Chapter 225

Translator: Pai_

"......It's been a while, elder."

Turan realized that his face was twisted as he faced Keorn, and that his voice was faintly trembling.

Although he was usually accustomed to masking his emotions with false expressions, at this moment, it was difficult to do so.

Keorn of Aravion.

Though their time of interaction was short, he was the first respectable adult Turan had met besides his mother, and the one who made him dream of the world beyond.

The shock of realizing that such a person was one of Monarch's puppets was truly overwhelming.

"But you don’t look so well……"

"Something happened. All of you, step back for a moment."

"Yes, Family Head."

As he watched the other nobles withdraw, Turan gave a slight nod to Solif and Meisa as well.

They wore expressions of doubt, as if saying 'surely not', but soon stepped back as if realizing something.

Once the two were left alone, Keorn spoke with a somewhat more relaxed expression.

"Truly, I could never have imagined that young man from back then would rise to such a position."

Perhaps because they had already had several arguments, he didn’t use honorifics like Mago had.

That made Turan feel warm, as if Keorn trusted in his character, but at the same time, it stung.

"Indeed, when we last met, I hadn't risen that high yet."

At the time of the Dark Elf subjugation, Turan had been a mere wandering noble who had vaguely ended up ruling Kalamaf City, so compared to now, where he was practically the leader of the Great Noble House alliance, it was truly a difference like heaven and earth.

It would be more accurate to say that his time as a shepherd on Hisaril Hill was closer to back then.

As he spoke with Keorn, Turan tried to detect traces of Monarch through the Eye of Truth and his own intuition.

But no matter how hard he looked, Keorn was none other than the same person he had met on Hisaril Hill in the past.

‘As I thought......the method of puppet control seems to be a symbiotic host.’

One of the biggest reasons Turan had been wary of Monarch in the past was because he didn’t know exactly what his abilities were or what he could do.

It was information difficult to obtain even by interrogating other gods.

Because even the basic existing types numbered more than twenty, and combining four of them yielded over a hundred variations, that was the foundational format of “SSMS”.

Unless it was a powerful job like Night Hunter or Thunder Lord, there was no one who fully understood the skills of a non-mainstream job like Puppetmaster.

However, thanks to the knowledge Turan had gained from visiting Earth, he was now able to understand Monarch’s power more concretely.

The skills from the game era didn’t translate perfectly to this world, but at least their tendencies remained.

[Symbiotic Host]

[Cast on monsters and NPCs; upon casting, leaves a mark on the target and allows control by designation. Cannot be used on players, quest NPCs, or boss monsters.]

[Requires “Parasitic Infection” as a prerequisite before casting]

In a hack-and-slash game where players swept through hordes of monsters in an instant, what use was a skill that let you control individual monsters one by one?

Moreover, the process of domination took time, there was a cooldown between switching bodies, and the main body couldn’t even move, all of which made it all the more useless.

At best, one could plant it in several cities and use it to conveniently monitor market prices, and that was about it.

But in this world, it had become a horrifying skill capable of even controlling the head of a Great Noble House.

Perhaps due to the conditions, it wouldn’t be able to dominate such a powerful person instantly, and instead had to control someone with potential from a young age and raise them into a powerful figure.

In any case, based on the interpretation of that skill, the current Keorn must originally have been the same person Turan had known.

Even in the game, in situations where the player did not directly control the puppet, it could act according to its own will.

In other words, it was similar to a "dormant state" in which the initiative of consciousness was temporarily handed over through Soul Possession using Soul Magic.

Turan, after a brief thought, threw out a random question to avoid breaking the flow of the conversation.

"By the way, what brings you to such a remote place? I went to visit your retirement estate, and you weren’t there, so I was quite surprised."

"Hmm, at some point, I suddenly felt the urge to come here. I don’t know the reason."

Keorn spoke with a dreamy expression that didn’t suit his aged face.

"One day, while I was asleep, I suddenly heard the sound of hoofbeats. It felt like someone was calling me from somewhere far away on the plains. I had this certainty that I had to go there. I even felt as if I had been born to go to that place."

As they conversed, the two passed by an area near where the people of the grassland tribe were gathered.

From their attire and appearances, Turan realized that many among them were not nomads from this area, but people who had come from far away.

"But interestingly enough, when I came here, there were quite a few people like me. They had all come from distant places. Coming from somewhere like Siraf Wetland, the Western Wastelands, or Frostwind Forest couldn’t have been easy."

"Coming from Takein Plains isn’t exactly nearby either."

"That’s true, but I’m a knight, and someone accustomed to wandering, after all."

As Keorn chuckled lightly, Turan glanced at him and then shifted his gaze to the people he had mentioned.

As they approached more closely, he noticed that some of the more finely or neatly dressed individuals had no identifying insignia.

"Are those people also famous? I mean... in the places they came from."

"How did you know? After talking with them, it turns out, strangely enough, they were all rather well-known in their own regions. I myself, though it’s an embarrassing reputation, was somewhat known too. Perhaps this is some sort of fated calling."

The story of Keorn, the knight who killed a noble during the war, was inevitably well known.

