City of Fire Protection, The Royal Palace

The study remained brightly lit throughout the night.

In recent days, King Osis had been meeting with many of Suinhor’s officials and nobles. His Prime Minister stayed close, helping him manage the countless affairs of state late into the night.

Though the Prime Minister looked older than Osis, he was actually forty or fifty years younger.

He was not an Ability User or a Trilobite Symbiote, so the years had left a much heavier mark on his appearance.

King Osis was making urgent preparations, working to bring a plan long in the making to its completion.

The Prime Minister set down his pen and looked toward Osis, who sat at the other end of the table.

“The harvests reported this year have far exceeded those of previous years.”

“Barring any misfortune, next year should bring an even greater bounty. With the grain shortage resolved, we will no longer face the threat of widespread famine, refugee crises, or rebellion.”

“The pressure on the kingdom will ease considerably, and our finances should finally have room to recover.”

“Your Majesty, in the coming year or two, perhaps we could consider relaxing some of the prohibitions, starting with the ban on alcohol? It would be a fitting expression of gratitude to the Divine Beings.”

Osis replied, “Not yet. We have only just begun. We must not let success make us complacent.”

The Prime Minister continued, “The silkworms that came from the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents are now being cultivated here. The cloth woven from their silk bears a certain resemblance to the legendary Divine Weave. The White Tower Alchemy Alliance has already started production, so we must keep pace.”

“We must also bring Alchemists into Suinhor and establish our own alchemy workshops. Though the Alchemists are servants of God Iva, we should still open our borders to them when circumstances allow.”

“I have also heard that the White Tower Alchemy Alliance recently developed a powerful new alchemy workshop called the Alchemy Tower. I intend to visit the Land of Sunrise myself to see if it is truly as formidable as the rumors suggest.”

The silkworms were a species devolved from the Silk-Weaving Spirit Insect, a creature central to the secret arts of the Witch Spirit lineage and used for weaving Divine Technique Scrolls. It was said that Apostle Sukob had discovered them by chance in the Endless Desert.

The Silk-Weaving Spirit Insects thrived on sand, possessed remarkable vitality, and produced silk that was considered a transcendent material.

The silkworms, in contrast, were much more fragile. They could not survive on sand or consume ordinary plants. Their diet consisted solely of the leaves of a specific tree found only in the Thunder Marsh. However, the silk they produced bore an uncanny resemblance to the legendary Divine Weave.

It was said that cloth and thread spun from these worms were so light they seemed almost weightless. If left unprocessed, or simply set down instead of being worn, they were so delicate that the breeze could carry them upward, all the way to the clouds.

Though not a transcendent material in the conventional sense, it possessed qualities that were nothing short of extraordinary.

This alone was enough to throw the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents into chaos, and other nations were quick to follow suit.

The Alchemy Tower was the result of Apostle Oran integrating the Tower Spirit School’s most profound secrets. Its creation also led to the emergence of a new transcendent profession known as the Tower Keeper.

One policy after another began to take shape and come into effect.

On the surface, Suinhor’s condition was indeed improving, but this was not Osis’s ultimate aim.

Osis said, “Once our preparations are complete, we will move to the next stage. This plan has been in the making for many years, but it has never been fully implemented. This time, we cannot afford any further delays.”

The Prime Minister immediately understood Osis’s meaning. “The provincial system?”

Osis nodded.

The Prime Minister then asked, “Will you continue to rely on the election of Executive Officers?”

“Or will you take inspiration from the Land of Sunrise or the Royal Court of Ten Thousand Serpents?”

Osis shook his head. “No. Our situation is different from that of other nations.”

“The method of electing Executive Officers will not work here. The highest authority in a province must be appointed directly by the crown.”

“I do not care for the title of Executive Officer, either. I have decided to call the position Governor.”

The Prime Minister said, “The southern nobles will undoubtedly resist us in secret. They may not dare to oppose us openly, but their influence is deeply entrenched. They have ruled the south for nearly a thousand years.”

