Ch.5959. Red Prophet of Steel

He was what people commonly call a maverick.

He couldn’t understand the logic of power that his kind spoke of, dreamed of a world different from what his kind envisioned, and failed to comprehend why one must unconditionally submit to the strong.

His kind, his family, his brothers and sisters say:

The only correct standard for judging right and wrong is power, only power.

So he too should cultivate power and prove that his opinion is right. That’s all there is to it.

But he didn’t think that way.

Is everything in this world made up of power alone?

Can all problems be solved if one has enough strength, and if there are problems that cannot be solved, is it due to the individual’s lack of ability?

Of course, he too was raised in the society of his people.

Therefore, even for a maverick like him, it was impossible to completely deny this logic, but instead, he thought differently.

Is there truly no way to understand each other and coexist through dialogue, language, and other methods rather than power?

No, that wasn’t the case.

Just as he had saved a dying wolf when he was young, and that wolf obeyed him even after becoming stronger than him.

And according to what he secretly heard from a sand-skinned person taken as a prisoner—not everything in the world needed to be resolved through power alone.

However, whether he realized this or not, it was clear that his kind would continue to worship power as they always had, so he wanted to share his enlightenment with his people.

But as mentioned repeatedly, his kind would not respect him at all if he lacked power, no matter how eloquent he might be—and decisively, he too was ultimately like his kind.

To spread his logic that it wasn’t about power being unnecessary, but that problems could be solved using other methods besides power….

Since he needed to establish his position in society, he chose to walk the path of a spellcaster.

In his society, a path meant following a specific ancestor deity and growing in power along the direction they had taken, broadly divided into the warrior’s path, the spellcaster’s path, and the hunter’s path.

Among these, the spellcaster’s path was one that allowed those with intelligence or innate talent to handle supernatural powers by carrying on the will of their great ancestor, the spellcaster deity.

Fortunately having the innate talent to progress in his desired direction, after much contemplation, he wished to become a nature spellcaster who could work with wolves and handle the powers of nature.

As if his will had reached the spellcaster deity, he soon received the tattoo of a nature spellcaster and became one.

Nature spellcaster.

Called a druid in the language of the sand-skinned people, this profession specialized in handling powers related to “nature” among spellcasters who wielded mysterious forces.

Controlling plants or summoning living plant monsters, manipulating weather by making it rain or striking lightning, handling animals or magically summoning them—even transforming into animals directly.

Particularly well-respected among spellcasters for being able to heal wounds—something only a few branches could do—he devoted his efforts to handling animals.

This was because of the wolf that had grown twice his size in just five years, and as he honed his skills in handling various animals.

Suddenly, wondering if he could truly achieve his goal by continuing this way—

One day, he abruptly abandoned all his positions and disappeared into the wilderness with his wolf.

The reason is unknown.

Guided only by his intuition and vague impulse to begin this journey, he surprisingly faced few obstacles despite traveling alone, for the following reasons:

In terms of combat ability, he could use aura at a warrior’s level and cast 3rd-level spells as a nature spellcaster, so there were no issues with force.

If necessary, he could call down lightning from a clear sky or transform into a powerful intermediate-level “animal” like a wasteland bear (large) to fight.

Additionally, the wolf accompanying him was also a type of intermediate magical beast.

Meanwhile, food was hardly an issue for a druid.

When hungry, he could simply summon fruits or meat with druid magic, and when thirsty, create drinking water with water-generation magic.

The magical energy consumed this way was quickly replenished by naturally absorbing energy from nature.

Being a druid of the plains, he was accustomed to this shrub-dominated wilderness and continued his aimless journey like a skilled traveler who had wandered alone for decades.

When his clothes wore out, he hunted wild animals for their hides, and for various necessities, he made “trees of such forms” grow to address his needs.

Partway through, he created a cart that could be pulled by his wolf—which had grown as large as a giant lizard chieftain (basilisk lord) of the plains—giving him the appearance of a peddler as he walked a long way to see the end of his endless journey.

Seeing the sun setting, he spread out the tent he had prepared in advance, lit a campfire, and while gazing at the beautifully spread Milky Way in the night sky—suddenly, very suddenly, he seemed to have fallen asleep.

※ ※ ※

He was walking through an endlessly vast plain with a starless, monotonous night sky as its ceiling, stretching to the horizon.

Where was the beginning, why was he here, for what purpose, no. Why was he walking here?

Without even feeling such questions, in a dry mental state, he was simply walking, repeating only walking, across the infinitely sprawling plain.

Who am I? What am I doing now? Where is this place? Why am I doing such meaningless things?

Such questions kept arising and disappearing in his mind for a long time.

Like a rock slowly eroded by the wind, with his reason barely maintained as it gradually faded, he was walking—when suddenly, he noticed someone standing in front of him.

And from that awareness, his thoughts connected, gradually recovering his reason, and he finally realized that he had been walking with his head deeply bowed in this inexplicable place, hastily raising his head.

And there was———what, what is that?

Before his eyes was a wolf. Red fur, magnificent mane, robust build and a seemingly agile body, it was undoubtedly a wolf, yet simultaneously not a wolf.

Things too insignificant to be called beasts, wriggling things just born without fur, things frolicking in their parents’ embrace, things learning to hunt—countless forms of the existence called “wolf” momentarily overlapped with “it.”

Inside it, flames, heat haze were burning.

Anger, anger, nothing but anger toward parents, siblings, family, relatives, close friends, friends, acquaintances, strangers, adversaries, and even this barely described an extremely small part—literally anger toward everything.

The wolf’s expression, no. Although what stood before him, what he was perceiving, should not have had something like an expression……..he saw anger in its inner being.

The wolf’s growl, that growl condensed with infinite anger, each strand of fur was anger directed at someone, was anger, and the anger and heat haze emanating from it were burning using them.

And, inside those flames———he could also recognize his own anger.

Anger toward his family who couldn’t understand him, anger toward his foolish kinsmen who entrusted everything to those with power for that reason alone, primordial anger toward this world in its absurd form.

As he directly perceived his inner self, as if looking through a dirty old mirror.

Somehow he felt that the wolf was trying to ask him something.

Why?

While questioning this strange emotion that seemed unusual for a being of pure anger to display.

Before his eyes, as if inviting him to choose, two wolf skulls of different colors had appeared floating.

And simultaneously, he could intuitively sense the changes that would occur depending on which skull he chose.

Blue. If he chose the wolf skull glowing with blue light, he could live the same life as before. Nothing would change, and he would even forget this choice.

Red, if he chose the wolf skull faintly glowing with red light, he would live as a being consumed by anger, existing solely for anger, without any choice.

No matter how he thought about it, the red skull seemed disadvantageous, but he didn’t know why.

Reflexively reaching out to grasp the red skull instead of the blue one, he———only then could he realize his mission, and furthermore, his true self.

The champion (great warrior) of the angry god who would free the orcs from the shackles of power, allowing them to freely rage against the strong.

Abandoning even his previous name and reborn anew, he was…………yes.

A man armored in steel, with a mind of steel.

He was Stalin.