༺ Continental Summit (1) ༻
The days went by quickly.
The duels between Vera and Vargo gradually escaped from their initial one-sidedness.
Renee grew increasingly accustomed to her duties.
Jenny was still being pestered by Trevor, Miller, and Annalise, while the twins and Rohan were spending their happier days than ever, taking advantage of Vera and Vargo’s absence.
In the meantime, the continent underwent a great upheaval.
***
Elia opened its gates for the first time in five hundred years, and this news sent ripples across every country on the continent. This was Elia, who had escaped all political strife and whose power rivaled any other country on the continent.
It meant only one thing if that very Elia broke its silence.
A change had happened in this land, one big enough that they had to take matters into their own hands.
The rulers of each nation rose from their thrones.
The Empire was the first to announce its intention to head to Elia, followed by Oben, Horden, and the Federation.
It was a huge, unstoppable wave.
At this time when the continental giants were all rising, it was only natural for smaller countries to head to Elia as if they were being swept away.
They weren’t moving because they were aware of the change in the continent.
They were moving because they feared the repercussions of staying still when all the powers that ruled the land were in motion.
It was a good thing that the rulers weren’t so uneducated that they didn’t realize what had happened to Palais Kingdom, which did not participate in the Continental Summit hosted by Elia five hundred years ago.
“Lastly, the Principality of Chellen has also arrived.”
***
On the highest floor of the Grand Temple, in Vargo’s office.
Vera poked his head out the window and looked at the crowds camped outside the gate in the distance.
Vargo’s face crumpled.
“Yeah, I know. It’s already loud and crowded.”
“How about we head out now, Your Holiness?”
“Is the conference hall ready?”
“Yes, it was already prepared the day before.”
“What about the accommodations?”
“Lady Theresa took care of it.”
“Alright, then the dining hall—”
“…I’ve banned Lady Marie from entering.”
Vargo nodded.
“Let’s go.”
A hulking figure, far beyond human size, rose to his feet.
He was followed by Vera, who looked much more refined than before.
Descending the stairs, they made their way to the entrance of the Grand Temple.
Coming out of the temple, Vargo saw the paladins lined up in front of him and shouted.
“Open the gates!”
Thud—
The paladins stomped the ground with their feet.
The trumpets were blown.
Toot—
Following a great roar that echoed across the Holy Kingdom, the castle gate began to open.
A line of figures appeared outside the gates.
Looking at it, Vargo turned around and spoke.
“Alright, let’s go to the conference hall.”
“How about your meal?”
“Skipping one meal won’t kill me. You better get ready.”
Vera’s face hardened.
“…Yes.”
***
In front of the gates that opened with a thunderous bang.
A peculiar tension pervaded the space as myriad flags vociferously proclaimed their affiliations.
Seated in an array of fancy carriages were the leaders of each country, surrounded by their finest troops.
It was no surprise that not all of them were on good terms with each other.
After all, it was a situation where an uproar could have happened at any moment. However, there was one reason they remained silent.
This was Elia.
A land touched by the voice of God.
A Pandora’s box, where the demigods of this land slumbered in wait.
No matter how impatient one might be, they all knew of one thing.
That the moment they made a scene here, the very same sleeping giant that had shaken the continent five hundred years ago would bare its teeth at them.
And there would be consequences for today’s mistakes, for decades to come.
Elia’s behavior of calling the leaders of each country, making them wait in front of the gates, and acting as if they were superior to them.
It all didn’t matter to them.
It was Elia; they were people who possessed the power to shamelessly do this.
A flag bearing the emblem of a spear and shield.
Beneath the banner of Horden, King Nedric whispered to his Sword in a hushed tone.
“Sir Porve, how many Apostles are there this time?”
“Nine. All of them are here.”
“Crazy.”
A hollow laughter escaped from the old man’s mouth.
“Seems like something grand is truly happening.”
Even in the Age of War five hundred years ago, there were only six of the Apostles gathered.
All nine of those Apostles gathering was certainly a situation that could be counted on three fingers in history.
“What about the Empire?”
“The Crown Prince and the Second Prince are here.”
“Ho, has even the remaining power ultimately been seized by his son? Then, what about Oben?”
“The Sovereign Lord and the Archduke… Oh, I’m not sure of the reason, but it seems even the former ruler has come.”
