Game Mind of a Medieval Modern Person - Chapter 200



Only Noblemtl

200. The reason the gods desire it The sound of a hoe hitting the frozen ground tickles my ears.

This hoeing is the effort and the rain to sprout new shoots from the ruins and death.

Silver Mane Wolf Cloak.

The chieftain leading the warriors sat on the watchtower, his chin resting on his hand, and closely observed the slaves he had captured working.

He left a damp clay tablet and a chisel on his right.

Of course, it’s incredibly boring.

The great warrior who had been guarding the chieftain’s bodyguard, the twisted drunken Hariat, sat down with a thud, his breath heavy with alcohol.

“Chief.”

“I’m listening.”

“Is it fun to watch those slaves? No matter how much I watch them, I get bored.”

Wolf Cloak didn’t even glance at Harriet’s complaints, let alone respond.

Instead, he simply rolled the oddly shaped rosary beads he was holding in his left hand, one by one. Odd. It was certainly as he said.

A rosary of such a unique shape that even warriors, who had a custom of showing off and displaying their spoils, found it odd.

It was natural that Harriet, tired of the leisurely scenery, turned her attention to the rosary, which moved relatively quickly.

“And that rosary.”

“…”

“Well, I can’t really say because everyone has their own tastes… but it’s not something I’d necessarily want to carry around.”

The beads of the oddly shaped rosary that Wolf Mantle was rolling were his fingers.

A rosary made from the fingers of the ground-keeper warriors killed by Wolf Mantle himself.

It was a rosary made of wrinkled and skinny fingers that had been air-dried like dried fish to prevent them from spoiling, then covered in wax and stuffed, and woven together with thick, strong thread.

Wolf Mantle was looking down at the slaves, rolling each rosary bead with his thumb.

Harriet also shook his head in disgust at this unpleasant sight.

“I’d rather have a tooth rosary than a finger rosary. I have one, and if you just polish the surface, it becomes shiny white.”

At that moment, the rosary beads that had been rolling one by one stopped.

Could it be that the chieftain, who always seemed cool and calm, was angry about something like this?

When Harriet was surprised, she unconsciously wiggled her buttocks and stepped back.

Wolf Cloak stopped spinning his rosary beads and quickly picked up the chisel like a pencil and began writing numbers on the clay tablet.

Only after fiddling around for quite some time did Wolf Cloak’s attention finally turn to Hariat.

Wolf Cloak had the same calm, collected expression he always had.

“I was measuring how many times the slaves plowed the fields each time the rosary was recited once.”

“?”

“There should be rewards for warriors who have achieved great success.”

Wolf Cloak kindly explained to the bewildered Hariat.

Physique and strength, diligence and obedience.

After evaluating the slaves by these four criteria and assigning them a grade, the best will be given to the warriors who have made great strides, and those who are slightly lacking will be given a lower grade.

Also, in the case of female slaves, instead of physique and strength, the criteria will be changed to beauty and body shape and given to warriors.

Wolf Cloak’s argument was that there had to be an evaluation that was rigorous enough for everyone to accept.

of course.

“No, why would a chieftain do that?”

The reason Harriet was confused was entirely different.

No wonder, Wolf Cloak was a warrior par excellence in every way.

He was an outstanding warrior who was not suited to sit on a watchtower and watch which slave was doing a good job.

However, Wolf Cloak did not agree with Harriatt’s opinion.

“Ariaba.”

“Ariaba? Why is that dead guy’s name?”

“Since the death of Ariava, there has been an increasing number of warriors reluctant to go to the battlefield.”

“…!”

Harriet, who can’t hide her embarrassment, and Wolf Cloak, who is extremely indifferent.

The two people stood in sharp contrast as the wind blew by at that very moment.

Harriet shrugged her shoulders, thinking the wind was extremely bitter and cold, but Wolf Cloak simply closed and opened his eyelids once.

“It’s because of a rumor that spread around the same time that Ariaba, who was called the adopted son of the Thunder God, was killed.”

“The resurrection of the Warrior King? But didn’t I and the Chieftain say it clearly? That guy who swings the hammer is not the Warrior King.”

“But Ariaba was not so incompetent that he could be killed so easily just because he was joined by a great warrior who served the starlight of another world. The fact that he led a group of losers who could not even be called warriors and swept away the group of the apostate Yuvas is proof of this.”

