my dark helm. I got up and put my two greatswords on my back, the weight familiar and almost comforting. The blades gleamed ominously in the dim light of the room. I opened the door and descended the creaky wooden stairs to the first floor of the inn.
The common room was empty, save for the innkeeper who was busy polishing the bar. The innkeeper looked up and smiled warmly as I approached.
"Good morning, Lord Mark. Did you sleep well?" asked the innkeeper, his voice pleasant and respectful.
"Yes, I did. Thank you," I replied, my deep voice carrying a tone of practiced politeness. "I'll be heading out now."
The innkeeper respectfully bowed his head. "Safe travels, Lord Mark."
I nodded and walked towards the door, the heavy wooden planks creaking under his armored boots. I pushed the door open and stepped out onto the bustling streets of the capital. The morning sun bathed the city in a warm glow, and the air was filled with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares and children playing.
Everywhere I went, the citizens were amazed by my dark armor, their eyes widening with awe and a hint of fear. A week ago, their stares had been annoying, a constant reminder of how out of place I felt. But now, I paid no heed to them, my mind focused on finding a quest that would offer some semblance of the information I longed for.
*****
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