...

Time: Days later, after the attack on Dog Pudding Island

Place: Minor Uru Estate

Somewhere, on one of the numerous islands in the territory of the Essence Alliance was a small estate. Its primary owner was the council, which temporarily granted permission to the general commander who defended borders in the South to use it as their domicil.

It wasn't much since most commanders came from a higher standing and were usually used to much more luxury than what a small island could offer.

However, the atmosphere inside the general commander's residence office wasn't uncomfortable because the delivery of the wine made from highly potent grapes was delayed—no, it was something much more severe than not receiving fun berries.

A young man, slim but muscular, with icy blue skin, deep white eyes, and long blue hair, caused a relentless coldness. He stood before his subordinate and looked down at her, which made her shiver in fright. His aura displayed wrath, which made his stoic demeanor even more frightful—a sensation of doom filled her mind.

"That... was all Commander."

After she finished reporting and delivering a letter, his aura exploded. Frost crawled along the walls, ripping the blue and golden wallpaper with flower and vine patterns. The stress caused by the ice created a beautiful pattern on the brick walls underneath, but nobody could admire it as sounds of breaking and cracking resounded through the room—every time it happened, the kneeling djinn flinched in fear.

"I see—"

However, not only the walls were suffering. Numerous trophies bent, creating a hellish noise, and highly valued watercolored paintings began to crystallize and rip, making them worthless.

At last, the ice emerged on the ground, where the djinn kneeled on a fancy-patterned carpet whose fibers had been ripped apart by the cold—a cold that slowly crept up the subordinate's body, making her cry silently, praying that she was allowed to live another day.

"—So, let me reiterate because I clearly didn't understand—" The air became colder, and the voice of the superior became much sterner, "—We got attacked by elves, scavengers, and other djinns—"

The superior's beautiful piece of fancy armor he wore, enchanted in numerous ways, started to pulsate. The metallic pieces, enlightened with runes, began to glow red and purplish—a calming sensation overwhelmed him, making him see that he should stop before going overboard.

"—My dear sister capitulated and ran away, seeking asylum in the territory of those animals."

However, even though it was a potent mechanism to calm his mind, it didn't help. The shock he received from the letter and report was too much—the room momentarily became grey, as if time stood still.

"I lost territory."

His eyes turned into a pure white, devouring his pupils, and the letter in his hands became solid. He couldn't hold back anymore—he needed to punish someone.

"My son, you are being too hasty."

However, before the young djinn exploded into a more severe rage, a golden and holy light radiated from the opened door, making him instantly stop and turn toward the person visiting him.

Inside came an elderly elven woman—evidently a priest of the higher order since she wore beautiful white linen cloth with a specific golden pattern reserved only for the more outstanding members. Her voice was serene and calming, but her face was full of scars, a deathly greyish color, and with overwhelming prominent wrinkles, as if she had died at least once.

The cold air began to leave the room, not voluntarily, as the light pushed it away forcefully, making it more endurable. Even the kneeling djinn calmed down when she felt the harmonious aura.

"Sister, I see you are here, but why? We would have our ceremony much later, wouldn't we?"

She smiled while slightly nodding her head as she came closer, "Of course, dear Thaldon, but I sensed you were disturbed, and I wanted to see if I could help in any way—" Standing right before him, she slightly crooked her head, still smiling but now having concern in her eyes, "—is there something troubling you?"

Thaldon didn't like her interfering in his affairs. Still, she was invaluable, visiting island after island, healing the sick, and consoling those in grief—there was no better moral support for his people.

In addition to her dedication to the cause, she was also one of the clergymen of higher ranking who would visit the Essence Alliance territory and help them.

Since the Essence Alliance chose to follow the Church, becoming a somewhat illusionary part of the First Servants, they rarely had anyone of say or skill here—only some young missionaries dared to come to their territory, trying to spread the word and receive merits for their work.

However, even though the Church was very slow in putting resources into their territory, the lower folk needed it to find solace as the non-divine world couldn't give them any.

