The Foreigner on the Periphery

Returning to the order's headquarters, Del sought out Yumtus.

Now that Alext had relinquished his seat, the highest-ranking figures in the order after the pope were the Grand Patriarchs. Among them, Yumtus was naturally the easiest for Del to talk to. If she tried to speak so much as a single word to the others, they would drop to all fours and wipe the dust off the floor while reciting scripture.

Del had not yet noticed that Yumtus's influence within the order was growing ever stronger, thanks not only to his exclusive right to speak privately with God, but also to Del's own contributions.

"Please prepare a place for these children to rest."

The 167 tentacled creatures, now shrunk to the size of human palms, hid behind Del, clinging to her back in overlapping layers. It made her back look like an ocean floor swarming with starfish.

The children carefully peeked at the priest from their hiding spot. Whether he had two eyes or three, the repulsiveness of a human-like mammal seemed all the same to them.

Yumtus bowed his head politely.

"I am grateful to serve at your command."

Until recently, Yumtus had agonized quite a bit over how to address Del. The question of what title and divine status was appropriate for God's ex-wife was a massive headache, one that wouldn't yield an easy answer even if several renowned theologians debated it for three days and nights.

Yumtus's dilemma had been resolved not long ago, however, when the Son of God proudly declared her to be his mother.

"I will prepare everything perfectly so that you have nothing to worry about, Holy Mother."

"..."

It was a title just as jarringly unfamiliar to Del as 'grandmother.'

Holy Mother.

It was a title that placed more weight on her relationship with the pope—which was still just his own one-sided declaration—than on her actual identity as Del. It didn't seem much better than 'grandmother.'

But Del decided not to nitpick the word. She knew they wouldn't listen even if she rejected it. She had learned that those heavily steeped in religion sometimes obsessed over the form of faith rather than its essence.

"Where is Cain... the avatar?"

"He is at the altar."

Del and Asif-1 headed for the Cathedral of Resurrection. A Divine Throne for Minjun had been prepared in the place where the original altar used to be.

"I brought all the children safely. But I have a favor to ask."

Del, who had volunteered to accompany Asif-1, finally voiced what she had been holding in.

"Those kids might look fine on the outside, but their bodies have sustained a massive shock. Crossing dimensions bare-bodied isn't exactly easy. Even I took a heavy hit as a full-grown adult. So..."

Before she could finish, Minjun interrupted.

"I know what you're worried about. I have no intention of doing what the Committee did, so rest easy."

Only then did Del's stiff expression relax.

Minjun had secured over a hundred Space Motherships. There was zero chance he would leave those terrifying weapons sitting idle. He would load the fleet with a Legion of fanatics and march on the Committee.

Of course, there was no way the ancient races at their destination would gladly open the Terminal like welcoming hosts. They would have to jump across dimensions through violent means.

Because of this, Del had been worried that Minjun might exploit the children the same way the ancient races did. Having Asif-1 around for mind control would make it even easier—if he chose to do it.

But Minjun had just promised he wouldn't.

"Right... thank you."

But a question remained.

"Then how do you plan to make the dimensional jump?"

With a resolute expression, Del offered to carry several warships back and forth at a time herself if necessary.

Minjun shook his head.

"I won't be riding you across dimensions anymore, either. We're past the point of relying on stopgap measures like that."

"..."

Hearing that, Del stepped back, perplexed by the completely unexpected emotion welling up inside her instead of relief.

Once Del left, leaving just the two of them, Asif-1 looked at his creator.

To be exact, he stared at the specters burning behind his shoulders.

Screams that pierced the mind.

The pandemonium unfolding over Minjun's body was still ongoing. The souls of the Kavites and Todd had been extracted alive. They had turned into specters, their minds collapsing after coming into contact with an unimaginable amount of Talent.

Asif-1 asked the question he had been curious about.

"Why... don't you feed them to the shadow monster?"

The pope remembered that Minjun had not summoned his familiar once since leaving the crocodiles' dimension.

Minjun tilted his head slightly. Wearing an unreadable expression, he silently fell into thought. Asif-1 waited patiently. The air in the cathedral was quiet and heavy. Minjun, who had briefly withdrawn into himself, raised his head again. He looked like someone who had just woken from a shallow dream.

Then, he repeated the words he had once said to his Frying Pan.

"Adkiel is my Talent."

Adkiel.

The primordial race that had become the source of the shadow monster.

The pope muttered.

"Talent..."

Having recovered the memories that had been shattered and scattered, Asif-1 could now attach a different meaning to Minjun's words.

Talent was money. And from a monetary perspective, currency was debt. When minting and issuing were viewed as one entity, printing money automatically created a bond, and someone fell into debt. The ancient races weren't aware of it, but even as they mined Talent, they were steadily accumulating a debt they would eventually have to repay to someone.