“The moment we intervene, chaos of every kind will erupt, forcing us to withdraw just as we have in the past.”

“They will incite wars, create famines, push landless farmers to revolt, and even invite pirates to raid our shores.”

“This has always been their way.”

Osis replied, “That is precisely why we must uproot them completely this time. We will eliminate the threat once and for all.”

The Prime Minister said, “The greater difficulty is that we lack a just cause.”

“Several of these families trace their origins back to the age of Alcina and the Fire Guardians. Their influence is immense, and the people of the south have long grown accustomed to their rule.”

“We cannot simply kill all of their supporters. If we allow ourselves to be maneuvered into a disadvantageous position, we will be trapped. Some things cannot be resolved by brute force alone.”

Osis picked up an intelligence dispatch and placed it before the Prime Minister. “As it happens, our just cause has arrived.”

The Prime Minister froze for a moment, then opened the document. “Ghoul sightings in the south? In the Red Earth and Char Territories?”

“Is this verified?”

Osis leaned back in his chair. “This time, it is real. I have no reason to fabricate such a thing.”

“Though the precise locations remain unknown, it is all but certain the Ghouls are hiding somewhere in the southeastern territories.”

“And I am quite sure that some of those greedy southerners have already involved themselves, having joined the wicked Cannibal Cult.”

The Prime Minister’s expression turned grave. “These southerners have crossed a line from which there is no return.”

“They have not merely betrayed the kingdom and the people of Suinhor.”

“They have betrayed their very race, and the great Divine Beings themselves.”

“This cannot be forgiven.”

Osis felt the tangled complications in his mind finally begin to unravel, and a profound clarity settled over him.

“Exactly.”

“It is time to settle this. While I still have the strength and authority, I will remove every obstacle standing in the way of this kingdom’s future. After I am gone, there will likely be no one else who can.”

The Prime Minister knew that only Osis could resolve these matters.

He also understood something even more significant.

Without Osis, Suinhor would fall apart in an instant.

Worry clouded the Prime Minister’s face. “But… the next Divine Blessed King…”

Osis had no heirs. According to rumor, there might never be another Divine Blessed King.

This was the real concern that troubled the Prime Minister and most of Osis’s supporters.

Osis fixed his Prime Minister with a long, piercing look that made the older man stiffen with unease.

Then, Osis broke into a deep, hearty laugh.

“Do not worry.”

“I made arrangements for that long ago.”

The Prime Minister blinked in surprise. “Truly?”

In his heart, he believed Osis must have regained the favor of the Scarlet Goddess, ensuring a new divine seed would enter the cycle of rebirth.

As long as a new divine seed descended upon the royal bloodline and a new Divine Blessed King was born, even an infant, no one would dare challenge the throne.

On a cold winter day, Osis practiced his swordsmanship alone in the palace gardens, beneath the Sacred Tree whose branches were heavy with golden blossoms.

After working up a sweat, he walked to the edge of a man-made lake and set his sword aside with a sweeping motion. He cupped the icy water in his hands and splashed it across his face, washing away the heat and perspiration.

The chill sent a shiver through him, and he let out a long, contented exhale.

He shook the water from his hair and opened his eyes.

The ripples on the water’s surface spread outward, casting a faint, shimmering glow.

As Osis opened his eyes, he found himself staring at another face reflected in the water.

It was the face of a woman with long, silver-white hair and golden eyes.

Osis was taken aback for a moment, but as a king forged through countless trials, he quickly regained his composure.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“And how are you inside the water?”

Upon closer inspection, it became clear the woman was not actually in the water. She seemed to be using its surface as a window, a medium to observe the physical world.

Osis and the woman locked eyes, their gazes meeting as if through a mirror.

The woman in the lake spoke to him.

“I am a Lake Nymph. I wish to make a trade with you, offering a leaf of the Dream Vine in exchange for your dream.”

