February 1, Year 1 of the New Calendar
The conquest of the Black Shell Plains had ended.
The beasts had all been wiped out, and the Black Shell Plains had become valuable land suitable for farming, grazing, or building homes.
At the very center of this region, a medium-sized city was under construction atop the existing ruins.
The Sunfire God's second shrine would be built here and put into operation as soon as it was complete.
By simulating the sun to release suitable warmth and light, just as in Ashen City, it would soon bring this land back to life.
Even the bodies left by the war had been put to good use, thrown into fires to become fertilizer that nourished the land.
Two of the four regions above Ashen City had been conquered, and the Sunrise Expedition would now enter its next stage.
Inside the hall, the two clan chiefs were discussing the expedition's next move.
After fighting side by side throughout the days spent hunting down beasts, the two had finally chosen to set aside their prejudices and unite against outside foes.
Having gained a new power-the Soulfire Arts-Gron was eager to put it to the test.
So when Gron noticed that the Fungal Wastes and the Black Shell Plains lay at the outermost edges of the four regions,
with the unconquered regions situated right between them, a plan began to take shape.
"How about we split up and attack separately? That would surely speed up the expedition."
Drawing on the intelligence they had gathered, Gron offered his suggestion.
"Is your intelligence accurate enough?" Mortas countered. "Until we've established the facts, even the smallest loss is unnecessary."
To lead by example, Mortas brought out his clan's treasured map of the ancient civilization.
Though the passage of time meant this map of the civilization's twenty-five regions could no longer be fully verified, it still served as a useful reference.
This was Gron's first glimpse of the civilization in its entirety, and he could not help marveling at its grandeur and power.
Was our lord, the Sunfire God, once the protector of such a mighty civilization?
The thought rose unbidden in Gron's mind, strengthening his resolve to accelerate the expedition.
Across the table, a glint of cunning flashed through Mortas's eyes as he watched Gron clutch the map, utterly absorbed.
This was precisely the effect he wanted.
On the one hand, the blessings earned from a single battle had far exceeded the Mantis Lord's expectations, leaving Mortas eager to achieve even more.
On the other, having received the Sunfire God's special favor, Gron was determined to repay him with results.
Their god's mercy only made them more anxious about what might happen if they disappointed him.
But Lin Jin, the god in question, did not really concern himself with such things. He thought more about concrete, practical functions.
From the beginning, Lin Jin had intended the Hunter Clan to serve as a rapid-response force.
The mantises excelled in both speed and offense, and they ought to make the most of those advantages.
His plans for the Ashen Clan were more detailed. First, as the foundation of his power, they were certainly worth investing in without hesitation.
Though the Ashen Clan was utterly ordinary, with no innate advantages whatsoever, that could also be taken to mean they had tremendous potential for growth.
They would not face the troublesome situation of having an obvious weakness in one area because of a specialty in another.
In Lin Jin's vision, the Ashen Clan would become a powerful force akin to an imperial guard.
In gaming terms, perhaps none of their stats would reach S rank, but none would fall below B either.
They would have no particular strengths or weaknesses, only the purest form of overwhelming stats.
The Soulfire Arts were only the first step: perfected bodies, mastery of soul magic, the finest armor and weapons, and strict discipline.
The Ashen Clan would become synonymous with victory, advancing across the battlefield with the most ruthless methods and merciless resolve, impossible to stop.
But it was still too early to speak of all that. Lin Jin had already provided his angel investment, but the Ashen Clan still needed to prove itself.
Gron had a vague sense of this as well, which was why he was so eager to produce results.
Yet this was also what caused a disagreement between him and Mortas. Gron wanted to advance directly from the Black Shell Plains, while Mortas wanted to push toward the center from the Fungal Forest.
Though it seemed like a simple choice between two options, a great deal of political maneuvering lay beneath it.
Naturally, each chief wanted his own side to become the main force in the next campaign.
Whoever took a region first would secure an unassailable position.
Splitting the army into two forces was certainly an option, but neither of them could afford to suggest it himself.
Their god had just ordered reinforcements sent, and if they immediately detached those reinforcements, the warriors under their command would inevitably read into it.
Until the supplies needed for the expedition arrived, the troops could only hold their positions. They had to reach a decision before then.
