Volume 7 Chapter 18: Split Confusion
(Walson)
I've been locked in this hell for far, far too long.
To reclaim my body, I created fortresses and treasures, calling out to it, yet the chains constantly obstructed me from achieving my goal.
Finally, one day, the main world was replaced. The chains disappeared at last, but my body was sent to that "new world."
However, the "new world" had its own "rules"—rules that forbade the birth of the extraordinary and prevented me from intervening directly.
So, to break these "rules," I created my proxy and sent it to the "new world."
The perfect creation: the Demon King of Ruin.
But that proxy betrayed me.
The Wither, a monster consumed by hatred for all living beings, developed emotions it should never have had. In the end, the most perfect creation became the greatest failure.
No matter. She had long outlived her usefulness.
Flame, Water, Forest, Earth, Light, and Darkness—all I need now is Wind. I am but one step away from my ultimate goal.
I must reclaim my body.
I was born from the players' destructive desires. To destroy everything is my game, the very meaning of my existence.
Reclaim my body, seize full control, and let the true gaming world descend.
I am The First... herobr...
No. No, that's not who I am! I shouldn't bear that name...!
"Argh, my head...!!" Collapsed on the ground, my body convulsed uncontrollably. I grabbed at my hair, yet the searing pain that felt like it would split my brain apart showed no signs of stopping.
"...Walson? Walson? What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Master, Master?"
Three voices—a trio of women. These voices sounded so familiar. The surroundings had changed somehow; it seemed like some kind of barrier?
These three women... They should be very important to me. And yet... I couldn't recall their names.
My consciousness teetered between clarity and haze, and it felt like I had forgotten so many things in an instant.
But there was one thing I still remembered.
We cannot lose this fight—absolutely cannot. If we lose, their futures will be gone.
I promised to make them happy.
"Walson? Say something. If you keep this up..."
"I'm fine! I just need some milk and rest, so don't worry about me!" I lifted my head, gritting my teeth to endure the pain, and pushed away the hands trying to help me up.
The three women in front of me had faces that seemed so familiar yet so foreign.
"Not worry? How could we...?"
"Shut up!" I couldn't stop myself from shouting. "You all—hurry and stop me... no, stop herobrine's summoned angels... Do not let them touch the Wind Elemental! If they succeed, it's all over...!!!"
It wasn't just that five elemental powers had been collected. No, six had already been gathered long ago. My—no, herobrine's—goal was about to be realized.
"...But Master, you..."
"Go now!"
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Carmel, the capital of the Elven Braatio Empire, known to many simply as the Imperial City.
At this moment, between one giant mushroom-fossil-turned-building after another, the streets were lined with disciplined soldiers clad in fine armor.
Shield infantry, mages, healers, assassins, spearmen, cavalry, and archers—seven different divisions, each led by one of the elder matrons of the council. This was the Imperial City's strongest defensive force in full mobilization.
Their mission: to face the West's so-called strongest single combatant, Alwin, the Holy King of Dragons.
"In this time of national crisis, I'm deeply grateful for the presence of all you esteemed figures!"
"Oh, don't mention it, young man. It's only right for me to help the younger generation." The gray-skinned, white-haired dark elf matron swayed her priestly staff with a soft smile.
"But, Prince, you better follow through on your promises to us," said the fiery, red-skinned fire elf knight astride a massive beetle steed, her tone sharp and fiery as her lance.
"And if you don't... Well, you should know the consequences of angering the Elder Council," added the shadowy figure of a dark elf sorceress, her face obscured by her high collar, save for a pair of icy eyes.
"I will keep my word!" Barlon bowed deeply in gratitude, though the forced upward curl of his mouth twitched slightly.
Renowned as the Empire's finest, these seven individuals were, in his eyes, nothing more than a group of bloodsucking leeches! Greedy for nothing but their own interests. What did they care for the nation's welfare?
Why did it have to be these people? Why were they the ones to earn the title of the "Seven Matrons of the Empire"? These self-serving parasites, entrenched in the Elder Council, using their positions to line their pockets and hoard power.
They never act for the Empire's good. If left unchecked, this nation would perish!
Reform must continue, no matter the cost. Ah, but no. For now, I must focus on defending this country.
The enemy has arrived—far sooner than expected.
In the distant skies, white wings fluttered, and dragon roars grew louder as they approached.
Barlon shut his eyes, forcing down his rage. Turning around, he climbed onto the silver-shelled stag beetle beside him. With a shout, the beetle raised its mandibles and screeched, and Barlon drew the longsword from his side.
"Troops, form a crane wing formation!" he commanded, swinging his humming blade high toward the sky. "Charge!"
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