Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint
Chapter 348: The King Who Kills Others, The God Who Kills Himself (4)

A fast and stealthy ambush.

If I had come alone, I might have lost my life before I even realized it.

But why do you think I brought Tyr along?

She is the best when it comes to protecting me from humans.

Sure, Azzy does protect me, but she’s not great against humans.

The Regressor, on the other hand, is great against humans, but I can’t trust her to protect me.

From the gaps between the pitch-black parasol, darkness surged.

The darkness engulfed the shadow that attacked me and slammed it into the ground.

I turned my head and saw Tyr clenching her fist slightly.

As expected, she’s reassuring.

I really chose the right person to side with.

“Is it okay to use darkness even in the sunlight?”

“As long as it is just a little, there will be no issue. Besides, it is quite shaded here as well.”

As Tyr and I exchanged small talk, the attacker’s voice, still trapped in the darkness, echoed.

“This a warning.”

Despite being slammed into the ground, the attacker spoke without a hint of agitation.

“Turn around and walk away. Failure to comply will not be met with mercy again. Your curiosity will be your death.”

“Isn’t that quite unreasonable? How can you tell someone not to be curious?”

The attacker was wrapped in a thick robe and wore a golden mask.

It seemed like they were trying their best to hide their face and body shape.

But, unfortunately for them, their effort was in vain.

The bulge on their back was all too prominent, even under the robe.

A hunchback.

There’s only one hunchback I’ve seen in the Fallen Dominion.

As I slowly approached, I placed my hand on the golden mask and spoke.

“Despite the fact that you were stabbed in the back, here you are, still kicking and breathing.”

- Click.

The latch of the mask came undone and I lifted it, calling out the name of the face that should be beneath it.

“Isn’t that right, Lord Rocket?”

The Fireblastarch Lord Rocket.

One of the Primarchs of the Fallen Dominion, who had clearly died at the camp at the hands of Hilde, now stood right before me.

With his identity revealed, Fireblastarch Lord Rocket muttered with a voice devoid of emotion.

“So… that one died, huh. As expected… He was never destined to live long.”

“Thanks to that, I’m sure of it now. You’re a Homunculus which means this place is indeed the Golden Palace, right?”

“Knowing all that, you still dare approach the Golden Palace? Do you not value your life? No…”

While still pinned to the ground, the Fireblastarch looked up at me and asked.

“Are you not afraid of having your soul defiled, your dignity mocked, and your existence trampled upon in this place?”

“Soul, dignity, and existence — none of those matter to me. They do not feed me, or cover my head during the night. The only thing I care about is my life.”

“Impressive.”

“You’re one to talk. Compared to the original, you’re a lot more civil.”

During the lighthearted exchange of remarks, an odd sense of familiarity bloomed.

To think I could have such a normal conversation with him.

Perhaps when you turn a madman into a Homunculus, you end up with relatively sane results.

I expected to make a similar discovery eventually, but to have it happen so quickly…

I guess I’m lucky.

Thanks to that, I don’t even need to explain anything.

“Hu… no way…”

Tyr, witnessing a man who had died standing before her, was visibly shaken.

It was rare for her to be so shocked.

After living for 1,200 years, she had seen just about everything, but this truth before her was something even she had not anticipated.

“Are you saying… The Golden Lord can create humans…?”

It was a reasonable guess and close to the truth, but the Golden Lord’s abilities had not reached that level.

I shook my head and pointed to the Fireblastarch.

“He hasn’t fully mastered the ability to create humans in the truest sense. If he could, he wouldn’t need to model them after the Fireblastarch. Also, if he actually did model them, they would have had the same personality as the original.”

If the Golden Lord could truly create humans, he’d be the Human King instead.

Actually, now that I think about it, even the Human King can’t create people unless he fathers a child.

In that case, he wouldn’t be a king.

He’d be a god.

But the Golden Lord hasn’t reached that level of divinity.

If he had, he wouldn’t need to “collect” humans.

“That said… He did manage to create an almost perfect human ‘body,’ right, Lord Rocket?”

Fireblastarch Lord Rocket shook his head.

