Ch.314[Episode 314] Clan War Aftermath

The clan war ended in a truly futile way.

When Sir Dominic dragged the dragon from the sky and pulled its arrogance down to earth, the Chingwon Clan was defeated.

Of course, Sir Dominic didn’t directly influence the Chingwon Clan’s defeat.

The victory condition for this clan war was to destroy the opponent’s clan core in their headquarters, and as long as the clan core remained intact, it didn’t matter if the clan leader, members, or executives died—they would simply resurrect.

Needless to say, the Chingwon Clan’s defeat meant their clan core had been destroyed.

Who could have done it?

“As expected of the Alliance. The synergy between a sniper and psychic…”

On a hill near the Chingwon Clan’s headquarters, which served as their rear base.

Though described as “near,” a man sitting at a tea party table about 2km away was expressing his admiration.

“It’s almost embarrassing to call them a major clan. Wouldn’t you agree, Senator Muscleman?”

The man expressing his admiration was Senator Muscleman, clan leader of the Tanker Union, and across from him sat an officer in a neatly pressed uniform.

He was none other than the Alliance Clan’s leader and Dick Stacy’s father, Commander Stacy.

“Even our tankers would be helpless against this, Commander.”

“Of course. It’s our secret weapon for a reason.”

Senator Muscleman clicked his tongue again as he thought about the amazing combo that had just destroyed the Chingwon Clan’s core.

The psychic’s [Clairvoyance] ability to locate the clan core, combined with the sniper’s [Penetrating Shot] for a one-hit kill.

Penetration-related abilities could partially or completely ignore defense and damage reduction.

Even though clan cores had their own high defense, the sniper had destroyed it in a single shot.

“This will definitely get patched. I guarantee it.”

“Hearing that from an Executive branch senator, I’m sure it will be fixed. Well, that’s to be expected.”

The Commander nodded in understanding.

In truth, this was essentially an exploit.

Normally, sniper attacks should be reduced against structures or deal minimal damage.

However, snipers with [Penetration] and [Penetrating Shot] abilities could ignore the damage reduction on structures, resulting in what had just happened.

“Anyway…”

Senator Muscleman elegantly sipped his chamomile tea.

“With this, all clan-related matters have been settled.”

“We’re ready to move on to the beta test.”

Commander Stacy, the Alliance Clan leader, raised his teacup with one eyebrow arched.

As if toasting to the brilliant future of those who had survived.

Senator Muscleman looked at the Commander and raised his cup in response.

With the Chingwon Clan headquarters collapsing in perfect ruin as their backdrop.

The two clinked their cups together and took one final sip.

“I hope you’ll keep your promise, Senator Muscleman.”

Having finished his last sip, the Commander set down his teacup and stood up, seemingly in a hurry.

There was no reason to stay longer now that their objective had been achieved.

“Of course, Commander.”

Senator Muscleman said with a bright smile.

“Just contact me whenever you need.”

The Commander looked at Senator Muscleman briefly after hearing his words.

Then he turned and began to walk away, his body starting to digitize and disappear until he vanished completely.

Senator Muscleman stared at the spot where the Commander had disappeared, when he suddenly noticed the world had grown a bit darker.

Looking up to find the cause of the darkness, he saw a massive space battleship hundreds of meters long floating in the sky.

The space battleship blinked its lower headlights as if greeting Senator Muscleman, then jumped dimensions and disappeared somewhere.

As the world brightened again, Senator Muscleman refilled his empty cup with chamomile tea and slowly savored the taste.

Thinking that he would sleep well tonight after drinking so much chamomile.

…

‘You all are quite interesting.’

‘Who are you?’

‘Well. I’m not sure. Mystery is my concept.’

‘But I can tell you this one thing.’

‘You will, someday, return here again.’

‘When that time comes, I will personally welcome you.’

‘Until then, it’s time for us to part ways.’

…

Huh.

Arkus opened his eyes wide, breaking out in a cold sweat.

A cloudy sky, bare branches, and dry dust.

“Where is…”

“It seems we’ve returned to Feralant.”

Arkus and Ogreson regained consciousness at the edge of the forest where they had lost their way.

They seemed to have just been watching Sir Dominic condemning the world-devouring serpent in the middle of the battlefield, but now the forest was quiet as if it had all been a dream.

Of course, Arkus somehow felt like he had dreamed something else besides the Hall of Warriors.

Something like a white old man with a crow’s face… a child… something like that.

Instead of people shouting and thunderstorms, the desolate sound of branches rustling came like gentle waves, and instead of downpours and lightning, barren dust greeted them.

