Chapter 843
Even Old Dogs Have Teeth
Over the prairie, the sky gradually darkened.
Thunder rumbled, and a light rain drizzled.
The animal legions, having been mobilized, marched in the rain.
The White Horse carried the Fox, their fur soaked by the rain. Having failed in her previous staff research, Alistair had casually discarded it.
“Do you think we can win?” the White Horse asked.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Alistair asked straightforwardly. “Are you depressed because of the pressure?”
“The pressure is indeed immense,” the White Horse said in a deep, clear, and resonant voice that felt like that of a brave warrior.1 “But I will not surrender. Because I carry the hope of the beast horde. I absolutely cannot fall, nor can I fail…”
“—But the moment you say that, it means you’re already nervous,” the drenched Fox taunted. The White Horse fell silent.
Alistair finally confirmed her suspicion. This White Horse was not King Arthur. Or rather, it wasn’t Arthur *completely*. Although Alistair had only met Arthur twice, she was certain that if it were Arthur, he would never hesitate at a time like this. That man of unyielding will, with his iron perseverance to endure all pain and torment, would never show the slightest hesitation or waver until his mettle fatigued and broke. If the White Horse was a perfect replica of Arthur, then this silent, strong demeanor should have been the focus. It was this incongruity that allowed Alistair to vaguely grasp the key to this Ascension Ritual… Perhaps, the White Horse didn’t refer to Arthur. There might be a deeper secret…
This painting was adapted from Jacob’s novel, “The King of the White Horse,” which hid the story of Arthur defeating Supreme Heaven to become the Silver Crown Dragon. But there was another possibility: that “Arthur’s story” was merely its facade, intended for those who knew about the Pillar Gods’ secrets but not too much. In other words, “Arthur’s story” was only the second layer. It concealed a deeper secret. The destruction of the Hrasal Empire, such a “minor” event, clearly did not warrant the history of the Pillar Gods’ ascension as its superficial layer. What else could align with this matter, that Eivass and Alistair both knew about? The Fox stood on the horse’s back, lost in thought.
A benefit of this fairy-tale-like painting was that many details could be kept vague, much like in children’s animation. Wherever one needed to go, it was as simple as determining the destination and cutting to a new scene. Whether it was pre-battle mobilization, marching, or the war itself, in a normal story, it could take over half a month. But Alistair only had two hours here. Each time she returned from that door, time here seemed to accelerate greatly.
The first choice presented to Alistair was a question: “What story does this fairy tale tell?” The answers were “the Land-Splitting War,” “the Battle of Punishing Heaven,” and “both.” This question wasn’t difficult, so Alistair quickly chose “both”—and it was clear that everyone else had chosen this answer too. When she returned, she had become the White Horse’s advisor. The White Horse was preparing for pre-battle mobilization when that annoying Baboon impolitely showed up—if he hadn’t, Alistair wouldn’t have taken the initiative to kill him. But as soon as he left, Alistair actively pursued him and decisively killed him before he could make his next choice.
After Alistair drove him away and the White Horse issued the pre-battle mobilization order, the second question appeared: “Who do you believe will be the ultimate victor?” The three answers corresponded to “the Red Bear,” “the White Horse,” and “the Golden Lion.” Alistair chose the White Horse without hesitation. The deceased Mage had likely chosen the Golden Lion. As for the person who never appeared, they had probably silently chosen the White Horse, standing with Alistair. After selecting this answer, Alistair returned again… and the plot had already jumped to the part where the White Horse sought aid from the Golden Lion King.
The White Horse thought the Lion was arrogant, and the Lion thought the White Horse was foolish—but they both agreed that neither arrogance nor foolishness was as bad as the Red Bear. Therefore, they didn’t need to fight each other to let the Giant Bear benefit, and decided to part ways. At this time, Alistair was strutting around with the Baboon’s staff, wagging her head. The Golden Lion had certainly seen all of this and must have realized his advisor was gone… but he showed no reaction whatsoever throughout the encounter. —That was a cowardly king. Alistair immediately judged. That didn’t seem like the Hrasal Empire… The last monarch of the Hrasal Empire could not be described as cowardly by any means. Rather than cowardly, he was too brave… Combined with the White Horse’s current personality, Alistair finally became suspicious.