“Are you willing?”

Osis was utterly perplexed, his mind a whirlwind of questions.

What was a Lake Nymph?

What kind of trade was this?

What exactly was a Dream Vine leaf?

And why would she want one of his dreams?

In just a few short sentences, she had left Osis reeling with confusion.

Before he could respond, the reflection in the lake looked even more confused than he was.

The young woman in the water leaned closer, her face growing larger in the reflection as she studied him with intense curiosity.

“Huh?”

“It’s not you.”

“The one in the dream was from a completely different race, covered in bone armor and walking on legs. You look nothing like that.”

It seemed this was Herna, the very Lake Nymph who had been exploring the Dream Starry Sea in search of her first trade dream.

Osis immediately understood her meaning. “You mean the Most Ancient Race.”

Herna the Lake Nymph repeated, “The Most Ancient Race?”

“I believe others call them… Trilobite Men?”

However, the real issue was that the figure in the dream did not resemble the Osis standing before her.

“Your dream is very strange.”

“How can you possess the dream of another?”

Osis gazed at the reflection in the water, replaying the conversation in his mind. Gradually, the fragments began to align into a clearer picture.

He wondered if she was in some way linked to the Wood Nymphs.

Though he did not know what set a Lake Nymph apart from a Wood Nymph, he surmised she was likely a being born of dreams from the Divine Kingdom of Creation.

As this thought settled in his mind, the tension in Osis’s shoulders began to ease, and he allowed himself to relax.

“The Most Ancient Race is the Trilobite people. What you saw was likely a former version of me.”

Herna tilted her head. “A former version of you?”

Osis nodded. “Because I have lived more than one life.”

“You are a messenger from the Divine Kingdom of Creation, are you not?”

Herna accepted the identification without protest. “Is it really possible for someone to live multiple lives?”

Osis replied, “It does happen.”

Herna’s curiosity grew. “Then how long have you been alive?”

Osis answered, “I am nearly a hundred years old.”

Herna began counting on her fingers. “I have not even been alive for a hundred days.”

In a certain sense, Herna was still an infant.

Osis threw his head back and laughed, charmed by the Lake Nymph’s candor. But as his laughter faded, a somber weight settled over him. He found there was nothing to laugh about at all.

“What a shame,” he said softly.

“I have lived a hundred years and still have not accomplished anything worthy of being remembered.”

He paused, then corrected himself. “No, that is not right. I have lived for countless years, across untold ages.”

“And yet, I have nothing to show for it.”

Herna tilted her head, not understanding. “Why do you have to accomplish anything?”

Osis answered, “Because I am still breathing and living in this world!”

Herna still could not understand why being alive required achieving something.

Osis decided not to linger on the subject and shifted the conversation back to her.

“You want my dream. Which one is it?”

Herna projected a fragment of the dream’s imagery for Osis to see. When he saw the young Trilobite Man’s nightmare of reading and studying, he burst into laughter, unable to hold it back.

Herna watched him with a puzzled expression, struggling to understand what he found so amusing.

She could not comprehend why the figure in the dream had clearly hated and feared the scene, while the man before her found it so entertaining.

Osis said, “So, I once had a dream like that. It seems the me of old and the me of now are very much alike!”

He patted the hilt of his sword, which gave a soft ring as he added, “Given the choice between books and blades, I will always reach for the sword.”

Herna asked, “So, will you trade with me? I can offer you one of my Dream Vine leaves.”

Osis looked at her. “What exactly does a Dream Vine leaf do?”

Herna explained, “The leaf of the Dream Vine allows you to conduct a single trade through me.”

“You can use it as a medium to exchange for a variety of things.”

“You may also offer items you wish to trade, and I will handle the exchange on your behalf.”

Osis sat down cross-legged, stroking his thick beard thoughtfully.

He made an exaggerated show of deliberation, pretending to be deep in thought, and young Herna grew visibly uneasy.

