Calling Old Colleagues (2)

‘Battlefield of the Gods’, Year 4, January 1.

The morning marking the start of the final training period dawned.

The movement of representatives that began at dawn naturally drew the attention of many continent-dwellers.

Some representatives traveled in small groups, others alone. But they were all heading to the same place.

Garden of Gods.

To meet their patron God.

Or to gain power.

Or to receive some command or hint.

For each of these reasons, representatives moved as soon as the first day of the fourth year dawned.

And there were two movements that captured the attention of the entire Exorsus.

The group moving from the west numbered about three thousand representatives.

At their head walked a woman of such beauty she seemed like the goddess of beauty descended, wearing a red robe and bearing a confident smile.

Three thousand, no less. Even if they walked five abreast on the wide avenue with one meter between rows, they’d form a procession 600 meters long.

But they weren’t an army arranging perfect ranks, so the line would be even longer.

As the long procession passed, the continent-dwellers’ eyes were fixed on them.

Around ten in the morning, when the sun had risen and it began to feel a little hot.

Leaving at neither an early nor late hour, they walked down the center of the avenue like triumphant generals and their army, using no carriages.

When they arrived at the plaza, all eyes—both continent-dwellers and representatives—were drawn to them.

Beyond simply attracting attention, people began to step aside for them.

But that attention was scattered by a group that appeared from the east.

The number arriving from the east exceeded four thousand.

Of course, relative to the total number of representatives, it wasn’t necessarily a huge number.

Even accounting for those who dropped out at the start, of the roughly ninety thousand representatives, both groups combined were still less than ten thousand.

But such a large simultaneous movement was a first in this ‘Battlefield of the Gods’, so both representatives and continent-dwellers watched with interest.

Moreover, they arrived at the plaza at almost the same time as if by agreement.

The two groups, as if by agreement, headed toward the entrance of the Garden of Gods.

The representatives from both groups met at the entrance to the Garden of Gods.

Like armies preparing for a great battle on a plain, the long lines faced off and the representatives of each group slowly approached the opposing ranks.

From the demon god camp came Violentia, and from the Heavenly God camp came Benialis, and they finally met in the middle.

“Well, feeling a bit better today? How’s your backside?”

Violentia frowned at Benialis’s words.

But only for a moment—Violentia’s counterattack began.

“Huh? Do I hear dog noises? Huh? What’s that smell? Could it be the scent of a traitor?”

But Benialis didn’t look as bothered as Violentia had hoped. Instead, he answered with her own words.

“No, no, Violentia. That smell is of… your own poop.”

Violentia’s expression hardened further, and the more so, the more satisfied a smile grew on Benialis’s face.

“I keep hearing dogs barking in front of the Garden of Gods. Whose dog is that? Oh! The dog has a rag in its mouth?”

“That’s your poop diaper, too.”

“So you’re the kind of representative who even betrays their patron deity? Can’t understand words, huh? Hoho. Oh, by the way, surely Amor doesn’t know her temple has fallen, does she? That the goddess statue has a stake through it? Huh?”

This time Benialis’s expression abruptly hardened.

Though he’d brought an embarrassing video of Violentia, the reason he hadn’t been praised by Amor was clear.

It was because of the desecrated goddess statue and the collapsed temple.

Only Benialis seemed unaware that during the ‘Battlefield of the Gods’ a patron god cannot kill their representative, but he was sure he would have suffered something terrible if he hadn’t even had the humiliating video.

It was childish to anyone’s eyes, but the two representatives were dead serious—stern and grave in every sense.

The gardener, who had been watching the squabble at the Garden of Gods for some time, stepped forward.

“Messengers, if you’re not going to enter, could you step aside for a moment? There are many representatives waiting behind you.”

“What?”

“What?!”

Violentia and Benialis bristled at the gardener’s words.

But the gardener’s face remained calm.

In a composed tone, the gardener pointed behind them with one hand and calmly continued his explanation.

“Look behind you. Besides your parties, there are many Messengers who wish to enter the Garden of Gods today.”

But the two did not look back. Instead, they glared hard at the gardener who had spoken.

How dare some continent-dweller tell them what to do!

Their wounded pride, stoked by each other, exploded at the gardener’s remark.

So Violentia and Benialis said things before the gardener that should never have been said.

“Who made this piece of trash into somebody who commands us?! Just a creator’s dog who only guards the Garden of Gods, nothing but a title.”

“Shut your mouth before I kill you. Do you think guarding the Garden of Gods is some kind of position of power?”

Violentia wouldn’t have reacted like this before. Maybe not with Benialis, at least.

But lately rumors had bred more rumors, and humiliating gossip about her was heard daily.

The more so, the more Violentia’s spirit eroded, and recently she even showed signs of madness. Well, she’d always been a strong candidate for ‘madwoman’, so perhaps the madness had simply accelerated.

So she had vowed she wouldn’t let Benialis off today, and when their argument started she saw the fellow who had been laughing suddenly frown for the first time.

Just as she was about to press the advantage and make things more humiliating, the gardener—some mere continent-dweller—interfered, and nothing good would come of it.

The problem was that both had insulted the creator and sullied the proud duty of overseeing the Garden of Gods.

What was worse for them was that on the first day each year of the ‘Battlefield of the Gods’, the Exorsus head gardener—who had once accompanied Kim Han’s legion expedition—was on duty.

KWAANG—!! Wooooom— wooooom—

Violentia and Benialis were blown away, spewing blood, by a sound that seemed to tear their eardrums.

Even as they flew, they couldn’t comprehend what had happened. It felt like their thoughts had been halted.