“Think about it yourself, Your Highness… You said before that if a carnivore had to be a monarch, you would choose the Golden Lion,” the Fox, wet from the rain, flashed an elegant and cunning smile. “But is there a possibility—that horses can also eat meat?” With that, she jumped off the White Horse, leaving him to ponder alone. She intended to find new sources of information and see where else she could undertake missions to advance the progress.
Just then, an old voice suddenly echoed beside her: “—Are you going to seek employment elsewhere?” Alistair looked over upon hearing this. It was an old dog. A white old dog, surprisingly filthy due to its age. It looked somewhat like a Schnauzer, with a long, white beard. Uncut fur covered its eyes, making it look quite scruffy. Although the dog looked small, Alistair was also not tall, and they were of similar height. Up close, it truly resembled an old man.
“…Who are you?” Alistair asked cautiously.
“I am a nameless old dog,” the dog said, baring its teeth. “I’ve just come to remind you of a few things. You don’t need to know my name.”
“—Laro?” Alistair blurted out. Seeing the surprise on the dog’s face, Alistair smiled. “So it really is you.”
“…That’s no fun,” Laro shook his head, his tone suddenly becoming mournful and sonorous. “You should have waited for old Laro to reveal more flaws before guessing, so old Laro would be very sad—because it looks like I’ll be mistaken for just a dog.”
“Because you’re so interesting, Laro!” Alistair laughed. “Among these people, you’re the most amusing! That woman… she must be the monarch you’re protecting, right? You’ve come to me of your own accord, are you planning to clear this together?” Unlike the old Mage—the first person to approach Alistair almost always died, but the second person almost certainly wouldn’t. She intended to keep Laro close, which was also a form of surveillance.
Old dog Laro clearly understood the true meaning of Alistair’s words. He just smiled, and from his bewhiskered muzzle came strange, rhythmic words:
[Because I am born of the wind, and when I howl, my heart is filled with the void.]
[I only want to burn out before I die, so that I can still see my own ashes.]
As Laro finished speaking, Alistair felt her body suddenly warm up. The fur of the two small canines, disheveled by the rain, instantly became dry and fluffy, emitting two faint orange-red lights.
“This is… a poem you wrote?” Alistair asked, somewhat surprised. She could taste a peculiar death aura from this poem.
“Mm,” Laro smiled. “Just wrote it… It’s okay, right?”
“Much better than the one in the preparation room,” Alistair said honestly. The old dog laughed heartily. “What kind of poem is that—that’s just scolding them! They are all ungrateful traitors. They only think of themselves… either they rebelled, or they are a bunch of perverts, lunatics, criminals. It’s only right that old Laro scolds them!”
“…You seem to know me?” Hearing this, Alistair finally realized where Laro’s attitude towards her was incongruous. Laro harbored considerable animosity towards the Children of the Moon and Demon Scholars, but harbored no hostility towards Alistair, who was both a Child of the Moon and a Transcendent. It was as if he deliberately avoided her, acting distant towards her even when scolding the fiercest, as if fighting alongside her. At the same time, he didn’t deliberately praise Alistair.
The New Moon Ritual was different from the Full Moon Ritual. Because the New Moon Ritual assumed no teammates, anyone who showed signs of previous acquaintance could easily be targeted by others. From this perspective, his perceived distance from “Great Serpent” Alistair was actually protecting her.
“Are you referring to ‘Great Serpent,’ or ‘Alistair’?” Old dog Laro grinned, revealing two sharp and perfectly aligned rows of canine teeth. “Of course, I know you. I also know that you killed the Red Phase—that bastard who broke his oath and murdered his sovereign. I want to thank you on behalf of Star Antimony—although I know you’re definitely not one of the Star Antimony people.”
“But my surname is Crowley,” Alistair smiled. “Alistair Crowley. Isn’t that the name you gave me?”
“I was there the day that name was born, so of course, I know. But if you like it,” Laro chuckled, “the Crowley Family will be yours hereafter—consider it a gift of gratitude. They are from the military, and are on our side.”