“Then…”
The rest of the conversation centered around who was here and from which country they came.
While they were deep in their conversation, Nedric crumpled his face at the last words spoken by his Sword.
“…So even the Great Woodlands have also made their move.”
“This will not be easy. However, don’t we have the means to voice our—”
“Let’s stop here. The fact that the Saint and the Holy Emperor are from Horden holds no meaning here.”
The Sword of Horden, Porve, the leader of the Royal Knights, fell silent.
Nedric chuckled bitterly and pointed out to his Sword, who was simple-minded.
“By that logic, isn’t the Sword of Oath that we should be most concerned about right now from the Empire? Think about what he actually did there.”
Porve avoided Nedric’s gaze awkwardly.
He finally remembered it.
The reason why this trip to Elia was important.
The biggest reason why all these countries have stepped forward.
“…The next Holy Emperor.”
“It’s highly likely. His actions speak loud and clear, does it not?”
“…”
Vera mostly moved out of sight, disrupting the flow of information, but nonetheless some details still reached the ears of the leaders of each country.
Vera, the Apostle of Oath.
He traveled the continent as the guardian of the Saint.
“A demigod is a demigod. Who would have thought that a human body could do that?”
Alongside his name was his biggest accomplishment.
“Is it even possible to split the Magic Tower with a sword?”
Nedric couldn’t help but laugh hollowly.
The evidence was so apparently clear to be false, making it impossible to deny it.
Everybody here knew.
No matter how great the Saint was, she was just a symbol.
The one they should truly keep an eye on when discussing the next generation of the continent was him.
This was an era when all nine Apostles gathered.
Even on the assumption Vargo died of old age, there were still eight of them.
Nothing was more important to those in this place than to gauge the next Holy Emperor, who would lead those Apostles.
“I’m worried about my son.”
Nedric heaved out a long breath, recalling his son, who was currently struggling with his succession planning.
“His reign should be peaceful.”
A land where regional warfare never ceased to end.
King Nedric, sitting on a throne stained with sword and blood, had been at war all his life.
He could only sigh as he thought of his one and only concern.
***
The reaction of everyone who stepped inside Elia was awe.
A city painted purely in white.
There were some patches of greenery along the streets, but the sheer white of the architecture and the air they created together was so striking that it overshadowed everything else.
The atmosphere was also worth mentioning.
A quietude that emanated a sense of modesty.
Amidst this, the warm sun shone down, and priests in modest robes walked around quietly.
It was such a reverent atmosphere befitting of the Holy Kingdom.
Considering that five hundred years ago was the last time Elia opened its gates, those who were here today were the only outsiders in the land who saw the scenery of Elia firsthand, and they were all aware of that fact.
“It’s magnificent.”
Kalderan, the former Sovereign Lord of Oben.
Sitting in his carriage with his arms folded, he gleefully gushed as he watched the structures that filled his vision.
“Grandson. So, how is His Holiness?”
Of course, his excitement was not about the landscape, but the anticipation of meeting the person he would meet in this place.
A smile tugged at Hegrion’s lips.
“He was so busy that I could only see him from a distance, but there was something I could feel about him. He was an impressive man, with a mountainous body, well-defined muscles, and an aura that was created by all of them.”
“Ho…”
King Aksan swept his hand across his face.
The men around him were all muscle freaks, so his first concern was whether or not he’d be able to do his job here.
“Please…”
Aksan prayed.
Please, please, I beg you. I hope you could at least kill their temper here.
Please let them clearly distinguish between business and private matters.
Elia, the land touched by the voice of God.
In this place, there was someone with a fervent prayer like no other.
***
In a road connecting to the north from the Grand Temple.
The garden right in front of Elia’s only forest was filled with all kinds of things that had never been seen before.
A large round table that could seat dozens of people.
And there were also divine relics and ornaments that adorned its surroundings.
Amidst all of this, the priests continued to lead the way.
The leaders of the countries, each accompanied by only one guard, were all nervous as they stepped into the area.
At the head of the table sat a figure.
A grandeur body beyond human dimensions, an atmosphere that made even the wrinkles that filled his face look like traces of battle.
And an intimidating gaze.
The Holy Emperor, Vargo St. Lore.
He looked at the crowd.
