Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 170

Chapter 170

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Jemel’s voice, as he mentioned the mastermind behind the attack, carried a note of caution-or perhaps even fear.

Turan knew well when the fallen gods would show such an attitude.

The Biologist, the Puppeteer, or by yet another name, the god behind the scenes.

Even the half-elves, who had become little more than his slaves, were so wary of him that they avoided mentioning his name unless absolutely necessary.

[Monarch?]

[Yes, that’s the name he originally used. Among ourselves, we had other nicknames for him-fraud, swindler, things like that…]

[Others seem reluctant to even say that name, but not you.]

Turan saw Jemel flinch and could guess his intent.

For some reason, Jemel wanted Monarch-the Biologist, who would sense when his name was spoken-to turn his gaze this way.

[Are you working with him? Hiding him somewhere inside Carmine?]

[No, that’s not-]

[That’s a lie.]

Inside the soul prison, with both of them in spirit form, it was difficult to read emotions as one would in the real world by scent.

But Turan now had another way to discern truth from lies in an opponent’s words.

The Eye of Truth.

A power born from combining the Hunter and Tracker bloodlines, it could be used even in spirit form, letting Turan know when his opponent was lying.

[So you’re not especially loyal, are you? If you were, you wouldn’t want to reveal the mastermind, since he’s the one who pushed you from behind without getting directly involved. But you’re doing this for your own safety.]

And Jemel seemed certain that if he betrayed Monarch, Monarch would not harm him.

He must have some hidden card related to Monarch.

[More importantly, can that guy really sense conversations even inside this soul prison? How?]

[I’m not sure. But I thought he might, so I just… took a chance.]

He wasn’t certain, but he was hoping for a slim chance.

This time, he wasn’t lying.

Just how much had Monarch concealed his abilities, that even those who had lived with him for thousands of years didn’t know his limits?

Even Talis, the most paranoid person Turan had met, was nothing compared to this one.

[Well, since you’ve brought him up, I might as well ask more. What do you know about him?]

[That is-]

Seeing Jemel hesitate, Turan immediately conjured a torture device and placed it beside him.

It was a triangular wooden horse, with a sharply pointed saddle, just as he’d glimpsed in Kadram’s memories.

Anyone could guess its purpose from its appearance alone. Jemel’s face went pale.

[I’ll talk! Please, just not that…]

Turan thought to himself that Jemel, being weak to violence, was better handled with threats than rewards.

As he was thinking this, Jemel hurriedly spilled what he had been hiding.

[As far as I know, Monarch’s current identity is the head of the Nagin family.]

[So it’s as I suspected.]

Turan had already guessed this, but it was good to have it confirmed by an insider.

Of course, there was a chance Monarch had twisted things further, but it was unlikely he’d use another body when he could have such a powerful vessel.

[Yes. And as for how Monarch knows when he’s mentioned…]

[He uses “taboo.”]

[Ah, you already know.]

[I know that much. You’re not the first prisoner I’ve had here.]

It was Lesion who had first told Turan about this.

Originally, Lesion hadn’t even wanted to mention Monarch’s name inside the soul prison, but eventually, in exchange for a game of chess, he’d explained it.

[He sets certain information-his name, for example-as forbidden, and if anyone breaks the rule by mentioning it, he becomes aware of it.]

This was possible because one of Monarch’s bloodlines, the Lawyer, could set rules.

Like the Alchemist or Shadow of the Night Hunter, or the Mimic and Waver bloodlines-bloodlines that had died out in modern times.

According to the old tales of the gods, the Freya gods once had more than twice as many bloodlines as exist today.

It was only because those lines died out for various reasons that so few remain now.

[But what I don’t get is this: how can he use such power worldwide, even without a god’s body?]

[I heard once that the essence of his power is manipulating souls. Even if he’s lost his strength, he still has authority as the “owner.”]

Even when he had a god’s body, Monarch avoided the public eye and obsessively erased any mention of himself from records.

That explained why there were no legends about such a powerful god.

Even in Turan’s research, the only references he’d found were vague diary entries, never direct records.

[So, the “leash” was also created by combining that power with his life-manipulating abilities?]

[Yes! I didn’t expect you to know even that.]

