Chapter 59
The news of the Saint’s disappearance spread like wildfire throughout the capital.
Everyone was shocked, and reactions varied.
“We must find him! We have to find him!!”
There were those who desperately sought him.
“Why? Why did he leave?”
Some were filled with questions.
“Have you heard anything?”
And others rushed to his closest aides, hoping for answers.
Erfa.
The two imperial princesses.
And the High Priest Yodel and Jonathan Karma.
People sought them out, demanding an explanation. But their responses remained unwavering.
“The Saint has left to fulfill the mission entrusted to him.”
“Return to your lives and live them well.”
“Do not forget his teachings—always be kind and generous.”
“That is all we can do.”
“Do not seek him out. You will only hinder his sacred duty.”
Yet, even after hearing these words, not everyone could accept them.
“We must find him!!”
“He is the one who must lead us!!”
A group of paladins and priests from the Grand Temple united to form an expedition in search of the Saint. The people of the slums gathered what little money they had to track down his whereabouts.
Even when High Priest Yodel and Jonathan Karma personally urged them to stop, their words fell on deaf ears.
While some frantically scoured the lands, others reacted in a completely different way.
“He will return one day.”
“As long as the Goddess does not abandon us, he will never truly leave our side.”
“For the day he returns, let us work to fulfill his will!!”
Many people took this to heart, devoting themselves to their roles and striving to live better lives.
By now, most of the slum dwellers had embraced the faith of Lilia. They prayed each day for the Saint’s safety, pleading with the Goddess to bring him back one day.
And among them, there were those who wished to take even greater action.
“You intend to donate your research on the Three Primary Colors… to Karma Company for free?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan Karma looked at Erfa, standing before him, and shook his head.
“I cannot accept such valuable research without paying royalties.”
“Please, take it. I know that Karma Company exists to uphold the Saint’s will. I only wish to offer what little help I can.”
“But…”
“There are still countless workers suffering under low wages and grueling hours. I hope that Karma Company can become a sanctuary for them.”
After a moment of contemplation, Jonathan Karma finally accepted the research Erfa handed him.
“Optimization of magic… research on power amplification… This could revolutionize everything, from the fuel efficiency of mana engines to large-scale applications. Thank you, Erfa. With this research, I will make sure the Saint’s will is realized.”
His fist clenched tightly.
An elixir of infinite supply.
And now, research on the Three Primary Colors—designed to enhance its efficiency.
With the combination of these two, he envisioned the creation of a powerful corporate empire.
And he had already chosen its name.
‘Eleos Group.’
The one who shows mercy.
A corporate alliance founded to spread the Saint’s will.
Everything necessary was already within his grasp.
Now, all that remained was to turn this vision into reality.
“Would you be able to visit the temple from time to time? There is much to discuss regarding the practical application of the Three Primary Colors research.”
“Of course. For the Saint—always.”
“For the Saint.”
Thus, Jonathan and Erfa formed an alliance. Karma Company was now more formidable than ever.
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
“Almeine, you’ve only just recovered…”
But Almeine and Iomene had their own paths to follow.
“I need to study. Iomene has the White Order, but I have nothing. I must quickly improve my political acumen. I’ve wasted too much time. Mother, I have no time for rest. When the Saint returns one day, I must have grown stronger.”
Determined, Almeine delved into law, history, geography, science, and magic—studying with relentless focus.
She summoned scholars from across the empire, pushing herself to the point of exhaustion.
Seeing this, the Emperor and Empress felt both concern and admiration.
“…Very well. If this is truly what you desire, then I shall help you. From tomorrow onward, you will attend the state council meetings with me. You will learn firsthand how the empire is governed.”
The Emperor did not view Almeine’s determination as a flaw.
She nodded.
And from that day on, her studies expanded to include governance.
She started with simple administrative tasks, but even those she handled with meticulous precision. Watching her, the Emperor and Empress finally felt some of their worries ease.
Unlike Almeine, however, Iomene took a different approach.
She did not study at her father’s side.
She did not learn politics.
She did not concern herself with running the empire.
Instead, she spent almost all her time within the White Order.
“Teach me how to wield divine power and martial arts.”
She sought growth through an entirely different means.
“I will instruct you in offensive miracles, combat techniques, and the art of hunting down dark gods and demons. But be warned—it will be grueling.”
“I don’t care.”
Iomene’s resolve was unwavering.
“The Saint went to fight against evil. He said he would do it alone, but one day, he might need my strength. That’s why I must prepare myself now.”
The High Priest of the White Order, Miromel, smiled at her words.
“As you wish, Saintess. I will teach you every combat technique our order has cultivated—our greatest knowledge and experience combined. When all of this is over, you will be the strongest warrior among us.”
A Saintess who had harbored a curse for so long that she was now highly resistant to most curses and dark magic—one who could even see through those who concealed their true nature.
Strategically, she was of immense value.
Of course, she had to be trained.
“Follow me.”
Miromel led Iomene deep into the most hidden, shadowed depths of the White Order.
When she arrived at the vast underground training hall, she was immediately met with towering figures undergoing rigorous drills.
Each one stood well over two meters tall.