Immediately, he raised his hand and said,
“Have a seat.”
It was an obvious commanding tone, but no one objected to it.
No, it didn’t even occur to anyone to object.
His demeanor and intimidating aura were all too natural.
It was what had made them do so.
All the rulers here had to recall the distant moment they stood before their parents as children for the first time in a while.
The rulers sat down one by one.
Behind them stood their guards.
Before long, everyone had taken their seats, and they all swallowed dryly as they looked at the empty seat right next to the Holy Emperor.
No one was stupid enough not to know whose seat it was.
There was only one person left who had yet to take their seat.
Tap—
The sound of a cane broke the silence.
Following it were two footsteps.
Everyone but Vargo turned their gaze in that direction.
The ones approaching were a pair of a man and a woman.
The first among them that caught their attention was the beautiful woman dressed in pure white.
There was such a charm around her that it made them forget about sexual desire and greed.
Such an unreachable light.
It was a beauty that could be described as such.
She was the Apostle of Fate.
She was the owner of a miracle that could allow even a mere vagrant beggar to become the Emperor of the Empire, and even make a patient of terminal illness enjoy a long life.
Regardless of the beauty she possessed, it would be a lie if those who knew of her power didn’t covet her.
However, they only stayed quiet because by her side was the man who made them realize that such power could not fall into their hands.
King Nedric looked at the man leading the Saint with a stony face.
His jet-black hair was even more eye-catching than the pure white armor he wore.
The grim, ashen-colored eyes beneath it stirred up one’s survival instincts.
‘…The Sword of Oath.’
That man was already more famous by that moniker than his real name.
He was also the most likely candidate to succeed the Holy Emperor, and the man to take over the continent’s most exalted name after Vargo.
King Nedric realized something as soon as he saw the man so highly esteemed by the world.
‘…Impossible.’
Nedric wasn’t a man of notable martial prowess.
He knew nothing of the higher realms of Providence or Intention.
But he could tell through an entire lifetime of experience and war-sharpened intuition.
‘He’s a monster…’
That man, who bared his fangs at those who dared look at the woman with lustful eyes, was a monster in human form, a mere glance from him eliciting fear.
༺ Continental Summit (1) ༻
The days went by quickly.
The duels between Vera and Vargo gradually escaped from their initial one-sidedness.
Renee grew increasingly accustomed to her duties.
Jenny was still being pestered by Trevor, Miller, and Annalise, while the twins and Rohan were spending their happier days than ever, taking advantage of Vera and Vargo’s absence.
In the meantime, the continent underwent a great upheaval.
***
Elia opened its gates for the first time in five hundred years, and this news sent ripples across every country on the continent. This was Elia, who had escaped all political strife and whose power rivaled any other country on the continent.
It meant only one thing if that very Elia broke its silence.
A change had happened in this land, one big enough that they had to take matters into their own hands.
The rulers of each nation rose from their thrones.
The Empire was the first to announce its intention to head to Elia, followed by Oben, Horden, and the Federation.
It was a huge, unstoppable wave.
At this time when the continental giants were all rising, it was only natural for smaller countries to head to Elia as if they were being swept away.
They weren’t moving because they were aware of the change in the continent.
They were moving because they feared the repercussions of staying still when all the powers that ruled the land were in motion.
It was a good thing that the rulers weren’t so uneducated that they didn’t realize what had happened to Palais Kingdom, which did not participate in the Continental Summit hosted by Elia five hundred years ago.
“Lastly, the Principality of Chellen has also arrived.”
***
On the highest floor of the Grand Temple, in Vargo’s office.
Vera poked his head out the window and looked at the crowds camped outside the gate in the distance.
Vargo’s face crumpled.
“Yeah, I know. It’s already loud and crowded.”
“How about we head out now, Your Holiness?”
“Is the conference hall ready?”
“Yes, it was already prepared the day before.”
“What about the accommodations?”
“Lady Theresa took care of it.”
“Alright, then the dining hall—”
“…I’ve banned Lady Marie from entering.”
Vargo nodded.
“Let’s go.”
A hulking figure, far beyond human size, rose to his feet.
He was followed by Vera, who looked much more refined than before.
Descending the stairs, they made their way to the entrance of the Grand Temple.
Coming out of the temple, Vargo saw the paladins lined up in front of him and shouted.