He’d used that power to turn dwarves into dull-witted slaves, to create monstrous beasts from the flesh and souls of dead giants.

And to create the hereditary leash, he must have used skills based on the Dominator or Beast Handler bloodlines, which aided soul magic.

No wonder Monarch’s character was underappreciated in the game-he was useless in combat.

But once the gods arrived in this world, his non-combat abilities became invaluable: making leashes, altering hostile species, enabling soul magic and reincarnation.

[Let’s go back to the earlier topic. What did Monarch promise your leader? I heard you weren’t on good terms.]

[He offered the “King of Calamity,” a Holy Relic that used to belong to our guild master.]

Most of the top-tier Holy Relics left today were originally ordinary items, but when their Freya god owners died, their lingering resentment transformed them.

Just like Turan’s Mimic Holy Relic.

Naturally, these objects were not only powerful weapons but also emotionally significant, especially if the current owner had been close to the original.

[The Lawyer-Carmine’s head, Rodor-was close to the relic’s original owner, but Monarch stole it during the chaos, which soured their relationship. So, offering it in exchange for attacking Parsha was a big enough reward.]

And Rodor, the Carmine head, already disliked Turan.

He thought it was distasteful for a native to stand up to the gods, so he was happy to get paid to take Turan out.

[So, does Rodor have the King of Calamity relic now?]

[No. Monarch wouldn’t give it up in advance-he might just take the item and pretend he never made a deal. So they made a contract.]

One of the Lawyer bloodline’s skills was to make contracts that, if broken, would damage not just the body but the soul.

The deal was to hand over the relic after destroying Kalamaf. So Rodor hadn’t received it yet.

[That means Carmine won’t give up after just one attack.]

With Jemel’s and another’s soul at stake, plus the contract and the relic, there was no way they’d stop now.

Jemel nodded with a bitter expression.

[Yes, that’s right. Also, for this attack, we got internal info on Parsha…]

[From “Phoenix,” right?]

[Huh? How did you-?]

Jemel was startled by Turan’s unexpected answer.

Ironically, it was Jemel himself who had revealed that “Phoenix” was his grandfather Talis’s in-game nickname, back when Turan was disguised as Oneil and attended a Carmine secret meeting.

[Anyway, I think I’ve learned enough. I should give you a reward.]

Turan remodeled Jemel’s cell in the style of a Carmine noble’s quarters, as he remembered from his time as Oneil.

It wasn’t as nice as what the half-elves enjoyed, but after being stuck in a cold stone cell, Jemel was easily pleased.

[Oh…]

Turan smiled at Jemel’s awed reaction.

[This is just for now. If you give me more valuable information, you’ll get better treatment. Now, what else can you tell me?]

* * *

Turan spent several more hours in the soul prison.

He interrogated Jemel, compared his answers with those of another Carmine god, and cross-checked with the half-elves.

He learned a lot.

First, that there were originally seven Carmine gods-now just five.

Second, that unless he cut off the Carmine head, reconciliation was impossible.

And third…

“They’re up to something suspicious?”

“Yeah. Jemel said they’ve been especially busy lately, though even he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Turan answered Meisa’s question as he ate a raspberry pie left by the maids.

Since Meisa started craving sour foods during her pregnancy, fruit had become a staple in their diet.

“He said Monarch used to play both sides for centuries, but in recent decades, he’s communicated less and less. He used to meet in person, but now he only sends minions or letters.”

Jemel thought Monarch seemed obsessed with something lately.

Otherwise, why would he offer up a relic he’d kept for thousands of years just to take out Turan’s faction?

“Badal said something similar before… It really is suspicious. But just because Monarch is scheming doesn’t mean we can focus on him now.”

After all, the most immediate threats were Carmine, the merfolk, and Ruban.

“Speaking of which, Meisa, I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Asiz finally managed to plant a spy inside Arabion.”

This was only possible because the Berk family had once been a vassal of Arabion.

Back then, the late Berk couple handled major affairs, but some knights who managed practical matters remained.

Turan planned to use them to build a faction for Meisa inside Arabion.

“Will that work?”

“I think so. Arabion isn’t what it used to be.”