There had been a few instances in the war led by Turan where knights killed nobles, but that was solely thanks to the overwhelming new weapon of firearms. There had never been a case where a knight killed a noble while hundreds and thousands of wizards were dying.

In other words, it was something that could not possibly occur under natural circumstances.

Keorn had likely been Monarch’s puppet from long ago, perhaps even before Turan was born.

He had simply acted on his own will, free from his master’s control, and the meeting with Turan had occurred during one of those acts of kindness.

‘I think I understand now......’

Haime, who was revered as a saint in her region; Keorn, who was of low status but became a hero through his deeds; and the other puppets of Monarch, all treated as prominent figures in various regions for diverse reasons.

Finally, Turan had an idea of what that bastard wanted.

***

After excusing himself with the pretense of needing to quickly deliver a message to his party, Turan separated from Keorn and called over Meisa and Solif to share what he had realized.

"The puppets are workers meant to earn fame?"

"Whether it's faith or respect, when one human harbors deep feelings toward another, that becomes a form of power. That bastard must have found a way to use it somehow. Maybe by replacing the target with himself, or crystallizing it like a key. That’s probably also why Badal made such a mess on Earth."

If Turan had had a deeper understanding of Earth’s culture, he might have used expressions like “auto-farming” or “emotion-harvesting drone.”

In any case, the concept itself wasn’t difficult to grasp, and both Meisa and Solif adopted grave expressions.

"Then......."

"There’s no way to sever the connection between the puppets and the original body, is there?"

"There wouldn’t be. Not that we know of."

Since Meisa had read the copied materials as well, she silently nodded in agreement.

"Then, we have no choice but to prevent contact with the main body."

The problem was: by what means would they do that?

In truth, the simplest method would be to kill all the hosts right here and now.

But doing so would mean Keorn would also have to be killed.

As Turan hesitated for a moment, Meisa offered her opinion.

“What about confining them here or something?”

“If that bastard wants to, he can still use skills through the puppet’s body, right? I heard there are at least ten of them here. If he starts jumping bodies one by one and causing trouble, it’ll be incredibly annoying.”

Maybe in the underground prisons of Helio or Kalamaf, they could implement a security system so tight he wouldn’t be able to escape, but out here in the middle of the grassy plains, that was out of the question.

Besides, if they left him alone, Monarch, while possessing one of the puppets, might cunningly wag his tongue and persuade the people here.

“I don’t want to say this either, but there’s only one sure method.”

Solif phrased it delicately out of consideration for Turan, but it was clear he meant killing all the puppets who had become hosts.

“Is there really no other way.......”

“I honestly can’t think of a better solution. If you can find something more viable, I’ll follow it.”

Turan swallowed the sigh that was rising from deep within his chest.

He felt no guilt when sacrificing something unrelated to him, or even hostile, but sacrificing someone clearly within his own sphere of protection was painful.

Still, even if they didn’t kill them now, there was a high chance the puppets, including Keorn, had no future anyway.

If Turan killed Monarch’s main body hiding somewhere around here, then by the nature of the skill, the disconnected hosts would die as well.

Just then, Meisa let out a small exclamation.

“No, killing them right away isn’t the answer!”

“Why not?”

“Think about what the situation here is in the first place.”

This grassland zone had until recently been a place where violent and brutal centaurs ran rampant.

The people here were merely the lucky survivors. It didn’t take much thought to realize that far more hosts had probably been brutally killed during transit.

And even beyond the grassy plains, traveling wasn’t exactly safe, was it?

“Since he’s the one who caused this return of the New Era, he must have anticipated that travel would become difficult. So I bet he has some way of harvesting the resources accumulated in the body even if they die along the way. If that weren’t the case, wouldn’t he have arranged some kind of escort instead of just letting all that go to waste?”

“That’s also quite......”

Though he mumbled that it sounded plausible, Solif inwardly suspected that Meisa had made it up on the spot just to spare Turan from having to make such a painful choice.

Regardless of the motive, the opinion was a reasonable one.

After a brief moment of thought, Turan shared the idea that had come to him.

“Let’s cut off everyone’s ankles.”

“What?”

“Even if that bastard directly controls the bodies, it’d be hard to move around for long with their ankles cut. Manipulating living beings must consume magic power too.”

They would cut the ankles of all the hosts here, along with their companions, and seize all means of transport.

That way, no matter where Monarch’s hideout was, the puppets wouldn’t be able to reach it on their own.

“That’s going to get us seriously cursed out.”

“We’ll have to endure it.”

If doing that meant they didn’t have to kill anyone, then wasn’t that a relief?

After the short meeting ended, Turan returned to Keorn.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Hmm?”

To the puzzled Keorn, Turan explained the situation in a very condensed manner.

That they were currently seeking the enemy who caused all of this, and that the “travelers”, including Keorn, were unintentionally on their way to help that enemy.

And that, to prevent any contact with him, they would sever their ankles, take away their mounts, and restrain them so they couldn’t move.

Though the explanation might sound absurd at a glance, Keorn listened to Turan’s words with a serious expression.