“Open the gates!”
Thud—
The paladins stomped the ground with their feet.
The trumpets were blown.
Toot—
Following a great roar that echoed across the Holy Kingdom, the castle gate began to open.
A line of figures appeared outside the gates.
Looking at it, Vargo turned around and spoke.
“Alright, let’s go to the conference hall.”
“How about your meal?”
“Skipping one meal won’t kill me. You better get ready.”
Vera’s face hardened.
“…Yes.”
***
In front of the gates that opened with a thunderous bang.
A peculiar tension pervaded the space as myriad flags vociferously proclaimed their affiliations.
Seated in an array of fancy carriages were the leaders of each country, surrounded by their finest troops.
It was no surprise that not all of them were on good terms with each other.
After all, it was a situation where an uproar could have happened at any moment. However, there was one reason they remained silent.
This was Elia.
A land touched by the voice of God.
A Pandora’s box, where the demigods of this land slumbered in wait.
No matter how impatient one might be, they all knew of one thing.
That the moment they made a scene here, the very same sleeping giant that had shaken the continent five hundred years ago would bare its teeth at them.
And there would be consequences for today’s mistakes, for decades to come.
Elia’s behavior of calling the leaders of each country, making them wait in front of the gates, and acting as if they were superior to them.
It all didn’t matter to them.
It was Elia; they were people who possessed the power to shamelessly do this.
A flag bearing the emblem of a spear and shield.
Beneath the banner of Horden, King Nedric whispered to his Sword in a hushed tone.
“Sir Porve, how many Apostles are there this time?”
“Nine. All of them are here.”
“Crazy.”
A hollow laughter escaped from the old man’s mouth.
“Seems like something grand is truly happening.”
Even in the Age of War five hundred years ago, there were only six of the Apostles gathered.
All nine of those Apostles gathering was certainly a situation that could be counted on three fingers in history.
“What about the Empire?”
“The Crown Prince and the Second Prince are here.”
“Ho, has even the remaining power ultimately been seized by his son? Then, what about Oben?”
“The Sovereign Lord and the Archduke… Oh, I’m not sure of the reason, but it seems even the former ruler has come.”
“Then…”
The rest of the conversation centered around who was here and from which country they came.
While they were deep in their conversation, Nedric crumpled his face at the last words spoken by his Sword.
“…So even the Great Woodlands have also made their move.”
“This will not be easy. However, don’t we have the means to voice our—”
“Let’s stop here. The fact that the Saint and the Holy Emperor are from Horden holds no meaning here.”
The Sword of Horden, Porve, the leader of the Royal Knights, fell silent.
Nedric chuckled bitterly and pointed out to his Sword, who was simple-minded.
“By that logic, isn’t the Sword of Oath that we should be most concerned about right now from the Empire? Think about what he actually did there.”
Porve avoided Nedric’s gaze awkwardly.
He finally remembered it.
The reason why this trip to Elia was important.
The biggest reason why all these countries have stepped forward.
“…The next Holy Emperor.”
“It’s highly likely. His actions speak loud and clear, does it not?”
“…”
Vera mostly moved out of sight, disrupting the flow of information, but nonetheless some details still reached the ears of the leaders of each country.
Vera, the Apostle of Oath.
He traveled the continent as the guardian of the Saint.
“A demigod is a demigod. Who would have thought that a human body could do that?”
Alongside his name was his biggest accomplishment.
“Is it even possible to split the Magic Tower with a sword?”
Nedric couldn’t help but laugh hollowly.
The evidence was so apparently clear to be false, making it impossible to deny it.
Everybody here knew.
No matter how great the Saint was, she was just a symbol.
The one they should truly keep an eye on when discussing the next generation of the continent was him.
This was an era when all nine Apostles gathered.
Even on the assumption Vargo died of old age, there were still eight of them.
Nothing was more important to those in this place than to gauge the next Holy Emperor, who would lead those Apostles.
“I’m worried about my son.”
Nedric heaved out a long breath, recalling his son, who was currently struggling with his succession planning.
“His reign should be peaceful.”
A land where regional warfare never ceased to end.
King Nedric, sitting on a throne stained with sword and blood, had been at war all his life.
He could only sigh as he thought of his one and only concern.
