[Lord of Abundance] Chapter 24: Even Gods Make Mistakes

 Chapter 24: Even Gods Make Mistakes

After releasing the wind falcon with his reply, Kun returned to his desk and opened the small cylinder.

As expected, a broken golden insect leg rolled out.

“Worthy of being a sacred relic… such dense light-element power.”

Light elements flooded the study, effortlessly dispelling the lingering chill. Warmth spread through the room like a soothing hot spring, and Kun couldn’t help but narrow his eyes in comfort.

To his senses, this tiny fragment—no larger than a fingertip—radiated purer elemental energy than even the crystal core of a high-tier light beast. It blazed brilliantly, as if he were holding a miniature sun between his fingers.

There was no doubt—this fragment belonged to a being above the third tier. Whether it was fourth tier or even higher, Kun couldn’t yet determine.

According to legends of the Dansu Kingdom, a terrifying undead creature had once appeared within its borders, scorching thousands of miles into desolation. In the end, a knight sent by the Church wielded a sacred relic to destroy it.

That relic was the Golden Scarab.

To display the goddess’s authority and benevolence, the Church had not reclaimed it afterward. Instead, it was placed in a cathedral in the capital for the faithful to witness as a divine miracle.

A “legendary” undead creature would at least be fourth tier.

If a knight could suppress and destroy it with the Golden Scarab’s power, then the relic’s rank must have been even higher.

If this severed leg truly came from a fifth-tier existence…

then this deal was an absolute windfall.

—

“I’ve already formulated the bloodline fusion potion. It works on magical beasts—lets them merge a second bloodline.”

“But when low-tier beasts fuse with high-tier bloodlines, they become violently unstable… even mutate.”

“If it’s a fourth- or fifth-tier bloodline… they’d probably just explode on the spot.”

Kun toyed with the relic, deep in thought.

Exploring the path to fourth-tier advancement was never easy.

The method he himself had used was too difficult to replicate, lacking any real universality. And ever since the Fire Magic Stone incident, he had grown extremely wary of exposing the secrets of his core magic.

The bloodline fusion potion he had developed still had flaws. It couldn’t be used on humans—not yet. It was still an experimental product, untested on the human body.

Now, however, he had obtained the most crucial component: a sample of a high-tier bloodline.

As for test subjects, Kun planned to replicate the method he had used to create Li Tianyun’s body—constructing soulless bodies for experimentation.

“If all goes well, I should complete it in two or three months.”

“The problem is… this relic is light-attributed. There’s no suitable subject in the territory.”

—

From his previous research, bloodline fusion worked best the earlier it was performed—and the closer the elemental affinity, the better.

That was why he had originally set his sights on the remains of historical fourth-tier humans. Not only were human remains easier to obtain, but their bloodlines had already been tested by predecessors—making the process safer.

But in Abundance Territory, there were no light-attribute mages or warriors.

Cross-attribute fusion wasn’t impossible—but the success rate was so low it was practically suicide.

Kun would never gamble with the lives of his people.

Even if everyone in the territory died, it was unlikely a single success would emerge.

Still, research had to continue.

Materials had to be spent.

To abandon progress out of fear was nothing but foolishness.

There was no such thing as being perfectly prepared—only waiting for the perfect moment.

—

He placed the relic back into the unassuming cylinder and stored it away.

The container itself intrigued him almost as much as the relic.

To perfectly seal a fragment of a sacred relic so completely—this cylinder was anything but ordinary.

“Feels like wood… yet it rejects all elemental interaction, forming a perfect barrier…”

“Could it be… anti-magic wood? The kind that supposedly went extinct ten thousand years ago?”

“Just where did she get this from… The royal treasury really does hide some remarkable things.”

“If only I could take a stroll through it myself…”

—

“Enough. None of that matters right now.”

“What matters is spring planting. I’ve prepared for so long—nothing can go wrong.”

Looking out the window, Kun silently prayed.

Let winter end quickly.

And above all—no late frost.

There were only a few ideal days for spring planting. Miss them, and the consequences would cascade.

Fertility Territory was still fragile.

Under his efforts, it looked vibrant—like a terminally ill patient revived by a powerful tonic.

