Chapter 166 - Rain, Mud, and Fire (3)

[Cavefire] wasn’t the only trait the goblins were in danger of losing.

'Probably because they suffered under the Mountain Snailfolk for so long.'

I considered the second trait I needed to address.

+

[Supreme Greed]

Rank: B

Effect: The Earth Spiritfolk overflow with greed. Is it because they loathe themselves for being ugly and hideous? Rather than seeking recognition for themselves, the Earth Spiritfolk seek recognition through their possessions. “Kereuk! I’ve smeared myself with warm mud!” “Kereureuk! I’ve covered my entire body in premium mud from upstream!”

A desire for something better.

A yearning for something finer.

In the hearts of the Earth Spiritfolk, inferiority, self-loathing, and a need for recognition mingle into a powerful greed. Perhaps they will covet glittering treasures. Perhaps they will capture slaves and boast about whose slaves are prettier. The Earth Spiritfolk are greedy, and within that greed lies their potential.

How their “greed” changes is up to you.

※However, this trait may change as history unfolds.

※Danger! Prolonged oppression has caused the Earth Spiritfolk to begin detaching themselves from desire. They have resigned themselves to the belief that coveting something is pointless, since they cannot obtain it anyway. If they continue failing to experience the “fulfillment of desire,” Supreme Greed will be lost.

+

'Hmm.'

Greed was desire. Wanting something for yourself. Though words like greed, desire, and covetousness carried negative connotations...

I saw things a little differently.

'It’s better than being indifferent to everything.'

“Well, I agree with you there.”

The attendant spirit scratched vigorously at the back of his head.

“Desire is a current. A river. Build a dam to block it by force, and it piles up and floods. Put a lid over it so it can’t overflow at all, and it stagnates and rots. Where do you think that rotten water goes? It seeps underground and eats away at the foundations.”

His voice was unusually serious.

“You have to let the water flow. And if you’re going to let it flow, open the way wide! Let it run in a single direction. Personally, I think that’s the direction your life takes.”

'Your disciple is of much the same opinion, Master.'

“Hey, hey. Who’s your master? I’ve never had a disciple who teaches as brutishly as you.”

'What does a tadpole watch to learn how to swim? A frog, of course. Mr. Sword Emperor, you’re my frog, and I’m your tadpole.'

“Crazy bastard...”

Displaying our warm bond as master and disciple, we pondered side by side.

'Now, how do I guide [Supreme Greed] in the best possible direction?'

We didn’t ponder for long.

Before I could find an answer, before the attendant spirit could offer a solution, someone else brought the right answer straight to us.

More precisely, it wasn’t “someone,” but “some people.”

“Kekereukker!”

It was the third week of our journey home.

A commotion broke out among the goblins at the rear of the procession. Those who had been following me at a leisurely pace suddenly fled toward the front in a panic. I turned my head to see what was happening, and Gorke met my eyes.

“There are soldiers behind us! Ker!”

'Soldiers?'

I concentrated aura in my eyes and looked far beyond the horizon.

The first thing I saw was a cloud of dust. Despite the clear weather, dust was billowing up. It wasn’t a natural phenomenon, but the dust raised by a large herd of animals on the move.

I enhanced my vision a little further.

'Hmm?'

Dogs. Hundreds of them.

Hunting dogs raced across the plain, panting.

Dogs might be pack animals, but hundreds wouldn’t gather on their own. As if to prove that, the hunting dogs carried something on their backs.

“It’s the Mountain Snailfolk!”

Snails clung tightly to the hunting dogs.

“The Mountain Snailfolk have pursued us! Kereuk! Battle formation! Battle formation!”

“Little ones, into the center! Be careful not to get trampled!”

Cavalry.

No, dog-mounted cavalry were coming toward us.

5

The Mountain Snailfolk’s dog cavalry were swift.

“Raim!”

“Herd them toward the riverbank! Keep your distance!”

As soon as they saw the goblins form up for battle, the Mountain Snailfolk abandoned their charge. Instead, they slowly closed in as though herding prey. They prodded our flimsy ranks, forcing the goblins to back away on their own.

“Kereureuk...!”

“Don’t break ranks! Match your steps with those beside you!”

The goblins had greater numbers, but many were elderly or young children. They had no choice but to form a protective ring around the vulnerable. The goblins remained on the defensive, while the Mountain Snailfolk used their mobility to seize the initiative. Without hurrying, the dog cavalry steadily herded us toward the riverbank.

'They’re pretty good.'

I thought as I protected the goblins at the front.

'They collapsed so helplessly in Slimepolis that I thought their military wasn’t much to speak of.'

“They couldn’t have ruled six races without knowing how to command soldiers. Didn’t they get beaten in that cavern because all the slaves rose up at once?”

'That’s true. They’re disciplined.'

During the harbor battle in the [Aegim Empire] on the eleventh floor, I had stood at the head of soldiers several times. I wasn’t a complete novice.

Even to my eyes, the Mountain Snailfolk’s command was masterful.

BWOOOO.

