Chapter 71: Divine Messengers
Not everyone in the Little Blue Sea Nation lived near the castle.
Most citizens still kept to their old way of life, scattered among their own wooden cabins. Every day, they ventured out to hunt snow beasts—or ended up being hunted by them.
The difference from before was that they now had another option. On any given day, they could head to the nearest Snow Beast Train Station, board a train, and travel to the massive Frost Castle.
The people of Dazzling Star had little concept of what a nation truly was. To most of them, the Little Blue Sea Nation simply meant a large gathering of people. As long as they agreed to join, if a powerful snow beast threatened the area where their family lived, they could call upon the “nation” for help.
The enormous castle also served as an excellent marketplace. When they or their loved ones fell ill, they no longer had to endure it in silence.
They could simply board the Snow Beast Train, travel to the warm castle, and receive treatment.
If they wanted to obtain more item cards, they could also take the train to larger hunting grounds and hunt alongside others. The Little Blue Sea Nation carefully regulated the size of each hunting party, so there was no need to worry about having too many hunters and scaring away the snow beasts.
Those were merely the ordinary benefits of joining the Little Blue Sea Nation.
For the people of Dazzling Star, who placed great importance on family, the greatest benefit was that once they had accumulated enough residence tax credits, they could send their elderly, sickly, or frail relatives to live permanently in the warm castle.
Had their civilization not suffered such a long period of decline, they would have realized that, in the minds of its citizens, the castle resembled less a national capital than a retirement home—or perhaps a bustling trade center.
But their civilization had been fractured for far too long. They had no concept of a retirement home, so they simply assumed that this was what a “nation” was supposed to be.
In truth, most citizens had yet to develop any real sense of national identity toward the Little Blue Sea Nation. To them, it was more like a massive population center—something that could genuinely improve their lives when the need arose (especially since it demanded very little from them), while in everyday life, everyone simply continued living as they always had.
As for the people inviting them to join the Little Blue Sea Nation, with all their talk of a divine kingdom and a Creator God, most people simply listened without taking it too seriously.
After all, when so many people gathered together, no one assumed that the trio’s ability to communicate with anyone was a gift from the gods.
Translation-type item cards existed, after all.
As for gods, every region on Dazzling Star had its own legends.
The deities differed in appearance and name, but the powers attributed to them were remarkably similar.
They could banish the eternal frost, rule over a land of everlasting warmth, and bring those they chose to a place where they would never again fear the cold or the snow beasts—a place with endless food and an inexhaustible supply of hot water…
Every child on Dazzling Star grew up believing those stories.
As they pressed against the windows of their little cabins, gazing out at the endless white wilderness, and as their parents returned empty-handed because they had failed to obtain food-related item cards, leaving the family to alternate between hunger and a full stomach, they dreamed that one day the gods of legend would descend and take them and their families to a warm land.
But once they became adults, they came to realize that those stories were nothing more than comforting tales their parents had told themselves.
Yet when they had children of their own, and there wasn’t enough fuel for the fireplace, causing the temperature inside the cabin to drop, they would watch their children huddle beneath the blankets, shivering. Without enough cold-weather clothing, the children couldn’t even go outside. They could only stay home alone while the adults ventured out to hunt.
Those same adults, who had long since seen through the myth of the gods, would nevertheless repeat to their own children the very stories their parents had once told them.
The gods did not exist.
Neither did a place of eternal warmth with an endless supply of hot water.
But the legend itself made things a little easier for the children.
Left alone in their cabins, they could spend the long day sustained by dreams of the gods, enduring the loneliness and cold a little more easily until their parents returned with the day’s hunt.
Then they would grow up, realize that the gods didn’t exist, move out with their partner, and start a family of their own. And when they saw the pitiful, reluctant look in their children’s eyes before leaving to hunt, they would do exactly what their parents—and their grandparents before them—had done.
They would tell the old story of the gods.
Except now, there was something new they could add.
The legend of the Little Blue Sea Nation’s god was more complete, more detailed, and included an additional promise:
As long as the nation’s people remained devout enough, the entire nation would one day ascend to the Divine Kingdom.
The Divine Kingdom would carry them away from this world of everlasting winter.
No wonder they managed to gather so many people together, everyone thought. They’re simply much better at making up stories than the rest of us.
Yesterday, while out hunting, Yor had run into an older relative from his clan—someone he should have addressed as his Fifth Aunt.
She was highly capable. Having recently paid enough residence tax, she had already sent her elderly parents to live in the castle.
She had spent the night there, heard this new version of the divine legend, and shared it with Yor when they met.
Entertainment was virtually nonexistent on Dazzling Star, so stories like this—especially ones that could keep children happy—were always popular.
And so today, Yor told it to his own three children.
Life on Dazzling Star was unimaginably harsh, yet every family usually had at least three to five children.
There were many reasons for that.
For one, each family was forced to live in isolation within its own territory. That naturally bred loneliness, as well as a constant sense of insecurity. A house filled with several children felt entirely different.
At the very least, it eased the emotional emptiness.
Those who never found a partner, chose not to seek one, or lost all of their loved ones rarely survived more than a year living alone before choosing to end their own lives.
Children changed that.
Even if a person’s spouse died, having children gave them a reason to keep going. They would devote themselves to raising those children into adulthood.
There was another reason as well.
The people of Dazzling Star reproduced with remarkable ease. Newborns were extremely small, and pregnancy was relatively gentle. A mother carried a child for only five months, and even shortly before giving birth, her belly showed only a slight swell.
