Chapter 157

Chapter 157
## Chapter 157

The Aftermath of the Capital Invasion (1)

Because of the vast distance ahead of them, the representatives from the Enamel Continent, with the Elven Kingdom leading the way, were the very first to depart from the Roselia Cathedral once the grand summit reached its conclusion.

By coordinating swiftly with the localized temples, they pushed hard toward the east, reaching the great woodlands at the continental edge within a single day. At this moment, they were traversing the Enamel Continent boundary via the hidden ‘Forest Path’ maintained by the efforts of Rapori and Cecily.

“When you think about it, our entire stay was confined to the eastern woodlands and that one sanctuary on the Ion Continent, while every other moment was spent stuck inside the temple walls. I know we weren’t here on a leisurely vacation, but it still feels a bit disappointing…”

Shapiron offered a low mutter as she kept pace alongside Harris beneath the dense canopy.

Her current travel gear was far less cumbersome than what she wore upon arrival, given that her belongings had been safely compacted into the subspace magic tool adorning her wrist.

Watching her face the stark truth of the world like an innocent child waking up to reality, he felt a wave of mild sympathy…

Yet, he recognized this as the path to maturity for anyone.

“Look at the bright side, opportunities to cross paths with figures from every corner of the world are incredibly rare. Especially since those individuals hold statuses that make them nearly impossible to encounter under normal circumstances.”

Rustle, rustle—

Harris offered these soothing words in a gentle tone while passing over a small sack filled with popcorn.

“Hey, stop treating me like a toddler! Why is your immediate reaction always to stuff food in my face whenever I voice a complaint? I already said I understand why things happened the way they did!”

Though she voiced her annoyance at being handled like a youngster, her actions betrayed her words as she firmly held onto the snack.

Walking in silence along the shaded trail for a few moments while chewing contentedly, Shapiron suddenly spun around to fix her gaze upon him.

“Wait a minute, you didn’t have any free time to explore the city squares either, so where did you actually manage to get this? Don’t tell me you snuck away without me?!”

“Ah, this? It was actually a parting token. Remember that massive fellow we encountered a bit ago? He loaded up a subspace magic tool with all sorts of treats and handed it over just before we said our goodbyes.”

“Oh… you mean that rather eccentric individual? I originally assumed he shared ancestry with the beastmen… Wait, if his heritage traces back to a Dragonborn, then my guess wasn’t completely off, right?”

He had deliberately shifted the conversation to steer clear of a sensitive subject, and she swallowed the bait entirely, tilting her head to the side as she pondered the mechanics of lineage.

Just then, a booming voice cut in to clear up her confusion.

“Not quite, young lady! The beastmen and the Dragonborn share entirely distinct origins, I assure you.”

A formidable beastman closed the distance between them, offering a casual remark.

He possessed a majestic, thick mane resembling a lion’s and an incredibly broad frame, even if he didn’t quite match the sheer scale of Harley.

This was Lionel, the lion beastman who served as the chosen voice for Wild Land, having fought valiantly in the prior clash against the Immortal King.

“Those of us among the beastmen are simply born into our traits naturally, whereas the Dragonborn owe their existence to artificial creation by actual dragons. Granted, a Dragonborn can absolutely pass their lineage down to subsequent generations through normal breeding, but the foundational roots are miles apart.”

Given how tight-lipped he had remained throughout the formal diplomatic sessions—only showing his true colors when unleashing havoc on the battlefield—it was quite surprising to see him interacting with such approachable warmth.

“Putting that aside, what is that item you’re holding, young lady? The scent wafting from it is rather enticing.”

…It was highly unlikely that a warrior of his stature had initiated a conversation solely because his appetite had been piqued.

Though, he did look genuinely intrigued.

“Oh, are you talking about this?”

Shapiron blinked in surprise at his blunt inquiry, tilting the rustling bag of popcorn toward him without a second thought.

It appeared Harris had misjudged her as a greedy eater, considering she displayed absolutely no hesitation when it came to sharing her treats.

“I’ve pretty much finished off the contents, but you’re welcome to take a sniff if you like?”

“…That won’t be necessary, young lady. My senses are quite sharp enough from a distance.”

Seeing that the container was essentially bare, his curiosity instantly vanished.

He paused for a brief beat, visibly caught off guard by her unabashed behavior, before clearing his throat to alter the direction of the conversation.

“Ahem, in any case, my people owe a great deal of gratitude to the Elven Kingdom for various matters. It was because of that particular warrior that we managed to bring down the Immortal King, and now we are even relying on your group’s assistance to cross between continents.”

“Lending a hand to one another is only right. Though, I recall hearing that you sustained some rather severe wounds during that clash, Lionel. Have you truly recovered from them?”