Just as the little nymph was about to ask again, Osis suddenly announced in a loud, commanding voice.

“Then it is yours!”

Herna clapped her hands together with delight. “You agreed!”

She was thrilled to have discovered a dream that matched her perfectly, and it was an ancient dream bubble from countless ages ago.

Herna tapped into the powers of dream and space, borrowing the ability of another powerful Nymph to transport something across the immense distance between them.

Soft beams of light flickered and shimmered.

A single silver leaf rose gently from the water’s surface and appeared before Osis.

Osis carefully lifted the silver leaf, examining it closely. “What kinds of things could I trade for?”

In response, Herna revealed a glimpse of the trade catalog. The moment Osis saw it, his eyes widened with astonishment.

Osis then asked, “And what do I have that I could offer in exchange?”

Herna replied, “Everything you own.”

Osis pressed further. “Then what is the most precious thing I possess?”

This was not a question a Lake Nymph would usually answer, but young Herna had not yet learned the subtleties of interacting with people.

Herna extended her hand.

The flower garland upon it glowed softly, as if unraveling every thread of information tied to Osis.

It worked in a way similar to the Spirit’s Magic Mirror, though its authority was far less powerful.

Through the Dream Starry Sea, Herna found her answer.

She opened her mouth, and her voice resonated directly within Osis’s mind. Only he could hear it, and only he would ever know.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, his expression softened into quiet recognition, as if he had always known.

“So that is it,” Osis said softly, his voice carrying a note of understanding.

“That truly is something precious.”

Herna looked at him. “You only have one chance, unless you can find another token from a Lake Nymph.”

Osis stroked his thick beard thoughtfully. “I will need to think this over carefully.”

In the end, Osis decided against making a trade.

“When you have made your decision, you may use the Dream Vine leaf at any time.”

Herna extended both hands, gently holding an ancient dream within her palms.

As soft light rippled and formed halos around her, she disappeared from the water’s surface.

Red Earth City

The towering city walls were alive with activity. Vendors strolled along the ramparts calling out their goods, while mercenaries, merchants, and craftsmen from faraway lands filled the bustling streets.

Looking toward the horizon, great ships could be seen cutting through the waves, making their way toward the city from the open sea.

For many years, the people of Avel had been the most powerful force upon the oceans.

However, after the Red Earth Territory, the Char Territory, and Alchemists from the Land of Sunrise formed a maritime alliance and brought about the fall of the Kingdom of Avel, the seas gradually came under their control.

On the far side of the city, within the grounds of a manor castle, carriages arrived and departed in a constant flow, delivering vast quantities of supplies. The place buzzed with the activity of a thriving trade center.

Servants unloaded cargo that included grain, household essentials, and medicinal supplies.

These items were then reloaded onto another line of carriages marked with distinctive emblems. The draft beasts were well-fed and their coats clean, as if the convoy was preparing for an imminent departure.

“Come on, hurry up!”

“Have the supplies arrived yet?”

“Everything needs to be ready today. Lord Manmon is counting on us!”

“He is heading into the city again to help the poor, offering free treatment and comfort. What a kind and generous man! You should all be grateful.”

“Remember, it is Lord Manmon who puts food on your tables and keeps you alive.”

A Snake Person with a noticeably pallid complexion shouted orders, his frantic voice rising with the fervor of a zealot’s cry.

The master of this manor castle was none other than Akmanmon.

Deep within the castle, a sloping passage descended into an underground cavern where the floor writhed with a dense, seething carpet of worms.

Akmanmon stood at the top of the stairway, gazing down into the grotesque hollow filled with the squirming creatures. He raised his hand.

With a sharp, elegant dagger, he sliced open his palm.

Drip, drip, drip

The corrupted Wisdom Divine Blood within Akmanmon’s body began to flow, each drop falling into the shadows below.

While pure Wisdom Divine Blood shimmered with a silver hue, the blood from Akmanmon’s veins was a dull, ashen gray.

