111 — 12 (2)

Even after Louis ordered Sweet Harris to reflect, no one dared defy Louis. That was only natural—Harris himself had decided there was no meaning in resisting Louis any longer, and he volunteered to accept punishment. If anything, this incident became an opportunity for Harris—who had been prepared even for dismissal—to confirm Louis’s breadth once more. Louis’s words had not been a lie.

Louis’s mindset was that those with ability were to be treated well, and even if such people carried political problems, he would overlook them once or twice. In truth, Louis did not think much of this matter. The reason Harris had not moved immediately was not simply because he had wanted Louis to fail. More precisely, considering the maximum food supply within Pontina territory, if they sent food upward to the cities suffering shortages, it could backfire and cause Pontina territory itself to fall into a food shortage.

‘But with this, that problem is no longer a problem.’

Right before his eyes stood the building: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. For now, what was presumed to be the Hanging Gardens was covered by cloth. The weather was perfectly clear. People packed the surroundings. Many had been skeptical of the building Louis had ordered in the very center. It was inevitable. Who could even guess how a garden placed atop the tip of a spire on a pyramid-shaped structure would be supplied with water?

He could have simply proceeded with construction, but Louis wanted a dramatic effect—not some special method only he could understand. That was what he was doing now. Around the central building, a sacrificial rite for the gods was being conducted. It was nothing more than animal blood, but people held their breath and watched Louis’s actions.

Even if it was impossible, it was Louis himself doing it. Information that had been shared only among nobles began to spill out within a single day, and by the following afternoon everyone knew what Louis had done in the capital.

And in exaggerated form. House Boarne also held loud annual sacrifices to Mars, the god of war. Perhaps because of that, an unfounded belief was gradually taking root: that the god of war had no intention of granting blessings to anyone in the Duchy of Eron except Louis.

At Louis’s order, animals were offered as sacrifices amid pitiful cries. Vivid blood drew clear lines across the central plaza, and only after some time passed did Louis give the order to remove the cloth. The covering fell away, and the Hanging Gardens—stacked with meticulous craftsmanship—revealed itself. Yet it was also a little strange. It was called a hanging garden, but the top looked bare. He had ordered seeds to be scattered, so if water began to drip down from the top and through the gaps of the pyramid-like tiers, green leaves would soon emerge.

After confirming the message, Louis called Jerome over. Jerome looked at Louis with a face tight with tension. He had built it himself, yet he looked deeply worried about whether it would function properly. That made sense. At first it had seemed feasible, but midway through he realized maintaining it required a tremendous amount of mana continuously.

Even if it worked temporarily now, it was obvious it would stop later—no, it would stop in less than a week. Yet Louis dismissed Jerome’s concerns at once. He knew the source of this building’s function lay in the power the System provided, not in principles commonly accepted in this world.

“Execute it.”

Swallowing hard, Jerome walked to the center while receiving the gazes of Louis and the countless high lords gathered here. It was to supply mana. After forming hand seals for around ten minutes, he poured power into a crystal orb. The central orb, as if mana had been engraved into it, began to scatter a clear, luminous blue light. From that moment, things happened. From the pool dug to collect water, a current began—and it started to creep up the pyramid tower, defying gravity.

“Oooo!”

“You’re telling me this is possible?”

“Who built this structure?”

“Who else would it be?!”

A commotion broke out. The soldiers stationed around tried to keep order and barked a few times, but even they fell slack-jawed when they saw the stream climbing higher and higher. Everyone could only stare blankly at the spectacle. Especially the priest who had overseen the rite—his jaw hung open. If Louis had not greased his palm, that priest would never have wasted his time on something so absurd.

‘It’s working.’

Louis, the center of all eyes, smiled in satisfaction—then flinched when something happened that even he had not predicted. The stream that had surged toward the sky pooled at the tip of the spire. And then the seeds—plants that should have needed at least one or two months—began to grow explosively. It was literal explosive growth. Stems thickened, some parts bloomed, and the surge spread to the plants wedged in the gaps between tiers. No one spoke. In a mysterious moment that felt like a god had descended, who had time even to breathe? In only a few minutes, every plant finished growing and displayed its full splendor.

A coolness followed immediately. Though the sun had been blazing sharply, the heat was no longer felt. Moreover, the water pooled above began flowing back down, entering an endless cycle. At least until Louis died, it would continue to operate.

‘So this is the Hanging Gardens of Babylon… Then the claim that it was built after hearing the words of the gods wasn’t nonsense.’

