1245 Palarin Race



"Every Palarin is born with a natal treasure."

In a quiet pavilion by a pink water lake with a purple flower riverbed, the prince of Pala Kingdom revealed his reasons.

"A sword, a shield, a rope, an orb—it could be anything. It's like a second heart, right from birth and usually perishes with you upon your death. If you're really talented, it could become a very, very powerful weapon."

The gentle breeze brushed the moist tips of the grass blades and blew over the despondent prince.

Taking in the chilly air at the wake of dawn to calm his agitated heart, Baldur continued. "At least, that's how the story is supposed to go. Not everyone palarin is born that way.

Maybe it's because the ones that created our race were divine rankers, not gods. We aren't the way we're supposed to be. There are a lot of us who simply fall short of having a natal treasure, much less growing it to a higher state."

Varian turned his gaze away from the prince and stared at the darkening sky. It was dark everywhere but light was slowly seeping out, promising a bright day. For a moment, he found solace in the sunrise. 

Even if things were going really bad, it'd get better.

'Or I'll be dead.'

Varian's lips twitched. It didn't seem like he could maintain a very optimistic attitude, unlike Sarah. But he wasn't too pessimistic either, unlike how Sia would be at times.

'But gods? Created? What the hell?'

"Your race, the royal race of Pala kingdom isn't natural? It's created? What are you saying?" Varian knew he could've spoken better but the claim was so absurd that he didn't care how he sounded.

"Of course?" Baldur raised a brow at his reaction. "What do you mean you don't know this…every kingdom has a legendary divine ranker as a founding figure."

Varian pursed his lips and pretended to cough to ease his embarrassment. It's not like he took the history courses of Pala Kingdom at school. So, maybe cut some slack?

Perhaps he understood Varian's meaning or maybe he got scared by the evil man's intense gaze, Baldur shrunk back and continued.

"Palarin are created by the All-Mother with help from Master Vulcan of Nexus." Even though he spoke out their names, Baldur's voice remained low and reverent.

No, it wasn't just that. It was almost…fanatical. Varian was reminded of the cults and brainwashing organizations he had seen.

He tried asking more about these two divine rankers but Baldur didn't seem to know anything other than the particular legend.

The information about divine rankers, whether living or dead, seemed to be strictly controlled.

Varian didn't know their reasoning. Perhaps they didn't want the kingdoms to know or they didn't deem them worthy enough to help even if they knew.

The peak rank 9 Great Harvest was a nightmare that lay the entire solar system to waste.

Because the Lost Spiral's space was much harder and the core area itself was too vast, it didn't seem like a big deal back then.

But in hindsight, if the Great Harvest could blow away the solar system in a single attack. And the shockwaves of his attacks would reach Centaurus and blow up a couple of planets.

In fact, the reason Centaurus faced a sharp decline wasn't because of the enemy attacks but because of friendly fire.

The shockwaves of an attack from a rank 9 damaged the duchy beyond help, pushing it into an irreversible decline.

That rank 9 was Isadora. And this happened 500 fucking years ago.

According to what Boo told him a long ago, there had been a 'natural calamity' due to which it ended up being found by the abyssals.

The little ghost then ended up in the solar system. The abyssals pursuing Boo, particularly the guy with the posthumous title 'Last Light' blew up their sun into two and kicked off 'Blink'.

Perhaps, no, very likely, Isadora was the initiator of everything. The aura seal broke, Logos escaped into a bracelet and Sia ended up with him.

'But why did she fall into a 500-year-long sleep? It's not just due to the lack of slivers. She could've taken them herself. Something went wrong. She was…betrayed and got heavily injured. That makes sense.'

Her distrust was obvious and her words didn't do a good job of hiding her pain. This was common for a betrayed person.

Even though she seemed really indifferent, he could feel the turbulent emotions under her mask.

"…And so I came here."

"What?" Varian blinked in confusion and asked out loud.

"I…" Baldur looked at him with a face full of grievance. He had described everything in his life, right from how he was born to his childhood to adolescence and finally to this day.

"I'm sorry but could you please repeat?" Varian showed an apologetic smile.

Baldur's anger and frustration subsided a bit. Nodding slightly, he began once again, with a passionate voice. "So, my father made a bet with his friends that he should get the beautiful girl in their class pregnant. He was serious and didn't use pro—"

"Stop." Varian raised his hands with a puzzled expression. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You wanted me to tell everything. Everything starts somewhere, right? My life starts with my father impregn—" Baldur replied with a genuinely puzzled expression.

"Not everything. Why did you come here? And talk about that woman with you. Her motives and what her death would entail?" Varian crossed his arms and looked at him with an expression that warned him to speak properly or risk getting punched in the face.

Perhaps Baldur understood. So, he addressed the point right away. "My natal treasure was broken during a battle a few years ago. I am not a contender the crown prince but if I lose my natal weapon, I'll be treated as a powerful thug of Palarin at best and a use-until-throw weapon at best."

Varian froze as a thought struck.

'That card…'