Ch.287Horn of Plenty. Irshem (1)

“The Apostle of the Sun, Luminator Victor, is approaching.”

In the palace of Irshem, the voice of the servant soon echoed through the halls where ten Apostles of Abundance jointly ruled through their council.

“We are aware. There must be absolutely no mistakes in the protocol.”

“The Apostle of the Sun killing the Apostle of Karil means that the Sun is stronger than War. We Apostles of Abundance may know how to make money, but we have no talent for fighting.”

The ten apostles spoke thus as they warily awaited the arrival of the Apostle of the Sun.

Of course, they too were apostles, so comparing their combat abilities with ordinary people was meaningless from the start. But if they were to engage in direct conflict with the Apostle of the Sun, who held all worldly matters beneath his feet, they would struggle to gain the upper hand despite their numerical advantage of ten to one.

Victor had already ascended to the realm of god-slayer, having killed dark gods that transcended apostlehood through physical idol destruction, which made matters even worse.

“Prepare the banquet and make ready to receive their flagship.”

“Make sure the beggars in the streets are cleared away. If they catch his eye, it could damage our image.”

“I’ve heard the elves of his party greatly enjoy alcohol, so prepare plenty of good spirits.”

The Apostles of Abundance gave clear instructions to their servants. Faced with a being whose power surpassed the might they maintained to protect their abundance, the ten apostles trembled at their helplessness, able only to offer tribute. Even as apostles, they had no choice but to be utterly subservient before one who had obliterated the Crusaders—who waged war without even eating—through nuclear fission.

“Prepare everything on the list! Everything must be ready within five hours!”

“If you can’t find it, the entire city will be blown away! Search the entire market if you must, but bring back apple brandy!”

And so, the dawn market descended into unexpected chaos as preparations began to welcome the apostle.

It was winter.

*

“Finally. Irshem.”

Victor gazed at the distant walls of Irshem from the bridge of his ship.

Those high, solid, and thick walls looked like the fortress of the Salvation Knights magnified a hundredfold, built with enormous expense to protect the commercial hub of the Hyacinth Continent, Irshem’s independence, and the wealth of its citizens.

This was the birthplace of Moneta, the God of Abundance, and a paradise for those who believed that money must always flow.

In Irshem, where it was said even beggars wore silk clothes, thirty million citizens enthusiastically engaged in business and commerce. Including those who passed through the city in a year, the floating population exceeded two hundred million.

It was truly the epicenter of commerce, industry, and business, and as if to prove it, the massive unmanned gun turrets mounted on the city walls were in impeccable condition.

They were so well-maintained that even from dozens of kilometers away, their polished gleam was visible to the naked eye, requiring no further explanation.

[We have confirmed the Apostle’s visit. It is an honor to have you visit Irshem, Luminator. From now on, Irshem’s air force will safely escort your flagship.]

“Hmm.”

And somehow, thousands of tactical aircraft had appeared alongside the flagship, slowly advancing with it. The lookouts hadn’t been negligent; the tactical aircraft had optical camouflage technology that made them impossible to detect with the human eye.

“Irshem’s welcome, is it? Quite different from the previous continent.”

“It’s evidence that what happened in Belka has spread across the entire continent. You should be proud. You are the only being who has returned from death.”

“The Resurrected One… an honor beyond my station.”

Victor twisted the corner of his mouth and ordered his crew to follow the guidance of the Irshem air force. The bridge personnel quietly bowed their heads in obedience.

“A city with such an army, tens of millions of such cities on a continent, thirteen worlds made up of such continents… am I to rule all this? Difficult and heavy indeed.”

“Do you find it difficult? Do you find it heavy?”

“It’s heavy. Even if I killed them all, the weight of the corpses would crush me.”

“Hold onto that feeling. When one grasps power, people inevitably become corrupt. That’s a fate that even the most devout apostle cannot escape.”

Power unchecked inevitably corrupts. To ask why is foolish.

Just as trees naturally extend their roots in search of nutrients and water, just as babies cry for their mothers when hungry—it’s only natural. Power that begins to sustain itself eventually starts to rot from within, soon becomes covered with mold and inflammation, and finally bursts with the slightest shock.

That is the principle by which nations, cities, villages, and families perish.

“So. When that time comes. You know what you must do, right?”

“Of course. I’ll try to stop it as far as my strength allows.”

Sometimes the first line of defense becomes the last line of defense.

When a monarch runs amok, the responsibility to stop them lies with the subjects who receive stipends from them.

*

“Welcome to Irshem, Apostle of the Sun.”

“Ugh.”

Victor couldn’t help but furrow his brow.

It wasn’t because of the guide’s attitude, appearance, or attire. It was because of the intense spice scent emanating from his body that felt so unfamiliar.

Though Victor thought he had adapted to the unpleasant stench of sewage and filth, even he as an apostle couldn’t help but be startled by this strange… ‘fragrance’ where good scents met and underwent nuclear fusion.

“Luminator?”

“Ah… I apologize. I’m not particularly accustomed to the scent of spices.”

“I see. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do… the entire city is permeated with this fragrance.”

“Ugh. Do the people here enjoy spices that much?”

“That’s part of it, but they’re also excellent value for their volume as trade goods, so we store them up. Whether we like it or not, we end up being pickled in spices.”

“Hmm…”

Spices have always been precious, then and now.

Salt alone was an essential item that would cause chaos if unavailable, and even common spices like pepper, when loaded not in small containers but filling entire ships, commanded unimaginably high prices.

In such a market, with countless spices like nutmeg, turmeric, cinnamon, star anise, cumin, thyme, basil, cloves, licorice, and more constantly changing hands, the air inevitably became filled with their distinctive pungency.

“Well, I have no choice but to get used to it. I hope the food heavily seasoned with spices is delicious.”

“Of course, Irshem’s cuisine is the finest in the region. As you said, curry made with various spices is exquisite. It’s perfect when eaten with butter-baked naan.”

“Ha. That does sound promising. However, for now, I’d like to meet the leader of this place… guide me.”

“It would be my honor, Your Excellency.”

The guide bowed again and began leading the Iron Walker party that had disembarked from the Sky Warden.

With each step, the sounds of merchants haggling echoed in their eardrums, and beyond that, carriages and automobiles, transport ships and aircraft filled the sky.

If there were a typical image of a ‘prosperous city,’ would it be like this? Victor employed all his apostolic senses to hear the voice of the city.

The footsteps of travelers and adventurers, the sound of businesspeople engaged in discussions, merchants greeting each other—all reached his ears, and Victor recalled Partispal where he had been.

The cold, rough sea. The salt-filled docks and beggars lying in the streets. And soldiers who, even when someone was drowning a person in the sea, would merely comment, “That’s not how you’re supposed to kill them”…

Why was there such a difference? Victor was deeply curious about this.

There was no doubt that Partispal had formed the foundation of his character. It was his hometown, where he had chosen his own name.

But it wasn’t a good place. If you had money, life might be pleasant there. But the problem is that by that standard, there would be no bad places in the world.

“Luminator. You don’t look well. Are you alright?”

“Ah… just recalling old memories… let’s continue.”

“Understood. If there’s anything making you uncomfortable, please let me know.”

Victor nodded and continued following the guide.

The city was vast, and the people were happy.

Truly, Irshem could be called the home of abundance.

Is this a process, a cause, or a result?

Victor couldn’t tell.

He only knew that the scenery and people here were very beautiful.

Unlike his hometown, here a child didn’t need to start killing people at the age of three to escape starvation.