Ch.289The Eve (2)

“We’ll need reagents. A lot of them.”

Six days before the world closes.

Llewellyn heard Ortemilia’s list of preparations for his plan, and he stroked his chin.

“Reagents?”

“Reagents to be used on people, wouldn’t you say? Well, I have enough materials for the reagents, but I’m short on hands.”

Llewellyn recalled the drug manufacturing personnel he had brought from Arba before.

Those with alchemical talent whom he had brought along.

When Llewellyn asked about them, Ortemilia let out a deep sigh.

“I mean I’m short-handed even counting my disciples. Is there any way to bring in more personnel? I can handle working overnight, but my disciples are weak humans who can’t endure all-nighters…”

In reality, the only problem or risk that arose when Ortemilia worked overnight was her frustration. That was actually something Llewellyn could resolve every night.

Of course, persuading Isla and Lucilla was difficult, but that too could be resolved at night.

Llewellyn had now received formal permission to intertwine bodies with Ortemilia. His sister had slandered him saying, “Even small ones are good?” and Isla had added, “Pervert.”

Llewellyn thought that Ortemilia was quite sizeable, so it should be fine.

That’s what Llewellyn thought. No matter what excuse he made, the fact that he wanted to do it with Ortemilia remained unchanged.

At least Llewellyn was honest with himself, and every god should affirm their own world.

“Should I order the necromancers?”

Llewellyn asked.

“Hmm, that’s a bit…”

Ortemilia’s reaction was not favorable.

“Why not?”

“How many necromancers do you think have knowledge of pharmaceuticals, even if not at my level?”

Llewellyn pondered this for a moment. He thought there would be quite a few.

Even if not at an alchemist’s level, they were called necromancers after all.

He thought they would be somewhat proficient in handling dark pharmaceuticals or something similar.

But judging by how Ortemilia was asking and negating his opinion, it seemed the opposite was true.

“What’s it like? Tell me.”

Llewellyn asked, resting his chin on his hand and staring intently. Ortemilia felt the urge to pat the head of her son and lover as she crossed her legs.

With her legs crossed, she rested her elbow on her slightly raised leg and raised a finger. It seemed like an unconscious gesture, but Llewellyn stared at that finger as he listened to her explanation.

“First, you know that dragons are the foundation of necromancers, right?”

“Yes, that’s why you’re a bit dragon-like.”

Ortemilia’s expression soured slightly.

“What do you mean ‘a bit dragon-like’? Anyway…”

Her index finger pointed at Llewellyn. Again, it held no particular meaning.

“Dragons accomplish everything with magic and their abundant physical abilities, so to put it bluntly, they have no reason to learn trivial things like pharmaceuticals. I had to learn because I’m not like that. Necromancers’ necromancy often happens at an instinctual level, not as a result of thorough learning and practice.”

But that wasn’t all. Ortemilia explained further.

“That’s also why the Dragon King could kill a necromancer. He exploited the gaps between instinct and insufficient technique, making him truly a natural hunter, wouldn’t you say?”

“So what would you like me to do?”

Llewellyn knew Ortemilia well. She wasn’t a foolish person.

Rather, she was a talented individual with wise and excellent intellectual abilities. Though she had a tendency to show off, it was mostly to hide her small and lacking physical attributes.

The fact that she brought this up in front of Llewellyn meant she wanted something from him.

If Llewellyn wanted, he could respond with roundabout attitudes, words, and actions, hiding their true intentions while doing something together.

‘But that would be tiresome.’

Llewellyn preferred something more direct and sincere.

Ortemilia’s expression wasn’t bad either. Rather, it was quite good.

“Hmm, talking with you is indeed comfortable.”

“Isn’t it?”

When Llewellyn grinned, Ortemilia returned a subtle smile. She leaned her upper body slightly forward and said:

“Would you ask the Prophet and the Empress if they might be able to help?”

Though she phrased it as asking, her intention was clearly for him to bring them. Llewellyn nodded and soon left.

Two days after hearing the Emperor’s warning and advice, Llewellyn was still at the Pantheon.

Six days remained. There was an abundance of preparations to be made, but there wasn’t much that Llewellyn himself needed to do or could do.

Rather, Llewellyn was relatively free. The actual preparations and provisions were being handled by others, not Llewellyn.

There was almost nothing Llewellyn could accomplish alone. Whenever he thought about this, he became somewhat depressed.

“That’s what being a god is like. Don’t be too disheartened. When the time comes to fight, your sword will shine.”

The Dream God, an experienced deity, often consoled Llewellyn with such words.

