The Sword Emperor Transmigrates-Chapter 249

“...What did you just say?”

“The Outer God cult hiding in the Sixth Sea District has been annihilated!”

“No, I mean the part you reported afterward!”

“Ah! That the Outer God’s influence spread across the entire region has been completely consumed as a sacrifice, making additional purification unnecessary?”

“...So I didn’t mishear? It’s actually true?!”

As Leonard and Wade grappled with their suspicions over their respective battles, Atlantis was erupting in cheers over an unexpected cause for celebration. Not only had the seemingly unavoidable and uncontainable disaster been solved, but news had arrived that the Sixth Sea District had been purified as well.

Even sealing the Great Rift was nearly impossible, as Njord himself, the former captain of Aquamarine, had barely managed to accomplish that. So the idea of handling an entire Sixth Sea District that had transformed into a Corroded Realm over decades—if not centuries—was unthinkable.

Even if all adventure teams classified as Rank A or higher had been mobilized, it would have been fortunate if any had returned alive.

The profits from the Fourth and Fifth Sea Districts alone can sustain the Maritime Alliance with surplus left over. If the Sixth Sea District is added on top of that...

However, the Arcadian Empire’s expedition had resolved the issue, and now the Sixth Sea District, which had been abandoned for over a century, was fully open.

It was common knowledge that the further one ventured through the sea districts—First to Second, Second to Third—the richer the resources and mana density became. Thus, everyone was wondering what treasures and natural resources lay buried in the Sixth Sea District.

Moreover, unlike the Fifth Sea District, which was teeming with dangerous sea monsters, the Sixth Sea District, now free from the influence of the Corroded Realm, would not yet be overrun by such creatures.

Low risk, high reward—it was a rare opportunity with minimal risks and massive gains.

“...Well, that’s how fools would see it,” muttered Gordon, the head of the Council of Atlantis.

Of course, Gordon was not like most people. Both a seasoned politician and a Class 8 Archmage, he was well aware of forces that couldn’t be ignored. Neither the Council of Atlantis nor Bermuda was the one who had secured the exploration rights to the Sixth Sea District.

“It’s Cardenas... No, the Empire. A nation capable of deploying five Demigod Tier fighters over extreme distances. It’s not that they couldn’t conquer the world—they’ve simply chosen not to. Perhaps they’ve calculated that ruling the world would cost more than it’s worth.”

Gordon Haywood’s mind was properly racing for the first time in years.

People often spoke of the wisdom of the elders, but that was mostly nonsense. The knowledge and experience gained over a long life often failed to keep up with the changing times. The sharp intuition and rapid learning of one’s prime were abilities that could never fully be regained.

However, the story was different for elderly mages who were high-ranked.

“Even though they could field such a powerful expedition force, why is Arcadia, which has been indifferent to the Rifts and Corroded Realms at the border, now moving so aggressively? And why did the Sixth Sea District suddenly flood? Is something going on that I’m not aware of?”

The mental faculties of high-ranking mages did not deteriorate with age. On the contrary, their studies in magic—requiring extreme memory and reasoning skills—served as constant mental training.

Moreover, Gordon’s political experience and vast repository of intelligence complemented his magical expertise, creating a synergistic advantage. It was enough for him to graze the edge of an otherwise unimaginable truth, one that even most within the Empire itself would struggle to predict.

As Gordon’s deductions solidified, a cold sweat broke out on his beak.

“...Could it be?”

Was the Arcadian Empire preparing for something? Were they clearing away potential obstacles in anticipation of a situation so dire that the Empire would need to mobilize its full power?

It sounded absurd, but Gordon couldn’t think of any other explanation. If the Empire, capable of achieving global domination, was pulling all its forces together with no room for flexibility, whatever they were preparing for had to be unimaginably catastrophic.

This was not a matter of individual survival. This could be an existential threat to the world itself. For that reason, Gordon Haywood made a bold move the very next day.

He visited the Arcadian expedition team.

“Ho...” Corbin, the Light Dragon Commander, listened to Gordon’s deductions, stroking his chin with interest.

Piecing together such a sweeping geopolitical movement through intuition and inference alone—without any direct clues—was highly impressive, especially to Corbin, the head of Arcadia’s intelligence division.

Had Gordon been part of a hostile faction, Corbin would have executed him on the spot, but as a prominent figure in a neutral faction leaning toward allegiance, Gordon was more valuable alive.

So, instead of reaching for his sword, Corbin kept stroking his chin.

“Nine out of ten. Impressive.”

“Thank you...!” Gordon’s face wore a mix of pride and fear.

While thrilled to have proven his worth, he could not shake the terror of realizing that the Empire was preparing for an unprecedented crisis.

If the Arcadian Empire, a nation whose Demigod Tier fighters were in the double digits, were to fall, no alliance of the remaining nations on the continent could make a difference. It would be like goblins charging an ogre—utterly foolish.

The only viable strategy was to establish a collaborative relationship with the Empire before anyone else and contribute to overcoming the crisis.

“Even the border has its fair share of talent, it seems. Chairman Gordon, would you consider acting as a bridge between Atlantis and the Empire?”

Sure enough, Corbin offered Gordon the chance to become an ally of the Arcadian Empire. Gordon, as a politician, had just taken the first step in becoming an ally of the world’s most powerful nation.

