Ch.258Hall of the Gods (1)

“That was truly… an incredible speech.”

People looked at Llewellyn with pure admiration, similar to Lorian’s sincere appreciation.

Llewellyn smiled awkwardly in front of these people with whom he could be at ease, without needing to put on airs.

“It really was. I didn’t have anything to improve upon.”

As Melody also praised Llewellyn’s speech, he seemed subtly embarrassed, as if he hadn’t expected such compliments.

Instead, he said, “I was worried it might come across as too pretentious… I’m glad it didn’t.”

Others thought his self-assessment was too modest, but not Llewellyn himself.

Llewellyn was someone who had never had occasion to give a speech to anyone in his life, and until recently, he hadn’t believed he could accomplish such a thing.

For this reason, Llewellyn was considerably embarrassed.

Lucilla read her brother’s inner thoughts.

“Pretentious? It was truly magnificent.”

Her bright smile reminded Llewellyn of memories from when he was still Yoon Se-jin.

A pure smile of an older sister genuinely proud of her brother. Llewellyn felt at ease seeing such a smile.

If his sister said so, then it must be true. He didn’t voice this thought, but his sister, who knew him well, clearly understood his feelings.

Yet she didn’t point it out. Naturally, the conversation turned to someone else.

“…To be honest, I didn’t believe in you when we first met.”

The God of Dreams, a deity residing in a body with only a head remaining, in a form not even of his own gender.

A being who embodied the word “fallen,” the God of Dreams.

He was smiling.

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to do it, or even if you did, you wouldn’t meet my expectations.”

“And that means…”

“You exceeded my expectations. It would be disrespectful to even compare you to the Steward.”

It was a satisfied smile, yet somehow lonely. The God of Dreams spoke with such a smile.

“Being with you, I judged based on the information you provided. The Steward would not have overcome the taboo even if he had broken it.”

“Taboo?”

At Lorian’s question, the God of Dreams glanced cautiously at the Blood Knight.

Fortunately, he wasn’t angry.

“Making a deal with Netel. If one is devoured after making such a deal, it becomes a calamity, and cases of not being devoured are extremely rare.”

What made it worse was that Netel’s actions weren’t tainted with malice.

Netel acted literally without malice, without even will. Looking at the results after everything happened, she would undoubtedly be considered an evil being, but…

Netel doesn’t even recognize humans. It’s like scratching an itch on one’s leg or spreading one’s feet for stability.

The flow of fate and the world makes her act that way, and since Netel is unaware, she causes tragedies and calamities without hesitation.

She was not a being fit to manage the world. Surely the gods must have known this.

“I suppose it was unavoidable for the sake of the goal.”

“But he failed.”

Father, the Steward, chose ascension. Not a collective ascension like the Great Ascension, but rising alone to his death.

Whatever his intentions might have been, Llewellyn thought it could have been an act of desperation.

Despite his desperation, he couldn’t let go of hope, optimistic about his fate and goals.

He might have acted while losing his sense of reality.

And perhaps that wasn’t so strange, Llewellyn thought.

Having failed in all his objectives and feeling that he could never achieve his goals.

Llewellyn wondered if he himself could avoid giving up in such a situation as he focused on the God of Dreams.

“I still don’t know how things will turn out.”

“But there is hope. Didn’t you say so yourself?”

Though he hadn’t said it directly, Llewellyn’s speech was entirely about hope.

As long as we stand here, as long as people exist.

He had spoken about how hope never truly disappears.

Because people are hope itself.

Llewellyn smiled faintly.

“I appreciate your belief in me.”

“It’s a bit different. It’s not about belief, but that failure is no longer acceptable.”

That was true. As Llewellyn quietly acknowledged this, the God of Dreams, held in Eshatherna’s hand, said:

“What you spoke of, I feel more vividly than anyone else here.”

He was feeling countless “deaths of dreams” flashing through his mind.

The world was shrinking. There was even a sense of pressure as if something was trying to crush the entire world.

If that pressure couldn’t be suppressed and cracks or holes formed, power would overflow like a torrent, causing contractors to become distorted into monsters or lose their sanity.

This was happening all over the world. These insane monsters were all heading in one direction, as if predetermined.

Toward the place where all power was gathering to shoot up a single massive beacon, toward the Pantheon.

There was no need to gather people or draw in enemies. Llewellyn felt this fact as well.

“I’ll do whatever I can within my power.”

Gods and the Three Clans, humans and even puppets created by Netel.

In this gathering where everyone had come together to prevent the world’s destruction, Llewellyn could clearly feel the existence of hope.

A battle for the fate of the world awaited them.

And it wasn’t far off.

*

After the speech and coronation, people either left to attend to their duties or stayed to discuss matters.

The leadership, including Lucilla and Llewellyn, was the same.

They were not only the leaders responsible for the Pantheon but could also be considered its greatest fighting force.

The advantage of human weapons lies in the flexible thinking of humans and the excellent killing power of weapons, so even if they didn’t offer opinions, they needed to attend meetings or forums for opinion exchange to balance both aspects.

So Llewellyn stood there awkwardly. It was an appearance unbecoming of a king who had just delivered such a spirited speech.

It was so obvious that the Emperor poked him from behind with a finger, advising him to stand more dignified.

But it couldn’t be helped. Llewellyn wasn’t used to hearing discussions he couldn’t fully understand.

“The Pantheon can be concealed, but the surrounding areas can’t. However, with these mountains and cliffs creating difficult terrain, setting up defense lines would make it easier to hold back the monsters.”