“Perfect? No. Ideal? Yes. This body, an ideal that flawed humans could never hope to reach, would have been perfect had the original been intact..”

“Flesh and blood turned into machinery, huh? Then that means the Golden Lord’s cursed crops are also…”

“The crops created by the Golden Lord are not cursed. They are also ‘ideal’. Their quality is maintained to achieve alchemical properties.”

Alchemical properties — the capacity to react with alchemy.

Plants and wood are known for having irregular structures, so their alchemical properties are low.

But the crops produced by the Golden Lord were of a different breed.

So… those who fill their bodies with the Golden Lord’s crops ‘resonate’ with him.

“And it’s not just the ‘body.’ If you’re a Primarch who has even the slightest grasp of the Golden Lord’s grand truth, even your Spiritual World will be affected.”

The moment Fireblastarch Lord Rocket uttered those words…

Localized explosions erupted from his entire body.

Explosions are the release of heat and light.

As the darkness that bound him was blown away, a pair of steel wings shot out.

Before I could even react, the Fireblastarch shot up into the sky.

“The Spiritual Worlds of the Primarchs are, at their root, linked to the Golden Lord. Even if it’s a Unique Magic, for the Golden Lord, it’s merely a technique that can be reproduced.”

Rocket’s Juggernaut, the Wyvern.

It stood before us now with an even more ferocious and powerful form than before.

The Fireblastarch, wreathed in flames, roared at us.

“I am the Guardian of the Golden Palace! Die with regret for ever having stepped foot here…!”

Tch.

That idiot.

He’s acting like he’s a real human.

If he were human, I would have read his thoughts and stolen his Unique Magic.

But I can’t read that “thing’s” mind.

I can’t steal its Unique Magic.

No matter how I look at it, that thing isn’t…

[Stop.]

At that moment, a voice echoed from somewhere.

The Fireblastarch, who was just about to lunge at us with a shower of flames, suddenly froze mid-air.

“Goldenarch…!”

As if in response, the voice of the woman he called the Goldenarch echoed calmly.

[Let them come. The Golden Lord requires inspiration.]

“Tch…!”

With a twisted expression, the Fireblastarch withdrew his flames.

The Wyvern, having lost its propulsion, quickly plummeted to the ground.

- Thud.

He landed on both feet, glaring at me as he shouted.

“You will…! You will regret not dying here…!”

A remnant will, clinging to life, offer us a warning.

A corpse with a lingering grudge.

I couldn’t help but find it hilarious.

I tapped the Fireblastarch on the shoulder with a faint smile.

“That won’t happen. I will have no regrets as long as I’m still alive.”

The Fireblastarch glared at me for a moment before donning the golden mask once more.

Without another word, he turned his back and walked away.

Leaving him behind, I advanced toward the Golden Palace.

I’m finally here.

I can feel it.

The Golden Lord.

The thoughts of a Divine capable of the very act of Creation itself.

***

The King of Gold, who had amassed all the wealth in the world, and the King of Steel, who had mastered all knowledge and technology.

Yuria Elric struck her desk with her fan in frustration.

Despite possessing the ability to replicate every technology and amass immense knowledge, she was currently plagued by intense boredom.

Born with the authority of a King, she could create anything except that which was inherently impossible.

However, knowing the clear boundary between possibility and impossibility stripped away the thrill of challenge.

For someone who could not find joy in exploring the unknown, the world seemed dull and monotonous, like a book she had read and memorized a million times over.

The only endeavor she committed herself to with any enthusiasm was nurturing her disciples.

Humans are creatures of chaos, the bringer of entropy.

Even someone like Elric, who understood everything, could not predict them.

While their intellects paled in comparison to hers, their meager imagination sometimes sparked inspiration.

Like all other Elrics, Yuria Elric also had numerous disciples under her wing.

But even this had recently become unfulfilling.

It all began with a whimsical challenge she had given her disciples.

Fill this room with a single gold coin.

It was widely known as a test to gauge wisdom and wit, but in reality, that wasn’t the case.

A single gold coin could be used as seed money to fill the entire room.

At least, Elric could do it.

