Chapter 121: The Theater Is Open |
As Orovic dismantled his proto-Divine Realm, the surrounding environment began to change.
Those collapsed city walls, the central courtyard, and the armor stands all turned into yellow sand, scattering and drifting away on the wind.
The ground was soon replaced by soil, and enormous human-faced trees took the place of the former "decorations."
This signified that, in this Divine Realm Collision, Orovic had been utterly defeated.
Even Orovic himself began to weather at the same time, grains of sand drifting off his body, carried away by some wind from nowhere.
He was exiting the battlefield by directly dissolving his proto-Divine Realm. But in a Divine Realm Collision, this exit method has one crucial and dangerous condition: it requires the permission of the opposing side.
If Ethen had declared, "You may not leave," Orovic's situation would have become extremely passive.
Because in a short time it would be almost impossible for him to open another proto-Divine Realm, and in that brief interval, Ethen could kill him countless times.
However, since he dared to directly dissolve his proto-Divine Realm, he clearly understood Ethen's character and knew Ethen would not do anything to him.
Only after seeing Orovic vanish entirely did Ethen slowly raise his hand, remove the wreath woven from flowers, vines, and thorns from his head, hold it in his palm, bow his head, and stare silently.
Vines erupted from the ground behind him, rapidly crisscrossing, entwining, growing, and blossoming.
Soon, a throne, likewise woven from flowers, vines, and thorns, appeared.
It looked painfully prickly.
Ethen put the wreath back on his head, then glanced at the throne behind him without sitting.
Although Orovic could also create his own throne, the "throne" before Ethen and the one Orovic could create were fundamentally different.
The difference is like this: being able to pull out a gem in battle and draw power from it does not necessarily make someone a Law Contemplator, but a Law Contemplator can certainly extract his own "Law Gem."
The ranks of Law Seekers are simple.
From one mark to six marks, judged by the number of Law Marks.
Ignoring special cases and techniques, the Law Seeker with more Law Marks will be stronger on paper than one with fewer.
Each time a Law Seeker obtains a new Law Mark, they strengthen their previous marks; with those marks "upgraded," the original marks gain more spirituality, master deeper abilities, and realize more techniques.
For Law Contemplators, strength is not judged solely by the number or total spirituality of Law Marks and Law Rhymes.
A Law Contemplator can obtain up to three Law Rhymes; if they have a natural special Law Rhyme, it will occupy one slot.
Some Law Contemplators awaken three Law Rhymes the moment they comprehend their law and step into contemplation, while others awaken only one. Both are possible.
To judge a Law Contemplator's strength, one looks at whether they can refine their own "gem," write their own "codex," or forge their own "scepter."
Gem tier, Codex tier, and Scepter tier are the three stages of a Law Contemplator.
For Law Inscribers, there are also three stages.
The first is the Crown, which allows a Law Inscriber to inscribe themselves into the world, becoming a piece of basic common knowledge on a planet.
The second is the Throne, capable of collecting faith; even a Law Seeker who is not Self-Only can wield a certain degree of "willpower" control.
The final one is the Sanctuary, which fuses the throne with one's proto-Divine Realm, expanding the "throne" into a "sanctuary," bringing the proto-Divine Realm infinitely closer to a true Divine Realm. Exactly how far this can be taken, Ethen did not know.
After all, even for Ethen, a Sanctuary-tier Law Inscriber was a near-mythical existence.
Without another glance at his throne, Ethen withdrew his proto-Divine Realm and returned to the real world, appearing on the street not far from the Continuity Church.
Earlier Orovic had asked him why he wasn't anxious.
Ethen's calm was actually very simple.
He was certain that Kolimon's arrival was not the real body and that he would not strike with full power.
This was, at best, a tacit understanding between the two.
Moreover, they were not the only ones who shared this understanding.
Ethen glanced at a nearby corner, then turned and walked toward the church.
In the corner Ethen had looked at, several flowers had somehow already grown.
Blue, white, yellow, pink, red, purple...
In this cold December, the flowers bloomed beautifully.
...
Liant Town, ground floor of the inn.
Samuel traced the Travel Guide out of the air and saw Grill and Falson watching the jellyfish Sereia.
Grill held a piece of bread, trying to feed the Nether-Floating Jellyfish, only to be coldly refused.
This had appeared just ten-odd minutes earlier.
Samuel had suddenly opened the Travel Guide, and Sereia had floated out of the book.
Because Samuel and Celt shared the same soul origin, and Sereia cared more about souls than appearance, she immediately sought out the one she had briefly met and had bought her—Samuel.
Although she didn't know what had happened, she told Samuel right away about what had occurred.
Right after came the Travel Guide's SOS.
Samuel told her to stay put and not wander off, then vanished on the spot with Evina.
He was not worried the newest toy he had found would be damaged by Sereia.
After all, Grill was the Chief of a Public Security Bureau branch; if he could not handle a Nether-Floating Jellyfish, he should resign.
Sure enough, when Samuel returned he found Grill attempting to feed Sereia, not at all concerned about her toxicity.
Faced with a mid-to-high-risk Exceptional Creature, Grill's attitude was actually decent: not hostile, and after a brief contact, he even tried to feed it.
It was obvious that compared to Mutants, Grill treated Exceptional Creatures much better.
He had not expected the Bureau Chief to be so lenient toward an illegally entered Exceptional Creature.
It seemed that in Grill's eyes, traitors were more hateful than enemies.
