Chapter 200

Chapter 200
## Chapter 200

The Second Continental Summit (1)

“It has been quite some time, Saintess. I am truly privileged that you have come out to greet us yourself.”

“Giggle, please don’t say that. It is a minor gesture compared to the immense tribulations you have faced.”

Saintess Liesta offered a warm smile in response to Heinrich’s flustered laughter, then shifted her gaze to the rest of the travelers, addressing them with a soft tone.

“You have all endured so much. Reports of your grand deeds have reached me continuously, yet seeing you return unharmed brings genuine relief. Particularly after the massive crisis I heard transpired not long ago…”

Her words alluded to the fierce clash with the White Giant in the native land of Geos.

The Church could not help but remain highly vigilant regarding the matter, having detected the exact instance the entity breached the scar of the abyss.

“The situation was undeniably grim. Deviating from prior encounters, I sensed no warnings beforehand because the creature emerged directly from the abyss itself. The fault must lie with my own lingering deficiencies.”

“It is only expected that a mere mortal cannot grasp the entirety of God’s grand design. Even so, I am certain your presence there at that exact hour was a manifestation of divine alignment.”

Among the towering monstrosities that had manifested up to this point, one had been brought down only after inflicting devastating casualties upon the imperial legions, while another had laid waste to the Rohan Duchy before being driven back toward the Northern Mountains by the elite forces of the Main God Church.

There was simply no plausible way for the local defenses of a minor barony within the Lesque Kingdom to halt such an aberration on their own, given how much weaker they were than the Empire.

Had the vanguard of the hero not been present to intervene, it was horrifying to imagine how much more monstrous the entity would have grown after consuming a countless number of souls and agonizing deaths.

…Naturally, a lingering doubt remained over whether their timely arrival was a stroke of pure luck or the handiwork of an unseen guide.

‘I cannot help but worry. We have come to rely heavily on Chehai, and those youngsters have truly grown on me. Furthermore, the orphanage situated close to the behemoth’s path was utterly obliterated.’

In the immediate wake of vanquishing the giant,

The hero’s companions exerted every effort to restore order, but the grim reality proved incredibly stubborn.

Isea had successfully ushered a vast majority of the populace out of harm’s way when the colossus first descended upon the settlement, yet many perished before she ever had a chance to step in.

Villagers wept bitterly over the corpses of their kin, the wounded wailed from injuries sustained during the frantic escape, and broken souls sat motionless among the charred remnants of their homes.

The scene was one of unmitigated devastation.

Mercifully, or perhaps tragically, the moment the core was extracted from the giant, its colossal frame began to rapidly decay, dissolving into nothingness within a matter of hours. This spared them from the grueling task of clearing hundreds of tons of supernatural carrion from the center of the village.

Yet, the deep scars of absolute ruin remained carved into the earth.

The companions were only able to depart from the settlement after executing numerous relief measures, including binding the wounds of the afflicted. This was largely made possible because Geos stepped forward determinedly to spearhead the rebuilding efforts, going so far as to put significant political pressure on the local ruler, Baron Regas.

From the perspective of the baron, it was impossible to ignore the situation when a high-ranking noble of count status personally offered resources to rebuild a domain that he was legally obligated to restore anyway.

“Ah! Look at me, keeping you out here for so long. Exhaustion must be catching up to you. Allow me to show you to your quarters.”

“Now that you mention it, that sounds wonderful. We appreciate your thoughtfulness, Saintess.”

With dusk rapidly approaching, they could not prolong the discussion, choosing instead to resume their talks the following morning before going their separate ways.

“Saint, Saintess. We shall take our leave now. Come along, Heron. We must pay our respects to the princess.”

“Right! Understood, Master. May your night be restful!”

A mere forty-eight hours remained before the commencement of the grand summit.

With nightfall already arriving, only a single day would be left once this evening passed.

Predictably, the delegations representing the various participating realms had already established themselves within the walls of the Roselia Cathedral, and the Azeria Empire—headed by Princess Riley—was no exception.

“In that case, I should also…”

Geos directed his steps toward the pavilion hosting the diplomats of the Lesque Kingdom, having received word that they requested an audience with him.

He harbored no true loyalty to the realm or his aristocratic standing, yet he recognized that maintaining a title offered distinct practical advantages.

Remaining a recognized nobleman of the kingdom was essential if he wished to effectively protect and provide for Chehai and his kin, who were still reeling from the recent catastrophe.

“Bwahaha! The day has finally come for me to feast on the cathedral’s cooking once more! I’m heading out before the cooks close up the kitchen!”

Once Harley made his exit alongside a designated guide, Heinrich and Liesta were left standing alone, save for their personal retainers who kept a respectful distance.

“Well then, Heinrich? Perhaps you could accompany me to my chambers for a brief chat? I recently acquired an exceptional blend of tea that possesses an incredible fragrance.”

“Hmm, very well. Though, Liesta, are you holding up alright? I have been meaning to ask, but you appear incredibly drained.”

“…Hehehe, with the summit arriving in just two days, how could I possibly take a break? I am required to review every detail repeatedly to guarantee absolutely nothing goes awry.”