Arkus, who had been lying down, thought that the only similarity between the Hall of Warriors and this place was the cloudy sky as he got up.

“Perhaps, was I dreaming?”

Ogreson asked Arkus in a half-awake state.

“I thought we glimpsed the Warriors’ Battlefield, but was it all just an illusion shown by the forest?”

Ogreson spoke with a desperate tone, as if needing confirmation from Arkus.

“It wasn’t a dream. If it were, we would have had the same dream.”

Arkus muttered that perhaps they had been expelled from the Hall of Warriors before becoming spirits.

“Then… we actually had an audience with Sir Dominic.”

Arkus nodded quietly at Ogreson’s words.

“But how do we explain all of that?”

Ogreson was discouraged.

They had experienced much in the Hall of Warriors, but had no way to prove it.

However, Arkus remained calm despite Ogreson’s words.

“We do have evidence.”

Arkus pulled out a handful of papers from inside his garment.

Those papers were better than the finest paper in Feralant… no, better than any paper in the entire world, so pristinely white they appeared almost divine.

Those white papers were densely covered with writing, written in the Feralant language but translated into a mysterious script that could be read in all languages of the world.

Ogreson realized what those papers meant and opened his eyes wide.

“Could it be that everything we’ve recorded…”

“Yes. It’s all here.”

Arkus flipped through the papers one by one, checking if any pages were missing.

Most pages described what the Hall of Warriors was like, but there were also plenty of passages about Sir Dominic.

After turning the last page, Arkus pulled out a blank sheet that was behind it.

Then he took out a quill pen and ink from his waist and began to scribble something while standing.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m recording what we saw at the end. Before I forget.”

Ogreson worried whether proper writing was possible in such a posture, but somehow Arkus wrote as if possessed.

About 20 minutes later?

Arkus, who had been scribbling something in a trance, regained his senses.

His legs gave way and he collapsed as if he had been in a trance, nearly dropping the papers he was holding.

“B-be careful! Such precious things—”

Ogreson tried to support Arkus as he was about to fall but grabbed the papers first.

Arkus fell to the ground with a thud and looked at Ogreson incredulously, but the potential holy relic was more important than Arkus.

“Come now, shouldn’t people come first? Didn’t the White Crow say so?”

“Oh my, Bishop, you’ve lived long enough. Isn’t this record, which will live on for ages to come, more important?”

Ogreson said this while glancing at what Arkus had written.

The beginning could still be read in other languages, as if the mystical nature of the Hall of Warriors remained, but toward the end, the divinity faded and it could only be read in the Feralant language.

It seemed the divine power that had dwelled in Arkus was waning.

However, Ogreson couldn’t criticize Arkus’s record.

Partly because Arkus’s handwriting was surprisingly legible, but also because of an illustration on the paper.

The illustration was a holy image of Sir Dominic vanquishing the evil serpent, showing Sir Dominic and two female angels pulling the serpent down to earth.

Below the illustration was written:

[Et ait Santus Dominicus ad Serpentem, “morte morieries”]

“Saint Dominic said to the Serpent… ‘You shall surely die’?”

Ogreson haltingly read the mysterious text that was written in the Imperial language but could be read in Feralant.

Though the divinity faded toward the end making it unreadable, that final illustration and inscription came across as more divine than any other text.

Ogreson was momentarily speechless, moved by the holy image, then carefully rolled up the paper and handed it back to Arkus.

Such divine paper seemed like something that shouldn’t be touched by an ignorant person like himself.

“What will you do now?”

Ogreson asked as he handed the paper to Arkus.

“Our original purpose was a pilgrimage for Sir Dominic. It seems we’ve accomplished that.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

Arkus nodded at Ogreson’s words.

He stroked his chin, thinking about something, then nodded again as if he had made a decision.

“Let’s go to Feralant Castle.”

“Feralant Castle? You don’t mean…?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Arkus smiled at Ogreson.

“We must show these to the Lord and the Archbishop.”

Arkus said this as he began walking.

His gait was incredibly light, as if he had become ten years younger.

“…Do you know the way there?”

“I don’t know! But if we keep walking, we’ll eventually reach a village!”

“Oh my, what am I to do with this man with no sense of direction.”

Ogreson sighed as he watched Arkus walking away without a plan.

“I’ll come with you!”

Ogreson followed after Arkus.

With the thought that he shouldn’t leave that man alone.

Was it the blessing of the White Crow that fell upon them?

Remarkably, in the direction they were walking lay Feralant Castle.

Of course, they would have to walk quite a distance, but still.