The Return And Closing Of Third Year (2)

We succeeded in the achievement expedition, and honestly, I worried we’d become too famous.

However, that worry proved needless because we did not attract attention from the representatives.

The reason was the deepening emotional rift between Benialis and Violentia.

It didn’t start with the two of them; it began with the Holy Realm Alliance and the Dark Empire.

When the Dark Empire slandered the Holy Realm Alliance over the plague incident, it was merely a diplomatic issue between nations.

But when Benialis spread Violentia’s footage with the Holy Realm Alliance, it became not only a diplomatic issue but also a pride battle between two representatives.

Additionally, the long-standing emotional rift between the Heavenly God and the demon god sparked a fight between the two gods.

As a result, our expedition’s success received little attention from the representatives, and the feared outcome did not occur.

All of this was the result of Lee Hyo-ju and Hazel putting their heads together.

In truth, we were ignored only by the representatives; among Exorsus’s citizens we had become enormously famous.

Wherever we went, people looked at us with respect, and we received considerable conveniences when sourcing food or necessary supplies.

Even if we couldn’t influence price, we were told almost daily that the quality exceeded what we ordered.

The god’s messenger who saved us from divine punishment.

The god’s messenger who saved us from the plague.

And while others stayed protected inside Exorsus, we rose on our own and proudly achieved the legion’s founding—true envoys of the god.

Yet no one told these stories in taverns or on the streets; they were only quietly shared at home or in private gatherings.

Why?

If a representative of the Heavenly God, including Benialis, heard it, your neck would be cut.

If a representative of the demon god, including Violentia, caught wind, your limbs would be severed.

You’d be mocked by other representatives for praising a cripple, or worse, you’d be killed.

As representatives increasingly treated continentals like slaves, social problems surfaced everywhere, but no one could step forward to resolve them.

The worse the representatives’ tyranny grew, the more popular we—more precisely, I—became, and people expected me to do something.

The representatives began to be increasingly shunned by the citizens of Exorsus.

Separately, the media war between Violentia and Benialis was going too far.

It no longer mattered who started it or what the truth was.

The representatives amplified crude slander against each other, spreading it further until the story became distorted.

Realizing numbers win when raising voices, both camps began recruiting representatives in a war for numbers.

They sought out those known for outstanding skill, using persuasion and threats, and organizations far larger than I remembered were forming.

Of course, it was foolish.

Both camps focused on quantity over quality, neglecting representatives whose skills were hidden during the training period.

This is clear from the fact that, notably, Sword Star and Martial Star are unaffiliated with either side.

Representatives paid no attention to our legion’s affairs, and the gods were likely deliberating whether to side with the Heavenly God or the demon god.

Soon the fourth year would begin, visits to the Garden of Gods would happen, and the real dividing-off would commence.

Benialis’s indiscriminate representative-focused expansion unexpectedly benefited the Rebound legion.

“You’re back?”

“Yes, Exemplary messenger.”

“Don’t call me Exemplary Messenger—call me Kim Han. Anyway, you’ve worked hard. How are things these days?”

“Same as always. One banquet after another.”

“Crazy people. Tsk tsk. By the way, what about the family of that comrade who was sick before?”

The man who looked flustered at my question worked in the mansion as Tess’s aide, handling household affairs.

But his hidden ability was that of a master-class swordsman, and he had once been the head of the Holy Realm Alliance’s intelligence corps that fed information to Benialis.

In mid-last year, Benialis’s blunders left the Holy Realm Alliance battered and vilified.

Signs first appeared that the Holy Realm Alliance would refuse a Heavenly God representative, and this man led that movement.

Then, whatever hint the Heavenly God Amor had given, a single note from Benialis after visiting the Garden of Gods won Benialis massive support from Amor and the Holy Realm Alliance again.

No doubt Benialis bought Amor’s favor with the edited footage we provided.

The moment one enters the Garden of Gods, the Creator’s gift—my spying power—cuts off, so I couldn’t know exactly what was said, but it’s certain Benialis succeeded in regaining the Holy Realm Alliance’s support.

The problem was this man standing before me; his position as a leader of Benialis’s impeachment was inevitably narrowing.

To make matters worse, this man’s family contracted the plague he thought had disappeared.

Naturally, Benialis’s medicine couldn’t cure it, and the medicine I supplied only slowed the disease’s progression.

The man visited our house just as we had returned from the expedition, begging me to save his family as soon as he saw me.

After treating the completely mutated plague with spirits and Sanitas potions, the man dropped to his knees in front of me and sobbed.

Only then did he tell me everything—who he was and what he’d done—without leaving anything out.

I already recognized him from spying on Benialis, but I hid it and told him to return and do his work, offering comfort.

His work—gathering all sorts of dirt and intelligence—was exactly what would let us strike Benialis from behind.

Then the man asked on the spot to be accepted.

It wasn’t a bad idea; his observed affinity was decent, so I added a few conditions and accepted.

Since that day the Holy Realm Alliance believed he was disgraced by Benialis’s comeback and had infiltrated our legion as a spy, but in truth eighty percent of the intelligence corps had come to him.

Benialis was always receiving filtered information.

“One, what’s wrong?”

“…Thank you.”

“So they’ve improved? I hesitated how to put this… Actually, I thought it over carefully and it seems only your family mutated. I contacted the magic tower when I first met you, but there was no news from them. So it looks like the plague was spread, treated with Benialis’s cure, and then mutation occurred upon contact with family… right?”

The more I continued my speculation, the more hostility radiated from the man who had asked to be called ‘One’ in the sense of ‘Number One.’

“Tsk. Stop. It’s happened already, so first we need to handle it to prevent more damage.”

“…I’m sorry.”