A sudden, bleak gloom passed over her features, which had been masked by a cheerful expression until now.

‘Oh? So this isn’t just a casual invitation for tea…’

The moment he attempted to discretely back away, anticipating the impending burden,

Grab—

Liesta, her countenance instantly snapping back to its brilliant smile, locked her fingers tightly around his wrist.

“Though we completed the initial arrangements with outside assistance, the sheer volume of tasks falling squarely on my shoulders this time leaves me incredibly anxious. I am profoundly grateful that you are here, Heinrich!”

The golden gaze of the Saintess shone with intense fervor.

Her fingers clamped down with enough force to ensure he could not slip away.

“Time is slipping away, meaning we must cross-examine every single protocol just to be safe… Particularly with the volatile situation surrounding the Talia Kingdom this time, I foresee some incredibly vexing complications arising…”

It was a matter of fact that Heinrich and the Saintess had split the administrative burdens during the inaugural summit, collaborating closely on the complex issues that defied an immediate resolution.

Naturally, such a feat was only attainable because of the rigorous groundwork laid by the administrative staff, the cardinals included.

Those same officials would undoubtedly handle the minor gaps this time around as well…

“You will… stand by my side, correct?”

Yet it was evident that this young woman, burdened by an overwhelming gravity of duty, could not find peace relying solely on them.

“…Very well. I intended to perform a rigorous sweep of the defensive perimeters regardless. That falls under my purview anyway.”

There was no way he could turn away from the silent desperation pooling in those golden eyes.

She had frequently leaned on Heinrich for support since they occupied comparable roles in the hierarchy, making this sudden display of vulnerability entirely characteristic.

‘I managed to navigate this once during the inaugural summit, so a secondary review shouldn’t occupy too much time.’

Her expression lit up instantly upon hearing his agreement, and she eagerly tugged at his arm with renewed vitality.

“Thank you so much! I never doubted your willingness to assist, Heinrich! Come, let us make haste! There is an immense amount of documentation requiring our attention! Especially given the current friction with the Talia Kingdom, I suspect we will encounter some highly intricate hurdles…”

Saintess Liesta practically dragged him along the corridors toward her personal office, her hands firmly anchoring his arm as though she were securing a captive prize.

‘…This will truly be resolved quickly, right?’

Evaluating the sheer weight of the circumstances, it occurred to him that requesting a strong coffee rather than tea might be the wiser choice.

—

A single day remained before the summit commenced.

Even with the primary assembly yet to be called to order, both the hosting Church and the arriving factions were engulfed in a whirlwind of activity.

Ultimately, an event where the premier superpowers of the continent converged under a single roof was an exceedingly rare spectacle, even if the driving force behind the gathering was a looming existential threat.

Dignitaries and specialists from every conceivable sector toiled through the night, trading intelligence through covert dialogues, analyzing prospective blueprints, sharpening geopolitical maneuvers, and finalizing agreements.

“Tsk— Smack.”

Yet, amidst this frantic environment, one individual moved with absolute tranquility, entirely detached from the surrounding chaos.

“It matters not how much food I consume lately, my stomach empties itself in an instant. Could it be linked to that power?”

It was Harley, the wild berserker, who tracked through the sacred stone corridors of the cathedral like a beast hunting its territory.

Following a thunderous dining exhibition against the culinary masters of the Third Central Dining Hall the evening prior to celebrate his return, he had spent the morning embarking on a relentless gastronomic crusade, invading various eating halls across the complex as if conquering rival martial arts schools.

Such an endeavor was easily accomplished given the massive scale of the facility and its numerous kitchens, and he was currently making his way toward the training grounds for a post-feast workout after gorging himself at the First Central Dining Hall.

‘My internal reservoir for vitality has expanded. It makes sense, considering that utilizing “Gigantification” demands an astronomical amount of raw sustenance.’

The ability known as “Gigantification” had become his prize after he consumed the vital core of the White Giant.

The technique, which had integrated itself into Harley’s physiology alongside a massive reservoir of volatile ‘madness’, granted the blunt and literal capacity to expand his physical proportions.

The method proved far more seamless and efficient than attempting to warp his frame through standard “Physical Transformation,” yet the caloric cost to sustain it remained immense.

‘Furthermore, it completely shatters the fundamental rules of mass preservation. At present, I can only expand to roughly seven meters because my mastery over the technique remains unpolished.’

That specific measurement was discovered deep in the night, after he had slipped away into the isolation of the mountains out of pure fascination with his new capability.

Even then, he had been forced to abruptly cancel the transformation and hunt down a midnight feast to quell the sudden, agonizing pangs of starvation that assailed him.

Granted, standing at seven meters was more than sufficient to look down upon a mountain-dwelling Ogre king, but it felt remarkably insignificant when measured against the terrifying scale of the White Giant he had so recently faced.

‘No matter, my dimensions will surely scale upward as my control sharpens. Still, I never anticipated crossing paths with Patrick in the middle of a dining hall.’

His paths had intersected with Patrick, the high-ranking secretary general who managed the internal affairs of the Mercenary Guild.