Seeing Samuel, Grill withdrew the bread.
He did not ask where Samuel and Evina had gone when they suddenly left.
That was their business; Grill had no standing to inquire.
He only glanced behind Samuel, looked for the pinkish-blue color, then looked away when he didn't see it.
"That sea... Miss Evina didn't come back with you?" Grill asked.
Samuel walked toward Sereia as he replied.
"You're the one who doesn't like her, right? If so, she probably went elsewhere."
"I see." Grill nodded, seeing nothing odd.
After all, a Siren is an uprising-capable Mutant; even a weak one isn't that weak.
By Grill's intuition, Evina's strength was not below his own; acting alone was entirely possible.
Out of courtesy he still asked,
"No problem?"
"What problem could there be?" Samuel smiled. "But if she found a way to leave, she might not tell you."
Samuel opened the Travel Guide again in front of Sereia.
Grill watched the jellyfish lazily float back into the book while shrugging.
"Of course, that's her choice."
"Mhm."
Samuel smiled, closed the book, paused a few seconds. Seeing that the other two had nothing further to say, he looked up toward the nearby stairs.
"You two carry on chatting. I'm a bit tired. I'll go up and rest."
"Alright, goodbye." Grill and Falson waved.
"Goodbye." Samuel waved back and headed up the stairs.
...
Days passed.
Soon it had been a week since Samuel and Falson arrived here.
This marked Falson's complete unemployment.
Samuel approached from behind and gently patted Falson's shoulder as Falson stood staring at the newly repaired window.
"Unemployed?" Samuel asked with a smile.
"Ah, yes." Falson nodded.
A week's absence from work meant he had certainly lost his job.
But he wasn't too dejected.
You can find work again; with his talent, finding a good job would not be hard.
Besides, given the Law Marks and occult knowledge he obtained this week, he would never trade those for a job.
"Feeling melancholy?" Samuel followed Falson's gaze out the window.
"No." Falson shook his head. "I just feel ordinary people seem so fragile under the catastrophes Law Seekers bring."
"Mhm." Samuel snorted lightly. "Are you pitying them?"
"A little." Falson admitted without shame. "But I also feel pretty sorry for myself. Compared to pitying others, I'd rather pity the job I lost."
Samuel tilted his head and studied Falson.
After fusing Law Marks during this time, Falson's looks had noticeably improved day by day. Skin that had been sun-darkened was whitening, and rough, dry skin was getting better.
Saying it improved was really just a recovery.
After all, he was the illegitimate child of nobles; both parents were attractive.
He looked ordinary only because of prolonged exposure and working multiple jobs alone.
"Then fine, come with me from now on." Samuel's hand remained on Falson's shoulder.
"What about wages?" Falson asked with a smile.
After a week together, he had become comfortable enough with Samuel to know awkwardness was unnecessary and even counterproductive.
"Let me think," Samuel withdrew his hand. "I'll give you five yur a week."
The amount stunned Falson for a moment, then he immediately nodded.
"That much? Great." Falson smiled. "Then I'll stick with the boss."
He didn't ask what the job entailed.
"Heh." Samuel chuckled. "Alright, when we go out later, I'll take you straight there."
Evina was managing the theater now.
They had chosen the theater location the day after leaving Liant Town.
Construction was underway and opening was not far off.
They had even recruited a lot of staff.
Over these days, the theater's troupe had steadily grown.
Evina, recruiting publicly, offered a base weekly wage between three and five yur, with performance bonuses based on show quality.
For the East District, that weekly pay was considerable even for the middle class.
That ensured a steady stream of applicants.
Most of those who stayed came from the East District, with a minority from the South and North Districts.
This wasn't because Evina had a sudden swell of kindness toward the East District's poor.
If it were just high pay, there would be far more applicants from the South and North, and even wealthy West District residents might consider investing or acquiring it.
There was only one reason the South and North had so few applicants...
On the unfinished stage, Evina, dressed in a lace dress, sat on the edge of a podium-like platform.
She tilted her head, crossed one leg over the other, high-heeled shoes half-hanging from her toes, revealing half a black-silk-clad foot, the Travel Guide in her hand.
"Listen carefully," her languid voice carried across the crowd without amplification. "I can give you money. Lots of money, enough to ensure you'll never worry about food or clothing again."
"But this money isn't windfall."
She let out a light laugh that made the crowd blush.
"You must be my dogs."
Evina enunciated clearly, putting emphasis on the word "dogs."
"This is not a metaphor," she clarified. "I mean dogs in the literal sense, a species distinct from humans."
She extended a long finger and pointed at the crowd, casually selecting two people, who immediately turned red.
"Stick out your tongue?"
"Wave your tail?"
She then pointed to herself, to the half-exposed northern hemisphere of her body.
"Your greatest value is to please me."
"So if you can't lower yourself, leave."
That statement eliminated most West District and North District job-seekers.
They wanted money, but they cared about dignity.
The poor from the East District, dock area, and factory area did not.
In their lives, no one had ever treated them as "human." Evina had merely stated it plainly.
So the South and North avoided joining the theater troupe, while people from the East, docks, and factories crowded in to apply.
Even Celt, the troupe's most easygoing member, had no issue with this.
Those truly too poor to survive have no energy to worry about dignity.
If someone gives up a salary that could support a family out of "dignity," it means they aren't desperate enough to need saving.
Evina and Celt were in agreement on this; Samuel didn't care and only wanted to watch the show.
...