Chapter 212: Allen's Grand Scheme of Centuries
The Simora Tribe.
Inside a mountain cave, the indigenous tribespeople were worshiping a wooden idol.
The idol, a crude blend of man and beast, was abstract in design—likely due to the tribe's aesthetic sensibilities and rudimentary craftsmanship. Their totemic vessels weren't exactly refined works of art.
An elderly man with his head adorned in feathers served as a priest-like figure—commonly referred to as a shaman in magical circles. He remained in the tribe year-round, treating ailments and driving away evil spirits.
Muttering incantations under his breath, the shaman held a bronze vessel filled with steaming hot blood mixed with unknown medicinal extracts.
Step by step, he approached the idol with solemn reverence, dipping his wrinkled, darkened hands into the blood and meticulously smearing it onto the statue.
"Oh great Night God, accept our offering!"
"Oh great Night God, protect our lives!"
"…"
Hundreds of tribespeople raised their hands and cried out in worship.
Blood offerings were quite common in priestly rituals among primitive civilizations.
This was because blood, imbued with a trace of life essence, helped to accelerate the formation of consciousness within totem gods. Additionally, blood offerings were more likely to receive a response, prompting the tribes to frequently hunt wild beasts in search of fresh blood.
To them, blood wasn't food—it was a resource worth recycling.
Of course, the downside was that in summer, idols covered in blood would attract flies, requiring dedicated attendants to keep watch lest maggots infest their divine figure.
"Shaman, the invaders are closing in!"
In the middle of the ritual, several robust tribesmen burst in.
Their faces were filled with fear as they pointed toward the cave entrance, as though something horrifying was chasing them.
In truth, someone had already fallen behind on their return and died a gruesome death—burned alive.
"What are you afraid of!"
The shaman scolded sternly. "With the Night God watching over us, any intruder who dares trespass is doomed!"
The other tribespeople remained unfazed. They had unwavering faith in the Night God.
In the past, during inter-tribal conflicts, the Night God had manifested in a critical moment and annihilated their enemies. That divine intervention had instilled in them a deep sense of security.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
A figure burst into the cave.
The tribespeople turned their eyes to the newcomer.
It was… just a dog. A silly-looking one, at that. Could there be something special about it?
Hunting tribes often kept dogs, so no one feared them—if anything, they saw this one as a potential meal.
Unbeknownst to them, all their hunting dogs were now cowering silently with their tails tucked between their legs.
This husky burst in with an air of dominance, barking wildly, eyes fierce and locked onto the idol—as though it had sensed the greatest threat in the room.
And it had.
The tribespeople were merely mortals. Even the shaman, without the god's support, was no different from a commoner.
"That's the demon—it killed many of our people!"
"It breathes fire! Just one spark and it spreads over your whole body!"
"…"
The warriors trembled as they described the husky's terrifying powers.
To ordinary eyes, Hellfire was unstoppable. It couldn't be extinguished by conventional means—it consumed its victims entirely, burning them to ash like divine judgment itself.
"Everyone, pray to the Night God!" the shaman urged loudly.
Realizing the threat they faced, he quickly guided the tribe into making the correct response.
Summoning their totem god to defeat the invader was undoubtedly the best option.
As the people devoutly praised the Night God, the husky grew oddly quiet, tilting its head and staring, as if it sensed something profound it didn't quite understand.
"We finally caught up."
"Be careful—people inside."
Ancient One and Agatha arrived at the cave. Seeing the hundreds of tribespeople inside, they instinctively conjured magical sigils on their hands, preparing for combat.
At the same time, they turned their attention to the totem statue—but mainly, they were searching for Allen.
Their job was to monitor Allen, not protect him.
The idea that Allen would need their protection was laughable. They'd never seen him suffer even once. He just had a habit of doing foolish things.
Suddenly, a shadow spread from the idol, crawling up the cave walls, devouring even the light from nearby torches.
The totem god was manifesting!
Ancient One and Agatha grew tense, their eyes scanning their surroundings.
Of course, mages could kill a totem god—but under certain conditions, these deities could become exponentially more powerful.
For example, a Rain God manifesting during rainfall could easily overpower a Fire God.
First, they had to determine the elemental domain of this totem god. Without that, they'd never find a proper countermeasure.
Furthermore, totem gods had extremely wide power ranges—both their weakest and strongest forms were dramatically different.