Gordon’s eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself. “Of course. It would be the honor of my life.”

“No need to call it an honor just yet. Let’s discuss the details now.”

And just like that, their talk kept going for a long time.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Arcadian expedition team, now docked in the Central City of Atlantis, was recovering from the grueling battles. Exhausted both physically and mentally, they spent their days resting.

Leonard, who spent nearly half his day meditating, was no exception, nor was Demian, who had lost an arm.

“Damn it, my response was a bit too slow,” muttered Demian, testing the movement of his left arm, which had been severed by Scylla’s authority.

Had it been the simple loss of a limb, healing magic could have restored it. However, the attack of a True God entity went beyond flesh and damaged the very soul. Fortunately, the Hydra’s poison had dissipated along with Scylla’s defeat; otherwise, a spiritual purification would have been required to remove the toxin clinging to his soul.

Demian’s left arm, though still recovering, seemed to be on the mend. Once his soul naturally healed, it would return to normal.

“By the way, Leonard, why’d you hand over that old man to Corbin? From what I’ve dug up, Atlantis has considerable value. Including the wealth of the Sixth Sea District we’ve cleared, its influence is equivalent to three or four grand territories.”

“My influence is sufficient with just the Order of the Golden Dragon. I have little interest in wealth or fame, and I’d rather not bother with political maneuvering, especially with the Outer Gods ready to storm in at any moment," Leonard admitted candidly, opening his eyes.

“Besides,” he continued, “I barely have enough time to focus on the enlightenment and level of mastery I momentarily grasped during my fight with Scylla.”

Demian chuckled and nodded in agreement. “A training maniac with talent like yours... Well, no wonder you’re growing so fast. I owe you my life, so I shouldn’t be saying this, but you should at least take some time to catch up with your friends. Who knows when you’ll get another chance to return to Atlantis?”

“I already have plans for dinner tonight,” Leonard replied.

“Ah, so my advice wasn’t needed, huh? Well, I’ve got my own promise to keep. That Drake or Drunk—or whatever his name was—wanted me to teach him how to control his blessing. I might not be back for a few days, so call me if something urgent comes up."

It was something that Demian had promised Drake in exchange for hiring the Wild Hunt adventurer team. With those words, Demian left the lodging. Despite his left arm still moving somewhat unnaturally compared to his right one, he seemed to be much better since the end of the battle. At this rate, he would fully recover within a week or two.

Leonard instinctively evaluated Demian’s condition, diagnosing him without a second thought. Only then did he notice the persistent throbbing around his Dragon Eyes, rubbing the area around them reflexively.

...Ever since I used Vermillion Bird's Descent, I’ve been unable to fully control the power of my Dragon Eyes. It feels like their power keeps going up and down, as though testing the limits of what I can see.

The fact that he could observe Demian’s soul and estimate the extent of his recovery was odd. These were things Leonard normally wouldn’t have been capable of, but they became briefly possible whenever his Dragon Eyes overloaded.

Perhaps “overload” was not the right term—perhaps it was more of a transition phase. Was Leonard’s body and mind undergoing trial and error to adapt to the realm he had glimpsed through the Vermilion Bird’s Descent?

Though his meditation and breathing exercises were stabilizing his mind and body, this phenomenon only seemed to intensify.

I should get some fresh air.

Realizing that overthinking in his room wouldn’t lead to any answers, Leonard left the lodging and made his way to the docks. Before long, the sound of waves reached him, and as he neared the area, the clamor of the docked ships and adventurers grew louder.

It was then that Ninian and Vivian, the elf sisters, noticed Leonard from across the street and approached him.

“Ninian and Vivian? Were you two at Aquamarine?” Leonard asked.

The sisters exchanged a quick glance before Ninian responded, “Mmhm. Vivian prefers being on the ship rather than staying at the inn. We’re actually on our way to browse the marketplace now.”

“Yeah,” Vivian added with a chuckle. “I don’t have the best memories of the Central City. Aquamarine feels more comfortable and familiar. What about you, hero? Where are you off to?”

“Nowhere in particular. I was thinking about stuff, and my mind got all tangled up, so I decided to take a walk,” Leonard replied, a faint wry smile forming as he unconsciously reflected on his past self.

Memories of his early days as a martial artist in murim came flooding back. He had once believed that growing stronger would grant him freedom and release him from his turmoil.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

However, it wasn’t as simple as that. Strength did not just enhance his ability to wield his fists and blades—it broadened his perspective and thoughts, forcing him to confront truths he hadn’t known nor cared to know.

Even now, having glimpsed the domain of the gods, the same held true.

“Hmm? Hero?”

At that moment, Vivian tilted her head in confusion before rubbing her eyes and stepping closer to Leonard, staring at him wide-eyed. Both Ninian and Leonard blinked, equally puzzled.

Then, Vivian said something unexpected.

“For some reason... you feel distant. It’s like... you don’t feel human anymore. I don’t know how to properly say it, but...”

—Allow me to explain from here.

A gust of wind swept through, and with it appeared Boreas. Though his presence was not overwhelming, appearing as a faint, translucent figure like a low-ranking spirit, his authority as an ancient Spirit King still radiated clearly.

Staring directly at Leonard, Boreas made the revelation.

—It’s Deification.