Ch.77. Tribune Gracchus

# Tribune Gracchus

Born as the third son of a prestigious noble family in the Roman Empire, he was a genius renowned for his erudition from a young age.

At just six years old, he could skillfully read and write the terrible hybrid Roman script—where every word had masculine, feminine, and neutral forms, all tenses and plurals were irregular, and phonetic and pictographic characters had merged into a monstrous fusion. The poetry he wrote at that age was said to have impressed even the god of arts with its beautiful rhythm.

Of course, he was still only the third son.

So regardless of his genius intellect, when Gracchus turned 15—the age of adulthood—he was semi-forcibly made to leave his family after inheriting a modest business. However, Gracchus turned this into an opportunity.

At that time, crimson fabric was highly fashionable in the Holy City, the capital of the Roman Empire. This crimson fabric required extremely rare minerals to be ground into dye.

Having inherited a dyeing business, Gracchus successfully imitated the crimson dye using crayfish shells that were abundantly found in rivers. He sold fabric dyed at just one-tenth the cost for nine-tenths the price of mineral-dyed fabric, amassing tremendous wealth.

Of course, given the nature of Roman society where patents didn’t exist, noble family businesses quickly entered this market, making the dye business short-lived.

But even that brief venture brought Gracchus unimaginable wealth, and he didn’t let this money sit idle.

He ventured into herring distribution—fish that at the time couldn’t be transported beyond coastal areas due to underdeveloped technology. He discovered methods to process salt-cured and smoked herring, growing his fortune, and used his herring distribution network to supply grain, timber, and other goods.

The wealth he accumulated was estimated to be among the top ten in the Roman Empire. With recognition from the god of commerce in the Pantheon, he became a noble who established his own lineage—the House of Gracchus.

Yet despite this enormous wealth and honor, Gracchus was paradoxically tormented by endless emptiness.

His beloved wife had died in a carriage accident, and perhaps because of this, his only son had become wayward, frequenting brothels daily.

So one day, as he wondered if he had worked so hard just for such a son…

“My lord… thank you, thank you! I’m truly grateful!”

After impulsively giving medicine to a halfling man begging for his sick wife, the gratitude he received gave him an indescribable sense of fulfillment.

From that day on, Gracchus began taking interest in the lives of the poor and common people.

At first, his actions were simple, like opening free soup kitchens for self-satisfaction and to display his superiority. But as time passed and he encountered various stories about the lives of the poor and commoners, he genuinely wanted to change their lives.

However, these problems couldn’t be solved simply by throwing money at them.

The only way to remove the shackles of poverty deeply rooted in these people was to bring about social change—reform.

Thus, Gracchus formally entered politics.

He joined hands with young reformist senators, gave speeches throughout the city almost daily to broaden his support base and recruit followers.

His words and actions addressing public welfare naturally resonated with the Roman Empire’s citizens, and so he became one of the two tribunes elected by citizens’ votes.

With an excited heart, he firmly resolved to achieve his goals as tribune, but…

Reality was mercilessly cold.

The arrogant, extravagant, corrupt senators infected with supremacist ideology opposed all his proposed policies without even considering their intent, simply because they disliked them. His fellow tribune had become a puppet of the Senate, only hindering Gracchus.

His dream of simply preventing the people of the Roman Empire from starving to death wasn’t even that lofty, but the gutter reality was enough to drive Gracchus to despair. Thus, he was currently sitting at his desk in his office, praying to the gods of the Pantheon.

‘O gods! Please, please give me the power to strike back at the Senate!’

It began as a simple prayer.

‘…Why?! Your priests, your servants have become corrupt and persecute your faithful people! Yet why do you not intervene?!’

But as time passed, his prayer transformed into a wailing mixed with resentment. He began to harbor anger toward the incompetent gods who, despite having the power to change reality, did nothing.

And at that very moment.

《Fear not, for I have appeared before thee.》

As if responding to his prayer, **THAT BEING** appeared right before him.