Soon, darkness blanketed the entire cave like a pitch-black curtain.
Back-to-back, Ancient One and Agatha let magic flow through the sigils on their wrists, preparing to unleash powerful spells.
If they couldn't analyze their opponent, then the only solution was overwhelming force.
Unfortunately, high-powered spells required significant time to charge. As full-fledged sorcerers—not veteran ones—they couldn't cast with ease.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
The husky's eyes ignited with Hellfire, sparks spilling from its mouth as it barked menacingly into the darkness.
ROAR!
A sudden sonic blast echoed through the dark, sending ripples through the shadows.
At the same moment, the husky unleashed its Hellfire, a blinding beam like a laser that collided directly with the center of the sound wave.
The two forces clashed midair, trying to overpower one another with sheer might.
Hellfire illuminated the darkness—revealing the vague silhouette of a massive bat.
From every angle, it looked nothing like a benevolent deity.
"Damn it. It's a beast-god," Agatha muttered grimly. "They've been feeding blood to a beast totem—it eventually turned into a bloodthirsty monster."
Notably, in Egypt, many beast-gods were simply other deities in disguise, using alternate forms to receive offerings. The genuine beast-gods weren't born from primitive tribal worship.
In their culture, proper offerings to gods required one's most treasured possessions—not just blood sacrifices.
"What's the solution?" Ancient One asked.
She had always focused on cultivation and rarely read supplementary texts, unlike Agatha, who came from a prestigious background and had been exposed to such knowledge from an early age.
"Destroy the idol," Agatha said firmly. "You can't kill a projected totem god—it'll just keep respawning from its vessel."
The problem: in total darkness, they couldn't find the idol's location.
Pegasus Meteor Kick!
BANG!
The darkness vanished.
The cave lit up once more.
At the idol's pedestal stood a figure, foot planted firmly on the toppled statue.
It was Allen—he'd already been lying in wait beside the idol.
At the critical moment, he launched a surprise attack, kicking it over and stabbing its head with an ancient-looking dagger.
Aaaaaah!
A shrill scream echoed throughout the cave.
The tribespeople clutched their ears, faces twisted in pain.
The Night God hadn't completed its transformation, but its vessel had been damaged—this wasn't just a blow to its essence; if it didn't find a new vessel soon, it would vanish from existence entirely.
Freed from the statue, the Night God revealed its true form—a pitch-black bat with eyes like bleeding rubies. After countless blood offerings, it had developed an insatiable bloodlust.
Instinct drove it to target the one responsible—its gaping maw lunged toward Allen.
Woof…
The husky leapt in, sinking its teeth into the Night God.
Thus began a brutal clash between hellhound and totem god.
They bit, clawed, and exchanged blasts of magic and divine power.
Terrified, the tribespeople huddled in corners, quietly praying for the Night God's victory.
"You invaders are doomed! The great Night God will never spare you!" the shaman shouted with fanatical fervor.
Allen turned to the skinny old man and calmly walked over.
"What… what are you doing?" the shaman stammered, clearly shaken. Anyone who could ambush the Night God wasn't someone he could handle.
Of course, in his eyes, Allen had to be some kind of shaman or spiritualist. After all, the New Continent didn't yet have an established mage system.
"I don't hit old people," Allen said sincerely.
"But you…"
THWACK!
Before the shaman could finish, Allen kicked him over and began stomping him while muttering, "But I do like kicking people."
"Night God, save me!" the shaman howled, hoping his god would come to his rescue.
Too bad—even the Night God was struggling. The husky was simply too relentless, giving it no chance to escape.
By now, the husky had reached the Shadow Crown level. Defeating a totem god was no longer an issue.
"Old geezer, everyone knows I respect the elderly and care for the young!" Allen yelled while continuing his barrage. He flicked his hair and sneered, "Feathers on your head? What are you, a damn peacock?"
He turned to the stunned tribespeople and shouted, "Anyone else!?"
Hundreds of them trembled like quail, huddled together in fear.
Damn, he was ferocious.
He'd practically beaten them into submission.
"Do you people realize I have work tomorrow!? I'm a construction worker! Night shifts are exhausting, and here you are playing night-time ambush!"
Allen raged, "Where's the law!? Where's justice!?"
"…"
Uh, sir… you're the one who invaded. How are we the bad guys?
The natives were the rightful inhabitants of the New Continent. It was the arrival of European invaders during the Age of Exploration that had caused all the conflict.