The man belonged to the exact political circle as Kanbul, the late Mercenary King who met his demise during the onslaught of the Immortal King, and it was Patrick who had initially initiated contact to pitch an alliance.

He wanted them to combine forces to thrust Harley into the vacant seat of the Mercenary King.

The administrator’s terms were remarkably straightforward.

Harley needed only to forge a legendary reputation that no sellsword within the Mercenary Guild could deny, while Patrick managed the background logistics and political maneuvering.

‘And thus far, the trajectory remains flawless.’

He was currently traversing the land as an indispensable brother-in-arms to the chosen hero, a pedigree that arguably eclipsed even the legendary founding Mercenary King.

Provided he avoided an untimely demise on the battlefield, his current prestige was a monument that any mercenary alive would be forced to respect.

Perhaps that explained why Patrick carried himself with such a vibrant air during their brief encounter.

As though every piece of the puzzle was falling perfectly into place.

‘However… ’

The man had even offered a firm handshake alongside a highly respectful parting greeting before taking his leave.

Remaining completely oblivious to the insights Harley could glean from that singular point of physical contact.

‘The stark discrepancy between his actual muscle density and the latent physical power coiled inside him. Such a phenomenon is exceedingly rare, isn’t it?’

He could not declare it with absolute certainty, as it remained possible the man possessed a hidden attribute or a covert enchanted relic, but the patterns made it highly probable at this juncture.

‘There are plenty of hidden entities who have secured elevated statuses across the world. Come to think of it, such an occurrence isn’t entirely baffling.’

It was a logical outcome when one accounted for the extraordinary innate gifts granted to individuals from the outset, coupled with the specialized modifiers that permitted hyper-accelerated advancement.

The primary issue lay in the fact that the vast majority of these individuals either perished before realizing their potential or chose to abandon their growth altogether in favor of a secure, comfortable existence.

‘I find myself curious about the nature of his unique skill. Given his transition into civil governance, it likely lacks a direct combat application. If it happens to be a highly versatile utility technique akin to Andrew’s capabilities… ’

Just as Harley continued his brisk march down the hall, his mind spinning with increasingly predatory calculations—.

“Heh, heh— So you are the one they call Harley. I have caught glimpses of you from afar, but this marks our first proper face-to-face encounter.”

An abrupt, weathered voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh? Who’s the crone?”

Standing before him was an elderly woman defined by silver hair, deep-set wrinkles, and an intricate array of vibrant, multicolored ink covering every inch of her skin.

She stood with a pronounced hunch, anchoring her weight against a stylized wooden staff adorned with a collection of rattling curios and trinkets.

“Heh, heh, fortune has not favored our people as of late. Yet, I am quite pleased to finally engage you in a direct conversation.”

The speaker was none other than Morna, the revered high shaman who commanded the delegation of the Calcos Tribal Federation—the historical birthplace of the revered “Calcos-style Combat Tattoos.”

“Tell me, can a warrior of your stature grant a brief moment of his time to an old matron?”

“What do you want, old woman? My schedule is packed!”

He voiced his irritation readily, yet his internal thoughts were already dissecting her presence with analytical precision.

Patrick, the administrative head of the Mercenary Guild, was not the sole political figure who had thrown weight behind his inclusion in the grand expeditionary force. This elderly shaman, acting as the voice of the Tribal Federation, had also played a critical role in backing him.

This occurred despite the fact that he had never set foot within their territories and possessed zero ties to their people.

‘I was calculating a method to make inroads into the southern territories in the near future. To think she would deliver herself right to me?’

The sudden internal rebellion that had rocked the southern lands, contrasted against the leader of Calcos standing before him with such casual confidence.

Could this be a hidden trap…

“Does your ambition extend toward acquiring the ‘Tattoo of the Fighting King’?”

…He concluded that listening to her proposal would cost him nothing.

A minor dialogue posed zero inherent risk, and even if she harbored treacherous intentions, he could potentially extract valuable intelligence from her words!

‘This situation brings a strange sense of familiarity.’

Patrick had initiated their partnership utilizing a nearly identical strategy.

Initially, it was the title of the Mercenary King, and now it was the legendary Tattoo of the Fighting King.

Individuals harboring complex hidden agendas were consistently seeking him out, dangling exquisite treasures to win his favor.

“Oh! That specific art is familiar to my ears! Rumor dictates its potency is unmatched!”

Yet Harley, ever the straightforward brute, ignored the danger and bit down on the bait without hesitation.

He flashed a predatory, tooth-filled grin capable of sending a lesser man running in terror.

‘That marks the absolute pinnacle of the ink progression path, does it not?’

It was undeniable that his somatic tattoos had taken a backseat in recent conflicts, largely because he had been unleashing monstrous, otherworldly transformations under the public guise of being a true Dragonborn.

Furthermore, he had barely scratched the surface of the “Gigantification” trait he had so recently stripped from the giant…

‘Yet an abundance of combat techniques is never a disadvantage! An opening of this caliber does not manifest every day.’

Ultimately, the baseline avarice of a mortal knew no boundaries.