Besides distracting ordinary men, it was also highly beneficial, as they would provide services like healing and sell products of divine origin. It was profitable even to have the freshly divined here.

As such, he began to trust the strange elven woman since she could genuinely help him solve his problem. Thaldon nodded slightly, "Fine, I will tell you—" he gestured the still kneeling subordinate to leave, who did so quickly and gladly,"—however, I don't think you will be of any help, dear sister."

When the poor message bearer was gone, Thaldon walked casually to his desk, searching through his drawers and stacks of parchments for something specific. Despite his rejective and cold demeanor, the priestess was chirpy and joyful, trying to cheer him up.

"Oh my—" She punched in the air, acting cutely, "—you may not know, but I was voted to be the best martial artist in my convent—" She stopped, chuckling, "—however, I don't think I can even hurt an ant, so if you want to fight..."

Thaldon ignored her nonsensical blabbering and interrupted her when he found what he was looking for, "This is a gamble made between me and the elders for a seat in the council—"

She interrupted him, looking confused, "What are the stakes and conditions?"

He sighed, throwing the contract on the desk, "Positive territorial gain for the Uru clan, taken from a sapient race."

She nodded, bloating her cheeks, trying to think it through, "What if you can't?"

"Slavery, of course."

After contemplating, the priestess shrugged, obviously not caring, "That's fine, though, since your Mother was..."

The air suddenly became ice-cold, and a sudden wind blew toward the priestess, attacking her. However, she still smiled, creating a shield around her of a golden hue to protect herself.

"I suggest you don't bring up my status, sister."

Thaldon was born lowly, which was nothing unusual since his Father, a branch leader of the Uru clan, had multiple wives and dozens of concubines from all kinds of smaller clans in the Essence Alliance, gifted to him for various reasons, like wanting his goodwill or as an apology.

However, for others who weren't willing, he took them by force and enslaved them, creating various reasons to achieve this. Some lost a gamble, others had too much debt, and others were just openly bullied until they gave up.

As such, the tradition was that children like him would have no middle name since they were barely more than their parents, at most able to achieve that of a lowlife with some freedom.

After a visible and disgustingly cute contemplation, she nodded, "You are right, and I—" She bowed slightly down, "—am apologizing for such rude behavior."

Thaldon knew that the sister meant well, but it was still disturbing. He didn't survive all those assassination attempts, poisonings, and backstabbings, not to lose a gamble he should've won after selling off his honor and pride, becoming a lap dog for the most disgusting beings ever set foot into the clan.

If he wanted true freedom, he needed to become an elder and lose his status as a low birth. However, he had already laid down his being and would only give up if someone cut off his head—a high-ranking priestess from the Church seemed like the perfect person to help him.

"I also apologize, sister—" He sighed, "—my outburst was not appropriate to someone of your status, but I hope you understand me since it was a gamble I couldn't lose, but now it seems to have become even worse."

The priestess looked confused at him, tilting her head and tapping her chin, "Hm, from what I accidentally overheard—" she looked at him apologetically, "—sorry about that, but you lost territory due to the animals?"

"Yes and no."

"I don't quite understand?"

"So, the subordinate only now told me that..."

It was pretty confusing, but he retold what he had been told—the information was still too fresh to determine if it was genuinely the truth. He was a pessimist, always seeing daggers in shadows—bordering on paranoia.

Fortunately, this mindset also helped him survive for so long, even though he noticed how much it made him anti-social with every person he held at arm's length.

"I really have no idea whom to ask..."

Since he had no real friends to help him, he was in a horrible position. The only shimmer of hope was that it was not explicit. Until now, he has been doing fine alone since he was a great combatant and strategist.

Thaldon was widely acknowledged for those skills—as seen by the assassination attempts per year metric—a sarcastic thought, but one which made him somewhat proud.

"The Implicitness is what makes me worry, not the exact wording like..."

