Ch.253Coronation (3)

Opening a dialogue wasn’t really the problem.

The challenge was maintaining that dialogue once it began.

Making sure the conversation didn’t turn into a bloodbath, properly mediating, encompassing all opinions, and filtering out threats.

I thought it wouldn’t be difficult. The Three Clans were essentially Llewellyn’s vassals, and the people of the Pantheon were all reasonable and good people.

I believed if we communicated well, we’d get along.

But that wasn’t the case. Even before the dialogue had begun.

Llewellyn nervously swallowed and unconsciously hunched his shoulders at the tension in the air.

That’s how it was. In this standoff between the Three Clans and the Pantheon’s people, there was a strange power that made even Llewellyn, a god whom they viewed positively, question if he had done something wrong.

The atmosphere was like a bomb about to explode. Llewellyn nervously darted his eyes around.

On the Three Clans’ side, the Blood Clan stood at the front, followed by the most numerous Shapeshifters, and at the very back were men and women who appeared to be Necromancers.

On the Pantheon’s side, Inquisitors stood at the forefront.

People who had fought the Three Clans for a long time, and perhaps lost much to them.

It was clear that speaking carelessly would be unwise. Llewellyn thought about how he would feel if someone had taken his sister from him, and was certain he would have killed anyone who tried to intervene.

Fortunately, when his sister was taken, she was returned twofold.

‘…Sister looks good with short hair too.’

Since she always had long hair, he hadn’t realized, but short hair had its own charm. It gave a more active, professional impression with a subtle mysterious feel.

Having been so accustomed to his sister with long hair, Llewellyn found the short-haired Empress both awkward and fresh, and so he unconsciously stared at her.

Just as the Empress quietly blinked at Llewellyn’s gaze.

“Dialogue. Yes, dialogue is good.”

The person who spoke was someone familiar.

A man who had lost his entire family to the Three Clans and became an Inquisitor.

Just entering middle age, he had unknowingly been a great help to the Pantheon.

Though not an overwhelming powerhouse like Lucilla or Melody, he could be considered the best in the second tier.

He called himself Burben, and Llewellyn remembered him.

Unlike many Inquisitors who had been able to evacuate with their families, this man had nothing but his weapon and his body. He was looking at the Three Clans with fiery eyes.

“But even if I have something to say… I don’t think they have anything to say back to me.”

He seemed doubtful whether they even remembered the atrocities committed against him. It was practically a certainty.

And Llewellyn thought so too. While he had told the Three Clans to “stop the slaughter,” that statement was only possible because there was a history of them committing slaughter.

Telling someone who has never killed anything in their life to stop killing people would only confuse them.

Because of this, Llewellyn couldn’t offer any response and looked toward the Three Clans. Apart from the three leaders, most of the faces were unfamiliar.

Lorian, who had been quietly sandwiched in between, couldn’t do much beside Llewellyn, and Elimul, with Elise’s face, wore an anxious expression as she watched cautiously.

She seemed afraid that an all-out war might break out. Llewellyn felt the same.

It would be a disaster if they started fighting after he had gathered everyone. He wondered if he should have exerted charisma instead of trying to facilitate dialogue.

But Llewellyn didn’t have that talent.

Even if he did, he didn’t think it would be right to use it. Forcing cooperation through charisma would only delay problems, not solve them.

If that was the case, he thought it better not to hide anything. Even that resolve was wavering.

“I wonder if they even remember.”

The middle-aged man sneered. Llewellyn glanced at the Three Clans.

Whether they truly didn’t remember, couldn’t step forward, or had quickly hidden such expressions, he couldn’t tell due to their numbers.

Llewellyn knew it was time for him to step in.

“Have you heard that the world is going to end?”

“Miss Melody told us. I remember.”

He responded calmly. Llewellyn read the emotions hidden beneath his demeanor.

As expected, no one seemed to take it seriously.

That was understandable. Unless it was a visible, tangible doom approaching, an unprecedented catastrophe that no one knew how to address was too abstract to garner empathy.

No one could tell exactly how the world would end, nor to what extent, making it difficult to determine an appropriate response or attitude.

Perhaps they believed it wouldn’t happen, or if it did, it would only result in the loss of a country or two.

Medieval information transmission capabilities and imagination were insufficient to grasp the concept of global annihilation.

