Book 1
Chapter 25: Journey Southward: The Warped Landscape
Golden Blight
South of the last village, the world had broken its own rules, plunging into a realm where the laws of nature no longer applied. The familiar farmland was gone, replaced by a gilded nightmare.
Trees bristled with leaves of hammered gold that clinked in the wind like a thousand tiny warnings. A whole mountain was groaning, its ancient stone visibly heaving itself up from the ground as if some ancient power stirred beneath the surface.
Rivers gleamed with liquid metal too bright to look at directly. Birds attempted to perch in the gilded trees, only to tumble off as the stiff branches bent like soft coin.
"Behold!" Ken spread his arms, radiant with smugness.
"Even nature bows to my presence. My first nature-themed resort! The gold leaves are a bit much, I know, but you have to admit the ambiance is luxurious. Who else here has personally terraformed the economy?"
Pigaro's sneeze blew him sideways. The pegasus wheezed and flopped against a glittering tree trunk, his eyes watered.
"This… this is not wealth! This is Mone pollution!" His voice cracked as though he were finally too exhausted to keep sarcasm up.
Pigaro then slumped against the gilded tree, his wheezing now a wet, ragged thing. With a shudder, he coughed up not just golden dust, but a single, perfect coin. It's broader than a usual Quid, stamped with Ken's smirking face on one side and the cracked-circle symbol from his belly on the other. It glowed with the same sickly light as the cursed coin from the temple.
Laluna snatched it from the mud, her rune-nails blazing.
"It's a physical manifestation. A token of debt. His body can't hold the corruption anymore, it's minting its own currency."
Ken peered over. "Ooh, limited edition! Does it come in silver?"
Narutama's hand went to his sword. "That symbol… It's the same as the prophecy. The cracked circle."
The coin pulsed once, warm and hungry, as if agreeing.
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances (except Ken). Pigaro's allergic episodes had grown steadily worse since Ken's first overdraft stunt. Now each sneeze rattled the road like an earthquake.
---
Interest Accumulating
High above, in the translucent vastness of the Transcendence Realm, the divine auditors conferred.
Organizer stood atop a scroll that stretched across galaxies, abacus beads clattering like thunder. His expression tightened.
"Compound interest—escalating beyond recalculation. Catastrophic risk to natural order."
Lexidem, the Authority's silent reflection, pressed a hand over the law-sigil, grim.
Meanwhile, in the mortal plane, a shimmer of light flickered among the warped trees. A junior divine auditor appeared—robes half-buttoned, pen still dripping ink. He spun in a circle, staring at rivers of molten gold and a mountain inching closer to the horizon.
"This… this isn't in the field manual." He flipped through a ledger, pages fluttering like panicked pigeons.
"Environmental anomalies are supposed to come with standardized forms!"
The mountain groaned louder. The auditor snapped the ledger shut, muttered something about unpaid overtime, and promptly vanished in a cloud of frustrated paperwork.
The warped forest sighed as though relieved to be rid of him.
---
A Land That Refuses
Narutama had been quiet. He walked the roads while the others argued over whether golden bark could be carved into furniture. His sandals scraped against the dry earth, worn smooth in places like stone.
The land was quiet, the silence heavy and oppressive. With every step, the clinking of the gold leaves seemed to drown out the subtle sounds of the earth, the faint rustle of roots and the soft whisper of wind through the dirt.
He gritted his teeth, wondering if maybe one cut could restore some balance.
Normally, the earth acknowledged him in some small way—a whisper of breeze when his blade left its sheath, a faint hum in his chest when he offered a steady hand to the frightened. That connection, subtle yet sure, had been his anchor as a Sanata.
But here? Nothing. No wind answered, no earth stirred. His steps felt like they fell into someone else's dream.
Ken, meanwhile, leaned against a radiant tree, trying to catch his reflection in a golden leaf as though it were a vanity mirror.
"You're welcome, everyone. Enjoying your first-class upgrade to Paradise?"
Narutama's grip tightened on his sword hilt. He didn't respond, but his silence cut sharper than steel. The warped land simply turned its back to him—as though he didn't belong in the world Ken was dragging them toward. He tried to sense the earth's energy, a basic meditation, but all he felt was a cold, polished surface—like touching a coin instead of soil.
Narutama halted at the edge of the golden grove, eyes narrowing at a warped tree whose trunk gleamed like a stack of coins. Its bark shimmered, its leaves jingled faintly when stirred by no wind. He set his jaw.
"If this distortion is Ken's doing," he muttered, sliding his katana free, "then perhaps restoring balance begins here."
He drew in a long breath, gathering his will. The blade sang faintly, coated with the essence locals jokingly referred to as Wind Mone. With a sharp step forward, he unleashed a slash. Air rippled, leaves spun, and the trunk shuddered under the technique.
Ken gasped. "Whoa, free lumber! Imagine the furniture set—solid gold dining table, comes with its own inflation!"
But Laluna clapped her hands sharply, cutting the moment short.
"Don't you dare." Her voice carried the weight of an accountant about to cancel a tax break.
"You think by trying to cut that tree will restore balance? No. It'll be the start of a plantation. Then the next genius will argue about efficiency, and suddenly half of Zhilan is paved over with monoculture estates and commemorative palm-oil soap brands."
Narutama froze mid-stance, blade still humming. Laluna's tone dripped acid.
"The world doesn't need another hero who calls it 'justice' while cashing in on exports. Leave the tree, samurai. If it must fall, it will invoice us first."
The katana's wind sheath dissipated with a sigh, and the warped tree jingled faintly, almost as if laughing.
---
The Accountant's Nightmare
Fluffy kicked a rock into the molten stream. It fizzed, then disintegrated into coins.
"Hey, free money!" Fluffy said, before sighing.
"Oh, right. Oh, right. Probably taxable. This is… honestly worse than zombies."
Laluna pinched her nose. "And infinitely more taxable."
Ichiban muttered, "At least with zombies, you know when you've paid in full."
Pigaro groaned from the roadside. "Every sneeze is an invoice! Every cough, a penalty fee! When will it end?"
The golden river burbled ominously, as if agreeing.
The sun set in a sky the color of burnished bronze. Shadows stretched long, yet nothing felt natural. Villagers would soon notice rivers turned to bullion, mountains shifting overnight. Word would spread—first as wonder, then as horror.
And somewhere, deep beneath that sunset, Narutama walked alone in a party not truly his own. His path diverged, invisible but undeniable, as the world tilted ever further toward Ken's distortion.