He had lost part of the Whirl-Uru Island, which also had beast-kin territory on them, who called their part embarrassingly Dog-Pudding Island. Besides trying to conquer territory, his task was also to defend successfully, which meant not losing any—it didn't work.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Overseeing it as part of his clan duties, and while he could argue that it wasn't part of his gamble, it would be naive to think that there were no people who would love to have him enslaved and would do their best to argue against him.

If he was of higher ranking, it could be argued that it wasn't the territory of the Uru Clan per se but more of a shared region handled by the council—a lovely thought he couldn't indulge in.

Thaldon must be perfect since he was a lowlife. Every mistake he made would only be a probable dagger in his back if he were not careful. Yet, unforeseen events were unforeseeable—obviously.

Worse, the gamble's conditions were that he wouldn't need the military of the council or grand leader. He chose to do it with his personal resources, which included a bank loan to get mercenaries and raid relatively weakly defended territories—it worked.

However, a weird group from Kratikal invaded their territory and took a good chunk of it. His sister, who he put there since she wanted to flee all the politics of their clan, was now in refuge in the beast-kin territory—a weird position since they were enemies.

'She should be fine, though.'

Irisk was not worth much to anyone, and he only accepted her as his subordinate because of her steel-like willpower and stubbornness.

When he saw her for the first time, she was almost beaten to death by some servants of other kids of higher standing as she tried to protect her little brother—a fascinating sight.

The will to survive was ingrained in her eyes, and he wanted to have her under him, but she wanted only to leave this god-forsaken place. He understood and made a deal—as long as she could help him, he could protect her little brother.

'Well, not like I will become unhinged.'

Thaldon could immediately go and kill the brother, but nobody really cared about the boy but her, so he would let him alone, and since Irisk was in asylum, it should also be acceptable.

Moorgrelians were bloodthirsty beasts, but if the enemy came begging for asylum, they would usually grant it without many issues. There were still customs recognized by almost every kingdom, and this was one of them.

The reason was to maintain basic etiquette, even though they were enemies. If not, it would create tensions that could worsen their borders, which would cost resources and manpower—no kingdom was ready to invest so much just because they couldn't grant asylum to some commander.

Sometimes, they would imprison them when they had some worth, but that was as far as they went, and it was entirely acceptable as long as the treatment was adequate.

'At least she was able to help me.'

However, the asylum also brought some positives, which his sister mentioned in the letter, which he first ignored. As such, when he told about all that happened, the priestess showed frustration and sadness—empathy which he hadn't felt for decades.

"I think you will handle it well, and please never forget—" she laid a hand on her chest where her heart was, "—I am here to support you through all tribulations, no matter how harsh."

A sensation of pureness and warmth overcame the room, which was still ice-cold, making even Thaldon smile slightly. However, he still shook his head, wanting to give her the letter, showing that there were some positives, too.

"One of my subordinates, for once, did something well and could talk to a Leonandra child named Narsiz and convince him of something interesting."

The priestess's smile slightly cracked as she took the letter and started reading. With every word she read, her smile ceased more and more until it was gone entirely, and her demeanor changed.

'Why is she acting that weirdly?'

The letter said that Narsiz was ready to support him in either getting more territory elsewhere or getting it back in exchange for deeper cooperation and a truce on at least the island so that it could be economically developed—a weird suggestion, but it made sense.

The island was relatively big, and if they could somehow make it happen so that Thaldon would have all the territory needed for the gamble, he would be OK with anything as long as he wouldn't lose. Plus, he would get an ally from the Leonandra household, which was massively valued by the council.

Because they were enemies, connecting to someone like Narsiz could further diplomatic talks and smooth out other problematic areas, ultimately trying to avoid war. There were no negatives to have such a connection.

However, when the priestess looked at him, she seemed unhappy. Her voice was stern as if she were talking with an unruly child, "Dear child, never accept those animals' help—" she said, giving the letter back, "—They are bloodthirsty beasts who never experienced divinity but were blessed by dirt."

Thaldon sighed, "Sister, I understand your concern, but..."

