The banquet that began at night turned out to be much better than Alon had imagined.

Set between ancient ruins and a massive tree under the starlit sky and the Milky Way, the banquet exuded a charm that needed no embellishment. First, the food was delicious. And second, the food was absolutely delicious!

“……It’s good,” Alon muttered, staring down at the piece of meat he had just been eating, his expression one of mild surprise. The dish, which had a rich, nutty flavor with a hint of subtle sweetness, reminded him of crab meat and fit his taste perfectly.

“Wow, this is really good!” Evan, seated nearby, exclaimed in agreement.

“Indeed,” Alon nodded, prompting a woman holding two children from the tribe to smile and speak up.

“Well! It’s an honor to hear that from our tribe’s hero. I made that dish myself.”

“Really? It’s very well made.”

“It’s all thanks to the quality of the ingredients.”

“What is this made of?”

“It’s made with Stormvi.”

At that moment, Alon froze mid-chew.

“Storm…vi?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, the Stormvi・・・・・・?”

“Yes, that very Stormvi.”

The confirmation made Alon want to spit out the contents of his mouth. In this jungle, a “Stormvi” referred to an insect resembling a giant cockroach.

“I see.”

“Oh my, are you not eating anymore?”

“… I think I may have overindulged a bit,” Alon replied, cautiously setting the Stormvi meat aside and glancing to his side. Evan, on the other hand, seemed to have made it his mission to consume every last piece of Stormvi meat at the banquet, his head practically buried in his plate.

Alon hesitated, wondering whether to say something, but eventually chose to remain silent. Once again, he was reminded that there were times when ignorance was bliss.

He excused himself and sat near the ruins, gazing at the star-filled sky. The Milky Way above was breathtaking, outshining even the moonlight that bathed the ground in its glow.

Then, a voice called out.

“……Marquis Palatio.”

“Hm?” Alon turned his gaze to see Reinhardt approaching slowly, having seemingly regained some mobility.

Reinhardt, too, was chewing on a piece of Stormvi meat, looking as though he genuinely enjoyed it.

“Tasty, isn’t it?” Alon asked.

“This? Yes, it’s quite delicious. A taste I’ve never encountered back in the kingdom.”

Of course, he hadn’t. It would have been stranger if such a dish were available there.

“By the way…… could I ask you something?” Reinhardt scratched his head before speaking.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you know anything about the Hundred Ghosts?”

“The Hundred Ghosts? You mean the northern region?”

“Yes.”

“I know of it, but that’s about it.”

“Just know of it? No connections or anything like that?”

“Connections? Unfortunately, this is my first time in the jungle.”

At Alon’s response, Reinhardt seemed to accept it, nodding thoughtfully.

“I see.”

“What’s this about?”

“It’s nothing. Just a bit of confusion on my part.”

With that, Reinhardt turned away, clearly having said all he intended to. His habit of delivering cryptic remarks and then leaving without further explanation was entirely in character, so Alon simply nodded in acknowledgment.

Watching as Reinhardt resumed eating Stormvi meat while walking away, Alon couldn’t help but feel slightly unsettled. It wasn’t that his stomach turned, but the sight was a bit uncomfortable.

After some time, when his stomach had settled, Alon decided to return to the banquet in search of other food. However, as he arrived, he noticed people gathering in one place and began to walk toward them.

“Yes, the Marquis stood his ground before the great god without retreating a single step. Instead, he climbed upon it and drove a spear into its head.”

“Ohhh……”

Alon realized that Deus, with an unusually solemn expression, was recounting the recent battle against Basiliora to the gathered Thunder Serpent tribe.

“The Marquis gazed down at the fallen god—or rather, the beast—with indifferent eyes, as though it were only natural. No trace of emotion could be seen.”

“Ohhh~”

As the tribe members responded in awe to each of Deus’s words, Alon felt an awkward sense of embarrassment creeping over him.

It wasn’t that he disliked being praised. But listening to a tale of his own deeds, spun into an epic and recounted in front of an audience, was something his ego wasn’t quite thick-skinned enough to endure.

Still, he didn’t want to interrupt the story everyone seemed so engrossed in, so he began edging away from the group.

“But the creature climbed the altar again and again to kill the Marquis. Not once, however, did its attacks land. Each time, it was struck down by the Marquis’s magic.”

“?”

Alon couldn’t help but feel the story was veering away from the actual events.

He wanted to correct it—you’re the one who dealt with Basiliora, weren’t you?—but stopped himself.

“At that moment, Marquis Palatio gazed upon the serpent coiled around the altar and summoned a radiant light that pierced the ashen sky. The sight of him then—”

Deus’s elaborations grew increasingly extravagant, to the point they sounded like verses from some religious scripture. Alon couldn’t help but regard him with suspicion.

If Deus had simply stuck to the facts, Alon wouldn’t have minded. But the exaggerated and almost boastful tone felt as if he were teasing him under the guise of a friend embellishing a story for dramatic effect.

‘Is he doing this on purpose to mock me…..?’

The Milky Way sparkled in the night sky above.

***

The following day, Alon decided to leave the Thunder Serpent tribe.

Now that Reinhardt and Deus had recovered fully, there was no longer any reason to stay.

“I look forward to meeting you again, honored guest,” said the tribe leader with a respectful bow.

“I shall look forward to it as well,” Alon replied with a polite nod.

“If ever you need assistance, please don’t hesitate to call for us.”

