"Roar!!"
A thunderous howl split the night like lightning through a storm, causing everyone mixed in the crowd to shiver and instinctively turn toward the sound.
The three-headed wolf-dog stood proudly atop the golden sands, a swirling vortex forming around its body as its form rapidly expanded.
The bandit still clutching Eurydice's hair loosened his grip at the roar. His head turned slowly, like a rusted gear, letting out hoarse, ragged breaths.
He knew this roar all too well.
When their emperor, Zelas, abandoned them without a trace, a roar like this had echoed through the entire city of Vicola.
Then came the horrifying light that split the sky.
That light tore the heavens apart—and shattered the bandits' faith in Zelas.
The bandits froze, stunned, staring at Rage. His body had now swollen to the size of a house. At five meters shoulder height, with a massive frame, he alone could shatter most people's mental defenses.
"The story… it's true!"
"Kazal's story… it's true!"
"The Three-Headed Hound God exists!"
"Our scavenger god… our god has appeared!"
"Praise be to you! Praise the god!"
…
All the scavengers knelt in reverence, utterly believing Kazal's tale. Kazal himself, lying in the sand, propped himself up on his arms, eyes blazing with fanatic fervor.
What could be more thrilling than witnessing oneself as part of a living legend?
He was witnessing history unfold, watching an ancient myth awaken!
"Grrr!"
Rage let out a low growl. Simultaneously, armor plates on his back opened, revealing honeycomb-like missile bays. Missiles deployed instantly, while his three heads locked onto every bandit.
Whoosh… whoosh… whoosh…
Like a swarm of bees released from the hive, dozens of missiles shot from the bays, one after another obliterating the bandits. Each exploded in a fiery burst, collapsing to the sand, instantly reduced to ash.
Rage stepped forward, towering over the kneeling scavengers.
Kazal, seeing the bandits gone, scrambled to the tile he had spotted earlier. He held it to his chest and exhaled deeply.
Gazing at the tile and then at Rage, his eyes shone with extraordinary light.
He had a premonition—he was witnessing the birth of a new myth.
"Oh, great God!"
Eurydice buried her head in the sand, her voice trembling with unspoken reverence and hope.
"Please, take us with you!"
"Woof?" One of Rage's heads tilted; the other two glanced at each other before attempting to vocalize, like an infant learning to speak.
"Nai Rui ma jie… Nai Rui ma jie… Nai Rui ma jie…"
"Nai Rui ma jie!!"
Rage lowered his head, staring at Eurydice. "Where is Nai Rui ma jie?"
It was his first attempt at speech, and it sounded awkward. Did he not know how to talk?
Of course he could!
But why speak when facing Duke?
He was a loyal Shugo, understanding Duke's commands, capable of playful gestures, without needing to converse.
He was Duke's dog—unique and exclusive.
Why waste words with anyone else?
After all, imagine your dog greeting you at the door after work with, "Good job, human worker!"—who could handle that?
"Nai Rui ma jie is in the far west of Shurima, near the Great God Peak!"
An elderly scavenger stepped forward, arms crossed, kneeling on one knee to pay respects to Rage.
"Master God, shall we guide the way?"
Rage surveyed the hopeful faces of the scavengers and, almost unconsciously, nodded.
"Lead the way!"
His voice rumbled like distant thunder, radiating an awe-inspiring authority.
With Rage's approval, the scavengers quickly packed what they could carry. Anyone able to move was taken along; those too weak were sprinkled with handfuls of sand to motivate them forward.
When all was ready, Rage herded several camels—what remained of the bandits' wealth—before the group.
And so, in the cold night, a massive three-headed dog led a caravan of scavengers westward.
They crossed the vast desert. More people joined along the way, swelling the ranks behind Rage, all heading to their deity's chosen destination.
Tired? They camped safely under his protection.
Thirsty? Rage led them to water.
Hungry? He hunted, bringing back enough food.
And when enemies appeared? Rage would charge with thunder and flame, leaving destruction in his wake, the people following close behind.
Their journey took them to the far western reaches of Shurima, nearing Nai Rui ma jie.
…
"So, you picked up all these people along the way?"
Duke's cigarette had burned to its end. Only now did he fully realize the scene, dropping the stub to look at Rage on the screen.
Rage wagged and poked his tongue out, flirting through the screen.
"Hah!"
Duke rubbed his face, exhaling bitterly. "This isn't unusual. A wandering dog might bring back a family or two."
"But my dog wandered for a few days and came back with an entire tribe!"
What the hell kind of situation is this?
He watched the long line of followers behind Rage. So many people—how was he supposed to handle them?
Judging by Rage's memory, many were homeless, some orphaned by tribal raids.
Among them were scavengers, weavers, beast riders, merchants, travelers, mercenaries—even a few local Shuriman shamans.
All gathered together—it was a newborn tribe.
And Rage had become their living totem, their spiritual anchor, their leader.
Looking at how these people gazed at Rage, Duke knew: if Rage leaped into the sea, they would follow without hesitation.
Pride swelled in Duke. His dog had managed to pull such a large group—but pride aside, there was still work to do.
Original Sin was like his child; when the child caused trouble, it was up to him to clean it up.
"Rage!"
He stared at the screen. "Pick a place to camp. I'll come to you."
"Woof!"
Rage nodded repeatedly. Duke touched his chin. "Send me your coordinates. I'll come and help sort this mess out."
"You really know how to give me trouble," he muttered, shaking his head.
And then he remembered: he still had 0 out there…
If Rage could gather such a following, what surprises—or terrors—might Pride bring?
Duke shivered at the thought. If Pride was like Rage, he was in for a lot of work.
After giving Rage a few brief instructions, Duke dialed Pride's contact. He needed to see what mischief had been done.
He took a swig from his last sip of wine, setting the bottle aside for Idith to refill. Lighting a new cigarette, he waited for the call.
Soon, Pride appeared on screen, apparently fresh from battle, flames flickering at his mouth, screams and wails echoing behind him.
"Pride, what are you doing over there?"
"Nothing, Father!"
Pride's eyes darted nervously, blocking the camera view behind him. Duke knew he was up to no good.
"Pride, now that it's sorted, who's the next target?"
His low, frenzied voice crackled through the screen. Duke raised an eyebrow. Pride turned to a crocodilian companion.
"Don't bother me, Rekton!"
"I'm talking to my father!"
"Your father?" The crocodile twirled its crescent blade. "The one who created you?"
"Where? Let me see. I'm curious—someone capable of creating a being rivaling an ascended one must be extraordinary!"
Duke watched Rekton crowd into the frame and muttered in disbelief:
"Well, hello there, General Rekton 5.0!"
"Huh… not quite what I expected," Rekton scratched his head. Duke smiled politely, noting the differences from the rumors. The connection between Pride and this creature seemed complex.
"Pride!"
Duke spoke softly, flicking ash from his cigarette, eyes sharp.
"I think we need to have a serious talk."
"Father, I…" Pride fidgeted with his dark spear. "I just wanted to surprise you!"
"Surprise?" Duke raised an eyebrow. "This is clearly a fright!"
"I contacted Rage. He formed a new tribe and is acting as their totem god!"
"And you?" Duke's gaze flicked to Pride. "Don't tell me—you've raised a warband, conquering cities?"
"Uh…" Pride fidgeted, eyes evasive. Duke's gut twisted. "Don't tell me I'm right…"
"Father, you're partly correct!"
"That part?"
"I really have raised a warband!"
"PRIDE!!!"
End of chapter....
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