“Ha! Naturally. Do you honestly think a warrior like me would still be sitting around groaning after all this time? Besides, I was given top-tier restorative care back at the cathedral. If I didn’t bounce back instantly, I wouldn’t deserve to call myself a beastman!”

It was the classic bravado of a beastman, a race defined by an inherently resilient physical constitution.

“Tsk, we truly need to establish a proper Main God Church sanctuary within the borders of Enamel without delay. I assume the tidings have reached you? A massive crisis just shook the foundations of the Empire’s capital.”

“…Indeed, word reached us that the Immortal King launched a direct assault on Jeron.”

Unfortunately, because they were already deep within the confines of the Forest Path, there was nothing they could have done to intervene.

Furthermore, their primary role on this journey was that of a diplomatic delegation rather than a military vanguard, meaning their ability to alter the course of battle would have been minimal at best.

“If we had the luxury of utilizing the gateway anchored within a temple, our response time would have been drastically reduced… Truth be told, this very arrangement was put on the table three centuries ago, but the project fell apart the moment the Immortal King was initially put down.”

To be fair, there were certainly ordained spiritual leaders among the various non-human tribes inhabiting the Enamel Continent who placed the Main God above their traditional cultural deities, but their holy sanctuaries were strictly restricted to massive temples.

As a consequence, not a single holy site in their domain satisfied the baseline criteria demanded for the anchoring of a dimensional gateway.

Constructing such a sacred edifice demanded a massive influx of rare resources alongside the presence of highly ordained spiritual leaders, meaning the unified backing of an entire civilization was mandatory to fulfill those stringent benchmarks across the Enamel Continent.

‘However, it places them in an awkward spot to actively sponsor such a project when they maintain their own sovereign faiths, even if they hold the Main God in high esteem.’

While they wouldn’t actively block the construction, they certainly weren’t going to spend their own capital to build a temple.

The reality that this necessity had first been brought up three centuries ago simply proved that the world had managed just fine without it for the last 300 years.

‘Even so, the leaders at the summit expressed a lot of willingness to cooperate this time around. I expect a firm consensus will be reached once the non-human rulers hold their internal councils upon our return.’

Should that happen, the assembly of a new temple would proceed at an accelerated pace due to continental-scale backing.

The High Elves would almost certainly shoulder the responsibility of escorting the required high-ranking spiritual leaders over from the Ion Continent.

‘…It feels like our value as a vital channel for transit is only going to scale upwards from here.’

Harris, currently a candidate to become a High Elf, wore a complicated look on his face.

This matter hit far too close to home to ignore.

Even as a monumental upheaval was tearing through the fabric of the Ion Continent,

The non-human delegation, with Harris in their ranks, continued their steady, unhurried trek through the tranquil and undisturbed forest path.

—

Roselia Cathedral, Third Central Dining Hall.

“Bwahahaha—! My appetite is finally appeased! That brutal physical exertion left me absolutely famished. It feels like there’s still a tiny bit of room left, but overindulgence is a vice, so I shall conclude my feast here.”

Striding out of the dining quarters with an air of absolute confidence while rubbing his belly in pure contentment…

“My only request was for basic seasoning and a quick sear, but the culinary masters of this cathedral truly possess unmatched talent and dedication! That was an exceptional spread.”

Was Harley, the fierce barbarian warrior who had made his way back to the sacred territory after providing vital reinforcement at Jeron.

Meanwhile, the interior kitchen of the dining facility resembled a literal war zone, populated by culinary staff who were completely drained of energy, gasping for air.

“…That man is an absolute terror to cook for. His appetite was even more monstrous today than during his last visit.”

“He literally just marched back from a brutal conflict on the front lines, so a massive caloric intake is par for the course.”

“Heh, let them send who they will, we refuse to back down. Our Third Central Kitchen represents the absolute pinnacle of this cathedral’s culinary force…”

“Um… Master Chef?”

The secondary kitchen leader stepped forward to gently interrupt the head cook’s moment of pride.

Naturally, he could sympathize deeply with what the head chef was feeling.

Watching dishes that required hours of meticulous preparation vanish down Harley’s maw in a matter of heartbeats was enough to make any culinary artist question their path in life.

Yet, this specific kitchen bore the massive weight of keeping the cathedral’s forces sustained.

They were well-accustomed to managing bottomless appetites, given that their daily routine involved feeding hundreds upon hundreds of devout templars and holy knights.

Regrettably, that regular duty was precisely the issue at hand.

“The evening meal hour is rapidly approaching. We are already running behind our typical timeline, so if we do not initiate the ingredient prep this very instant…”

“…Ah, right.”

Whipped up a massive feast for Harley as a token of appreciation for his service to the Church was entirely outside their scheduled routine.