The last thing they saw was their followers collapsing to the ground, heads bowed, gasping for breath—and then they plunged into a pitch-black abyss.

The gardener’s show of force startled every representative, and they all stepped back at once.

Seven thousand in all. The gardener they had been ignoring had, with sheer ki-like force, brought seven thousand representatives to their knees!

He hadn’t indiscriminately unleashed energy to force everyone in an area down—only the representatives belonging to Violentia and Benialis were crawling on the ground.

That implied that this was not an overly strained feat for him.

Regardless of the surrounding representatives’ shock, the gardener reined in the exerted force and returned to his usual demeanor.

To the representatives staring at him in surprise, he spoke in his usual calm tone.

“Messengers who will enter the Garden of Gods, please enter.”

The representatives’ jaws dropped at the gardener’s words.

Having just performed that feat, then instantly regaining composure and speaking politely to them—the gardener made some representatives brush their arms in disbelief.

Still under the silent pressure of the gardener’s unwavering gaze, the representatives began to move one by one.

The representatives entered the Garden of Gods, avoiding those collapsed on the ground gasping breath—among them the unconscious Violentia and Benialis.

Notably, unlike before, the representatives bowed politely as they passed the gardener.

Receiving those greetings without even a small smile, the gardener recalled Kim Han, who had been polite to him and the gardeners since his first visit.

Violentia regained consciousness before Benialis.

Partly it was due to her high physical stats, and partly the Draconian species’ inherent recovery ability.

Coming to, Violentia scowled and glared at the gardener standing before the Garden of Gods—the one who had caused this situation—while looking at the representatives bowing their heads.

But she still lacked strength. Seeing that Benialis had not yet recovered, she smiled at the thought.

She gathered her followers and they all approached the Garden of Gods.

Passing the gardener, she ground her teeth and murmured.

“You caught me off guard earlier, but wait. I’ll make sure to kill you soon.”

“……”

The gardener said nothing, and Violentia, as if not seeking a reply, ignored him and entered the Garden of Gods.

After the demon god camp’s representatives had entered and some time had passed, Benialis finally opened his eyes like someone with a bad hangover and, looking around, realized Violentia was gone.

“Where’s the shit-slinger?”

“…She entered quite a while ago.”

At the voice beside him, Benialis snapped angrily.

“Then you should’ve woken me!!”

“I woke you countless times, but you wouldn’t get up. I even poured healing magic on you… Look at your cheeks now, Benialis.”

Taking the mirror another representative handed him, his cheeks were red and swollen—no wonder his face felt hot as soon as he woke.

Embarrassed for no good reason, Benialis sprang to his feet, dusted off his clothes, rallied his followers, and strode toward the Garden of Gods as if nothing had happened…

Passing the gardener, Benialis bowed to him and spoke.

“I was very rude earlier. I apologize.”

“……”

“I am Benialis, representative of the Heavenly God Amor. Haha. Shall we have tea sometime?”

The gardener remained silent to the end, and Benialis entered the Garden of Gods with a forced smile.

After the commotion subsided and the plaza quieted, a man in worn robes arrived at the Garden of Gods accompanied by a neat, handsome man he hardly matched.

The two men had completely opposite appearances.

One wore a torn uniform with holes in the shirt, his hair messy and barefoot.

Wherever skin showed, muscles bulged and rippled across his body.

The other wore soft blue silk, his long hair neatly tied back, a hero’s band across his brow.

Three swords hung at his waist and his gaze was as sharp as a fine blade. His slim figure could be mistaken for a woman’s from behind.

“You’ve grown a lot in a year, huh?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Still, you won’t do against me.”

“Hah. You’ll be the one who can’t stand up to me.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. One year left. The day it will be on your neck is coming.”

“Hahahaha. That would be fine too! If I’m killed by someone strong?”

“You’re insane.”

The two walked side by side toward the Garden of Gods like friends, but their banter was as sharp as that of enemies facing life and death.

“Welcome, Messengers.”

“What a forceful gardener. That was something to see earlier. Satisfying.”

“……”

To the gardener’s greeting, the two men responded in their own ways and entered the Garden of Gods.

Their reactions to the gardener differed, but their bodies showed the same thing: neither could relax their clenched fists.

Only after entering the Garden of Gods did the two finally release their tension and unclench their hands, their palms slick with cold sweat.

After all the day’s representatives had entered the garden and the sun was preparing to set, the robed figure who had been waiting quietly on the plaza rose to his feet.

He slowly approached the Garden of Gods and stopped before the gardener.

“Welcome, Messenger.”

The gardener offered the same greeting as always, meaning the robed figure was indeed a representative.

Gardeners could intuitively tell whether someone was a representative who continued to challenge or one who had surrendered.

Despite the gardener’s greeting, the figure in the shabby robe said nothing and stared intently at him.

There was no emotion in his gaze; his ever-shining eyes seemed to be analyzing the gardener.

After a long, almost non-confrontational standoff, the robed figure spoke.

“Hmm… I can’t figure you out at all… Are you a transcendent too?”

“……”

Was he waiting for the gardener, who remained utterly silent? They stood watching each other in silence for a long time.

“Not answering? That must mean you’re avoiding a reply. Hmm… Combine that with the force you showed during the day and those ‘bowing eyes’ which yield no information… I see.”

Muttering to himself, he studied the gardener a bit longer, then took something from his bosom and began to write.

“Among gardener transcendents, at least mid-level or higher. Exact rank: unverifiable.”

As he spoke and wrote, his hand was covered in blue scales.

When he finished, he folded the paper back into his bosom, passed the gardener, and entered the Garden of Gods.