As a result, childbirth was not especially painful.
These tiny children were astonishingly resilient. They needed only a little milk each day to survive, and they almost never cried.
Whenever their parents went out to hunt, the infants would lie quietly in their swaddling blankets without making a sound. Only after their parents returned would they let out soft coos and babbles.
The civilization of Dazzling Star had long since collapsed, so no one knew whether the increasingly smaller newborns—and their uncanny tendency never to cry, as though they instinctively understood they had been born into a dangerous world—were survival adaptations that had evolved over the past two centuries.
Yor’s three children were all old enough to understand what he was saying. The oldest was seven, the youngest three.
The three-year-old little sister and the five-year-old little brother listened happily to their father’s story, but it didn’t leave much of an impression on them.
They were still too young, still exploring the world around them. Their understanding had yet to fully develop.
The seven-year-old, however, listened with shining eyes, peppering his father with one question after another.
“When can we move to the Divine Kingdom?”
“Will there be flowers there? Grandma told me that a long time ago, Dazzling Star had lots of flowers.”
“Does the Divine Kingdom really have endless hot water? Don’t they ever run out of fuel?”
Holding the boy in his arms, Yor wore a rare expression of ease.
He remembered asking his own mother the very same sort of questions when he was little—asking when the Spring Titan would finally defeat the Frost Titan, and whether that meant people would no longer need cold-weather clothing to go outside.
“All right, all right, my little Garian,” Yor said with a chuckle. “You’ve asked so many questions. Where should Daddy even begin? How about this? Tonight, when I’m free, I’ll answer them one by one.”
The truth was…
He didn’t know the answers either.
Maybe today he’d run into Fifth Aunt again and ask her for more details about the story.
And if he didn’t…
Well, he’d just have to make the rest up himself.
Knock. Knock.
His wife, Lovis, tapped on the door.
That was their signal that she had finished checking the surrounding area, and it was time for them to head out and hunt.
Yor kissed each of his children on the forehead.
“Be good while your mother and I are out hunting. And if you hear anything unusual, what do you do?”
The three children answered in unison,
“Hide in the chest!”
“Good.”
Every Dazzling Star household had one or two enormous storage chests. They had all come from item cards, appearing together with the items they contained.
Snow beasts possessed an incredibly keen sense of smell, but children carried a much fainter scent than adults. If they hid inside one of those large chests, there was a ninety-nine percent chance the beasts would never notice them.
Whether that almost nonexistent body scent was yet another evolutionary adaptation the people of Dazzling Star had developed in order to survive was something no one could answer.
Yor put on his cold-weather gear and picked up his weapon. Before leaving, he made sure all three children had burrowed beneath their blankets and were completely covered.
Only then did he quickly crack open the door. As the icy wind had barely begun to blow inside, he darted out and immediately shut it behind him.
If there was one thing that had changed the most since joining the Little Blue Sea Nation, it was Yor’s attitude toward snow beasts.
The numb resignation he used to feel had gradually faded, replaced by steadily growing enthusiasm.
The castle really was an incredible place.
Because so many people lived there, snow beasts deliberately avoided the area. Unlike the old clustered villages, which often attracted packs of snow beasts, the castle was rarely threatened.
Originally, people had worried that if snow beasts avoided the castle altogether, they wouldn’t be able to hunt them for item cards and would lose the means to sustain their lives.
But the existence of the Snow Beast Train had solved that problem.
If only we could move there ourselves…
Recalling the information his Fifth Aunt had shared, Yor silently calculated how many item cards it would take for his entire family to earn enough residence tax credits to live in the castle.
It was incredible.
How could humans possibly control snow beasts?
Maybe they obtained some rare item card that lets them command the beasts?
His Fifth Aunt had said yesterday that the President herself claimed it was a divine blessing.
Yor didn’t believe that.
If the three leaders of the Little Blue Sea Nation really had come from the Divine Kingdom, where warmth, endless hot water, and limitless food awaited them…
Then why would they ever come to this frozen wasteland to suffer?
If it were him, once he got into the Divine Kingdom, nothing in the world could make him leave—let alone bring his family out with him.
Lovis was just as fascinated by the stories of Blue Sea’s Creator God.
The couple took turns telling bedtime stories, one parent each day, and tomorrow would be her turn.
Yor grinned.
“Don’t worry. I deliberately saved part of the story for you.”
“Fifth Aunt said the Divine Kingdom is very pleased with the Little Blue Sea Nation. They’ve already sent a divine messenger, who’ll judge which citizens have the strongest faith and take them to the warm Divine Kingdom.”
Lovis blinked.
“That’s it? No details?”
Yor shrugged.
“Couldn’t help it. We hadn’t been talking long before a snow beast showed up yesterday. We didn’t have time to keep chatting.”
“Oh! I just remembered something!” he suddenly exclaimed.
“Fifth Aunt also said the divine messenger will descend from the sky.”
Lovis immediately frowned.
“That’s too far-fetched. There are flying snow beasts up there. If the children hear that story, what if they mistake one of those flying snow beasts for the divine messenger?”
Yor nodded in agreement.
“You’re right. We’ll leave that part out. Looks like the people in the Little Blue Sea Nation aren’t quite as good at making up stories as I thought. Such an obvious plot hole, and they never noticed it.”
The two continued chatting as they walked through the snow.
Then—
They heard the sound of wings beating overhead.
Both of them looked up.
Silhouettes swept across the sky.
They had human bodies…
…and wings spreading from their backs.
The divine messengers…
had descended.