Wolf Cloak continued, rolling the beads on his fingers again.

“At least for now. It’s been proven that the Morning Star system has the power to easily deal with a single great warrior. Everyone is cautious because they know that the more they try, the more likely they are to become targets.”

“You guys are cowards!”

Hariat dismissed the warriors’ reluctance to go to war with a single word: cowardice.

“Harryart.”

however.

“We serve the gods and bargain with them for a richer and better life. No one serves the gods in order to die, and no one goes into battle with the intention of dying.”

Wolf Cloak’s thoughts were different this time too.

“We are believers in the starlight of outer space. We are different from those who have given up their lives for their beliefs.”

“Chief…”

“If you are too afraid to go into battle, we promise you a great price to pay to overcome your fear. That is our way.”

“Does that mean the Chieftain is evaluating his slaves?”

“The distribution of spoils has been a matter of mutual interests and lives since ancient times. It is a sensitive and delicate matter, so it is necessary to present standards and notaries that everyone can agree on fairly, without any complaints.”

Some would say that great power and strategy are the qualities of a leader.

Most of those who evaluated the wolf cloak thought so too.

But contrary to popular belief, the Wolf Cloak united all tribes by promising a fair and just distribution of spoils without any selfish interests that would make his subordinates stick out their tongues.

This trend continued during the great invasion of the Duchy of Bartline.

Tribes that were granted poor land were promised male slaves to use for clearing the land and more opportunities to raid. Tribes that were granted abundant land were given female slaves as a reward for their service.

Of course, these decisions were not made simply in the interest of fairness.

Every distribution was carefully planned to encourage fighting.

“These slaves are commodities. They are aware of their situation and are diligently and faithfully devoted to reclaiming the land, judging that they would rather be treated better. They are also less likely to rebel.”

“…”

“Fifty men. I will tie them up and give them to Toryon and his tribesmen. Then they will have more hands, and they will naturally become fierce in order to expand their land.”

“There must be a reason you said that in front of me.”

What returned Harriet’s barbed retort was the indifferent gaze of the wolf-cloak.

“I will give you more valuable information since you gave up the opportunity to go to war to Toryon.”

Of course, it was nonsense that didn’t even make sense.

Despite his appearance, Harriet is a pragmatist who thoroughly pursues materialism.

He was a man who prided himself on not being deceived by information or words that were not even visible to the eye.

“Chief. What is more precious than slaves and land?”

Harriet scoffed and folded her arms.

Even if you’re wearing a wolf cloak, if you talk nonsense, I won’t spare you.

I promised myself like that.

“The remains of the warrior king.”

The wolf cloak is natural.

“About its true purpose.”

Until all the warriors lit up their eyes and made a sound worth listening to.

***

Wolf Cloak descended from the watchtower and strolled down the main street of the settlement that was just taking shape.

And then he hurriedly threw out a question to Hariart, who was chasing after him, that he had never thought about before.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“what?”

“The warrior king died 600 years ago.”

This is a problem that has been overlooked until now.

“The remains of the warrior king who died of exhaustion 600 years ago were divided among the tribes that advanced to the fallen kingdom at the time.”

The number of contemporary tribes cross-checked, either in records or oral tradition, is approximately 38.

Wolf Cloak added some additional explanations and then began to get to the main point.

“Even if the tribes of the time divided them up into small pieces, they could only hold 40. At most, they could not exceed 100. Nevertheless, the remains of the warrior king were preserved for 600 years and passed down to each tribe.”

“that…”

Only then did Harriet come to the same question.

This is the question that Wolf Cloak had when he was young and was fascinated by the legend of the warrior king.

“…Did you break it down into even smaller pieces as you inherited it?”

“No matter how finely you cut the remaining parts, how much will be left for the gods to take?”

“Ugh.”

Harriet suffered from a headache worse than a hangover.

It was so severe that the warriors, families, and slaves I encountered along the way all bowed their heads in greeting, but I didn’t even think of responding.

Wolf Cloak left the settlement completely, carrying Hariat, who was suffering from a fever of wisdom.

Finally, when the palisade surrounding the settlement was fading behind them, Hariat raised both his hands and declared surrender.

“Chief, I never aspired to be a sorcerer. I don’t like these kinds of mysterious stories.”

Wolf Cloak did not accept the surrender declaration.

