VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 8

VOLUME 15: CHAPTER 8

“What nonsense is that?”

The first to break the silence was Snake-tongue Samuel.

“A single person flattened an entire mountain? Hah! Prime Minister Alegra, do we look like fools to you?”

The Prime Minister wryly smiled. He didn’t get angry at the remark—he understood where the pirate was coming from. Even he couldn’t believe what he was saying as he delivered the news to the group.

“This information was verified by the Council of Scholars several times,” said the Prime Minister.

“What? Are we supposed to swallow everything the Council of Scholars spits? Is that it, huh?” said the pirate.

“It’s up to you how to interpret it, Samuel,” said the Prime Minister.

“Tch.”

The right hand of the new Pirate King leaned back in his chair, scowling. In a voice barely audible to those beside him, he muttered, “Stupid mainlanders.”

“If it’s verified by the Council of Scholars, then it must be accurate,” said King Clemencia. “Whether we admit it or not, there’s no information group better than the Council right now.”

Even the Silver Palace of the Great Empire couldn’t compare to the Council of Scholars. This had long been accepted—even by the Chief Royal Advisor of the Great Empire.

“Flattening a mountain with a spell,” muttered Marquis Randgrith. “Ridiculous. Did he use an ancient artifact or something?”

Duke Hara looked visibly interested. “I heard rumors that Lark Marcus single-handedly repelled the demons that nearly destroyed the imperial capital overnight. Maybe there’s some truth to those rumors after all.”

The other leaders had heard the rumor too but dismissed it as exaggerated pub talk. But after hearing it from the Prime Minister himself, they began to reconsider its veracity.

“No matter how I look at it, it’s impossible for a mere human to perform those feats,” said Marquis Gorgo. “What if… he’s not human, but a demon in disguise?”

Faced with unbelievable truths, the leaders gathered in the Grand Order began entertaining more believable lies.

Yes, that’s right.

It was easier to accept the ludicrous things the young man had achieved if they attributed them to him not being human.

“Not a human, but a demon,” said Snake-tongue Samuel. “Now that you mention it, there are demons capable of taking over human bodies.”

He was referring to parasitic demons, which had massacred countless pirates when they first appeared in this realm.

“In the Mullgray Islands,” said Samuel, “we call the process monsterization.”

Nearly everyone’s faces turned grim. Duke Hara, on the other hand, could barely contain his laughter. He found it amusing how the conversation had steered in this direction due to their ignorance.

How comical.

He had already conducted several experiments using humans parasitized by demons and knew for a fact that they couldn’t control their hosts to that extent.

Still, despite knowing the truth, Duke Hara kept his mouth shut, waiting to see how things would develop.

“King Lark Marcus is being controlled by demons… it’s possible,” said Marquis Randgrith, “…A demonic human.”

Commander Treyton frowned, uncomfortable that the leaders were beginning to label the young king as demonic without verifying anything firsthand. This went against the teachings of the Grand Order and the Holy Father himself.

“Marquis, please let us not jump to conclusions,” said Commander Treyton. “If the Holy Father were here, he wouldn’t approve of labeling someone as demonic without sufficient evidence. It goes against the teachings of the Sun God. Besides, if King Lark is truly possessed, then why did he slaughter the demon army that attacked the United Grakas Alliance?”

Duke Hara was inwardly impressed. At the very least, the commander remained constant—sensible, upright, unshaken in faith and conviction.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Snake-tongue Samuel. “He killed his kin so people wouldn’t suspect him. Look, Commander. Have you seen those demons? The ones with gruesome tentacles that take over their hosts? You haven’t, have you? If you had, you’d understand where I’m coming from.”

Commander Treyton remained silent.

“The Mullgray Islands wouldn’t be in such a mess if it weren’t for those bastards,” said Samuel. “The former Pirate King died to them, and even his grand fleet was annihilated. Well, I’m not really complaining though. I managed to climb the ladder after their deaths—so maybe I should thank them instead? Hehehe.”

The conversation devolved into theories, warnings, and heated speculation. Some pushed for the idea that Lark Marcus was possessed. Others demanded caution.

But in the end, to Duke Hara’s quiet disappointment, the majority ruled against labeling the young king as demonic—if only to avoid the wrath of the Church.

In such turbulent times, none of the leaders wanted to make enemies of the Church. Although the religious orders hardly interfered with matters concerning the government, each of their words were interpreted by the citizens as the truth. If the leaders antagonized them, it would take only a single word from the Church to shake their political foundations.

“The matters of the demonic human aside,” Commander Treyton steered the conversation to the next topic. “Let us now discuss the Coalition Army. They've been growing in power: the Kingdom of Lukas, the United Grakas Alliance, the Kingdom of Elves—which we didn’t even know existed—the Dwarven Kingdom, the Republic of Everfrost, and even the Great Empire joined them recently.”

“Basically, half the nations on the continent have joined the Coalition,” said King Clemencia.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Commander Treyton. “The Three States Alliance has proposed that we create a coalition of our own instead of joining them. I wish to hear everyone’s thoughts.”