If even Louis—who no longer startled easily—could admire it, what about citizens who had lived here all their lives? They were in shock. After witnessing something majestic, people inevitably tried to understand it. The old priest, normally proud as a peacock, strode up to Louis and shouted.

“The god has shown a miracle just now!!! He has bestowed his blessing upon Duke Pontina Louis!!”

That single line was the spark. Everyone knelt toward Louis and lowered their backs. Some even pressed their faces to the ground. The nobles were startled at first by thousands of people burying their faces in the earth around Louis, but when even the small group of priests began bowing one after another as if greeting a pope, they stopped hesitating and mirrored the same posture toward Louis. Louis swept his gaze around.

‘An unintended effect, but………’

‘It doesn’t feel bad.’

In suffocating silence, the sound of flowing water spread coolly, and the only person still standing on two feet and looking at the building head-on was Louis.

‘Oh… this is.’

It happened not long after. The old priest clung to Louis all day and wept. Louis had thought him a clergyman of poor conduct, but “one word makes all the difference”—the man quickly explained to Louis that this glorious moment was thanks to the good deeds he had performed, and in the end he sent a letter to the Pope. Louis had not known this old priest had ties to the Pope (there were rumors, of course, but Louis did not put much stock in rumors). In any case, the expensive letter bound in gold thread that arrived bore a special seal only the Pope himself could stamp. Even the bird that carried it was no ordinary creature—its body was three times larger than normal.

Louis had not yet decided where to spend 40,000 points, so he was still weighing options when the sudden special event erupted. And it did not concern only Louis. If the Pope visited here, it was practically inevitable that the Prince-King would also have to come to Pontina territory—an enormous event. Moreover, Louis himself was the host of the invitation this time. In other words, this was an opportunity to further solidify the standing of his allied houses. Regrettably for them, Louis did not plan to invite House Kaban or House Boarne.

If Louis invested 40,000 points into himself, he could now unlock Tier-5 skills. The Tier-5 trait was Reforging the Body. Required points: 40,000—again, a trait positioned above Mana Addiction. He did not know what Reforging the Body was at first, but after reading the description he could not help but covet it. It was a transformation that optimized the body itself for learning swordsmanship further—an absolute value that was impossible not to desire. Still, if he did not invest in developing the territory now, the future points he could gain would remain meager.

‘To gain more points, there’s nothing but war.’

Victory in war was the surest road to growth. Having learned that through experience, Louis set aside greed and decided to pour the 40,000 points into science. It would have been impossible if his first Unique Building had not been Alexander the Great’s Library. If, at that timing, he had chosen a different first Unique Building, the destination of these 40,000 points would have gone elsewhere.

In any case, while Louis had been resolving various matters—and because he had sometimes invested points into himself—the research value had piled up to a frightening degree. His current science value was 30. Even after spending 10 to build the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, he still had 30 to spare.

Louis immediately opened the science information window. The currently unlocked science extended up through Horsemanship. Yet he discovered something puzzling after that: Magitech. Well, the horsemanship he had opened was a troop type every dog and cow could field, and whether a nation possessed special branches fused with magic determined whether it became a strong country or a country that had to pay tribute to them. The Duchy of Eron was, of course, the latter, and could be called technologically backward. If Louis invested more points into science values in the future, it was certain he could close the gap in technology.

To break through to Science—under the lower branches of Education and Theology—he erased all 30,000 points at once. At the same time, the list of related Unique Buildings he could build increased by several more. He had 10,000 points remaining. The status window had not reacted yet, but he judged that if he used the Papal Visit well, he could obtain additional points.

Prince-King Orpendius could not believe Louis’s letter.

“The Pope is visiting…”

It was astonishing. The letter claimed a miracle had occurred in Pontina territory. Whether it was true, an informant arriving soon would say. Not long after, the Prince-King’s informant—who had sprinted a long distance—appeared, panting.

“Oh, yes. I thought my neck would stretch waiting. They say a miracle occurred in Pontina territory—what does that even mean?”

“I cannot believe my own eyes. The absurd building Duke Louis claimed to have designed began to function. I was in the plaza that day, but please forgive me for being unable to put into words what I saw for Your Highness. A miracle occurred. It is not a lie.”

He pulled something from his clothes and offered it respectfully to the Prince-King.

“This is the drawing I made that day.”

“Huh…”

The Prince-King accepted the drawing from the informant with a complicated expression.