When everything was said, he asked in a grave tone.

“So, what would you have me do?”

“If possible, I’d like you to persuade those who remain here, and if anyone tries to insist on going there or tries something strange, please stop them.”

In truth, even though Turan said all this, the chances of Keorn effectively stopping anything were slim.

To begin with, Keorn himself could lose the initiative of his consciousness to Monarch at any moment.

So this was, in the end, merely an act to ease Turan’s own conscience.

Upon hearing this, Keorn silently nodded.

"Understood. I’ll do my best. Please, stay safe."

Knowing that Keorn's answer, filled with firm conviction, was genuine, Turan clenched his teeth.

Because otherwise, he felt he might start crying.

***

“S-Stop this!”

“What are you doing!? I was wrong, please, please! Aaaaaagh!”

As expected, Monarch's puppets and their companions did not agree with Turan's sudden order to sever their ankles and take away their mounts.

However, the consent of the powerless meant nothing to those with power.

Turan’s subordinate nobles were puzzled by the order to go cut the ankles of the outsiders from the nomadic tribes, but none of them questioned it.

Such was the overwhelming authority his accumulated achievements had brought him.

Turan cut Keorn’s ankle himself.

Though it was severed instantly with the Light of Judgement, the pain must have been considerable, yet Keorn only broke out in a cold sweat without so much as a groan.

After all the measures were completed, before leaving, Turan gave instructions to the wizards of this nomadic tribe, including Mago.

Treat them well, but under no circumstances allow them to leave the tribe.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just kill them all?”

“If something goes wrong, things could get even worse. That’s not an option.”

Turan added that if they were well taken care of until everything was over, he would reward them, but if they were killed intentionally, he would hold them responsible. The shaman who raised the suggestion could not say another word.

The Family Head of House Varaha, whom they feared like a devil, was right there, and the very person commanding even him was that young man with gray hair.

Thanks to their interactions with Mago, they knew just how many powerful wizards existed beyond these plains, and that among them, Turan was the strongest. They didn’t even dare think of opposing him.

Finally, Turan left two nobles with firearms in the tribe to keep watch, then let out a sigh in an attempt to relieve the suffocating feeling and climbed onto Bije’s back.

‘Even after all that provocation, there's still no reaction.’

Monarch hadn’t responded at all, even as they cut the ankles of over ten of his puppets.

Was he too busy to regularly check on the state of his hosts? And if so, what was keeping him so occupied?

For a brief moment, Turan pondered. Then he frowned again as a wave of gloom swept over him.

Even though he had kept them alive by cutting their ankles instead of killing them, it was still agonizing knowing that they were all likely to die anyway.

If they survived, he could regenerate their ankles as much as needed when they returned.

At that moment, a soft sensation touched his back.

"Don't torture yourself too much."

"It’d be nice if emotions could be controlled like thoughts."

Turan found comfort in the warmth of Meisa, who embraced him from behind.

***

Having subdued Monarch's puppets in this unexpected encounter, Turan and the expedition once again moved on to track Haime’s trail.

What had originally felt like it was only to the south had now shifted to the southeast, meaning that unless Haime was moving at an incredible speed, they were finally closing the distance.

But just when it seemed they might encounter her within half a day, Haime’s presence, what they had been pursuing, suddenly vanished.

“Tracking magic doesn’t work?”

“She probably entered her hideout.”

Given that his tracking magic functioned similarly to a skill, it was clear some higher power had intervened.

If they had moved a little faster, they might have found her before that. But even this was already the fastest they could manage, so regret was pointless.

Turan turned to Kim Woong, whom he had brought along for just such a situation.

“So, now that we’re nearby, does anything come back to you?”

“Hmm. Honestly, I don’t remember a thing... but at least give me some of that woman’s hair. If I use it as a medium, I might be able to use a tracking skill that bypasses barriers.”

Turan handed over Haime’s hair, and he could feel the symbols forming within Kim Woong.

The number of pupils lurking in the pitch-black darkness increased, each one wrapped in a translucent veil, shedding violet tears.

“Let’s see... Oh, found her. She’s close.”

“You can sense her?”

“It’s a bit blurry. In my experience, that happens when something’s blocking the signal. If it had been any farther, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“That’s fortunate. Then lead the way.”

“I told you before, but I’m not fighting-”

“I won’t make you. Just stay behind.”

“Fine.”

Once Kim Woong confirmed the direction once more and nodded while pointing, the expedition resumed their movement.

A sense of excitement and tension appeared on everyone’s faces, as if they were finally nearing their destination.

They flew for about an hour like that.

Eventually, they came upon a castle nestled between the fog zone spreading out to the east and a series of gentle hills.

“A castle, really……?”

“Out here?”

The castle, built in a place where it would be difficult to obtain proper stone, created a staggering sense of dissonance by its very existence.

Even a fool could tell this was no ordinary building.

After briefly glancing at the grim expressions of his companions, Turan gave the order.

“Everyone, we’re going in.”

His intuition, normally more accurate than most, was now crying out louder than ever.

That here, at last, they would come face to face with that wretched bastard.

*****

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