To put it another way, their core responsibility… satisfying the desperate hunger of a massive army of trainees who had been exerting themselves all day, had not even been addressed yet.

“Phew, you’re right. We can’t let a single guest break our spirits. Snap out of it and get to work, everyone! How long do you plan to sit around dazed? We are the Third Central Kitchen, the pride of Roselia!”

“Understood, Master Chef!”

Forcing their aching muscles to move, the staff braced themselves for an entirely new culinary onslaught.

Having just gone toe-to-toe with a legendary eater during what was supposed to be their resting period, it was highly likely a few line cooks would pass out from exhaustion before the night was through…

Even if they did, it wasn’t a catastrophic issue.

After all, they were currently standing inside the Roselia Cathedral, an institution that housed the most advanced healing and recovery facilities on the face of the continent!

“Hmm— Perhaps I should have requested a couple more platters? I can already feel a slight emptiness returning…”

Harley exited the cooking domain—where a fierce fire of renewed resolve was burning—muttering a stray thought that would have undoubtedly caused the kitchen staff to faint from sheer frustration had they overheard it, and made his way down the stone corridors of the cathedral.

He possessed plenty of cured meats stored away inside his personal subspace pocket, but there was no denying that fresh meals prepared by expert hands offered far superior flavor.

To an outside observer, it might have looked like he was merely inhaling his food without tasting it, but his superhuman sensory capabilities allowed him to appreciate every subtle note of flavor within those fleeting moments.

‘No, this is fine. I indulged far more than my usual intake. It would be entirely ungrateful to demand additional portions, especially when it’s provided free of charge.’

He had expended an immense reservoir of physical vitality while holding the line against Hans and the tide of the undead, but he considered himself the final bastion of moral decency in this chaotic age, making such self-restraint a matter of course.

‘…Setting that aside, it looks like Heinrich is going to be tied up for quite a while longer.’

Being an unaligned guest, Harley was granted permission to depart the moment his direct obligations in Jeron were fulfilled.

Conversely, Heinrich was forced to remain on-site to oversee the massive administrative and physical recovery efforts. Given his status as one of the absolute highest-ranking figureheads within the Church hierarchy, he couldn’t simply walk away from a crisis of this scale.

‘Furthermore, the Jeron Cathedral is experiencing a severe manpower deficit due to the troops they sent out to the Rohan Duchy combined with this unexpected raid.’

Even so, the geographical gap separating Jeron from the sacred land wasn’t overly daunting, allowing them enough breathing room to send Harley ahead.

The specialized administrative teams from the Roselia Cathedral had already departed for Jeron, meaning Heinrich’s return wouldn’t be delayed for too much longer.

‘At any rate, this particular crisis has drawn to a close.’

In the wake of the Immortal King’s sudden strike on the heart of the empire,

The entire metropolitan area, stretching from the highest tiers of the royal bloodline down to the lowest destitute citizens and underground syndicates, was completely consumed by the grueling task of restoring order.

On the bright side, the royal palace itself avoided catastrophic loss of life because the defensive enchantments managed to hold their ground…

However, the specialized knight battalions tasked with facing the direct fury of the Immortal King suffered immense casualties, and even the Commander of the Imperial Guard, a warrior of master-tier renown, sustained such critical injuries that he was forced into a prolonged period of medical isolation.

The fallout was equally devastating for the aristocratic estates and various factions that found themselves in the path of the assault.

The undead legions, now bound to the will of Hans and infused with a portion of his specialized sorcery, were conducting a brutal purge, having been granted a fraction of the perception tied to the “Abyssal Eye”—an attribute commonly referred to as the wicked karma detector.

‘Managing all of them single-handedly is an impossible task for Olivia. Because of that, the parameters for judgment have understandably become far more severe than what is typical.’

Well, such outcomes were unavoidable.

If the situation demanded that blood be spilled, it was only right that the wicked should bear that burden; such was the foundational creed he lived by.

Naturally,

He had come to terms with the reality that he could never be classified as a truly ‘righteous’ man either.

‘…Regardless, it appeared that Isea shared a remarkably deep connection with the young princess. I had a suspicion that was the case, but her level of involvement exceeded my calculations. And seeing as I now have to oversee the welfare of the captives, this whole affair is…’

“Ah, Harley? There you are. Do you happen to have a moment for a private discussion?”

Just as Harley, deeply entangled in his own thoughts, was directing his steps toward the training fields to burn off his recent meal, a figure stepped into his path and called out to him.

It was the chief administrator of the Mercenary Guild, the individual tasked with running the daily operations of the organization in place of the legendary ‘Mercenary King’—and one of the key figures who had backed his involvement in the task force and arranged his presence here.