Unlike Llewellyn or Lucilla, who had been exposed to countless media depicting apocalypses. As evidence, Llewellyn observed his sister’s anxious expression at the front of the Pantheon’s side.

Only Llewellyn and Lucilla could grasp the situation.

One was a madman who wielded destruction in his mind, and the other was something beyond human.

“Are you saying we should join hands with them because the world is going to end?”

The question seemed so obvious and predictable. Llewellyn reflexively wanted to agree, but seeing the sentiment beneath the man’s expression, he remained silent.

It wasn’t just him. Most of the Inquisitors behind him had grudges against the Three Clans.

Ordinary people who might inwardly be willing to sacrifice the world for their vengeance.

Becoming an adult and experiencing life’s hardships doesn’t necessarily make one mature.

Even if it does, one isn’t always mature. People often become childish and are unapologetic about it.

This middle-aged man was the same. He would not hesitate to make childish choices for revenge.

But Llewellyn couldn’t blame him. That’s just human nature.

“No.”

“That’s a relief. So Lord Llewellyn also…”

“But I want to ask you something.”

Though he interrupted, the man didn’t seem offended.

Rather…

“Would it be acceptable to you if that happened?”

The man was taken aback by Llewellyn’s question.

“If I were to reject them as you wish, not cooperate… and because of insufficient strength, fail to prevent the world’s end, would that be alright with you?”

He couldn’t answer hastily. Instead, he opened his mouth, then looked at Llewellyn, then glared at the Three Clans, repeating this cycle.

“Do you believe that because they took your family, it’s right for everyone in the world to lose their families and their lives too?”

“How dare you suggest such—”

His face reddened with anger, but seeing Llewellyn’s expression, he was at a loss for words.

There’s something about a person’s expression. Though his words might easily be taken as criticism or mockery…

His expression suggested otherwise. The pure questioning look on his face silenced the man.

“I’m not sure. Even if I had lost someone… if the world was going to end, I think I’d find it hard to choose not to help.”

That’s how Llewellyn felt.

If the world ended because he didn’t help…

He believed he would witness countless horrors far worse than losing his own family.

That’s what annihilation means.

Children, the elderly, women, and men, all dying horribly without discrimination.

The thoughts they held, warm feelings, kind words.

All vanishing, forgotten, buried in wind and sand. Llewellyn hated that idea.

After all, since he had properly descended into this world, he had never not been a mourner.

And he didn’t particularly like the act of mourning.

Mourning for the entire world would be exhausting and tiresome.

It would also be regretful. There would be nothing left but to wail in anguish on an empty land devoid of everything.

If he survived, that’s what would happen, though the chances of survival were slim.

Still, just imagining that possibility made Llewellyn shudder.

In the end, there was only one thing Llewellyn could say.

“If you don’t wish to stay… you may leave. I won’t stop you.”

It was a radical statement. The man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you driving us out?”

He asked in a voice that sounded overly cold.

Llewellyn gently shook his head.

“No. If you wish to stay, you may. But… if seeing the Three Clans around makes you uncomfortable, you’re free to leave.”

He spoke as if he had already decided. It would be natural to feel offended, and indeed, the man seemed displeased.

But he didn’t add anything more.

In reality, he knew that Llewellyn had done everything he could.

He hesitated. There were still many words left unsaid, many grievances harbored.

But with Llewellyn’s additional words, he couldn’t push back stubbornly.

“But if you have words you wish to speak, if you must say them, let’s stay here and talk.”

He wasn’t a charismatic leader who could sway a group, nor an alpha who solved everything with force.

In fact, he didn’t believe he had such talents.

Rather, he considered himself lacking in such abilities.

He believed that to avoid mistakes and resolve matters smoothly, this was the only way.

To listen attentively to people’s words and incorporate many opinions.

It’s a method that becomes less effective with larger groups, not suitable for leading massive collectives.

But at least Llewellyn knew he was surrounded by capable people. There was no need for Llewellyn himself to be capable and exceptional too.

What he possessed was the qualification to represent, not the right to suppress others.

In the quieting atmosphere, he confirmed that it was finally time for dialogue.

“Now, let’s really… have a conversation.”

About how to prevent the end, and about the world after the end.

The two groups, arrayed on either side of Llewellyn, while glaring at each other, quietly began to speak.