The Mountain Snailfolk blew snail horns to regulate the pace of their advance. Sometimes they advanced quickly, as though about to charge; sometimes they circled slowly to apply pressure.

“Raim!”

Once the encirclement was complete, a Mountain Snailfolk who appeared to be their commander approached.

The general expertly rode a hunting dog far larger than the other cavalry mounts. Did the Mountain Snailfolk’s mucus act as an adhesive? Unlike horse cavalry, they had neither saddles nor stirrups.

“Hear me, you dirt-grubbing Mold bastards!”

The snail general raised his voice.

“Your ‘slave rebellion’ has already been crushed! Slimepolis has risen from its defeat. Twelve cities of our great empire have formed a mighty army and are pursuing the remnants. Here is the proof!”

The general reached a tentacle into his shell. He drew out something round, raised it high, then hurled it toward us.

It was a Demonfolk’s head.

He didn’t stop there, but continued pulling out severed heads. A Gillfin Folk, a Conforming Human, a member of the Bloodsucking Race, and a member of the fairy race. One head from each race rolled across the ground.

“Look closely! Raim! This is the fate of slaves who dare rebel against the great Slime Empire! Our wrath is great and enduring. These are neither our first punishments nor our last. Mold! If you do not wish your filthy heads to form a trail of bloody stepping-stones, surrender immediately!”

“Ke, kereur.”

The goblins shrank back.

“The other races have already been crushed?”

“It’s a lie. That can’t be. The Mountain Snailfolk’s rule is over.”

“I don’t want to go back to hell, ker...”

Hmm.

'He’s undermining our morale.'

“What are you going to do?”

'Expose their fraud.'

I stepped forward with a forepaw.

The goblins stopped whispering and watched my back. A stretch of plain lay between the Mountain Snailfolk and the Earth Spiritfolk as they faced off. In the middle of that plain, I silently glared at the Mountain Snailfolk general.

[Purchasing ‘Oracle Message.’]

[20 Race Points will be consumed!]

[You currently have 50 Race Points.]

Sorry, snail of this world.

When it comes to pulling a con, I’m one step ahead of you.

Using the oracle, I planted words directly inside the Mountain Snailfolk general’s head.

[The White Lion sees through your lies!]

He flinched!

The general, who had been sitting proudly on his hunting dog’s back, suddenly twitched his tentacles. I wasn’t well acquainted with Mountain Snailfolk physiology, but I could tell he was tense.

It was simple.

'There’s no way they really suppressed all the rebels.'

If the Mountain Snailfolk had won, the Tower would have informed me with a message. That the rebellion had failed, or that they had become slaves again.

'I haven’t heard a single notification yet.'

The conclusion was obvious.

The Mountain Snailfolk general was using lies to intimidate us.

'Well, I only saw through it thanks to the Tower’s system... But I should use everything at my disposal.'

I opened my beast’s maw wide and drew in a breath.

Then I unleashed a lion’s roar with my aura.

“GROOOOAR!”

My roar rang across the plain.

YELP!

The hunting dogs twisted in alarm. The Mountain Snailfolk’s powerful adhesion kept them from falling or slipping, but they, too, were shaken.

“Th-the god of the Mold...”

“They said false gods descended all at once and brought disaster upon the city.”

“Those fools in Slimepolis must have committed sacrilege against Raim! Idiots! Only those who serve Raim without failing are blessed.”

From the Mountain Snailfolk’s perspective, I was an evil god. But an evil god was still a god. Having witnessed firsthand that a god stood with the goblins, they lost their momentum and faltered.

'Good.'

Here, I saw an opportunity.

An opportunity to revive the Earth Spiritfolk’s [Supreme Greed].

[Purchasing ‘Oracle Message.’]

[20 Race Points will be consumed!]

[You currently have 30 Race Points.]

Despite clearing the thirty-first floor, the great escape on the thirty-second floor, freeing the slaves, and preserving Cavefire, I still hadn’t received my Race Point payout.

There was a reason for this, in preparation for what lay ahead, but now wasn’t the time to explain.

'This will be enough.'

I scraped together my remaining points to procure another oracle.

I sent the Mountain Snailfolk general a message.

[The White Lion proposes an honorable duel.]

The Mountain Snailfolk general flinched. An evil god was speaking to him, so of course he would be afraid.

Even so, he didn’t refrain from asking a question.

“Raim. An honorable duel...?”

“Grrr.”

Seeing once was better than hearing a hundred times.

I turned and trudged toward the goblins. They watched me with puzzled expressions. Thoroughly enjoying their attention, I stopped in front of one goblin.

'Hey.'

It was Gorke.

'Get on.'

“...”

Gorke’s expression darkened.

“K-Kekereukker. It is a tremendous honor that you stand before such a lowly creature as me. Please, proceed wherever you wish.”

'Enough of that.'

I bent my forelegs, making my body slope like a slide so he could climb on easily.

'I said, get on.'

“Kerup!”

Gorke hiccuped.

He looked around, his eyes pleading for help.