He was immediately interrupted by the priestess's aura, which made him feel an extreme amount of divine fear, "Thaldon, my dear innocent lamb, I don't like to repeat myself, so listen closely—" Her eyes became silvery, looking down at him as if he were an ant, "—they are never to be trusted even if they want to help you take territory back and find a compromise between all parties. Never forget that they are beings of nature, never to be trusted!"

Beast-kin and other beings, such as scavengers, some types of fauners, and so on, couldn't receive blessings from any holy or unholy divinity. Thus, they were often seen as beings of nature, born with strong bodies to serve the blessed ones, the so-called First Servants.

However, it was also the other way around: Humans, high elves, dwarves, and so on couldn't receive blessings from nature and spirits. There were speculations about why this was the case, but nobody knew anything concrete.

Nonetheless, for the Church, this meant that they were lesser beings who needed to be guided by those of a higher calling. This view was embedded in the mind of every believer, but also every Hero, Sage, and Saint agreed with it. Even though they tried to make more minor changes here and there, this doctrine still stood firm.

However, following the doctrine zealously, like trying to take their territory, was like throwing an egg against a stone. While invading Mal-Gil was somewhat possible with all powers combined, Moorgrel was not even close to this—ending always in annihilation.

There were more than enough idiots who tried in the past and only encountered, besides the barely survivable environment, a shockingly stern resistance with strategies bordering on pure evil. That was why the Essence Alliance was enemies with them but not to the point of total war like some of their allies.

However, Thaldon wanted firmer agreements to close the war theater in the South and get the area he needed. If it were possible to make a deal, he would try, not fearing getting ambushed because of customary unwritten law—Moorgrelians were always mannered in those ways.

'This is actually too great to ignore if I think more about it.'

The deal presented by a child of the current nobility was a blessing and could lead to something far greater. Even though Narsiz had no say in what would happen on the mainland, nobody cared about the islands.

'I understand the implications, though.'

Narsiz wanted support from the Essence Alliance, and even though the wording was somewhat vague, Thaldon had no reason to disagree. He wanted to let the invaders have the territory while giving him other land and creating an economic free zone away from the absolute influences of any great power—like the Free Cities, but much smaller.

'I maybe can talk her through it. It's too good.'

Thaldon looked into the priestess's unforgiven eyes, wanting to continue arguing, "I understand you, but..."

She interrupted him again, her aura overflowing. Three giant pairs of holy eyes scrutinized his being, daring him to sin and break the doctrine, daring to talk back to someone superior, and daring to utter any more blasphemy—it was frightening.

"Careful—" She straightened up, "—I am here not for fun but as a missionary to continue spreading our word and help the ones who deserve it, which we will only continue if the old doctrines are followed and one of them is the to never see any of those natural beings as something equivalent to us!"

Thaldon sensed doom, and as he tried to steel himself, he gave up on trying to convince her. It made no sense, given that she was that agitated for no real reason.

"Fine, but I simply then need your help—" The aura suddenly subsided, and the priestess became the same as before, smiling innocently, "—with some paladins and..."

BOOM!

An explosion occurred from further away, and both of them turned that way and looked at each other, confused and unsure of what had happened.

"Please don't worry, sister; it could just be our clumsy alche..."

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Ah! Help! Attackers!"

"Argh! I am injured!"

"No! Help!"

Multiple more explosions occurred, with now his people screaming for help. Without much thought, he jumped through the window, breaking it, and used [Air Walk] to get higher ground—trying to oversee the whole estate.

'Hm? Why...'

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Smoke emerged from multiple houses and stalls, with all the creatures going crazy and many people screaming. Some were slightly injured, but nothing too bad, which couldn't be solved with the help of the priestess—there were no severe casualties.

'I don't get it?'

As he fell, not seeing any enemies or people who needed his help, he sunk back into his thoughts, trying to figure out who it could be, but there was no one, at least no one he knew, who would act like this.

Thaldon became a name of some importance, but attacking the general commander's estate, even if who was living in it was someone from a minor branch clan, was insanity. Usually, attacks against him were direct and as silently as possible—aimed to kill.

