Gods. Are. Outlawed.

Those were the words he said. Dalric hadn’t translated or deciphered anything so there was no possibility of him misattributing a word. The man really claimed that the Gods were outlawed.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

‘Hiroto’ just continued to look baffled.

Dalric matched his expression, “What do you mean by ‘outlawed’, exactly?”

“That… that worshipping a God is punishable by execution?”

“That would mean ‘worshipping’ is outlawed, not Gods.”

He wasn't sure that was any less insane as a prospect. There weren't any Gods physically walk—

Aegeus! But…

“Right. Well. I guess being a God is a guaranteed execution.”

That still doesn't add up.

“Any God or is there one in particular?”

‘Hiroto's confusion continued to deepen, “Any… You actually believe in real Gods?”

Dalric continued to match him, “What does that mean?”

“Uh. Nothing!” He seemed to think he had offended Dalric, “Nothing.”

Hmm.

This was a massive development in his attempt to discover where he was. Not only were there two nations he never heard of, but one of them had outlawed Godhood entirely. Somehow, they were so successful that their citizens didn’t even think Gods existed. If he hadn’t thrown out the thought that he wasn’t on Frysta, he would be seriously questioning it.

There were several pockets of the plant that didn’t worship the Gods. Entire races avoided them. Humans weren’t one of them though. Even more than that, everyone knew of their existence. The truth behind ascension may be hidden, but the fact that it was possible wasn’t. They told stories of the Gods.

Wait.

Dalric refocused on the slightly cowering man, “You have priests don't you? What do they do?"

"Priests? They preach about old kings. And uh run schools, teach kids."

“Why are they called priests?”

“Uh… that’s what they… are?”

Dalric shook his head.

Well. The Gods wanted to kill these people. They were so desperate they didn't even wait to fully control my body before attempting to begin the massacre. I suppose having zero access or authority in an entire human kingdom would do that.

He had confirmed this was an island. ‘Hiroto’ spoke for the Kingdom of Whitesails, which spoke Salian, the simplified offshoot of Hellgurian, but the Taiyo Dynasty was Surunese. Considering the jungle also had a Surunese name, it wasn’t a hard deduction to piece together that this was their island.

He knew a bit about the Sururnese, though not a great deal. From what he remembered, they didn't have any kingdoms, just a number of tribes. They also didn’t have a jungle. Their island was more of a savanna.

The straightforward answer to the abnormalities would be Aegeus. He’d have a vested interest in creating the most fertile land for his Wyld clones to grow, in keeping the Gods completely out of his business, and the eastern coast of Hellguria was only a one week boat ride to the Surunese island.

Though it was the clearest answer he could see, it still didn't explain enough. Why outlaw all Gods? Beyond that, why were the ahjer levels so abundant here? ‘Hiroto’, like Seventh before, believed it had always been this way. If one being could do that, he'd already be stronger than a God. Also, what happened to Hellguria? ‘Hiroto’ knew the term ‘Hellgurian’, knew it was the more ‘sophisticated’ version of their language, but knew nothing of either the Hellgurian Republic or the North Senate.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

It could be an issue of timeline. Dalric could appreciate that he likely wasn't immediately reborn. Chances are it took a few years, maybe even decades. Still, kingdoms weren’t built that quick and jungles don't grow that quick. Details weren't aligning.

What, have centuries passed?

Dalric didn’t know, but he’d find out soon enough, "I guess real answers will have to wait for a city. So your use has run out."

"Wait! I gave you real answers!"

"Maybe you did." The cage immediately collapsed in on him and the brute, killing them instantly.

Even if his story about just being security was true, Dalric had zero tolerance for anyone who worked with or for slavers. He’d have killed him either way.

Both of their diced and bisected remains spread across the floor as the streaks returned to him. Now, the only one left was ‘Sunset White’, the fire themed swordsman-conjurer. Dalric looked towards his unconscious body sprawled across the floor. He more than half-hoped he lived. His sword was exquisite.

Dalric could summon many objectively deadlier weapons, but even those didn't have this level of craftsmanship. From the quality of the metalworking to the streamlined enchantments to the way the hilt served as an easy conduit to absorb the wielders ahjer and empower the whole blade, it was truly a remarkable weapon.

He could use one like this. A physical one, that he didn't have to summon. Swords in particular weren't his style, so he didn't really want to take this one specifically. He'd rather figure out where or who they got it from so he could go straight to the source for a custom weapon.

I didn't ask what currency they use here. Alas.

With his business completed and no signs of any further reinforcements, Dalric sent out the black streaks one last time. He sent them all out at once. They spread out across the hall and attached themselves to the bars on each of the cells. Then, they began to melt them down.

It took a bit more time than the instantaneous he would have liked, but his connection to Thunderfield grew fainter and fainter by the moment. It lasted long enough to get the job done though. Soon, the chains were all that remained. He'd have to do them himself, but he'd have done that anyway. Thunderfield was many things, but gentle was not one of them. The second all of the bars were gone, he let the pitch black lightning dissipate and returned to being just human.

I'm not going to enjoy the rebound.

Using Thunderfield without having the appropriate vessel for it was not the best decision he's ever made, but he gave himself a pass. He’d experienced a lot during the past day or so and had to face a number of mental hurdles. An emotional lapse of judgment here or there weren't the end of the world. Logic could not always reign supreme, he was human now after all.

He shook off any encroaching thought about that fact and went about breaking off the chains and removing the shard from each of their heads. He had discovered their full functions during the interrogation. Damping the desire to murder was only one of their four effects. They also slowed the body's metabolism, increased its desire for sleep, and heightened fear towards those wearing red.

Somehow, reducing lethal intent was the most reasonable thing they did. How in the world did Jester’s Shards, or Devil Glass, slow down a person’s metabolism? Reduce the feeling of hunger, that would make sense. Metabolism? Dalric decided he wasn’t going to think about it just yet. One thing at a time.

He’d get to it eventually, just not now. He needed to wrap up freeing these people and then the whole camp so he could sit down and really figure out his path. The Gods would return again and while he could repeat the same stunt for the near future, he had to come up with something more long term.

He theorized some options while he went about breaking chains. About a third of the way through the thirty or so occupied cells, he met the first person that was awake.

“Oh shit.”

He hurriedly freed them from their chains and the shard’s control. They were human, dark skinned like the other man. They appeared to be male themselves, but they had very long, silky black hair. As Dalric helped them get on their feet it went all the way down to their hip. Their face had a feminine touch to it too, soft features and hairless. Thick eyebrows though.

“Hel—”

Before Dalric could get a word out they dropped to one knee, “My name is Ryku Tai. I’m a silver badge Paragon. My badge was taken from me, but if you allow me accompany you to any operating branch they can confirm my rank. Please, take me as a student.”

Dalric looked down at him stunned, “What? No, I’m not here for a student.”

“If you do not mind someone like me asking, what are you here for? Master.”

“Don’t.” Dalric’s demeanor shifted very dangerously towards angry before he calmed himself, “Don’t call me that.”

“Yes sir! My deepest apologies.”

“No, I don’t m—ugh. Stop. I won't be your master or teacher or any of the sort. After I’m done freeing everyone here I’m leaving. You’ll go on and continue to be a… a Paragon. Okay? Good.”

Dalric walked out of the cell and into the next. No way would he get trapped into being some random’s teacher. He had so much on his mind and so much to do. There was absolutely no time for a student. Why would he even ask?

He knelt down to remove the chains in the next cell, but paused. As his hand extended for the enchanted metal he noticed another set of open eyes. Their purple pupils held reverence.

Oh no.