Chapter 274: Trial of the Ancestral Stone
The gloom of the canyon settled completely, illuminated only by the glowing embers remaining from the artillery strikes and the magmatic glint within Karkadann’s eyes. The colossal turtle rested its chin against the bedrock, keeping its gaze locked onto Kellar.
"I shall test three virtues," said the colossus, its voice deep and resonant like the roar of the earth’s crust. "The first shall be a trial of knowledge; the second, of vision and discernment; and the last, the essence of governance. Answer with the truth of your soul."
Kellar planted the Overlord Club onto the ground, crossed his arms over his chest, and nodded with a calm expression.
"Go ahead. Ask."
Karkadann blinked, causing the stone plates along its face to creak.
"First question: What is that which fortifies a realm beyond gold and high walls, yet if corrupted from within, can destroy it without requiring an enemy army?"
Kellar did not hesitate for a second. He recalled the squabbles among the human kingdoms, the downfall of ancient warlords, and the discipline keeping the Overlord tribe united.
"Order and justice," answered Kellar in a firm voice. "Gold depletes and walls collapse before cannons or time. But order and justice keep people bound to a cause. If a ruler’s justice becomes corrupt, his subjects will tear the realm apart before an enemy ever crosses the border."
The ancient colossus released a breath that kicked up a cloud of dust.
"A fine answer... Truth does not waver within your voice," noted the turtle before continuing. "Second question: a ruler must see beyond the horizon. Tell me, shaman... when you gaze upon a conquered territory or a wild land, what do you see? A resource to be exploited, or a burden you shall carry upon your shoulders?"
Kellar offered a smirk.
"I see a responsibility. A land is not merely its riches or its rocks; it is the lives of those dwelling within it. One who views a land solely as a resource to exploit is a short-lived tyrant. One who sees it as a weight they are willing to bear is one who builds an empire that endures. I discern the worth of every life and resource before taking a step."
Karkadann remained silent for a long moment. The great mystical membrane shielding its eyes glowed, assessing the resonance of the shaman’s energy to confirm no deceit lingered in his words.
"Lastly... the trial of governance," uttered the ancestral turtle, raising its head. "Imagine your tribe faces an inevitable catastrophe. To save ninety percent of your people, you must knowingly sacrifice the remaining ten percent—be it your finest warriors or your weakest citizens. As a leader... how would a true ruler act?"
Kellar did not answer right away. He locked his eyes onto the ancestral turtle’s magma orbs and let out a cold chuckle that echoed across the canyon.
"A true ruler does not allow himself to be cornered by trick questions posed by old beings who have spent far too long cooped up in the mountains," declared Kellar with absolute confidence. "To accept your dilemma means accepting defeat before even stepping onto the battlefield. If a leader assumes from the onset that he must sacrifice ten percent of his people to save the rest, he has already failed in his duty."
Karkadann narrowed its gaze, listening in silence.
"A true ruler does not select which of his own limbs to sever," continued Kellar, stepping forward and slamming the Overlord Club hard against the bedrock. "A true leader seeks a third way. If none exists, he carves it with his own hands, with his own blood, and with every resource at his disposal. If the rules of the world must be shattered, they are shattered. If a god must be defied to save that ten percent, he is defied. My people are not digits on a ledger; if I surrender ten of my own today out of convenience, tomorrow I forfeit the right to demand the loyalty of the remaining ninety."
The silence that followed was total. The freezing wind of the Wind Mountains whistled through the stone crags as the giant turtle processed every word uttered by the shaman.
Suddenly, a low rumble welled up from the primordial beast’s chest, gradually swelling into a deep laugh that shook the mountain range.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" roared Karkadann in laughter, exhaling a dense gust of warm air. "Magnificent! Brilliant! Most of the kings and tyrants I have encountered over the ages would have answered with cold figures and cowardly logic, disguising their powerlessness as a ’necessary sacrifice.’ Your arrogance is not hollow, Shaman... it is forged upon an iron will."
The colossal stone turtle slowly bent its forelegs and lowered its head until its snout rested against the frozen ground, directly at Kellar’s boots.
"I have lived through eras without bowing my neck to a soul... yet today, that streak breaks. I, Karkadann, the Dread Colossus, acknowledge your worth. From this moment forth, my shell and my strength belong to the Overlord tribe."
A golden radiance illuminated the canyon’s gloom as a floating spiritual interface window deployed directly before Kellar’s field of view:
[A Mountain Turtle requests to become a subject of the Overlord tribe]
[Accept? Y/N]
Without hesitation, Kellar reached out his hand and pressed YES. In that exact instant, a surge of ancestral energy coursed through the shaman’s body, sealing the unyielding bond between the stone colossus and the tribe’s Totem.
Kellar channeled his voice across the mental network that now encompassed the newly bound creature:
"All gunners and troops, disarm and lower the cannons! Everything is concluded."
A murmur of relief and awe rippled along the mountain ridges as Brak and the soldiers began securing all fifteen Garnis cannons.
Kellar took a couple of paces toward the massive head resting upon the rock and asked calmly:
"Are you able to walk?"
"They are merely minor wounds, Master," answered Karkadann, opening its magmatic eyes with composure. "Aside from possessing formidable defense, my species carries immense vitality. I require but a few moments to heal entirely."
"Excellent. Then let us head to my village, I shall introduce you to our home," said Kellar, turning on his heel.
"I shall follow you, Master," agreed the great turtle in a deep voice.
Kellar leaped gracefully and settled atop Little Green’s back, entirely forgetting the surrounding restriction.
"Let us take the lead, Little Green!" commanded the shaman.
The elemental bird beat its forty-meter wings with enthusiasm, yet failed to lift off by even a single centimeter, landing back in an awkward hop upon the dirt.
"Right... I had forgotten," noted Karkadann in a tone.
The stone colossus closed its eyes and withdrew the weight of its aura. Instantly, the suppression field rendering the air heavy as lead deactivated completely. Little Green let out a victorious shriek, beat its wings freely, and soared into the night sky, clearing the way for the tribe’s march back home.