Sacrificial Grounds
This region lay to the right of the Black Shell Plains, near the center of the mountain.
It bore this same name on the ancient map, though the reason was unknown.
According to the expedition squad's preliminary survey, the region might have earned its name from its many ritual implements and strange altars.
With no trace of bugs to be found, the scouting squad had classified it as dead ground, not a region in urgent need of conquest.
Yet now, a pitch-black figure had appeared amid ruins that were supposed to be empty.
A closer look would reveal a huge, shattered red crystal behind the dark creature, at the beginning of the path he had walked.
The squad that had previously surveyed this place could never have imagined that a living being still survived inside what looked like a crystal sculpture.
But if Lin Jin had been present, he would certainly have cried out in surprise, "A Snail Shaman!"
Yes, a Snail Shaman.
This pitch-black creature bore a strong resemblance to the Snail Shaman trapped inside a crystal in Hallownest's Crystal Peak.
But the snail shell on his head was smoother, its patterns more intricate. He carried a distinctive staff and wore a string of prayer beads around his neck, setting him somewhat apart from his kin.
Now, the Snail Shaman surveyed the surrounding devastation and stretched limbs he had not moved in ages.
"Ho ho ho, it seems I've had quite a long sleep. I wonder how my cousins are doing now?"
The Snail Shaman waved his staff, muttering an incantation of unknown meaning.
Before long, a pitch-black screen of light appeared before him.
Then the screen rippled like water struck by a pebble, slowly turning transparent.
The blackness faded, revealing scenes from the civilization's other regions.
Unsurprisingly, it was just as the Snail Shaman had imagined: ruin and desolation. The entire civilization had perished.
It was a remarkable spell. This Snail Shaman had clearly attained considerable mastery.
"Hmm, wait. What's this?" As though he had suddenly discovered something, the Snail Shaman waved his staff again, bringing the scene on the screen into sharper focus.
The screen showed Ashen City.
The bugs living there enjoyed peaceful, prosperous lives, and the entire city was filled with warmth and light utterly unlike the world outside.
A little closer, a magnificent library was under construction, steadily collecting lost wisdom.
At the very center of the city stood a temple housing a flaming divine statue, with countless bugs streaming in to pray.
The sight stunned the Snail Shaman. Even in the era before his slumber, such a scene would have been an impossible miracle.
"Hoo hoo hoo, what's going on here? Either I've gone mad, or the world has."
The Snail Shaman had never expected this. For a moment, he even had the illusion that remnants of that ancient civilization had survived all these long years.
Was this civilization still alive after that great catastrophe?
Filled with questions and intense curiosity, the Snail Shaman intended to draw closer for a better look. Then he suddenly sensed an utterly terrifying power turn its attention toward him!
So bright!
So hot!
It burns!
In an instant, the Snail Shaman felt as though he were facing the entire world, surrounded by absolute terror.
It defied description. That power was like an enormous ball of fire.
He could not look directly at it. The light the being radiated was so dazzling that it blinded him.
Through his daze, that presence spoke.
"Oh? A contradiction where wisdom and madness coexist, a dark being who observes no taboos. There are such creatures here as well?"
Then he reached out his hand.
"Aaaah!!!!"
Just those few words made the Snail Shaman feel as though he was about to be burned to a crisp. It was not merely physical; his mind, too, was being scorched by that presence.
Acting on instinct, the Snail Shaman forcibly severed the connection at the last possible moment, just before the dazzling being could touch him.
Silence fell over the ruins once more, though a faint scorched smell now lingered in the air.
"Ha... haha... hahaha..."
Only an instant had passed, yet the experience had been a nightmare. When the Snail Shaman recovered his senses, the countless burns covering his body told him it had been no illusion.
Several beads on the treasured string around his neck had also cracked and shattered. Precious ancient relics used as spellcasting materials had been destroyed so easily that even the Snail Shaman could not help wincing at the loss.
"Hahaha, this really is..."
Barely recovering from the damage he had suffered, the Snail Shaman smiled again, frail as his body was.
"Take a deep breath. All I did was accidentally offend a god. What's the big deal?"
His murmurs echoed through the darkness.
Before you continue