Further, there was no reason to kill or injure any lowlifes as they had little value. However, it was possible that someone had the same information as his and tried to prepare to shut down his argumentation should he not have enough land—trying to make him look useless and worthy of being a slave.

'Hm, I really need either the Church or Narsiz.'

More than enough morons smelled that he was metaphorically bleeding and would try to use every single event to make him look worse.

'I hate this scheming, fuck me.'

BOOOOOOOOM!

Landing, he suddenly heard an even more significant explosion in the mansion behind him, with the priestess still inside. However, he didn't care what would happen to her since she had received the first Holy Blessing.

"Who dares!"

The priestess screamed, enraged, trying to project her anger into her divine energy. Her voice resonated from inside the mansion, wandering through the whole estate.

A holy light shone from the sky the next moment, breaking through his mansion and making the priestess float upward. Her eyes were glowing silvery golden, and she looked around while mumbling—anger and the desire for vengeance were written all over her ugly face.

"Which bastard tried to attack me... Do you think I survived this darn poison and my decapitation for fun... I will find you..."

Thaldon knew a little bit about her past. She went crazy after some battle, barely surviving by using her divine miracle, but it apparently didn't cure her mind.

'She went crazy, that's for sure.'

When Thaldon looked at her, her divine energy was emitted into every nook and cranny, partly even injuring those suffering and making them fall to the ground, screaming in pain as they had no energy left to defend themself.

'Damn it!'

He immediately flashed closer to those barely enduring such aggressive, holy energy. He shielded them with his, creating an aura of coldness, but since he was a Tier 4, he needed considerably more energy to withstand her.

'This is bad.'

Thaldon wasn't worried that he couldn't stop her but that he was too forthcoming with his people. Nicities weren't seen as positives in his clan but as weaknesses. His defending his subordinates was a sign that, when leaked out, could create many more headaches.

Because of that, he acted like a cold-hearted bastard most of the time, treating his subordinates like trash. However, he hoped that no one of the spies would report it or see what he was doing as a weakness.

"There you are!"

Suddenly, the holy energy vanished and concentrated on one point toward someone with a cloaked hood, wearing a fox mask. He was clearly a djinn, but his aura was bizarre, something Thaldon had not felt once—as if a craziness was chained down, ready to explode.

'What's that?'

Thaldon had no reason to fear him as he was clearly weaker. As such, he only concentrated on the metallic ball in the intruder's hands, which he suddenly threw into the air—it exploded.

"Argh! You bastard! By everything holy, you will pay for your sins!"

When it exploded, it created an extremely bright light that blinded the priestess and him. Some weird kind of powder was mixed into it, too, making it impossible to sense him from further away. However, he was careful while still calm, keeping himself enveloped in his energy in case something happened.

'He is coming to me but... there is no killing intent?'

As he sensed the djinn, he grabbed his wavery sword, wanting to slice through him, but stopped when he suddenly got an ominous sensation. A whisper entered his ear, "A letter from your little sister, good luck my soon-to-be friend ~♪"

After what felt like an eternity, his sight returned, with the priestess rampaging through the estate, looking for the intruder. Thaldon, however, first looked after everyone, confirming the deaths, which were zero with one missing.

'This is surprising.'

After calming everyone down and instructing them to clean everything, he went into his room, interested in what the letter was about to say, especially because of the relatively strong ruckus they created.

'Let's see what she has to say.'

He sat in his rocking chair at night and read it, using his energy and aura to shield him from any holiness that could spy on him. However, he needed to reread it multiple times before destroying it—he was still confused.

'Well, I have nothing to lose. The priestess already denied me, so why not?'

After the whole debacle, the priestess made it clear that she would not let him borrow any of her people but would bless him—a useless gesture.

'Hm, Narsiz, the Eros Alliance, and some refugees—' He looked outside, at the moons shining on him, '—Well, this crazy plot or me becoming a slave, I guess.'

His gamble wasn't a secret, and Irisk probably told Narsiz this. Thaldon hoped that his deranged sister had a good eye for people and that the Leonandra child would act in good faith.

'Otherwise, I will not go down alone.'