Arabion’s internal factions had split by age, but the powerful middle-aged nobles who oppressed Meisa were nearly wiped out.

With Kadram dead and many other top nobles killed in battles with Turan, the main power now rested with the younger faction-those who liked Meisa or thought her mistreatment was unfair.

Some of them had grown stronger by absorbing magic from the dead, so their influence was greater than before.

“Of course, some still think of you as a traitor…”

“I don’t care about those people.”

Meisa’s sharp glare made Turan smile.

“Anyway, our goal is to gather better intel through the people we can persuade.”

If Monarch could even sense conversations inside the soul prison, he’d react to any mention of himself.

And the only way to catch his response quickly was through a spy inside Arabion.

* * *

While Turan was busy with paperwork, Solif was enjoying a reunion with his lover on the northern riverbank of the Land of Lakes.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“I missed you, Solif…”

Berit, her green eyes brimming with tears, pressed her head to Solif’s chest.

Even as she did, she was careful not to smudge her makeup-a detail-oriented, or perhaps calculating, gesture.

After a moment, Berit blushed and gently pushed Solif away.

“I must smell awful. We’ve been camping out here for days.”

“I’m the one who should smell. I just came from battle. I’m not Zahar, but you always smell good to me.”

Solif had bathed quickly upon returning to Kalamaf, but with Zahar’s keen sense of smell, any trace of blood or gore would be obvious.

He’d even torn a Giant Sea Serpent in half from the inside.

Berit just smiled, not bothering to deny the scent.

Her ladylike demeanor was the opposite of her true personality.

If Turan were here, he’d call her a fox, but Solif found it charming.

In fact, Berit was acting this way to suit Solif’s tastes-hardly a bad thing.

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing much. Thanks to the magic device your sister gave me, I killed all the spies who came to check on us.”

She even said she’d killed a Zahar noble.

Solif frowned.

“Zahar…”

“They probably wanted information. Since they only sent a minor branch member, it can’t have been that important.”

She’d warned him to reveal himself, but when he ignored her, she killed him-a cold move, but one Solif found oddly familiar.

Maybe it was because they were cousins.

“But lately, things feel different on their side. It used to be sloppy, but now it feels… off.”

“Maybe they’ve figured out our bluff. That’s why I came quickly.”

Only a few hours had passed since Carmine and the merfolk were crushed.

Unless the enemy had a spatial artifact or Meisa’s magic communicator, there was no way they’d know so soon.

So Solif’s arrival would change their calculations.

“Excuse me, Lady Berit! They’ve launched rafts on the river-the heir of Ruban is coming-Head of House!”

A Baraha noble burst from the bushes, startled to see Solif.

“Oh, Arke.”

“You know him?”

“Sort of.”

Solif didn’t want to admit they were gambling buddies, so he was vague.

Berit, who used to boss Arke around, now looked nervous.

Arke, watching them, quickly spoke.

“More importantly, it’s urgent! They’ve launched rafts-Ruban’s heir is coming!”

“Ruban’s heir?”

That meant Calais, whom Solif had met before.

Meeting him again might not be a bad thing.

If he could persuade Calais, maybe Ruban could be freed from the gods.

If so, the entire eastern world would be liberated.

“Let’s go. Stay here, Berit. It’s better if you’re hidden.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

Berit kissed Solif, ignoring Arke’s presence.

Solif, briefly grinning, then put on a serious face and headed for the river.

“Uh…”

“Is it really…?”

“Quiet! The Head is here. Show respect-bow your heads, but don’t kneel!”

If everyone knelt, it would be obvious the army was just commoners.

At the knight’s command, the commoners bowed awkwardly.

Solif passed through them and saw a raft on the riverbank, with a few nobles standing on it.

“Long time no see, Solif!”

Calais waved cheerfully, looking the same as ever-huge, muscular, and smiling.

But Solif’s face was grim.

“Too late…”

“Too late for what?”

“We didn’t meet often, but Calais always called me ‘big brother.’ He never once used my name.”

Not just his speech, but even his gaze was different-once warm, now cold and empty.

“I see I’ve been found out. You’re sharper than I thought.”

Calais-or rather, Ruban’s former head, who had taken over his body-smiled sheepishly.