In a similar vein, from the order's perspective, debt was sin. Asif-1 knew the doctrine of his believers well. The root of sin was paying the price for harming someone. People called the debt that must be repaid the price of sin. Guilt was a sense of debt, and a sinner was a debtor.

Therefore, Asif-1 understood Minjun's words like this:

— Adkiel is my sin.

He spoke cautiously.

"It would be best if you did not say such things in front of the believers."

To them, God was an entity free from good and evil. The concept of God committing a sin was unacceptable. Sin belonged to mortals.

Minjun did not answer. Instead, he lingered on a few words that offered no real reply, calmly turning them over in his mouth before piecing them together.

"And that weight is becoming increasingly overwhelming."

This statement, too, carried a double meaning.

Whether the sin Minjun had committed was growing heavier.

Or whether the presence of Adkiel, the shadow monster trapped inside him, was gaining more power.

Either way, it explained why Minjun so rarely brought the shadow monster out anymore.

"..."

Minjun, who had been lost in thought for a moment, changed the subject.

"You said you didn't know who stabbed Ha Eun-seong either, right?"

It was the question that had dominated Minjun's mind while the two of them were away.

Who had baptized Ha Eun-seong?

Asif-1 repeated what he had already explained.

"Even when I search through all the memories of the fragments, there is no such information."

He had particularly examined the memory of the fragment called 'Blade' closely.

The legendary assassin who had dwelled in the Ego Sword.

Because other than Frying Pan, that was the only fragment that had stayed on Earth.

"Blade was in Venezuela for a few days around the time that ghost youth was murdered. It is a very clear and vivid memory."

"Even to my eyes, almost all the fragments have been recovered. It's near perfect. Any remaining gaps must belong to dust shattered so finely it couldn't even answer my call."

"I think so, too. It would be correct to consider those impossible to recover."

"It's impossible for dust to brainwash someone or go all the way to Earth and stab Ha Eun-seong."

Minjun focused on another possibility.

"What about this? One of your already assembled fragments is lying."

"...?!"

Asif-1 could not understand the concept.

"Are you saying I am lying to myself?"

"Brainwashing itself before fusing back together. It altered its own memories. It's not impossible."

"That's true, but... why on earth would it do that?"

"That's what I need to find out."

Minjun stood up. Without hesitation, he approached Asif-1 and placed a hand on his head. The pope didn't resist his creator's touch, but he still wore an unconvinced expression.

"Why would a fragment with such faint memories go that far? Why would it defile itself with lies?"

"You were created using human souls. Your fragments are fundamentally part of what makes a human."

Minjun knew when people lied.

Most typically, it was to deceive someone else for personal gain.

And the other reason was...

"Let me take a look inside."

When they wanted to hide their sins or their shame—that was when people lied.

Flash!

A blinding light bloomed from Minjun's hand resting on Asif-1's head.

*

A Kavite in charge of the Mint Bureau asked Gadwick, utterly stunned.

"Did the High Commissioner really issue such an order?"

Gadwick, a middle-ranking official within the Committee and the newly minted loyal right hand of the Kavite High Commissioner, confirmed it.

Passing on such a simple message was usually delegated to a subordinate, but he couldn't do that this time.

"Yes. I am just passing on the High Commissioner's words exactly as they were."

"Forgive me for questioning you. I'm sure both the High Commissioner and you, Gadwick, are well aware of this."

The Kavite's voice was tinged with undeniable fear.

"Since we first started mining, we have not stopped the Mining Machine once in nearly a thousand years!"

In a pale voice, the Director of the Mint Bureau repeated the words Gadwick had just said.

"Suspending the Talent mining. How long, exactly?"

"It is difficult to give an exact timeframe. You must know the current situation, Director."

The Director of the Mint Bureau let out a strained groan.

Even he, stuck down in the mining base, knew that the high-ranking members of the Committee were in a state of panic.

It had all started with Asif-666. To apprehend the escaped prisoner, the Committee had mobilized forces on the scale of an all-out war.

A staggering 167 Space Motherships.

To put that into perspective, a single Space Mothership possessed enough combat power to conquer a dimension with an average civilization. Naturally, this assumed the opposing dimension had no Ancient Dragons, but it was still a terrifying weapon.

And 167 such Motherships had been dispatched.

Therefore, the command had not doubted that this operation would succeed.

Because their confidence had been so absolute, the ensuing blow struck them all the harder.

"The Endelions—those cowardly tentacles are experiencing collective hysteria."

The Endelion king had compared the Kavites and Todd, who had botched the operation, to monkeys. Given the tentacles' loathing of mammals, it was an incredibly intense and severe slur.

The action the king took after that was to ship several years' worth of Mana Crystals allotted to their race back to their homeland all at once.

"We found out belatedly and tried to stop it, but a substantial amount of Mana Crystals had already leaked to the Endelions' dimension. Anyway, they are incredibly selfish folks!"

Imagining that the remaining 158 ships of the fleet—still a massive threat despite the nine that had been destroyed—could turn their bows toward them at any moment, the tentacled creatures were caught in a frantic panic.