“If only we have a way of contacting the rulers of Thorneforge and Mauko,” said Marquis Gorgo. “I know we proposed forming our own coalition, but after hearing how Lark Marcus flattened a mountain, I’m starting to think it might be better to just join them.”

Marquis Randgrith slammed a fist on the table. “Gorgo! Have you gone mad?! You want to become the lapdog of a mere brat?!”

“I never said I’d be his lapdog!” shot back Marquis Gorgo. “Look, even the Empire alone is enough to threaten us all. Even if we combine forces, there's no guarantee we can defeat Emperor Sylvius!”

“That was before,” said Marquis Randgrith. “Didn’t you hear what we discussed earlier? Meredith and Volkheim have fallen, and Harris Mavis and Isaac Segarus are dead! The Empire isn’t as powerful as it used to be! That’s probably why that damn Sylvius bowed to Lark Marcus!”

“So what!? The Empire isn’t the only member of the Coalition Army! Are you saying we should make enemies of all of them?!”

“Creating our own alliance doesn’t mean we’re making enemies of the Coalition! Duke Hara – please say something!”

Duke Hara, who had been watching the exchange in amusement, smiled.

“Calm down, you two. Marquis Randgrith is right. We’re not trying to make enemies of the Coalition Army. We’re simply creating a similar organization.”

Though all three were rulers within the Three States Alliance, Duke Hara held the most sway. Not only was Creis the largest state, it also had the strongest military.

“The Coalition Army pioneered by Lark Marcus is revolutionary,” said Duke Hara. “Unprecedented in scale and power. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it when I heard the Empire joined. Who would’ve thought Sylvius would one day bow to someone young enough to be his grandson?”

Duke Hara chuckled, drumming the table with his finger. He scanned the room before continuing.

“But their Coalition Army lacks one vital factor.”

“Vital factor?” asked Marquis Gorgo.

“Proximity,” said Duke Hara wisely. “The Principality, the Three States Alliance, the Kingdom of Steelwall, even the Mullgray Islands to the west—all of these territories are neighboring nations.”

Everyone understood what the Duke was saying.

A military alliance only worked if the allies could send reinforcements quickly.

How could the United Grakas Alliance, located in the south, send troops to the Republic of Everfrost? Even the Kingdom of Lukas was far, requiring the reinforcements to cross the Yorkshaire Mountain Range.

Sea routes were possible, but they required a developed navy, which the Kingdom of Lukas currently lacked—not to mention the threat of sea monsters and pirates.

“The Coalition Army’s members are behemoths—each capable of devouring smaller nations,” said Duke Hara. “Especially the Empire, which has been a threat for centuries. But their distance from one another renders their military strength moot. Unless they’ve found a way to move their armies instantly, the alliance is an inflated balloon—one prick away from bursting.”

He added, “Still, one undeniable advantage of joining the Coalition Army is the reduction of threats from neighboring nations. Even for that alone, it might be a good choice.”

The leaders in the room were impressed by Duke Hara’s insight.
Indeed, the mere fact that these nations were allies prevented them from attacking each other, allowing them to concentrate their forces elsewhere.

“I must say, if we proceed with creating our own Coalition, it won’t be inferior to the one formed by Lark Marcus,” said Duke Hara.

Unlike Lark’s coalition, theirs could respond swiftly with reinforcements.

“I agree with Duke Hara,” said Marquis Randgrith.

Marquis Gorgo, who had been leaning toward joining Lark Marcus’s coalition, began to reconsider.

He glanced sideways at Prime Minister Alegra.

If the Principality joined them, they would be under the indirect protection of that monster—the Voiceless One.

Noticing the look, Prime Minister Alegra said, “The Principality sees no reason not to join this alliance.”

Marquis Gorgo cleared his throat. “Kuhum… I’ve been enlightened by the Duke. I also support creating our own Coalition.”

Naturally, King Clemencia and Commander Treyton also agreed. Even Snake-tongue Samuel expressed interest after some deliberation.

Since the allied nations formed a triangular shape on the map, with the Mullgray Islands as the “string,” they decided to call their coalition—

—Pendara

The runic word for pendant, according to King Clemencia.

Satisfied with the name, the leaders strategized how to use their proximity to their advantage.

In the end, they decided to create a massive military camp at the intersection of the Three States Alliance, the Principality, and the Kingdom of Steelwall. Each country would send five thousand soldiers to this camp, which would serve as reinforcements for whichever territory came under attack by the demons.

Of course, Snake-tongue Samuel wasn’t pleased—it was far from their nearest island—but he conceded after being promised naval reinforcements from Rivermouth under Marquis Randgrith.

Thus, on that historic day, the second-largest alliance in the continent was formed:

The Pendara Coalition.

***

Several days passed.

After finalizing the remaining details of the alliance, the leaders finally left the Holy Land and returned to their respective territories.

Now free from his duties as host of the summit, Commander Treyton visited the Holy Father in the suppression chamber located beneath the Grand Order.

‘He’s been staying in such a dreary place for nearly a month now. I hope this potion is enough to alleviate his symptoms, even just a little.’

Whenever the Holy Father was afflicted by overexposure to divinity, the Holy Knights would request he stay in this place to prevent his condition from worsening.

