Preparing to Depart

Time passed, day by day.

Over the past several days, Belut had traveled all three continents, crisscrossing Throne World. News of the Tyrant's return spread across the continents with him.

For a time, even the sigh of the wind and the cry of a crane set nerves on edge.

Yet the Tyrant had not left Vaglion. Only Belut was running about, soliciting donations everywhere.

Of the factions he approached, the vast majority handed over several Sacred Artifacts as readily as Dawn Era had.

They treated it as spending money to ward off disaster—a protection fee.

Others hesitated for a long while, but ultimately handed theirs over too.

Only thirty thousand-odd years had passed since the battle in the Virtual Arena. The Tyrant's ferocity remained vivid in their memories, and no one wanted to become the next Coastal Alliance.

It was only a few Sacred Artifacts. They might as well hand them over.

But many factions showed little interest in the Legendary Potion Belut mentioned. Some believed the Tyrant had simply found a flimsy fig leaf to cover his robbery. Others thought further ahead, fearing some unspeakable conspiracy lurked behind it. They did not believe the notoriously wicked Tyrant could be so kindhearted.

Thus, some organizations politely declined the Tyrant's "kindness."

Others, like Dawn Era, merely sent a few Archmages to go through the motions and humor the Tyrant, lest he fly into a humiliated rage and leave them out of favor despite having surrendered their Sacred Artifacts.

Few organizations were truly willing to believe in the Legendary Potion.

None of them took it seriously.

And the facts seemed to bear them out.

Batch after batch of Peak Archmages entered Vaglion, where the Summoning Cottage casually assigned them lodgings. After that, no one paid them any further attention.

"Just as expected!"