I walked along as if I hadn’t heard anything at all, and made my way to the forest.

It’s a familiar place.

It was a place that anyone in the settlement would know.

So Harriet frowned.

As expected.

The wolf cloak stopped in front of a pile of corpses of murdered groundskeepers.

Thanks to the cool climate, it has not yet rotted, but its breath has long since disappeared.

Harriet clicked his tongue and secretly took a step back, fiddling with the axe handle at his waist.

“Are you trying to soak me here?”

It was a very natural question.

But instead of answering, the wolf-cloak continued to mutter nonsense.

“Oh, gods.”

The finger rosary rolls in Wolf Cloak’s grasp.

“If there’s anyone you like among these.”

Fingers dried by the dry wind and hardened by wax moved in unison.

“Let me walk again with your grace.”

At that moment, the piles of corpses moved all at once.

Eyes that are bloodshot. Eyes that shed bloody tears. Eyes that have been pierced and burst by a sword.

The eyes of the pile of corpses were rolling along with the rosary beads rolling in his hand.

“Grant them life again.”

The fingers of the corpses also move along with the rosary beads that move.

Among them, there were corpses with their fingers cut off, exposing the bones and their hands twitching.

“To those who do not know the value of life and long for death.”

Then the miracle happened.

Fingers began to grow from the corpse’s hand, which had been stumpy and missing its fingers.

Bones sprout, muscles wrap around the bones like threads, and skin covers the red muscles.

Eventually, when the fingers have fully grown and taken shape.

Unlike the slightly rotten and decayed purple back of the hand, pale fingers took their place.

“Let us know that death can never be an escape…!”

It was at this time that a strange breathing sound was heard.

Ugh, ugh.

Even Harriet, who had been watching the miracle with his mouth open in a daze, realized it.

Among the dead, the one who had been sticking out his hand breathed again.

Entangled in pale fingers.

The corpse desperately tried to stretch out its other hand and forcibly remove its sewn-up fingers, but was unable to do so and was writhing like a puppet, breathing heavily again.

Oh my gosh.

The final words of the already dead.

The scream that he had screamed out with a premonition of death but could not come out because his vocal cords were torn, came back to life as a bubbling, foaming breath.

The moment when Hariat, who had witnessed the miracle of the gods, knelt down without realizing it with a pale face.

It was at this moment that the wolf cloak looked back.

Harriet, who had realized the whole truth, could barely get the questions out of her trembling teeth.

“God. Why do the gods want that remains?”

“The Warrior King died without receiving the protection of the alien starlight, Lux Stella.”

“That… that kind of…”

The moment the alien starlight, Lux Stella, descended, the battle situation completely changed.

That protection made him reject the hand of the gods that would save him from death.

Eventually, the gods had to come up with another way to deal with the mighty god.

Among those who have received the protection of Lux Stella, those whom the gods wish to use. Those who wish to destroy and revive the protection of Lux Stella.

When He wants to teach the cold, hard truth to the apostates who dare to run away from the original Master of this world.

“The gods felt sorry for the warrior king who did not serve them until the end, so they allowed him to serve them even after death.”

The remains of the unbaptized warrior king were reborn as a holy relic bearing the blessings of the gods.

Lux Stella.

As a holy relic that destroys the protection scattered by the starlight of outer space.

“If we return the remains of the warrior king to the gods, the gods will show us favor, and the returned remains of the warrior king will be used to reuse the apostate who tried to escape by death. The moment the apostate has sufficiently atoned, they will return to us.”

The effect was overwhelming.

The more the remains of the warrior king are woven together.

As the Warrior King’s remains replace more and more of his body, it becomes easier to break down Lux Stella’s protection.

“The remains of the warrior king are written like this.”

“….”

Thump, thump, thump.

Harriet, who was always drunk, was now terrified.

I couldn’t even let out a sob through my teeth that were chattering incessantly.

He couldn’t utter a single word in front of the gaze of the wolf cloak looking down at him.

Over the shoulders of the wolf cloak.

It was only when I saw the Earthling Warrior, who was reviving and screaming as he was unable to remove his pale fingers, that I finally realized.

“The remains of the warrior king…”

The eyes of the wolf cloak that I always thought were indifferent.

“…it circulates as a bridge connecting gods and humans.”

The fact that it was shining and sparkling with an intense fanaticism more than anything else.