It remained strongly imprinted on Sarasa Xero’s mind, the day she was aimlessly roaming the ruined wastelands whilst on the crossroads between humiliating and shameful decay and eternal death, the day when she met that man for the first time.
He had spoken of not only healing or preserving Sarasa but also of fanatical, heretical statements.
“In the end, we’re no better than livestock like pigs and cows, waiting to be slaughtered whilst trapped in our farms.”
His utterance was utterly blasphemous from beginning to end, and it was the very antithesis of everything the world stood for.
Even Altugius, who was closer to an atheist than a devout believer, was dumbfounded by the man’s reckless claims. Altugius called him a mad man. He had warned Sarasa time and time again that once she had somewhere she could run away to, she should leave the man behind and escape.
However, opinions made on the solid foundation called the truth made these highly surreal and unrealistic claims seem like they deserved some form of verification, with enough repetition and emphasis.
Forbidden knowledge existed outside of forbidden, sealed texts of cults and religions.
The word of God existed everywhere. From the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, to golden grains fluttering in the wind and patterns imprinted on the bodies of beasts, even in common sense that was taken for granted without doubt.
That man of mystery, the leader of the Order of Extinction, he knew all the secrets and truths of this world. And he showed Sarasa and Altugius the twisted truths.
Standing atop a tower perched precariously on a crumbled column, Sarasa Xero watched the massive, black, armored insect locked in battle with a man wielding a hammer in the courtyard of a distant palace.
It was not a fight.
It was a one sided execution.
Amidst the shouts of dwarves, the man with the hammer charged at the black beetle, and with a single swing, he shattered the carapace that encased its body.
“Go ahead first. Papa. We’ll follow soon behind you.”
With tearful eyes, Sarasa took in the final moments of the being that was her father in her large eyes.
“It’s a pity. He was a good friend.”
Behind Sarasa Xero, a man draped in a black robe suddenly appeared. Schnellmerker, the vice-leader of the Order of Extinction.
“There’s nothing to be done about it. Besides, it’s not like we’ll never meet again,” Sarasa said as she donned her silver mask which covered half of her face, a symbol of her identity. “Moreover, I believe my father’s sacrifice was not in vain,” she added.
Sarasa gazed beyond the ruins of the palace, at the strange structure jutting out awkwardly, which seemed at odds with the rest of the city, with its alien color and feel.
It was part of the god’s dungeon buried under the Daintite.
Though not fully exposed, her father Deckard had partially succeeded in exposing a portion of this dungeon back out into the world from what would have been its eternal burial site.
“With this, our world will come closer to its original name and essence.”
“This world’s original name, you say. You’ve become strong,” Schnellmerker said to Sarasa with admiration.
Sarasa did not respond.
“Leave the rest to us and start making your way out. This place is no longer safe to linger in.”
Sarasa nodded at Schnellmerker’s suggestion and turned around. But perhaps she had a lingering regret. With sadness in her exposed eye, she looked back at the remains of the dying black, armored insect and the man standing beyond it, holding a hammer aloft.
“…Stupid.”
Only she knew to whom that word was addressed.
“…Is this really Fal Garaz?” Sungchul murmured in awe to his hammer.
The newfound power of Fal Garaz was astounding.
It didn’t require a second strike. The reinforced Fal Garaz, filled with amplified power, shattered the black beetle’s carapace and smashed its head with a single blow.
Amidst the scattering fragments of brain fluid and carapace, Sungchul could hear a voice flowing through his extrasensory perception.
[I have no regrets as long as I can restore life back into that child of mine]
It likely was the last will of a man whose name was erased from the world.
The remains of the decapitated insectoid began to disintegrate, swirling into ashes.
From the debris of the insectoid, an object fell.
It was a gauntlet, crafted from the same black carapace material.
Sungchul picked up the artifact.
[Ascender’s Hand]
Tier: Mythic
Type: Armor – Gauntlet (One hand)
Effect: Complete nullification of physical attack,
Note: Armor of the head artificer of the God’s Arsenal. Its inviolable exterior can stop enemy swords and shield, and with the blessed crystal embedded in the palm, it can deploy a forcefield capable of stopping most forms of magic.
