Ch.333The Cradle of Life. Orcran Swamp (3)

There was nothing to find fault with at the banquet.

That was largely because he had no intention to do so, but mainly because the gumbo and jambalaya dishes were exceptionally delicious.

From the explanation given, they seemed to be hodgepodge dishes similar to army stew, but it was clear that any dish could become this delicious when prepared by a skilled chef.

And since the banquet hall was exposed to the outside, the citizens of the swamp couldn’t help but see the Iron Walker party and the swamp’s influential figures dining together amicably.

“Gumbo for 20 coins a bowl! Jambalaya for 15 coins a bowl!”

As street vendors began their calls from a distance, citizens who had been blankly watching the feast rushed to the stalls like moths to a flame, filling their hungry stomachs with gumbo and jambalaya.

The desire to eat when gods were eating, combined with the vendors’ greed to do business even during this precious time, resulted in the sound of people smacking their lips filling the square.

It wasn’t a particularly pleasant sight, and with food waste inevitably overflowing everywhere, the swamp’s civil servants inwardly wailed at seeing their carefully maintained environment deteriorate. But for someone born as a street orphan, this level of filth was perfectly tolerable.

Moreover, the dwarves and Simon seemed to have experience dining with soldiers in mess halls, so although they were somewhat self-conscious, they generally didn’t do anything that violated etiquette or manners.

As for Viktor and Raisha… well. How could any gathering of people leave even a singe mark on divine radiance? The couple remained completely unaffected.

Thus, the banquet concluded successfully, and Viktor headed to the museum containing the entire history of the Orkran Swamp to observe the history of this land.

The museum was shaped like a large semicircle, with the entrance on the sharply cut vertical face. On either side, something swarmed on the left, while relatively fewer stains were visible on the right.

Using his divine power to investigate, Viktor realized they were names. As he frowned, the guides following his gaze explained:

“Those inscriptions are the names of people who have died in the swamp until now. Thousands of years of exploration have been etched above those names. There are no names yet to be added to the right side. In fact, that’s for the best.”

Indeed. It seemed similar to the custom of engraving the names of fallen soldiers on monuments like triumphal arches.

No matter how glorious the deed, if the price is death, wouldn’t it be more beautiful to leave the right vertical face of this museum sparsely filled?

Entering the museum, the overall interior was composed of green and brown combinations, perhaps attempting to evoke the swamp’s atmosphere.

However, with numerous lights installed, it wasn’t particularly gloomy. They had likely compromised between atmosphere and practicality.

“At first, we were just foolish farmers coveting the swamp’s mud. But one day, the value of this swamp changed dramatically.”

“Why is that?”

“The village was suddenly plagued by a fever, and hunters who rarely entered the village and thus remained safe from the epidemic risked their lives to gather herbs from the swamp to make fever reducers. The primitive medicine made by crushing these herbs completely eradicated the fever. From that moment, the history of the Orkran Swamp began to transform.”

The guide showed Viktor miniatures depicting the progressive development of the Orkran Swamp.

The process of evolving from village to city, and from city to nation, was revealed through thousands of miniatures.

Whether it stirred the emotions of the God of Light and Heat, the very guardian of human civilization, Viktor opened his mouth in pure admiration of their craftsmanship.

Insignificant individuals gathering to create small but self-sufficient villages, those villages forming cities, and those cities eventually becoming nations.

Though clichéd yet traditional, old but powerful—this was the wheel of progress. Just as humanity continuously moves toward evolution rather than devolution, the wheel of history could be felt advancing across this land, sometimes sternly and sometimes warmly.

“Hunters and gatherers began arriving from distant places to save their sick relatives. Merchants flocked to feed them, factories were built to supply goods, and courts were established to control the growing population. Through the supreme and noble altruism of ‘wanting to save people,’ the Orkran Swamp achieved prosperity and development.”

The god nodded at the explanation.

If Karluk represented the dark side of Moneta, Orkran could be considered its bright side—if a nation’s rise and fall is determined by its ability to illuminate shadows with the light of progress and prosperity.

“Truly a magnificent achievement. I too once saved a village, though I know not if it still survives. Yet you never forget the past and continuously commemorate it. Knowing exactly what your roots are is equivalent to not repeating past mistakes.”

Truly, Viktor was greatly pleased.

Since becoming a god, his mind had never been at ease. His human sensibilities and emotions were gradually disappearing. He had recently lost 30,000 of his legion soldiers, and in Karluk, he had lost his reason in anger and nearly erased the entire city.

Beyond that, everywhere he went there were problems he couldn’t ignore, forcing him to play the role of problem-solver, which was wearing down his spirit, if not his body.

No matter how much he wanted to believe in humanity and the possibility of civilization, if all he saw was humanity harming itself and the chains of civilization wringing out the weak, one couldn’t help but question whether the world was worth existing.

“Thank you, Lord of Fervor. We simply wanted to honor our past. Even if we develop to the point of calling this swamp a mere puddle, what use would all that prosperity and development be if we forgot that we were born from that puddle? As the ancient sages said, ‘A people who forget history have no history.’ We know that we must continuously examine the past, look to the future, and nurture the present.”

“Your answer satisfies me greatly. I truly feel that this world, and humanity, still has value to exist. Even if 99% of humanity were to become evil, the 1% of good people would ultimately advocate for good and punish evil.”

Viktor thus spoke, greatly praising the leaders of Orkran.

Such direct praise from a god immediately broke through their poker faces, and the guide with a cross drawn in charcoal on his face fainted from joy and emotion.

They deserved it.

They remembered the past, even building a museum to commemorate it, and sought to remember the names of those who fell and became fertilizer, even if it meant staining pristine white with pitch black. This alone was governance that far surpassed most city-states of the 13 continents.

“My blessing shall be with you. You have shown me that humanity and human nature can be preserved even in a cold swamp where light doesn’t reach. Just as stories flow endlessly, the imperial throne I shall sit upon will always hold praise for you.”

“My god… I don’t know how to respond… We are merely doing what we believe is right.”

“It is because you have done what is right that you receive my praise. You do not know how many have fallen into corruption by choosing the wrong path due to greed despite knowing right from wrong. How many are so ignorant they cannot even see the flaws they wear. This land harbors a power both pure and strong, so no wickedness shall taint your souls.”

Though not visible inside the museum, a brilliant radiance began to settle in the swamp.

Flowers started growing again on the peaks where adventurers had harvested, grasses and trees began to hold more life, and herbs bowed their heads even lower, waiting for the day they would fulfill their purpose of healing people.

By this, the grace of Orkran’s sun has descended. Rejoice, mortals. The god blesses them.