“That may be true, but we shouldn’t expect monsters to follow common sense. If they can respond, for example, with mobility to climb cliffs or other means of circumvention, how will we counter that?”

“We can handle aerial combat. If desired, we could move the Cradle to these mountains and focus on defense.”

“No, the Black Knights are valuable forces. They’re irreplaceable. Rather, I’d prefer to preserve the Black Knights and respond to this front with conventional methods.”

In this meeting were the Court Count in charge of the Three Clans’ strategy, Valterok, the oldest and leader of the Black Knights, and Melody, the brain of the Inquisition.

Llewellyn sat quietly listening to the conversation.

The throne was uncomfortable. It wasn’t as plush as he had expected, nor was it designed for comfort.

Rather, it was the epitome of discomfort.

When he asked Lucilla about this, wondering if she might know:

‘They say a king sitting comfortably on the throne can’t properly govern… something like that? I think I heard that somewhere.’

She answered and said it was something Llewellyn had to endure.

So Llewellyn endured with all his might while listening to the conversation.

At least the uncomfortable seat prevented him from getting distracted or dozing off. Llewellyn thought as he listened to the unavoidable conversation.

“Conventional methods, then.”

“Ortemilia has taken in mixed-blood vampires, stabilized them through experiments, and is training them. They have better endurance than ordinary humans and possess superhuman strength unaffected by magical power, so giving them strong bows would make them decent for containment.”

“With the steep mountain terrain, that would be effective.”

“I would respond similarly with ranged attacks. And since the monsters are servants of a transcendent being, resistance will be fierce. It’s best to assume that the enemy’s reinforcements are basically infinite.”

And if the enemy is infinite, exchange ratios don’t apply. At the Court Count’s additional comment, Melody made a humming sound.

“Well, do you have any brilliant ideas?”

“Seeking brilliance at times like this is entrusting plans to luck. Not good.”

“Ugh, really. Do you have to rebuke everything I say?”

As Melody put her hands on her hips in irritation, the Court Count widened his eyes and then sighed lightly, pointing at the map.

It was a map said to have been drawn by Rie Hejedia herself.

The Court Count’s pale white finger traced a curve along the cliff lines on the map.

“I hear there are some Protection School mages, so it would be good to pair them with archers along the cliff defense line.”

“Magical power isn’t infinite either, so what about that?”

“I’ll recruit vampires who are good at making shields with blood and place them there.”

“Hmm…”

Shields made of blood. For Llewellyn, this reminded him of when he first saw Lorian.

The image of how he had almost perfectly blocked the flames spread by the Star Blade Ethan with a barrier made of blood. He wasn’t sure about its sustainability, but in terms of blocking, it was comparable to the Protection School that had mastered defense.

It sounded reasonable. Llewellyn slightly rolled his eyes, and Melody, who couldn’t see with her eyes closed, seemed to roll her eyes as she tapped her chin.

“Then what should we do?”

Valterok interjected. The Court Count glanced at him.

“You should take on the role of tanks. Using your aerial mobility and charging power to coordinate the battlefield.”

“The role of tanks, eh? Not bad. I agree.”

“Me too. That seems more practical.”

Fortunately, the battle plan was composed of terms Llewellyn could understand.

The Cradle and Black Knights would use their aerial mobility and excellent charging power to act as firefighters on the battlefield, while Ortemilia’s mixed-blood vampires and human Protection School mages would form a defense line along the cliffs.

To Llewellyn, who wasn’t particularly adept at strategy and tactics, it seemed like a good plan.

It already looked hopeful. If everything went according to their plan, the defensive battle would be easy, he thought.

But plans always go awry, and those skilled in strategy and tactics knew this well.

That’s why the decision always belongs to the king, not the strategist. A pair of gazes and two pairs of presences suddenly turned toward him.

Under the attention of Melody and Valterok and the gaze of the Court Count, Llewellyn performed the task he was already becoming accustomed to.

“I agree as well. Let’s make the cliff defense line our main strategy and…”

The three continued to develop the plan, placing models on the map and focusing on areas where models hadn’t yet been placed.

All Llewellyn could do there was listen attentively and decide which direction to establish the plan.

Naturally, it was a boring task. It was difficult to actively offer opinions, especially when occasionally technical discussions arose.

Inevitably, Llewellyn’s mind wandered. He just tried to remember the seemingly important points while sitting blankly on the throne, unconsciously spreading his senses.

A sensation different from his usual practice of spreading divinity through his heartbeat. Something made possible by the insight gained from meeting Netel.

Sensationally, it felt similar to when he first obtained Dragon Drop. Llewellyn eventually stopped hearing the conversation of the three and blankly looked where his senses were directed.

“Oh.”

Naturally, words escaped his mouth. The three who were in the midst of discussion all focused on Llewellyn and asked what was wrong, but Llewellyn didn’t answer.

More precisely, he couldn’t answer.

It was no coincidence that he had thought of Dragon Drop.

Llewellyn recalled Valterok’s words that heroes like himself would come from all over the world someday.

It was natural to feel a familiar sensation. The woman caught by Llewellyn’s senses was indeed the subject of that sensation back then.

“Dragon King…?”

Llewellyn met the gaze of a yellow-glowing dragon among countless monster corpses, perhaps responding to being called.

And naturally, its mouth opened.

‘Finally found you.’

And with a very tired appearance.

Llewellyn blinked blankly as he felt his senses receding.