“I will.”

“I’ll come to help too, definitely!” Syrkal, along with her younger sibling, chimed in.

“Thank you.”

After bidding them farewell, Alon and his group set out early in the morning.

By midday, they had returned to their camp, grabbed a quick meal, and continued onward, reaching Alon’s estate before nightfall.

“Wow, so this is the air of civilization!” Evan exclaimed in delight.

Alon, standing beside him, shared the sentiment.

Even though it bordered the jungle, the atmosphere felt entirely different. In the jungle, the oppressive humidity clung to their clothes, making it unbearable, but here, it was far more tolerable.

‘I should avoid the jungle as much as possible from now on,’ Alon thought, savoring the comfort of a restful night after so long.

***

The next day, Alon stood before Caslot, ready to part ways with Deus.

While Alon was headed east toward the Kingdom of Asteria, Deus needed to travel west, where Caliban awaited him.

“Well then, until next time,” Alon said lightly.

Deus bowed his head in response but then paused, asking suddenly, “Marquis.”

“Yes?”

“Have I grown stronger?”

The unexpected question made Alon stop and think for a moment before he nodded.

“Yes, anyone can see that. You’ve steadily become stronger.”

In truth, Deus had likely reached the level of a Grand Swordmaster.

“Is that so? That’s a relief,” Deus replied, a faint smile spreading across his face—the first Alon had seen during this journey.

What’s he so relieved about?

Pondering this, Alon bid Deus farewell and parted ways at Caslot.

“Shall we head to Terea now?”

“Yes. Though I’d like to visit the Marquisate first, I need to report back. And…”

Muttering to himself, Alon thought of Cretinia Siyan.

As the carriage began its journey toward Terea, Alon’s mind was filled with thoughts of what awaited him there.

At the time Alon Was heading to Terea

Inside the tent of the temple at the center of the Thunder Serpent tribe:

“What is it, Chief?”

Syrkal, swift as ever, entered the tent in response to the wise Ashgul’s summons, tilting her head in inquiry.

“Syrkal.”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Could you recall and repeat the words spoken by the honored guest?”

At the chief’s request, Syrkal nodded confidently.

“‘I’ll come to the shallow place below the sky. Welcome the dawn with joy, as I will greet it with you.’ That’s what he said, as I mentioned before. But why are you asking about this now?”

The chief, who had been examining a scroll, looked up.

“Syrkal, as you know, our Thunder Serpent tribe reveals sacred words only to those who have earned our gratitude. It ensures that the honored guest can summon our help whenever needed.”

“Yes, of course, I know that. And depending on the extent of the favor received, the specific sacred words vary. Also, to prevent leaks, different opening words are used,” Syrkal replied.

The chief nodded in agreement.

“Exactly. What most of our tribe knows is only the phrase, ‘Welcome the dawn with joy.’ The specific sacred words we shared with the honored guest are recorded solely in this scroll.”

Chief Ashgul handed the scroll to Syrkal.

“Take a look.”

“Huh? But I—”

“You have now completed all preparations to fulfill the restrictions placed upon a future chief. Do not worry.”

“Ah…”

Letting out a soft exclamation, Syrkal accepted the scroll hesitantly.

“Verify it. See if the sacred words match those spoken by the guest.”

Following the chief’s instructions, she carefully unrolled the scroll. As she slowly reviewed the ancient record—permitted to be read only by the chief—her gaze fell on the first line.

And she held her breath.

The very first line didn’t just contain the sacred words spoken by the honored guest.

Next to those words, a name was inscribed.

“Bearer of Lightning, Kalannon…………..?”

Unconsciously, Syrkal murmured the name aloud. It was a title she knew all too well.

No, it was impossible not to know it.

The Bearer of Lightning, Kalannon was the guardian deity who had first protected the Thunder Serpent tribe.

Raising her head abruptly, she asked, “Chief, does this mean…?”

“Yes,” the chief confirmed.

“…But to think of him as a god just because of the sacred words…” Syrkal began to voice her doubts.

Ashgul chuckled softly.

“Yes, you’re right. Even if we alter the sacred words, it’s impossible to guarantee they won’t be leaked.”

“Then why—”

“But those sacred words are ones that no one else could possibly know.”

“…Why?”

“Think carefully, Syrkal. Recall the stories of Kalannon you’ve heard since childhood—the ones recorded as unshakable truths on the divine tablets passed down since ancient times.”

The divine tablets.

Syrkal’s mind wandered to the ancient relics that had been with the Thunder Serpent tribe since time immemorial—tablets that, despite no one writing on them, would inscribe the tribe’s history every ten years.

“…Ah.”

A faint gasp escaped her lips.

The story of Bearer of Lightning, Kalannon that she had read on the divine tablets told of how he had defended the Thunder Serpent tribe against the black scourge, meeting his end in the process.

The tribe owed him an immeasurable debt of gratitude and had pledged the very first sacred words as a token of their eternal bond.

Immediately afterward, Kalannon truly closed his eyes for the final time.

In other words:

The original sacred words known only to Kalannon himself could never have been leaked…

“Exactly,” Ashgul said. “And since only the chief has the authority to view this scroll, a restriction is placed to ensure no one else can divulge the sacred words. Therefore, the only person who could possibly know them—”

“—is the one who spoke them.”

The chief’s voice echoed quietly in the tent.

Syrkal stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape, lost in thought.