The man bowed his head with an apologetic expression.

Perhaps it’s the nature of the intelligence corps; seeing a steadfast, loyal man made me smile involuntarily.

“It’s fine. More importantly, if they’ve all fully recovered by now we won’t worry further. You’ll handle the rest?”

“Yes. They are fully hostile to me; persuasion is impossible.”

“Alright. Be careful, and do you need any help?”

“Ah, no.”

“Hold on. Ah, this’ll do. Use this and bring it back. I’m giving it to you as One; I want you to return it personally. It’s to prevent you from getting stabbed by a blind blade—don’t go getting your head cracked by some reckless guy’s sword.”

When I took ‘Massacre of Thousands’ from my inventory and handed it over, One flustered and fumbled.

Won had provided the highest-grade slave contract himself, passed through my confirmation power, and was finally approved by the gardener, so I could willingly hand over the Massacre of Thousands.

Since we had been crafting new weapons recently, if giving Massacre of Thousands could preserve the intelligence corps’s power to be Lee Hyo-ju’s hands and feet, I could just give it.

“…Thank you. I’ll definitely return it.”

“Use it well. Don’t hoard it—saving it makes it useless.”

The man bowed without a word and then vanished as if cloaked. A moment later his presence passed the terrace and disappeared behind the mansion.

Whether thanks to increased luck or because I intervened and altered the future, unexpected fortune and success followed.

But an incident made me realize unexpected luck and one-sided success aren’t entirely good.

Because of the owner of the noise coming from the corridor outside the study.

“Hey! You!”

Sounds of crashing and running down the corridor could be heard, accompanied by a youthful girl’s voice.

“Jarong, you!”

There’s a reason the Purple Dragon came to be called Jarong, literally ‘purple dragon’ in Korean—and it was a huge incident…

Upon returning to the mansion I later learned from the tower master why they greeted us so raucously, and he summoned the luck die so we could use it.

A withdrawal syndrome from the luck die—what an absurd notion.

But the magic tower master and the magicians’ faces were too serious to laugh it off.

Come to think of it, even 18 is enormous for a continental mage; someone with luck 50 could shift into being considered fortunate.

If 45 comes up, they’d jump to 95 instantly—luck a continental might experience only once, if ever, in a lifetime.

Reaching that thought, I patted Five’s shoulder and had no choice but to summon the die for him silently.

The problem was the Purple Dragon that the tower master and magicians discovered almost simultaneously after rolling the luck die.

At first sight of the creature the magicians were all intrigued and began offering to give it a name.

Thus unheard and unpronounceable names started being proposed.

That became the month-long ‘Purple Dragon Naming Frenzy.’

They formed factions like political parties around names they favored, leaving no quiet days.

It was the Rebound legion’s first and last ‘factional politics.’

I had always been a difficult person, but I thought I’d recently become closer to normal.

That day I was in the study reading a book I had acquired in a Spatium dungeon called ‘How Not to Lose.’

The book used real examples of wars involving a transcendent to explain strategies, making it entertaining and full of impressive tactics that I couldn’t put down.

Then, with a ruckus outside the study door, the door was smashed and representatives swarmed into the study.

Instead of opening the door properly, they wrestled to get in first and ended up breaking it down.

Seeing that behavior made me explode.

“Do you think I’m easy because I’ve been quiet lately? Lee Hyo-ju, Arun, Hazel, Naruan, and Simon and Hugo, what are you doing right now?”

“…We’re sorry.”

“We’re sorry.”

“No, you’re not sorry. You probably think it’s your right. But isn’t it funny? Why do you think that Purple Dragon belongs to you? It’s clearly my pet. When I said you could name it, did you mistake that for transferring ownership?”

“No.”

“…No.”

Perhaps they finally sensed the gravity; starting with Lee Hyo-ju and Hazel, their faces visibly stiffened.

“Honestly, I’m more than disappointed. I thought there’d be a training boom after we returned from registering the legion expedition. Why? It’s natural—given what you did in the Myryans dungeon. But what happened? Training? Lately no representatives come to see Talis and Biosis at the training ground in the mornings and afternoons. They only seek out Mae Young-ryeong and Inex, who aren’t even here.”

“……”

They fell silent. Indeed, why shouldn’t they?

Lee Hyo-ju was the person I least expected to be among that crowd.

Hazel sometimes showed clumsiness, fine, but that Lee Hyo-ju would be so dazed was surprising.

“I think everyone’s getting deluded by recent consecutive successes. You’ve forgotten that few of you can face the Myryans one-on-one. What about other representatives? The ones you must kill? If you slack off like this you’ll be overtaken quickly. Do you know what being overtaken by the enemy in the Battlefield of the Gods means? It means death.”

The previous commotion in the study vanished and a hush fell.

Only my voice echoed, and perhaps out of consideration for the representatives, the tower masters who had stood guard outside the door had quietly left.

“From now on that Purple Dragon’s name is ‘Jarong.’ It means Purple Dragon, and it’s my pet, so follow what I decide. Get out.”

The representatives, looking abashed, bowed deeply and left, and only the Purple Dragon that had come in with them remained, looking around.

“Come here.”

“Gyaa!”

I scooped up the creature as it scampered over and sank into a soft chair.

Patting its head—it hadn’t eaten for a month yet had grown as big as a large dog—I spoke to it as if implanting a thought.

“Your name is now Jarong. Got it?”

“Gyaa?”

“Jarong.”

“Gyaa!!”

Whether it understood its name or was merely acting, it burrowed deeper into my arms and soon fell asleep.

This one, for all its dragon blood, sleeps at every opportunity.

And so the Purple Dragon became Jarong.

And from that day on a real training boom swept through the members, sweeping away laziness—myself included.