It wasn’t wrong. What Llewellyn was good at, and the only thing he could do for the Pantheon, was just that.

Of course, it would be best not to fight at all, but that opportunity had long passed.

Unless Llewellyn quietly submitted to Netel or the Star’s Touch and was consumed for the world’s sake, he had no choice but to fight.

‘…Am I putting the world in danger just for my own happiness?’

Llewellyn suddenly thought, and sank into a bit of gloom.

His conscience prevented him from becoming shameless.

At least he had a clear reason why he needed to fight hard. So Llewellyn went to find the Empress and the Prophet.

“Is it an order?”

“Yes, it’s an order.”

The Empress simply asked if it was an order, and when he confirmed, she went to help Ortemilia.

The Prophet’s case was different.

“The Prophet has already left to assist Lady Ortemilia.”

When he visited the Prophet’s quarters, a necromancer bowed deeply and reported this.

Perceptively, the Prophet had already recognized Ortemilia’s need for help and departed.

Suddenly Llewellyn had nothing to do, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

Llewellyn left the Prophet’s quarters and wandered aimlessly around the Pantheon.

The Pantheon was filled with countless people. People who hadn’t been there when Llewellyn first visited, opened his nest, and made it his new dwelling.

There were the Inquisitors who had followed his sister. In a way, they were the first residents of this Pantheon and could be considered Llewellyn’s first subjects.

People who had fled with their families, abandoned by the Empire, who still frowned whenever they saw the Emperor.

People who had fought for what they believed was justice and right, and now felt both gratitude and anxiety that they could protect both their families and what they believed was right.

They greeted Llewellyn, offered him food, and so on. Llewellyn accepted it all and continued walking.

Next, he saw the mixed-blood vampires. People who now had virtually no difference from the pure-blood clans.

Originally born as victims, they were now livestock who fully owned their lives. Llewellyn couldn’t find any trace of their former selves.

They honestly received blood, worked, and cared for each other beyond just looking after themselves.

Llewellyn liked that warmth.

Suddenly looking up, he saw the Black Knights.

The Pantheon’s aerial forces—the Cradle maintaining vigilance while floating in the air, and knights patrolling around it, walking and running through the sky.

Considering that originally the Pantheon’s aerial mobility was limited to Brock alone, this was a positive change. There was no guarantee that there wouldn’t be enemies capable of aerial combat among those who might attack the Pantheon.

Llewellyn wondered how they would integrate into the future of this Pantheon.

‘I’ll find out eventually anyway.’

Time was long, and Balteroc, like Llewellyn, was an immortal being, so there was no worry about them becoming antagonistic or their relationship completely deteriorating.

Llewellyn continued walking, receiving their sword salutes.

The forest and hills touched by the Pantheon and its divinity had become completely different from when Llewellyn first found this place.

The forest was filled with all kinds of buildings, and where trees had been cut down, the stumps were dug out and houses were being built.

Between these houses were crude dirt roads, and even those parts that connected to the main road leading to the Pantheon had crude stones laid down.

Lifting his head and sniffing, he could smell bread, and in the distance, he could see rising steam along with the distinctive scent of heated water, suggesting someone was bathing.

In many ways, signs of people living their lives were prominent.

What was initially not even ruins, let alone a village, had become a village, and as villages connected with each other, it was becoming a city.

Perhaps it would be the last city on Netel, or hopefully not the last.

Llewellyn liked such a city.

“…Home.”

This place was now as good as Llewellyn’s home.

And going forward, he hoped it would become home to many more people. After all, the place where Llewellyn would live happily should be a place where others could live happily too.

Llewellyn’s footsteps halted at a graveyard.

A place where those who died and were sacrificed in battle were buried. A graveyard where those who couldn’t close their eyes peacefully were respectfully interred and visited by people.

There were stone slabs indicating buried people and various offerings.

Flowers, fruits, well-carved wooden tools, and dolls.

And even a dog curled up beside one of the graves.

Seeing the dog—beloved throughout the Pantheon—lying next to the grave of someone who had especially cherished and cared for it, Llewellyn felt a tightness in his nose.

Still lying down, the affectionate dog wagged its tail upon making eye contact with Llewellyn. Llewellyn approached the dog and gently stroked its head as it glanced at him cautiously.

He could feel the warm body temperature beneath the soft fur covering the sleek skull.

How many more people would die and be buried here in the future?

Llewellyn answered his own naturally arising question.

At least if someone were to be buried here, their death should be natural and peaceful.

With that thought, Llewellyn strengthened his resolve.