“The military… you took the Crown Princess to join the military? That person should be the Crown Princess, right?”
“Yes, to establish a stable military government, at least one legitimate successor must be here. Otherwise, someone will always suspect it’s a military coup… God’s honest truth, the army is here to save the day!” Old Laro tilted his head back, wagging his tail as he yelped an oath in a pathetic voice. “Without them, Star Antimony would have descended into chaos! Although old Laro himself doesn’t particularly like order, even the worst order is better than true chaos… Don’t you think so?”
“I think you’re right,” Alistair agreed, nodding. Unlike most Demon Scholars, who liked chaotic social atmospheres because chaos meant danger and opportunity. Seeking adventure and opportunities was one of the typical traits of the Transcendent Path. But Alistair was not like that. She didn’t need to find opportunities through “chaos.” Her goal itself was filled with the desire for transcendence.
“So that’s how you see Star Antimony…” Alistair mused aloud. “What about the Daffodil Duchy? What do you think?”
“The people of the Daffodil Duchy… haha, they don’t understand the situation at all. Without freedom, there is no sorrow… Those Mages have forgotten how they were defeated by Star Antimony back then,” Laro retorted, his voice deepening and becoming solemn again. “A bunch of Mages, all busy with their own research. Who has the leisure to manage worldly affairs? Everyone is a Mage, everyone wants to climb higher, everyone is studying those noble and profound truths. Then who will handle the people’s problems? Who will sacrifice themselves? Do you know, the Daffodil people are more tolerant of foreigners than their own citizens, just as the Church is to non-believers who don’t worship the Nine Pillar Gods, rather than its Heavenly Envoy followers—they understand that not everyone needs to pray. But if someone is familiar with this matter and still chooses the Heavenly Envoy’s path, that is the act of a Dwarf. The Daffodil people are the same… They know that foreign societies do not have such a passionate atmosphere for the Path of Wisdom. But in a society that promotes the Path of Wisdom, if someone still lacks the rank of the Path of Wisdom, they will be considered a ‘fool’ by others. In the Daffodil language, there’s a specific derogatory term for such people, called a ‘meat donkey’… meaning a foolish donkey that can’t run fast and is useless. And who will truly be responsible for the people’s affairs, instead gets mocked for their slow progress in the Path of Wisdom. Who will manage the country then? They indeed have ability and smart minds, but politics requires not only ability… but also attitude, responsibility, and perseverance.”
This time, Laro did not resort to clownish words, but logically and calmly stated sharp truths that the Mages could not accept. The old dog glanced toward the void and said maliciously, “They thought they could steal the power of the Children of the Moon, forcefully reach for the secret of the Children of the Moon’s immortality through the Path of Wisdom, and try to analyze and replicate the Children of the Moon’s transformation ritual, only to be polluted into variant Children of the Moon… Their souls are imprisoned within their bodies, fused to their corrupted flesh. This can be considered a form of immortality. But they never expected it to be a conspiracy. They were instead controlled by the Blood Heavenly Envoy, to be slowly dragged into the Dream Realm and become the Blood Heavenly Envoy’s Apostles. We all know this, even the Red Phase knew. Just as that regicide awaits the ‘Perfect Being,’ they are also waiting for their opportunity… a final solution that can solve all problems, freeing them from that state of being controlled by the Blood Heavenly Envoy. Because they had such smooth sailing all the way, they became too arrogant—when they truly hit a wall, they will know their own powerlessness. Mages should never have had the freedom to measure themselves from the start… They will ultimately reap what they sow. Of course, before that—perhaps they will go mad. But I hope they don’t provoke me. The betrayal by the Daffodil Duchy was the last straw that caused Star Antimony to disintegrate. If Mr. ‘Pelican’ dares to show himself before me and spout nonsense…” The old dog Laro growled low, envisioning the void around him once more, and bared his teeth at any Mages who might be present. “I will let the noble Mages know… —that even old dogs have teeth.” In his words, there was a magnanimity that Alistair found incredibly familiar. It was a ruthlessness born of disregarding one’s own life and death. Alistair suddenly understood why the other party had told her so much… —because this loyal old dog had no intention of leaving this ritual alive when he entered it. (End of this chapter)