Some items’ notes left behind clues as to the personality of the creator of the item. Likely, the master artificer responsible for the creation of the Ascender’s hand had been a stoic and pragmatic man.
And the reason Sungchul came to that conclusion was the fact that the note was filled with nothing but the features and performance of the item without falling into temptation of filling it with self-praise and mysticism.
Sungchul clasped the Ascender’s Hand onto his left wrist.
The black metallic gauntlet unfolded its intricate layers of armor and automatically attached itself to Sungchul’s left hand the moment it touched him.
This seems usable.
Despite being so comfortable he could barely feel it, it still provided a reassuring heft.
Sungchul spread the palm of his left hand wide to test it, and suddenly, a formless energy burst from the black crystal embedded in the center of the gauntlet, creating a powerful magical barrier in front of him.
While the full extent of the gauntlet’s defensive capabilities and the strength of the barrier would need further testing, Sungchul was already greatly pleased with his new loot.
Isn’t this my first mythic class armor?
Meanwhile, a tremendous roar shaking the heavens and the earth erupted behind him.
It was a victory cry.
Dwarves from Daincraft were rushing toward the triumphant warrior who wielded a hammer in one and gauntlet in the other, their faces lit with joy.
“Oy. Please pick me up too. I won’t complain even if you stick me into the corner of the storage!”
From a corner, Krumbui called out to Sungchul with a bitter laugh.
The Floating Archipelago and the Order of Extinction had inflicted no small amount of damage upon the dwarf high city of Daintite.
However, the resolute dwarves, grounded in their inherent endurance and stubbornness, calmly dealt with the Calamity, minimizing the damage and saving the city from crisis.
After the last barbarian fell, the King of the Dwarf Kingdom lifted the martial law imposed across the city and held a national memorial service for the victims and fallen warriors.
What followed the brief memorial service was a banquet.
Daincraft hosted a grand festival to celebrate the true owner of Fal Garaz, who brought a precious victory to the dwarf kingdom in the face of national peril, as well as the official entry into the new World Parliament.
The celebration was attended by the prince of the Elven Confederation of Kingdoms, kings of minor states, and the King of the Ancient Kingdom, greatly elevating its prestige.
A special event awaited Sungchul, who became the hero of this historic festival for the dwarves.
“Today, we shall resolve our conflict with a warrior who has shown more steadfastness and stubbornness than any dwarf.”
With a brightened expression, Daincraft spoke in a loud, jovial voice.
The cheerful sight of Daincraft, slightly tipsy with a face flushed red, holding a beer mug as big as his own head, strongly resembled the dwarf prince Sungchul had seen in his youth.
A beer-loving, merry warrior. This was the stubborn King Daincraft’s other side.
The two dwarves in front of Daincraft struggled as they carried a massive book to lay it before him.
This enormous book, larger than ten Bertelgias put together, was the infamous Book of Grudges of the dwarves.
“The Book of Grudges contain a hundred thousand grudges, and a further twenty three thousand nine hundred forty-two wrongs against the dwarven people.”
“Hmm. Doesn’t seem like something to brag about,” Bertelgia muttered, her body shaking like a reed in the wind.
“Let’s raise our glasses today for the Imperial Commander in Chief… No, the steward of a king,” Daincraft announced.
The star of today was Sungchul Kim.
He had changed into a dress uniform prepared by McRaed.
Daincraft stepped forward in front of the distinguished guests, raising a large goblet.
Numerous guests raised their goblets as well.
Though unaccustomed to the hospitality, Sungchul felt awkward but managed to handle it gracefully.
“For the resolution of all coming Calamities,” declared Sungchul.
It was then that, suddenly, the earth trembled.
Sungchul put down his drink and stood up.
Are the remnants of the Order of Extinction attacking again?
He was mistaken.
The origin of the vibration was the Colossus.
One of the crown holders, Dragoman, had personally led the Colossus all the way to Daintite.
Appearing suddenly at the banquet, Dragoman scratched his head and explained, “I thought this fellow might be helpful against the barbarians, so I brought him along.”
The intention was good, but the outcome was awkward.
With Dragoman in attendance, the banquet continued.
Sungchul raised his glass again and repeated his toast.
“For the resolution of the Calamities.”