They wore armor so thick and heavy it seemed impossible to move in.
In their hands were massive swords, axes, hammers, and shields—some even wielded enormous firearms.
These warriors seamlessly alternated between melee and ranged combat, their drills fluid and disciplined.
At the sight of Iomene, they halted their training, turning to approach her.
Then, as one, they bowed deeply.
“We greet the Saintess.”
With a burst of laughter, Miromel gestured toward them as they lined up in perfect formation before Iomene.
“These are the greatest hunters of the White Order. Every single one of them is both a paladin and a battle priest. They were chosen from among our most talented young believers and have undergone more than ten years of flesh-strengthening miracles to become what you see before you—superhuman soldiers.”
“They will be both your instructors and your personal guard.”
Iomene silently observed them before a satisfied smile crossed her lips.
“These warriors. What are their names?”
Miromel grinned, pride evident in his expression.
“They are the Legiones Quattuor. The greatest weapons of Dulanier.”
Scrap Yard.
A massive industrial city built entirely for the purpose of mining the underground.
True to its name, the entire city was filled with steam engines and metal—a place where all forms of magic, miracles, and faith were rejected in favor of pure human ingenuity and machinery.
The most advanced metallurgical production hub on the continent.
The gathering place of the finest engineers.
A steampunk city.
Because of this, the air was thick with the stench of iron.
For now, money wasn’t an issue.
The goal was to avoid as much human interaction as possible.
To exist like a ghost.
To remain unnoticed, unseen.
There was no need for luxury.
Just a small home, enough to live like a person.
Basic food supplies, just enough to survive.
And gold—spent only to track down any dark sorcerers or demon worshippers lurking in the shadows.
However…
“A house? There are only two kinds of homes in this city. The luxurious mansions of factory owners—or the workers’ lodging, where you scrape by, living hand to mouth. Which one are you looking for?”
“…Neither. Isn’t there anything in between? A modest house, something reasonable?”
“There was. But last month, the Factory Owners’ Union decided to demolish most of them and replaced them with more worker lodgings. Said it was better to cram ten families into a single space instead of wasting an entire house on just one.”
Hearing the words of the gruff old dwarf woman, a headache began to set in.
What kind of ridiculous situation was this?
“…How much would a mansion cost if I were to buy one?”
“Well over 100,000 Salred (10 billion in value). The upper class here isn’t just rich—they own all the magical metals and technology coming out of the mines.”
100,000 Salred.
Damn it.
Even if I sold all 10 kilograms of gold I had brought with me, it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
“…Then, what about the lodgings?”
“The cheapest goes for 50 Leon (about 50,000 won) per month, while the higher-end worker accommodations cost around 3 Salred per month. The better ones are usually taken by skilled engineers with a bit of experience.”
No choice, then.
“I’ll take the high-end lodging.”
Since I had already exchanged my gold for local currency at a money changer, I handed over the payment.
The dwarf woman stood up from her seat.
“Follow me. The skilled workers’ lodging is packed right next to the cheapest dorms. No soundproofing. No privacy. If someone’s cooking, fighting, or their baby’s crying—you’ll hear it all.”
She led me straight to the building I would be living in.
“Unlike the cheap ones, this one has a bathroom and a kitchen. The landlord will come to collect rent at the start of every month. As long as you pay on time, you won’t get kicked out. Here’s your key.”
Handing me the key without another word, she disappeared.
Crying children.
Shouting couples.
The scent of food from who knows where.
It was a setup straight out of a run-down goshiwon ( tiny studio apartment).
‘Well, nothing I can do.’
With a sigh, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
A filthy bed.
Thin walls that let in every single noise from the surrounding rooms.
A kitchen and bathroom—though, calling them that felt like an insult.
No exaggeration, but they might just be the smallest in existence.
A cramped, dilapidated four-pyeong (about 13 square meters) space, barely enough to breathe in.
Not what I had in mind.
But this was my home now.
After roughly unpacking, I decided to head out to buy some food.
Just as I stepped outside—
“AAAGH!! AAAHHH!!”
“You filthy laborist scum! Stay the hell down!!”
A horrifying scream rang out from the corner of the lodging area.
Instinctively, my gaze followed the sound.
There, I saw police officers mercilessly beating a man with batons and pistol-whipping him.
“You lapdogs of the factory lords! Beat me all you want!! The paradise of the workers WILL come!!”
Despite the brutal assault, the young man glared up at them, his eyes burning with defiance.
Beside him, drenched in blood, was a single book.
Its cover was red.
The title read:
“On Capital.”
“Capitalism, built on the blood and souls of workers, WILL collapse! The utopia of the proletariat is—”
“Shut him up!!”
One officer slammed the man’s face with the butt of his rifle.
“Take him away! Throw him in the reeducation camp! He doesn’t leave until he’s fixed!!”
The officers dragged the limp man away.
As workers gathered outside their rooms, drawn by the commotion, the police deliberately held up the book for all to see.
“There is NO mercy for those who read forbidden books! If anyone finds one of these red books, report it immediately!!”
With that chilling warning, they disappeared.
…
This scene.
I’ve seen this kind of thing before.
Somewhere.
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