Chapter 917 From Champion to God (1/2)
Master Nostradamus calmly laid out the path ahead of me.
”Are you hurt? Bewildered, perhaps? You should be, as the truth always hurts more than lies. Though it is by chance, you have at least now seen the truth of how immeasurably weak this country is, filled with conflict and misery. Now, there would certainly be the will to change all this from within the deepest part of your heart.”
”And so, for you, for me, for the country and for all citizens who have served the Diamond family, you have to be strong, or at least be a champion with your own ideals. You should be able to decide on your own future, instead of being some naïve and soft weakling pushed to the frontline with merely a few words. Change yourself, and then the world. Everything is possible if you have the strength to be Emperor.”Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click visiting.
My mentor's spoke calmly, looking not at me, but at the barren, vast and uninhabited northwestern plains. ”That way, I can become your advisor in gaining position, authority. and clearance to reform this society. Becoming the Emperor would mean gaining this devastated nation, but our ambition would thus be fulfilled. As long as you become strong enough, I will aid you in becoming an Emperor above all.”
In that moment, I heard cries from the people of the village. I saw tears within the hearts of the apathetic knights, just as I felt the darkness and pain shrouding the country, and even the human civilization itself. All were hurt, separated by hierarchy, just as oppression and exploitation have always been part of civilization.
And the cause for all that misery were the mortals who held no power, despite this world being a miracle.
[Ideal]
From then on, ideals extended their roots deep within my heart.
I began to pursue greatness and power, tapping into potential within my body that had yet been discovered. I fought the orcs without resting alongside the legions when I reached the frontlines, bathing in blood day by day, and was injured at every turn. Even the orcs feared my madness, while my might left allies in panic. The day eventually came that I fought thousands alone, breaking through the central orc garrison in the Tartaros Highlands and slayed three of their general. I thus ascended as a Legend, triumphing over all competition to have all those conniving ministers bow their heads, forcing the conspiring nobles to acknowledge my rise to the throne as Emperor.
I vowed then that I would change the world with my own will, just as I gained Legendary power.
***
At that very moment, the golden cocoon of divine power—an awakening god—unconsciously opened his eyes, revealing golden-orange pupils like the sun.
The massive cocoon of divine power was ablaze, illusory yet undoubtedly existing. Endless divine power was turning into fluctuating fire in the air, beginning to forge the form of the True God about to be born.
And then, I recalled the time after becoming the Emperor.
Those were memories darker and more melancholic than the bloodbath and corpses at the frontlines. It was the root of all darkness that shrouded civilization.
Concealed beneath the appearance of peace and humility were the nobles' sinister involvement in political struggles and conspiracies, while each major faction discreetly hid their exploitations and oppressions as they lurked beneath the tranquility of the Imperial capital. Even so, that had been only the tip of the iceberg. Regional nobles would whimsically increase taxes and change the laws, demanding prima nocta while conscripting free men as private farmers. They would claim lands, arrogantly plundering, disregarding law, honor, duty, or respect towards their fellow men. Nobles, champions and merchants perched upon loftiness, tormenting the people and toying mortals like livestock because they held wealth and power, and even Imperial Law and Extraordinary abilities granted them the right to do so.
The Empire seemed like a dried corpse then, the war against the orcs having emptied every depth that kept the peace, and its affliction allowing the champions and nobles who now commanded martial forces to gain exceeding ability. The throne's compromises and delegation of power, time after time, allowed them to become vile dragons that exploited upon the labors of others—but was the throne any better? Being the grandest of nobles and having the strongest military, it transported enough resources to wage a small battle from every corner of the nation into the Imperial Capital every month, with countless treasures and precious supernatural materials raked in just to meet the daily demands of the Imperial Family.
And yet I thought it to be reasonable in those days, for I was a royal sibling and my family protected the entire kingdom—their offerings were justified.
Bleurgh.
My stomach lurched as I recalled those days, of those individuals who did not hold back in flaunting their riches, mountains of mines, and power, never once sparing a thought for the corpses that had brought all those things to be. For my part, I could not help but to think about the toil and tears of the people a potion needed each time I took one—but I knew it was not the time to act, even if I had been aware of everything. I even had to smile alongside them, listen to their flattery, and hold back my hostility as I allowed those damned demons in human form to kiss my scepter.
There was a simple reason why.
Those nobles at present would have, at most, tormented the 'property' within their own domains and oppressed the peasants through 'right'. It was a rule that had lasted over a thousand years but required them to be subservient, which was why there were limits to their madness—killing them simply would leave the Empire's authority shaken at its very foundation and in turn displace millions, even dozens of millions, possibly causing a crisis. Other regional nobles could shed crocodile tears in return and resist by waging civil wars, throwing the vast nation into the middle of a storm.
Consequences of whims would reduce my struggles on the battlefield to nothing, while I had barely pushed the orcas back to the Tartaros Highlands despite endless blood and sweat. I even sffered a virtually irrecoverable internal injury, for they would have seized the chance for a counterattack—with us preoccupied in infighting, they would have reclaimed fine farmsteads over the northwestern plains and recovered their strength that was gradually lost in the recent dozen years.
The bigger picture mattered—at least at the time.
Orcs. Nobles. Gangsters. Ruthless Extraordinary individuals and civilians without means to resist—the Empire's cysts, weaknesses, and tumors.
I once swore that I would change it all, for it was my ideal that pillared my rise as Legend, which also grew into a greater belief. With the last ounce of my strength I had solved one of those problems, but I had nothing left to resolve the other issues with then. The internal injury had taken its toll. When I felt the orc high priest's most profane and evil curse incessantly grinding away at what remained of my life, dejection washed over me.
There's not enough time…can't I change it all?
Not even after ascending to the throne and becoming the Emperor?
Was it impossible for me?
I watched as my children grew up in the fine environment of the Imperial Family as well. And while they gradually reminded me of how my father and brother had been in the olden days, none of them had my resolve. I had sent my eldest son to be amongst the commoners in hopes he would learn of their suffering, and my second son to the military in hopes that he would feel the cruelty and violence of the war, but both of them ended up disappointing me. Abel was reined in by the nobles and became one of the most orthodox noble there was, while Dimore grew to view vengeance and power as his sole purpose, oblivious to the sorrows of the people. Rage and despair burnt within, leaving me at once despondent and enraged, even anguishly imagining how nice it would have been to just die.
But ideals—and only ideals could not be forgotten. The ideal of changing all that was dark kept me alive and hanging by a thread. I may have sat coolly upon my throne and awaited the arrival of death, but I did all I could to avoid losing sight of my initial intentions and becoming the person I once hated the most.
That was until that day when a little uproar started in the Imperial Capital and a familiar black-haired warrior easily solved my problem, then gifted me a pure divine crystal.
O power.
***
In the sealed chamber beneath the Multiverse Sacrificial Grounds, the golden surface of the divine cocoon began to peel off and a figure emanating boundless light slowly left its fold.