Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 520: Time of Dogs and Wolves (8)

Jizan bore the weight of a mountain. Yet, to the one chosen by Jizan, it felt no heavier than a sturdy club. In truth, the demonic blade moved according to its wielder’s will, but ultimately, the regressor was wielding a mountain as a weapon.

Now, let’s indulge in a childish thought—what would happen if one were to drop a mountain from the sky?

The mere thought of such a catastrophe was terrifying. But in reality, that wouldn’t happen. Jizan was the demonic blade of the Earth God. It was a part of the land itself. If it were to fall, it would simply settle onto the ground, like an ordinary club. Without breaking the earth.

But the regressor... forcibly twisted that rule.

"Celestial Tremor."

Qi was the power to impose one’s will upon the world. The regressor poured a flood of energy—fortified through countless elixirs and divine medicines—into Jizan. But what kind of qi technique applied to Jizan, which was itself a fragment of the land? Would it be a sky technique, or an earth technique? One thing was certain—no grand incantations were needed to move the earth.

Soaring into the sky, the regressor aimed Jizan downward at the ground. Suspended between two fingers, the demonic blade swayed like a plumb bob, before coming to a halt. Finally, its motion ceased entirely—Jizan pointed directly at the heart of the earth. As if sensing what was about to happen, its hilt trembled.

‘Using this technique weakens Jizan’s power a little—probably because it angers the Grandmaster. But... I have no choice. Sorry.’

Having finished his silent apology, the regressor released Jizan and whispered,

"Earth Drop."

No sound followed.

No tremor, no ominous rumbling.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The descent of a mountain toward the earth was eerily silent, peaceful. Until it struck, it was no different from any other object obeying the laws of gravity.

Until it struck.

The battle between Azzy and Fenrir had scarred the land. They slammed each other into the ground, tore into flesh, struck with reckless abandon. Each blow sent them rolling a hundred meters, only for them to immediately close the distance and resume the brawl. When their claws met flesh or missed and struck the ground, massive clouds of dust erupted, scattering across the battlefield.

Unfortunately, the one taking the brunt of the attacks was Azzy. Crouching defensively, he barely managed to shield himself as Fenrir’s forepaw came crashing down. The impact crushed the ground beneath them, forming a crater. Azzy tumbled down a slope, rolling in the dirt before scrambling back to his feet. Fenrir, baring his fangs, pursued him.

"Dog! Show your fangs!"

"Woof...!"

"Awooooo! We weren’t born to protect anyone! No one protects us. Only we can protect ourselves!"

Fenrir was pure instinct. Azzy was pure loyalty. No matter how much strength Azzy mustered, the two operated on fundamentally different rules. And that difference inevitably led to a gap in power.

Fenrir, the King of Wolves, commanded a massive pack—his strength came from his kind. Azzy’s pack, in contrast, consisted of humans. They could not directly strengthen him. In a pure contest of might, the wolf would always win.

And so far, Fenrir had always won.

"Protecting humans? Waiting for them to protect you?! How many times has it been? How many times do I have to kill you? How many times do you have to be torn apart before you understand?!"

"...Woof. I don’t understand."

Azzy, panting heavily, rose to his feet once more. Compared to Fenrir, his body was battered, covered in wounds. And yet, he still barked back.

"I made a promise. I protect humans. Humans protect me. Like flowers and bees, we help each other."

"They haven’t helped you before!"

"They will this time."

Azzy’s gaze turned toward the humans. He had been betrayed, abandoned, and reborn countless times—but this time, his faith had been repaid. However small that repayment might be, the promise had been kept.

"Arf! Those humans?! The same cowards who used you as a shield, who think they can tame through violence?!"

Fenrir howled, his voice a mixture of derision and sorrow. Was it distrust of humans? Or self-loathing for still believing in them?

His hatred had long since consumed him. His eyes burned as he turned his gaze toward the humans.

"Awooooooo! If it’s because of that promise—then I’ll tear that promise apart!"

Killing the King of Dogs wouldn’t end this cursed struggle. What needed to be destroyed was the promise itself.

His hatred shifted. He no longer sought to kill the dog.

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He would kill the humans instead.

Fenrir, wearing his half-crown, charged at us. Realizing his intent, Azzy bolted forward, throwing himself in Fenrir’s path. The wolf lunged, the dog barked, and the humans screamed in chaos as they rushed forward.

And at that moment—

Jizan fell into the heart of the battlefield.

At first, nothing happened. Jizan slipped into the earth gently. Sand and soil scattered, and for a brief second, the wolves and humans only registered that something had fallen.

It didn’t stop. The mountain pierced through the skin of the earth, burrowing ever deeper. Through layers hardened by droughts and floods, through dormant seeds waiting for the next spring, through tunnels where small creatures hid from predators.

Jizan pierced through them all, burrowing even deeper.

The blade, carrying the weight of a mountain, did not slow as it struck the ground. It did not impale it like a spear. Nor did it gradually lose momentum. It dug. Like a massive hook dragging through the underbelly of the world, Jizan continued to fall.