“I-I don’t know why the White Lion is doing this to me. It’s really strange. Can you guess what the White Lion means, ker?”

The goblins exchanged glances and whispered.

“I think he’s telling you to get on...?”

“It really looks like he’s giving you permission to ride on his back.”

Gorke spoke desperately.

“Kerurup! How could believers like us be so rude as to climb onto the White Lion’s back? That’s blasphemy! Surely there’s another meaning, some holy intention beyond our imagination!”

I bent my hind legs as well.

Then I raised my tail and patted my back with it, twice.

The goblins gave it deep, thoughtful consideration.

“I still think he’s telling you to get on...?”

“He looks like he’ll be very angry if you don’t...”

“Wouldn’t disobeying the White Lion’s command be blasphemy instead? Goreuk?”

Gorke looked ready to cry.

'You little punk.'

I decided to spend the last of my points to personally deliver an oracle to Gorke.

[The White Lion says he will fuck you up if you do not get on right now.]

In the end, Gorke climbed onto my back in tears.

At the sight of his tears, those around him let out cries of “Gorgor!”

“Look! Gorke, Kirugerup’s grandson, has been granted the White Lion’s favor!”

“He must be so moved that he’s crying! Gor!”

“He’s crying! And well he should! This honor will be passed down through his descendants!”

“I’m jealous!”

Gorke cried even harder.

“Kereur... No, you’ve got it wrong... Kekereukker isn’t the kind of god you think he is... He’s more of a big brother than a god, and a very bad big brother at that...”

Of course, Gorke’s voice was lost in the noise.

Untruthful cries always fade away.

With no one understanding the reason for his tears, Gorke was carried on my back and delivered to the Mountain Snailfolk general.

“... I see.”

The Mountain Snailfolk general glared at me and Gorke, who was riding on my back.

“So that is what you mean by an honorable duel. I understand.”

The general waved his feelers.

“I heard that you Mold did not take part in massacring our brethren in Slimepolis. Raim. Though your fate is to rot away in the salt mines, your refusal to join the massacre is a mitigating circumstance.”

Perhaps this, too, was Raim’s will, the general muttered.

He whipped his head around and shouted to his troops.

“The filthy Mold and their god have challenged us to a duel! How laughable, coming from slaves who did nothing but pound stone hammers in pits! Soldiers! Is there no champion in our army who will put this Mold in his place?”

“...”

“I swear upon my feelers that I shall grant a glorious life to the champion who wins this duel! Wealth! Slaves! Honor! Anything you wish. Break that Mold’s nose!”

The Mountain Snailfolk soldiers stirred.

A moment later, one snail urged his hunting dog forward in long strides.

“Raimu! I will claim the glory!”

It was a truly enormous hunting dog.

Honestly, I wondered whether it was legal to call that thing a dog. In any case, calling a lion-sized beast with three pairs of legs a dog was a bit too much dogshit for my liking.

And the dog’s legs weren’t the only things there were extra of.

“The inheritor of the Spiral Four-Sword Style stands before you!”

The Mountain Snailfolk riding the many-legged dog also had more tentacles than the other soldiers. Each of his four tentacles gripped a sword, and whenever he waved them, four blades slashed through the air.

SWISH! SWISH!

All the Mountain Snailfolk exclaimed in admiration at the dazzling swordplay.

“Ooh. A nobleman!”

“Wow... So that’s the fearsome Spiral Four-Sword Style...”

“As expected of one blessed by holy Raim!”

What a funny race they were, too.

'Do they perhaps decide whether someone’s a noble based on how many tentacles they have?'

“Looks like it.”

'That’s really weird.'

“Yeah. Really kinky.”

'What?'

“Huh?”

While the attendant spirit and I lamented the Snail Civilization’s perversity, the Mountain Snailfolk soldier calling himself the inheritor of the Spiral Four-Sword Style came right up to us.

“I am Seimslam! A member of Rekamuraim, one of the seven houses that rule Canyon City, and inheritor of the Spiral Four-Sword Style! Servant of the evil god! State your name!”

That resplendent introduction thoroughly intimidated Gorke.

“I-I’m Gorke, Kirugerup’s grandson...”

“Are you of priestly stock?”

“Kereur. The priest has passed away.”

“Are you a noble?”

“We have no nobles, kereuk...”

“A lowly slave, then.”

The Mountain Snailfolk soldier curled his feelers into spirals.

It seemed to be a gesture for mocking someone.

“Today, I shall show you the majesty of one beloved by Raim! Hyah!”

The Mountain Snailfolk charged on his hunting dog.

His four swords crossed, ringing out in loud metallic clashes.

CLANG! CLANG!

He apparently wanted to establish his dominance through sound before the fight began. I wondered who would fall for such a ridiculous trick, but the coward on my back fell for it readily enough.

“Ker! Kereurrr!”

Gorke clutched my mane and wailed.

“Why me! Why do I have to suffer this, kereuk! A demon! I really was tricked by a demon!”

“Grrrr.”

Hey, don’t worry.

Trust your big brother!

I’ll make a hero out of you!