***
The reaction of everyone who stepped inside Elia was awe.
A city painted purely in white.
There were some patches of greenery along the streets, but the sheer white of the architecture and the air they created together was so striking that it overshadowed everything else.
The atmosphere was also worth mentioning.
A quietude that emanated a sense of modesty.
Amidst this, the warm sun shone down, and priests in modest robes walked around quietly.
It was such a reverent atmosphere befitting of the Holy Kingdom.
Considering that five hundred years ago was the last time Elia opened its gates, those who were here today were the only outsiders in the land who saw the scenery of Elia firsthand, and they were all aware of that fact.
“It’s magnificent.”
Kalderan, the former Sovereign Lord of Oben.
Sitting in his carriage with his arms folded, he gleefully gushed as he watched the structures that filled his vision.
“Grandson. So, how is His Holiness?”
Of course, his excitement was not about the landscape, but the anticipation of meeting the person he would meet in this place.
A smile tugged at Hegrion’s lips.
“He was so busy that I could only see him from a distance, but there was something I could feel about him. He was an impressive man, with a mountainous body, well-defined muscles, and an aura that was created by all of them.”
“Ho…”
King Aksan swept his hand across his face.
The men around him were all muscle freaks, so his first concern was whether or not he’d be able to do his job here.
“Please…”
Aksan prayed.
Please, please, I beg you. I hope you could at least kill their temper here.
Please let them clearly distinguish between business and private matters.
Elia, the land touched by the voice of God.
In this place, there was someone with a fervent prayer like no other.
***
In a road connecting to the north from the Grand Temple.
The garden right in front of Elia’s only forest was filled with all kinds of things that had never been seen before.
A large round table that could seat dozens of people.
And there were also divine relics and ornaments that adorned its surroundings.
Amidst all of this, the priests continued to lead the way.
The leaders of the countries, each accompanied by only one guard, were all nervous as they stepped into the area.
At the head of the table sat a figure.
A grandeur body beyond human dimensions, an atmosphere that made even the wrinkles that filled his face look like traces of battle.
And an intimidating gaze.
The Holy Emperor, Vargo St. Lore.
He looked at the crowd.
Immediately, he raised his hand and said,
“Have a seat.”
It was an obvious commanding tone, but no one objected to it.
No, it didn’t even occur to anyone to object.
His demeanor and intimidating aura were all too natural.
It was what had made them do so.
All the rulers here had to recall the distant moment they stood before their parents as children for the first time in a while.
The rulers sat down one by one.
Behind them stood their guards.
Before long, everyone had taken their seats, and they all swallowed dryly as they looked at the empty seat right next to the Holy Emperor.
No one was stupid enough not to know whose seat it was.
There was only one person left who had yet to take their seat.
Tap—
The sound of a cane broke the silence.
Following it were two footsteps.
Everyone but Vargo turned their gaze in that direction.
The ones approaching were a pair of a man and a woman.
The first among them that caught their attention was the beautiful woman dressed in pure white.
There was such a charm around her that it made them forget about sexual desire and greed.
Such an unreachable light.
It was a beauty that could be described as such.
She was the Apostle of Fate.
She was the owner of a miracle that could allow even a mere vagrant beggar to become the Emperor of the Empire, and even make a patient of terminal illness enjoy a long life.
Regardless of the beauty she possessed, it would be a lie if those who knew of her power didn’t covet her.
However, they only stayed quiet because by her side was the man who made them realize that such power could not fall into their hands.
King Nedric looked at the man leading the Saint with a stony face.
His jet-black hair was even more eye-catching than the pure white armor he wore.
The grim, ashen-colored eyes beneath it stirred up one’s survival instincts.
‘…The Sword of Oath.’
That man was already more famous by that moniker than his real name.
He was also the most likely candidate to succeed the Holy Emperor, and the man to take over the continent’s most exalted name after Vargo.
King Nedric realized something as soon as he saw the man so highly esteemed by the world.
‘…Impossible.’
Nedric wasn’t a man of notable martial prowess.
He knew nothing of the higher realms of Providence or Intention.
But he could tell through an entire lifetime of experience and war-sharpened intuition.
‘He’s a monster…’
That man, who bared his fangs at those who dared look at the woman with lustful eyes, was a monster in human form, a mere glance from him eliciting fear.