But beneath the surface, it couldn’t withstand real shocks.

Especially the fragile trust he had painstakingly built.

If that collapsed, rebuilding it would be nearly impossible.

—

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

Perhaps Kun’s prayers had some effect—no late frost came.

But the goddess who ruled the skies seemed to play a cruel joke.

Instead of a common disaster, she sent something far worse—

a once-in-fifty-years flood.

For over half a month, torrential rain poured without pause. Not only Abundance Territory, but over half the kingdom suffered. In the worst areas, the land had already become a vast swamp.

—

Patter—crash—

Raindrops the size of beans slammed against umbrellas, weighing them down.

Pedestrians staggered under the downpour, as if the rain itself were testing the strength of their umbrellas.

In truth, not only umbrellas had failed.

Many of the old houses in Emerald Heart Farm had collapsed under the relentless storm.

Fortunately, the territory had a group of ranked guards and the mages Kun had recruited from the Mage Association.

They remained on standby, preventing casualties from the collapsing buildings.

Those who lost their homes were temporarily relocated into newly built houses.

Constructed from century-old frost fir—wood strong enough for armor—and designed by Li Tianyun, these buildings proved both beautiful and sturdy.

Not a single one was damaged.

Few even leaked.

It was the only good news Kun had received in days.

—

“When will this cursed rain stop? Did the sky spring a leak or something?”

Tax officer Vittorio grumbled as he approached Blackstone Castle, umbrella in hand.

After just a few steps, his lower clothes were completely soaked. The damp fabric clung to his skin, making his expression sour.

He had no clean clothes left.

The humidity was so high nothing could dry.

Some garments had even begun to grow mold.

—

A maid waiting at the entrance took his umbrella.

“Lord Vittorio, the lord is waiting for you in the reception hall.”

“What about the others?”

“They’ve all arrived.”

“…I see.”

—

Vittorio said no more and hurried toward the meeting chamber, his heart heavy.

It was time.

He suspected the lord had gathered them all to announce the abandonment of the territory’s development plan.

After all, the rain hadn’t just delayed spring planting.

It had halted logging. Stopped construction.

Workers earning daily wages were one thing—they simply wouldn’t be paid.

But those with specialized skills—paid monthly—had done nothing for half a month, yet still required wages.

Gold coins were bleeding out.

In other territories, such workers would be fearing for their lives.

Who paid wages for nothing?

—

Vittorio knew this lord wouldn’t resort to brutality.

But logic remained.

No one would keep pouring money into a bottomless pit.

And the treasury was already running dry.

Better to cut losses now than face total ruin.

—

Agriculture, in this world, was seen as lowly.

Anyone could do it, in theory.

Clear land, sow seeds, wait.

Simple.

But that was a misconception of those who had never worked a field.

Farmers fed nations—yet could never rise from their station.

They relied on the heavens, yet were despised as “lowly.”

How tragic.

—

Vittorio had once been one of them.

At first, he treated this role as a stepping stone.

When the lord grew bored of “playing farmer,” he would move on.

But over time…

He saw the land change.

Saw lifeless villagers regain hope.

Saw a broken territory slowly rebuilt.

And without realizing it, Vittorio began doing more than his duty.

Working harder.

Even writing to merchant contacts, seeking investment.

—

Now, everything had collapsed.

The treasury was strained.

The rains showed no sign of stopping.

Miss spring planting, and even a harvest would be halved.

And agriculture was already a low-margin endeavor.

Even rising grain prices couldn’t compare to the profits of magical materials.

The territory would collapse financially long before harvest.

—

Reality was not a fairy tale.

Someone always lost.

Now, the choice was simple:

Let the territory fall—

or be dragged down with it.

—

“If it were the previous lord, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“But this one…”

Vittorio sighed deeply.

“Fine. Someone has to play the villain.”

“If the lord has shown me such kindness… then let it be me.”

He had come prepared.

Prepared to be hated.

To be cast out.

Better him—than let the people lose faith in their lord.

—

“The lord has done enough.”

“More than enough.”

“But sometimes…”

Vittorio lowered his head.

“…even the gods make mistakes.”