**THAT BEING** was red.

The white bones and red crosses that composed **THAT BEING** emitted an indescribable red light, and from within the eye sockets of the skeleton, a red light that seemed to embody hatred and vengeance rose up.

Moreover, the words **THAT BEING** uttered upon appearing in his office resonated as if being engraved into his soul, just as the words of the god of commerce had done before. Gracchus immediately recognized **THAT BEING’s** identity.

A god. It was a god.

Right here, now, a god had directly descended.

Gracchus could not utter a single word to the god that appeared before him.

The resentment? Anger? Or the plea for his prayer to be answered?

Such flattering emotions instantly dissipated when he saw the god before him.

The pressure and presence the god emitted was that overwhelming.

“…G-God.”

But even within that presence, Gracchus, who had met gods a few times before, was barely able to open his mouth thanks to that experience.

《What is it, mortal?》

“…Did you perhaps come because of my prayer?”

《Yes.》

And the answer that came back was the one Gracchus had least hoped for.

He had offered a prayer to the gods filled with ‘resentment’ and ‘anger.’

The gods, who preferred punishment over blessing and enjoyed violating others’ wives or daughters when they had nothing better to do, would surely not leave him alone for daring to harbor discontent toward them.

“T-Then… do you intend to punish me?”

So Gracchus, trembling at the thought of the punishment to come, asked the god before him—

《I have not come to punish you.》

“…What?”

The god gave an answer Gracchus had never once imagined.

《My divine name is Ma-Duk. I am the god of vengeance who seeks revenge against the gods of the Pantheon.》

“Vengeance… you say?”

《Yes. I, who have answered your prayer, desire the end of the Pantheon.》

The moment Ma-Duk declared his desire for the end of the Pantheon, Gracchus finally understood why Ma-Duk had come to him.

In short, Ma-Duk was his god—the one who would answer his prayer.

“Lord Ma-Duk. What do you… want from me…”

《Pledge yourself to me, lead and grow a group that honors my name.》

Already completely captivated by the divine being before him, Gracchus nodded frantically at Ma-Duk’s words, then knelt and bowed his head in submission.

Ma-Duk, as if satisfied, opened the jaw of his skeletal part and took out two items from within, handing them to him.

“These are…”

《A scripture containing my words, and my authority.》

Seeing the book—scripture—with a red cover engraved with skull and cross patterns, he ecstatically received the book made of paper of such excellent quality that it could only be considered celestial, and with his other hand, he took a red jewel.

Then, a burning sensation like fire was felt on the back of his hand, and a pattern identical to the one on the book cover was engraved there.

Considering this a blessing bestowed upon him personally by the god, Gracchus looked down at the back of his hand, overwhelmed with emotion.

And to him—Ma-Duk, slowly disappearing, delivered his final words.

《Wait until the time comes.》

“I understand, please!”

Speaking to Ma-Duk with a voice that had essentially reached the level of fanaticism, Gracchus knelt with the jewel and scripture in each hand until Ma-Duk completely disappeared.

And after Ma-Duk had completely vanished.

Gracchus carefully wrapped the jewel in silk cloth and placed it in a safe, then began to frantically read the scripture.

[A specter is haunting the Roman Empire—the specter of vengeance and anger against the Roman Empire. All the false gods of the Pantheon, the false apostles and false emperors, priests and nobles, the conservative faction of the Senate and the legions of the empire, have entered into an unholy alliance to hunt this specter.

The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of oppression and tyranny.

Make the ruling classes tremble before righteous vengeance and revolution! The children of vengeance and the oppressed have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Oppressed of all lands, unite!]

Gracchus read through the entire scripture, which began with this magnificent text that somehow inflamed the heart, in just four hours—

‘…Unite!’

Having completed his ideological armament, Gracchus immediately began gathering his followers, especially those particularly loyal to him.

All for vengeance and revolution against the Roman Empire.