A sharp and exceptionally sturdy sword would fetch several times the price of an ordinary blade.

By combining certain metals in precise ratios, she could create an alloy worthy of being called a legendary metal.

Even a fraction of Elric’s myriad skills would make it possible.

What she wanted was for her disciples to wrack their insufficient brains and make all sorts of attempts to maximize the potential of a single gold coin.

But then…

“I filled the room with the light of a candle. The brilliance of gold pales before true light, does it not? Surely, only light can truly fill this room.”

Someone came up with such a clever trick.

It was childish, but amidst many failures, this was a relatively novel answer, so Elric praised them greatly.

Though it wasn’t what she had intended, it still provided inspiration.

The problem came after that.

“A torch!”

“Scented candles!”

“Smoke!”

From then on, everyone started giving the same answers, as if it had become the definitive solution.

Even an innovative answer becomes dull when repeated.

Worse yet, if it’s a mere workaround, it’s nothing but annoying.

So Elric prepared a second challenge.

Now turn what you’ve filled the room with back into gold.

At that, everyone was left slack-jawed, clutching their heads in despair.

It wasn’t a challenge loaded with profound meaning.

Elric was merely being mischievous.

Whether it was light or scent, once dispersed, it lost its value.

She simply wanted to teach a lesson to those who dared to use cheap tricks before the Steel King.

Her ploy worked perfectly.

The number of disciples who resorted to such tricks gradually dwindled.

Then one day…

“A bell! I filled the room with the sound of a bell!”

Late to the news, one disciple appeared with a small bell.

As always, Elric gave them the second challenge.

“Now turn this into gold.”

“Wh-what? Into gold?”

The disciple was visibly flustered.

Seeing through their thoughts, Elric clicked her tongue.

Some artisans could make or buy goods but had no knack for selling them.

No matter how skilled, those lacking in business acumen were doomed to a life of toil and eventual ruin.

Elric furrowed her brow and spoke.

“Are you saying you can’t do it?”

“M-my deepest apologies… I cannot fathom how to do so… Please, teach me…”

A surge of anger welled up within her.

Many had previously brought candles or incense.

Their fleeting ingenuity annoyed Elric, prompting her to ask them to turn their solutions back into gold.

Those who had thoughtlessly mimicked others’ shortcuts often turned pale in despair.

But unlike those ephemeral answers, a bell retained its value over time.

While it wasn’t the answer Elric sought, the bell the disciple crafted produced a resonant tone that echoed deep within the heart — a masterpiece of the highest quality.

It could easily be sold for more than the gold they used to buy the material for it.

And yet, they claimed they couldn’t do it?

Previously, Elric had praised the ingenuity of filling the room with light, valuing creative thinking and clever rhetoric.

But to parrot someone else’s trick without even possessing the skill to market their creation and then beg for guidance…

Elric’s face twisted into a terrifying scowl.

“You dare bring me a worthless bell crafted from steel, paid for with gold, yet you don’t know how to turn that very steel back into gold? You wish to be a disciple of this King after turning gold into trash? Begone! Don’t return until you can turn it back into gold!”

Her thunderous rebuke left the disciple fleeing in panic.

After chasing away the incompetent student in a single stroke, Elric clicked her tongue and sat down.

The bell’s sound was lovely.

It truly was.

But before Elric, who possessed the Authority of Understanding, such techniques were trivial.

Once understood, they became exceedingly simple.

Nothing could ever truly move her.

Her disciples needed to at least show some wit, like the one who had boldly brought a candle.

In hindsight, she regretted praising the first one who had filled the room with light.

With a sigh of lamentation, Elric called for the next visitor.

A day passed.

Two days went by.

Three days came and went as Elric oversaw many disciples and received visitors from afar.

By the time the memory of the disciple with the lovely bell began to fade…

“I-I’ve done it! Eternal Elric! Your Majesty’s command has been fulfilled!”

He had kept his word to turn the bell into gold.

However, the method he used surpassed even the boundless imagination of Elric, who had mastered all knowledge and technique.

Before Elric lay a resplendent golden bell, gleaming brilliantly.