It fell and fell—until, at last, it reached the very foundation that supported the land itself.

A mountain could be heavy, but it could never be heavier than the earth itself. And so, at last, Jizan met a true collision.

And the world twisted.

"Uwaaaaaaaaah!"

"Awoooooooooooo!"

Humans and wolves alike screamed in unison. At the epicenter of Earth Drop, a massive fissure tore through the battlefield. Like a rock shattering a thin sheet of ice, the ground cracked and fragmented, sinking and rising in chaotic waves.

The split earth erupted upward, and as the newly formed gaps widened, sections of the battlefield collapsed. The land was not a single solid mass—it was a collection of countless fractured pieces, each moving along its own path.

Before disaster, both wolves and humans were equal. They scrambled desperately—slipping, falling, clinging to ledges, trampling over one another in terror. They howled, screamed, and sobbed, all distinction between hunter and hunted momentarily erased.

The Obeli guards, the wolves, the dogs—even the Beast Faction warriors and the Obelisk soldiers who had been further away. Even those lurking in the shadows, like the Baskervilles and the other priests—no one was completely spared. The degree of impact varied, but none could escape the aftermath.

The battlefield was swallowed in chaos and devastation.

It was impossible to count how many had slipped and tumbled into the depths. The tightly packed Obeli guards and their dogs had taken the brunt of the collapse, buried under falling debris. Rolling, sliding, struggling against the dust and falling rubble, they clung on with all their might.

And then, finally, the ceaseless tremors came to an end. Amidst the tangled mass of bodies, the Obeli guards stirred, groaning as they struggled to their feet.

"Khak! Cough, cough!"

"Yelp! Woof! Woof!"

"Fluffy... You're okay. Is everyone alright?"

"Luckily, we just slid down."

For those trained in martial arts, a mere fall wasn't enough to cause serious injury. But even the strongest beastfolk couldn’t claim to be in a good situation, now buried dozens of meters underground. One of the Obeli guards, staring at the massive boulders precariously locked together above them, shivered.

“By some stroke of luck, the rocks piled up like a roof and formed a space. Should we count this as a blessing... or just a delay before death? I don’t know what the hell just happened, but I think it’s safe to say the plan’s gone to hell...”

“No. This is the plan.”

“...Huh? What did you just say, magician?”

Barely shaken but exactly as intended, we had successfully trapped the wolves. I pushed myself up and spoke.

“We were bait—to lure in the wolves and the King of Wolves. We pulled them in as planned, and they fell into the trap as planned.”

“Wait, what?! So the plan was to—trap us all in this damn pit?!”

“Not us. The wolves. We’re just extra baggage.”

Realization dawned on the Obeli guards, and outrage quickly followed. Their ears twitched furiously as they stepped toward me, bristling with fury.

“You bastard! You think we followed you just to die like dogs?!”

“We’re not dead.”

“Only because we got lucky! What if someone important, like Teia or Kito, had died in the collapse?!”

“Luck? No.”

I raised my hand and swept it across the ceiling. Tangled roots and vines stretched across the rocks, holding the structure together like an intricate web. Looking around, I noticed pillars of stone that had conveniently settled upright, bearing the weight of the collapse.

This wasn’t luck. It was too precise to be a coincidence.

“We survived not by luck, nor fate, nor miracle. It was inevitable.”

“Inevitable? You’re saying the rocks just decided to avoid crushing us?”

“Yes. Because we are inside a trap.”

At that word, the Obeli guards turned their heads toward the one person who could explain—the trapmaker of Ende.

Kito.

A trapmaker, yes. But more than that—a mage who had awakened a unique magical domain. Given the right materials and circumstances, his power could be unrivaled.

The Military State’s Six Grand Generals had built entire war machines just to maximize their unique magic. The Grand Overseer of the Ten Nations had ruled through the sheer might of their Juggernaut, crafted to amplify their magic to the extreme.

A mage was the master of their own world. The more /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ intricately they shaped their domain, the closer they became to godhood.

“Ah...”

People underestimated Kito because he was a soft-spoken rabbit beastfolk. That might work in a brute-force land like Ende, but not where true power was recognized.

A mage’s strength was situational. And right now?

We were inside his domain.

Inside this colossal trap, Kito's unique magic controlled the state of collapse itself.

“Everyone, um...”

In the moment before the complete collapse, Kito had released his magic—saving the Obeli guards from certain death. Even as the land fell, even as boulders tumbled, his magic had halted the collapse, stabilizing it in a fragile balance.

Kito had become the trigger—holding the entire trap on a razor’s edge, ready to activate at his will.

That was Kito’s unique magic.

Miss Goldberg.

His magic spread out. The unstable ground, the tangled roots barely keeping the rocks in place, the swaying boulders, the scattered traps he had placed beforehand—all held together by the delicate equilibrium of his spell.

The chaotic destruction left by the regressor’s Earth Drop—its raw, uncontrolled force—was now in the hands of one man.

Kito, shivering with realization, slowly lifted his drooping ears.

“I’ve... become a god!”