The suppression chamber, filled with runes and magic formations, continuously drained divine power from those inside. Normal priests would die after staying here for more than an hour, but for the Holy Father—who had formed a direct link with the Sun God himself—this was the only means to allow his body to recover somehow.

After passing through a gate guarded by several Holy Knights, Commander Treyton descended a flight of stairs, walked down a brightly lit hallway, and stopped before an ordinary-looking wooden door.

“Your Holiness, it’s me, Treyton.”

With his keen senses, Commander Treyton heard the flipping of pages from inside the room.

A soft voice replied, “Enter, my child.”

Commander Treyton entered, gently closed the door behind him, and bowed respectfully to the old man seated in a rocking chair.

Wearing spectacles, the old man was reading a thick leather-bound book by the hearth. Aside from the runes and formations etched into the room, it was sparsely decorated—containing only a table, a chair, a bed, and a small couch for receiving guests.

“I’ve come to deliver my report, Your Holiness. The summit has ended, and we’ve decided to proceed with the formation of the coalition. By consensus, it shall be called the Pendara Coalition.”

The Holy Father closed his book and set it on the table.

“Pendara…” he murmured. “Did His Majesty, King Clemencia, propose the name?”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

The Holy Father gave a knowing smile. “It’s very like him to use the runic language for the coalition’s name.”

Commander Treyton carefully observed him. Seeing that the Holy Father had regained some strength after a month in the chamber, he inwardly sighed in relief.

This chamber truly was one of their mages’ greatest creations. Without it, the Holy Father would have perished long ago.

“Your Holiness…” said Commander Treyton, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I’ve managed to acquire another potion. The kingdom’s greatest alchemist confirmed it contains no poison, so it should be safe to consume. With this, maybe…”

The Commander couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

After all, this wasn’t the first time he had brought a potion to try curing the Holy Father’s illness.

They had failed so many times that they had grown numb to the results.

Still, the Commander hadn’t lost hope. Surely, there was a way to cure the affliction eating away at the Holy Father.

“A potion,” said the Holy Father, smiling kindly, the deep wrinkles on his face showing. “Thank you, Treyton. I’m sure I’ll feel better after drinking it.”

Commander Treyton felt a tightening in his chest.

For a brief moment, blasphemous thoughts crept into his mind.

Why did the Sun God allow such a kind soul to suffer?

Surely, the Sun God knew that his most devout follower was in constant pain from being subjected to excess divine power.

But why wasn’t the deity doing anything to stop his divinity from tormenting the Holy Father?

Even now, Commander Treyton could see divine power continuously leaking from the Holy Father’s body. His flesh, which had become the vessel of the Sun God Himself, had turned into a bottomless reservoir of divinity. If not for this chamber, which constantly absorbed divine power, recovery would have been impossible.

Typically, the Holy Father needed to stay inside this chamber for at least a week just to function normally for a few days.

At this point, he was like a kite without wind—tethered to stillness. A caged bird, unable to flap its wings.

“Here’s the potion, Your Holiness. Please take a drop first before drinking it all.”

The Holy Father received the vial from Commander Treyton’s trembling hands. The liquid inside, which resembled molten gold, sloshed gently.

Seeing the Commander’s anxious face, the Holy Father gently patted his shoulder.

“Treyton, be at ease. Whatever the outcome, it is the will of the Sun God. We must accept it.”

The Commander didn’t speak further. He bowed his head and closed his eyes in prayer.

‘God, please.’

With his eyes closed, he heard the soft pop of the vial being uncorked, followed by a gulp.

There was no hesitation.

The Holy Father drank the potion in one go, without considering whether it might be poisoned.

That simple act alone showed how much he trusted Commander Treyton.

“…Ah.”

The Holy Father’s hands trembled, and he dropped the vial. The container didn’t shatter but instead bounced and rolled on the ground.

Hearing this, Commander Treyton opened his eyes and raised his head in panic.

Did Duke Hara trick them?

Did he poison His Holiness?

In a split second, numerous grave thoughts crossed the Commander’s mind. And upon gazing at the Holy Father, he widened his eyes.

“Y-Your Holiness!”

It was nothing short of a miracle.

The Holy Father’s once-weary eyes now gleamed with vigor. Though divine power still leaked from him, there was a clear change in his frail body.

“Treyton… what potion is this?” the Holy Father asked in awe. “I can feel it. My insides, once rotting from divine saturation, have completely regenerated. I feel ten… no, twenty years younger.”

“…I-Is that true?!”

Overcome with joy, Commander Treyton abandoned formalities and grabbed the old man’s wrist. Infusing a small amount of mana, he scanned the Holy Father’s body.

His hands shook.

The internal injuries—the decayed organs that no healer, priest, or mage could mend—were healed.

Treyton remembered Duke Hara’s words:

‘A potion capable of regrowing even lost limbs…’

He whispered, “A potion comparable to the legendary elixir. It’s true….”

Though Duke Hara was the embodiment of evil, his contribution this time was undeniable.
The affliction that had plagued the Grand Order for so long had finally been cured.

Commander Treyton closed his eyes in resignation.

Softly, he muttered, “I owe Duke Hara this favor.”