The result was reinforcing their defense system, which was already considered overly sturdy.

"Reinforcing it further? If you ask me, their territory could probably withstand all the Mana Crystals stockpiled there being detonated at once."

The Director muttered, sounding dumbfounded.

"Maybe not to that extent, but it's certainly over-fortified already. Still, it seems they can't rest easy."

That kind of construction naturally consumed a massive amount of Mana Crystals.

The Kavites and Todd also agreed on the premise that they had to prepare for Asif-666's invasion. However, that defensive line would have to be a concept that encompassed the residential areas of all ancient races and the Committee Headquarters.

The Endelions' irrational response of securing their own survival first was not helpful.

In any case, further hemorrhaging had been prevented, but the Endelions showed no intention of returning the Mana Crystals they had hoarded. Furthermore, it was true that the Committee itself was projected to consume a staggering amount of Mana Crystals to prepare for the coming war. They also had to replace the Motherships they had lost.

The aftermath swept through the Mint Bureau.

"This Mining Machine consumes a massive amount of Mana Crystals in real-time. Right now, we have no capacity to supply that."

Their gazes turned to the floor they were standing on.

As the Director and Gadwick looked at the command center floor, they were simultaneously looking at the Mining Machine itself.

Because this entire artificial planet they were currently residing on was the Mining Machine.

"The simulations are done. Even if we don't mine Talent for a few years, no ancient race will die of old age."

Except for one specific Endelion, that was. Gadwick didn't bother mentioning that part.

"Several years?!"

The Director was flabbergasted.

"Do the High Commissioners really expect the war to last for years?"

"They have 158 Space Motherships in their hands."

"But still!"

The Director shuddered and let out a groan.

All of this was the Committee's blunder in failing to anticipate the resurrection of Asif-1.

The ancient races selected as combatants were trained to resist brainwashing in the event the worst criminal returned, but the tentacled monsters dragged to the battlefield for body renewal were not.

If they had known in advance, they would have found another way.

"Are there any expected problems with the base itself if we stop mining?"

The Director recited the information he had familiarized himself with for emergencies.

Still unable to believe the day had actually come to say these words out loud.

"The dimension beyond the rift that the Mining Machine connects to takes the shape of a very long tube... or a hollow cord. We often liken it to a blood vessel."

"I know."

"What we do is run the Mining Machine inserted at the tip to siphon out the contents. Due to gravity, the flow rate accelerates to nearly the speed of light. Currently, for efficiency, we throttle the mining operation so that the Talent fills about half of the tubular dimension. This keeps the fluid level at about half the tunnel's height."

"Then the moment you stop the Mining Machine, the flow rate will slow down again."

"Yes. And that dimension will once again fill to the brim with Talent. Just imagine a clogged blood vessel completely backed up with blood. Because even if we halt the mining downstream, the 'bleeding' upstream will continue."

Gadwick brought up a question he had harbored for a long time.

"Can't we stop that bleeding entirely? Just for a few years."

The Director stared at Gadwick blankly without saying anything.

Gadwick soon interpreted the meaning of that gaze. It was a look saying that just as you, a direct subordinate of the High Commissioner, have information you can't tell me, I also have something I can't tell you.

"...Let me change the question. If we hold out for a few years with the tip of the blood vessel blocked, will there be a problem? Is there any chance the vessel might burst?"

"That won't happen. The engineers will have a massive headache trying to control the flow rate when we resume mining, but... that's manageable. This blood vessel, that tubular dimension, appears to have been designed to withstand nearly infinite time completely filled with Talent. But really, will the war last for years?"

That final question contained the anxiety of someone who had just learned his workplace would be shut down for years.

Like all ancient races, the Director of the Mint Bureau was also doing this work voluntarily. Unlike the forced labor of prisoners doing things they hated, he perceived it as a noble job.

After parting ways with the Kavite who loved his job more than anyone, Gadwick sent a communication to the High Commissioner.

In the homeland of the race that Minjun had once likened to a male duck's genitals, the High Commissioner listened to the report.

"Good work. Those Endelion folks just won't listen. I'm thinking of going to ask if there's any way to increase Mana Crystal production."

Gadwick asked over the communication network.

"The Mint Bureau Director seemed highly anxious. Do you truly believe that, High Commissioner? That the war could drag on for years?"

The High Commissioner answered firmly.

"Unfortunately, we currently lack the means to obliterate that much military power in a single strike. The same goes for Asif-666. Without asymmetrical power capable of completely destroying either side, this war will drag on for an exhaustingly long time."

Ending the communication, the High Commissioner gave an order into thin air. The AI managing the space-jumping portals listened to his words.

The High Commissioner spoke the name of a certain place.

Until the primordial race awakened, it had been a restricted zone where Kavites stored and researched highly toxic spoils collected from the war. Now, however, the location was being used for an entirely different purpose.

"Take me to Yongreung."

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