As soon as a few worms consumed his Divine Blood, the entire swarm went into a wild frenzy, surging forward like a living tide.

The worms fought fiercely over Akmanmon’s Divine Blood. These ordinary creatures, however, could neither absorb nor endure its power. One by one, they burst apart in sprays of crimson mist, and the carnage only spurred the remaining worms into another cycle of devouring.

The once-thriving sea of worms gradually diminished through this relentless cycle of consumption and destruction.

Their numbers dwindled.

Finally, a single worm consumed all the others. Its body turned translucent, glowing with a luminous silver hue.

Yet even this last worm did not survive for long. It, too, eventually perished.

The only difference was that its body did not burst into crimson mist. Instead, it left behind a lifeless husk.

Akmanmon, standing at the top of the slope, focused his gaze on it. A mysterious force pulled the tiny remains into his hand, and he turned his palm over to inspect it.

“It is done,” Akmanmon murmured.

Akmanmon was executing the initial stage of his plan to become an Apostle.

To accomplish this, he needed to craft an artifact akin to the Source of Curses, one that could suppress the Cannibal’s Curse festering within his body.

This artifact was also crucial for the next two phases of his plan.

After countless trials, Akmanmon finally succeeded in creating the Divine Artifact he had envisioned.

It was crafted from the remains of a worm curled into a tight ball. It was so light it felt like a wisp of mist, shimmering with a silvery-white hue.

Delicate patterns encircled its surface, glowing faintly. Upon closer inspection, the patterns revealed themselves to be a ritual formation.

A God’s Form Ritual formation.

While creating the insect, Akmanmon had embedded the God’s Form Ritual formation he had once come across by chance.

He examined the Divine Artifact he had crafted, pondering what name it should bear.

“The Primordial Cannibal Worm?”

“The Worm of Eternal Life?”

“The Nightmare Demon Worm?”

“The Soul Worm?”

Akmanmon considered each option carefully before making his decision.

“The Silver Insect.”

The name carried a pleasing ambiguity, making it sound almost virtuous. This was exactly the kind of deception Akmanmon required.

Additionally, gold and silver held special significance in the mythology of the Snake People, representing divinity and immortality. This aligned perfectly with the purpose for which Akmanmon had created the insect.

Akmanmon pressed the insect against the back of his hand. It sank into his skin, gliding beneath the surface before forming the shape of a small, curled insect etched into his flesh like a brand.

He took a moment to admire it before the sound of the castle’s bells broke the silence.

“It is time. Let us begin.”

Akmanmon made his way to the exit. A large crowd had already gathered in the courtyard beyond the castle walls, waiting for him.

“Master, everything is ready,” one of his attendants informed him.

Akmanmon stepped into his carriage, and the convoy began its journey toward the center of Red Earth City.

Within the city’s slums, people drifted through the streets like shadows. Beggars crowded every alley and corner.

As the convoy came into view, the poor recognized it at once. A spark of hope lit their weary eyes, and many rushed to follow.

“It is Master Manmon!”

“Master Manmon has returned!”

“He has come back to help us!”

Akmanmon had taken the alias Manmon. In Red Earth City, the name was widely recognized.

He was known as a wealthy young man, a physician celebrated across the region, and a philanthropist admired for his great compassion.

Several times each month, he would visit the most wretched corners of the city, bringing aid to those with nothing left while his attendants provided free medical treatment.

The carriages lined up at the entrance to the slums, and the servants began unloading supplies and lighting fires to prepare food.

Next to a foul-smelling fish market, inside a spacious building, the poorest residents gathered shoulder to shoulder. Those who could not fit inside crowded the doorway, craning their necks to catch a glimpse.

Soon, each person received a portion of food. They ate with tears streaming down their faces, voicing their gratitude between bites.

“Master Manmon is such a kind soul!”

“Thank you for the food. Thank you!”

“We are so lucky to have you.”