He initiated the toast, and the warlords followed suit. With a lively clink, their glasses tilted one after another.
In the boisterous atmosphere, the dwarf king prepared two important documents that would serve as the highlight of this banquet. One was the great Book of Grudges, and the other, an application for membership to the World Parliament.
One document had an entry erased, while the other was inscribed with new information.
Sungchul could confirm that an old curse, which had occupied a corner of his list of curses, had disappeared.
Is it settled then?
As the event concluded, a joyous festival ensued, and despite the difficult and dangerous times, this day allowed everyone to forget their worries about the impending Calamity, the threat of the barbarians, and the fallout to the east, immersing themselves in the celebration.
Sungchul silently sipped his drink while tasting the splendid dishes at the banquet. What caught his attention was the cuisine.
Hmm. This fare is not what you’d expect from a dwarven chef.
Dwarven cuisine was typically rustic and greasy. They had a knack for bringing out the natural flavors of the meat but lacked finesse.
However, the banquet’s dishes were more in line with elven-style vegetable meals, needing an overwhelming level of skill and experience.
It was certainly a taste he had encountered before.
Sungchul called over a servant to inquire who had prepared these dishes.
The Dwarven servant hinted that a famous chef had flown in from afar to cook the meal.
“He’s over there. I heard he’s the greatest chef from La Grange.”
“What did you say?” Perhaps due to the effects of alcohol, Sungchul looked genuinely surprised, a rare display of emotion for him.
Could it be him?
The mention of La Grange’s best chef had irked Sungchul.
Previously, when he had infiltrated La Grange, he had attended a cooking contest. It had been akin to a master swordsman watching a brawl among novice fighters.
There, Sungchul had seen an arrogant chef who wore a golden brooch just like his own.
What was that guy’s name? Papa… Paparupa, wasn’t it?
He was a typical, arrogant chef who catered only to the wealthy and nobility. Sungchul had thought to deal with him someday, but his schedule had not allowed it.
He felt a strange palpitation as he walked toward the location of the chef in question. Among the crowd, an elf chef was surrounded by people, a cunning smile on his face as he received various compliments.
Sungchul’s eyes glistened. There was no mistake. The chef present was none other than Paparupa, whom he had met in the past in La Grange.
It was unclear why La Grange’s finest chef was preparing food at a banquet hall in a distant dwarf kingdom, but that wasn’t important. What mattered was the golden brooch pinned to his clothes.
“Hahaha. It’s nothing really. My cooking philosophy is fresh ingredients, care, and flamboyance.”
Paparupa’s face, as he dealt with the guests at the banquet with a smug smile and arms crossed, was filled with the pride of a chef.
This guy.
A strange flame ignited in Sungchul’s chest, and inside his uniform coat, Sungchul felt the texture of the diamond brooch through the fabric as he approached the elf chef.
However, before he could take more than a few steps, something caught Sungchul’s foot
“Pigiiiii!” It was Marakia, who had been hovering around Sungchul like a pigeon, having heard rumors that he had acquired a new gauntlet. Sungchul had been ignoring him all this time, but it seemed as though Marakia had still been lurking about all this time.
Continuing to ignore Marakia, Sungchul continued toward Paparupa.
“Did you make this dish?” Sungchul asked Paparupa.
Paparupa recognized Sungchul’s face at a glance and replied, “Oh, what an honor. Yes, I am the chef who made this dish.” Pride was unmistakable on Chef Paparupa ‘s face, and to add to it, his carefully polished golden brooch pinned on his chef’s uniform sparkled magnificently.
Sungchul smiled wryly and asked, “Do you remember me?”
Paparupa seemed not to remember Sungchul. It had been a long time ago, and back then, Sungchul had disguised himself as an unremarkable man in shabby clothes and a disheveled appearance.
But just as Sungchul was about to smile and pull out the diamond brooch hidden inside his coat, Bertelgia flew in from behind and tapped Sungchul on the shoulder.
“Hey! You!”
Next to Bertelgia stood an unwelcome figure, sporting a peculiar smile. One of the former Seven Heroes, Dragoman.
2 more chapters are out. Click Next Chap.
Let Sungchul gloat, dammit
Thank you!
That brooch will never see the light of day in public, poor Sungchul.