But frightened by Allen's overwhelming strength, no one dared say a word—even if he was gaslighting them.
Meanwhile, the other fight reached its conclusion.
The husky dominated and ultimately devoured the Night God.
Totem gods contained a trace of divinity—making them an unparalleled treasure for magical beasts, enabling essential breakthroughs in their very nature, far beyond ordinary evolution.
One reason magical beasts invaded the human world was to seize such divinity and evolve into gods themselves.
After consuming the god, the three white marks on the husky's forehead began to change. The center one now glowed faintly, as though the fur itself emitted light.
"Allen, what do we do with them?" Ancient One asked, her expression softening toward the natives.
They were only defending their home—morally and logically, exterminating them would be wrong.
"Oh, that's simple."
Allen put his hands on his hips and loudly declared, "I, Allen the Cobra King, am a very reasonable man. You have a choice—submit to me and become my people. Or don't."
"May I ask… what happens if we don't?"
One brave soul asked nervously.
They'd much prefer joining another tribe over following a foreign invader.
Allen answered sincerely, "Oh, not much. You'll just be slaves."
"…"
That's basically not a choice.
Given the choice between subjects and slaves, the tribespeople quickly chose the former.
"Allen, think this through. That many people will be hard to manage. Aren't you worried about rebellion?" Agatha asked with concern.
"Whoever rebels, I'll let the husky bite them."
Allen kicked the husky lightly and said, "Show 'em your mean face."
Woof! Woof! Woof!
The husky snarled at Allen, barking furiously—it clearly enjoyed cursing people out.
At dawn, Allen returned, now leading a group of several hundred—causing no small amount of discontent among the mages.
Their constant raids had already caused bloodshed. Peace between the colonists and the natives was a pipe dream.
Another issue was that the amount of food in the camp simply wasn't enough to distribute to the natives.
Out of respect for the senior mage, they didn't dare say it outright. At the same time, they didn't want to offend the future Supreme Mage either—so they earnestly asked the senior mage to convey the message tactfully.
The establishment of the Sanctuary was a matter of pressing urgency.
The senior mage could clearly tell which issue took priority.
"I can't abandon my subjects. That would be a total loss of face. Old man, you wouldn't want to see me become a foolish king, would you?"
Allen refused to give in, and was even more unwilling to disband the natives.
"You should be focusing on inheriting the position of Supreme Mage. What's so enjoyable about being a king? That kind of vulgar pursuit isn't worth your time," said the senior mage, Walker, with heartfelt sincerity.
"Oh, it's extremely enjoyable."
Allen said with a perfectly straight face, "First, I'm going to establish a seven-day workweek with two days off, eight-hour workdays. Then I'll set twelve holidays—each with five days off. Fifteen days of paid annual leave is reasonable too, right? There will be marriage leave, maternity leave, bereavement leave—everything. Absolutely no overtime. Anyone who works overtime will be fined at best, imprisoned at worst."
"What are you thinking?" Mage Walker asked seriously.
Whether or not people work or take vacations—what's that got to do with you? Why go through all that trouble?
"Me? I'm planning a century-long strategy to pave the way for the motherland."
Allen grinned wickedly and said, "You think I'm really that kind-hearted?"
"..."
Mage Walker couldn't figure out what he was thinking. He could only look at him calmly and wait for an explanation.
"Heh heh heh… I'm going to create a comfortable environment for them. Then, when the industrial age arrives in a few hundred years, the natives of the New Continent will have become lazy by nature—and they'll be eliminated in the tide of industry. That's when the Eastern ancient nation will seize the opportunity to rise rapidly and reclaim its rightful status as a great power."
Allen couldn't help but chuckle. "Heehee… I'm so evil. Sometimes I just wanna punch myself in the face."
"..."
You've got issues.
Who can predict what'll happen in a few hundred years?
"Do as you please—but you're not allowed to use the camp's supplies."
Mage Walker didn't believe a single word. He figured Allen was just having another one of his episodes.
What a shame. Such unparalleled talent, yet born with a few screws loose.
Still, his nature wasn't bad. With the right guidance, he might still make a decent Supreme Mage.
"Don't ask too many questions."
Allen didn't plan to conquer just one tribe. When the time came, the camp's supplies wouldn't be nearly enough to go around.
The main reason? He'd discovered that the husky could devour totem gods—and he was determined to raise a Supreme Mage's dog.