Akmanmon stepped to the front of the room. He faced the crowd and began to speak, his voice resonating with clarity and purpose.

“You all know that I come from a distant place. I was once poor and miserable, shunned by others, and I have experienced every kind of hardship.”

“By learning the art of medicine, I was able to change my destiny. Now, I am here to help you do the same.”

“Survive!”

“No matter how hard life gets, you must survive.”

“As long as you are alive, there is always hope.”

“I will help you. I will help everyone. I will help all of you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising in unison. They looked at Akmanmon with eyes full of hope, as if they were in the presence of a savior.

Of course, many were simply playing along for the sake of a meal.

Yet, when someone pretends long enough, surrounded by others who believe, that conviction begins to spread.

In time, they too would find themselves swayed.

Akmanmon moved through the crowd, his voice steady as he repeated his message to each person he met.

He personally handed out food and essential supplies, ensuring every individual received something to ease their hardships.

As he looked into their weary faces, he urged each one to hold on to hope and to keep striving, no matter how difficult the path ahead might seem.

“Master Manmon,” someone said, their voice breaking as they took the food, tears welling in their eyes. “You are too kind. Thank you.”

Another person, overwhelmed, dropped to their knees. “You must be sent by the gods to help us! How else could we survive?”

“Thank you so much,” a family said together, their voices overlapping. “We do not know how to repay you.”

Akmanmon did not leave after distributing the supplies.

Instead, he stayed behind to provide free treatment for the sick.

The ones who remained were those in the direst conditions: Snake People with severe illnesses, the elderly nearing the end of their lives, and individuals left disabled or burdened by hardship.

In their eyes, Akmanmon saw the terror of death and the desperate hunger for life.

Some had perhaps been so thoroughly crushed by pain and hopelessness that they no longer held even the faintest glimmer of hope.

But that did not matter.

A single word from Akmanmon, a single gesture, was enough to ignite their longing into a roaring flame. In the depths of every living heart, no one is free from the fear of death or the desire to live.

Akmanmon applied his exceptional medical expertise to alleviate their pain and bring them comfort.

“Thank you so much, Master Manmon.”

“I already feel much better. Your skills are truly extraordinary!”

Akmanmon replied, “Unfortunately, medicine cannot solve everything.”

“Old age is catching up with him. He will not endure much longer. Relieving his pain is the most I can do.”

The patient was only in his forties, but for a Snake Person from the lower ranks, that age already marked the onset of old age.

One of the other patients muttered, “If only there was a medicine that could fix everything.”

Another chimed in, “Or a body that never got sick.”

Someone sighed, “Getting old catches up with everyone.”

Another joked weakly, “How about a body that never ages or dies?”

The room filled with a few tired laughs. “Yeah, right. Who do you think you are?”

Akmanmon spoke as if the idea had only just come to him. “The power of the gods. Only the gods can relieve all suffering and grant true immortality.”

A curious voice piped up, “Master Manmon, which god do you follow?”

In recent years, various faiths had spread throughout Suinhor.

Although Suinhor was traditionally the domain of the Scarlet Goddess, some had quietly begun to worship other Divine Beings, and the tide showed no signs of stopping.

There was the Moon God of the Moonlight Territory, the God of Earth’s Volcano to the east, and travelers from the north who still offered prayers to the Mother of All Snakes, the God of Knowledge and Truth, the God of Earth, the Sky Beast God, and other deities.

Such occurrences were far from unusual.

Akmanmon replied, “I worship the God of Silver and White.”

The patients asked with curiosity, “Is there such a god?”

Akmanmon spoke with unwavering conviction. “This is a god worshipped in the land of Ten Thousand Serpents. Those who have faith in the God of Silver and White are promised immortality.”

“His followers are granted his protection and blessings.”

“For those who believe in the God of Silver and White, death is not the end. It is the passage into the next cycle of rebirth.”

“Through death, they will find the path to true and everlasting life.”